#I’m like a record my thoughts go a little bit then stop. rewind. play. stop. rewind

[a-concert-just-for-me]

Ahoy friend! How goes the night?

Well thefreewillagency, you have made a grave mistake asking me this. Behold. It’s 2:00 am. My diary screaming out loud. You know, like Anna Nalick style.

These edibles are, in fact, shit (positive)

I’m most def a little high

[princesswithabraidedcrown]

I posted 4,343 times in 2022

48 posts created (1%)

4,295 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dimondlite

@biconic-rosa-diaz

@softcannoli

@lynati

@vyther15

I tagged 330 of my posts in 2022

#for future reference - 17 posts

#the blogger rambles - 16 posts

#the blogger watches - 15 posts

#kinnporsche - 14 posts

#about the blogger - 9 posts

#kinnporsche the series - 8 posts

#the untamed - 6 posts

#anyway - 6 posts

#jeff satur - 5 posts

#wow - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#anyway my mom’s thing makes me twitchy because i mostly just try to remember to eat enough in a day and don’t fuss about the contents

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The streaming session of the KinnPorsche world tour I was participating in kinda fell off the rails during the English version of Why Don’t You Stay, which was very sad. Hopefully it turns out okay for the rest of it tomorrow.

My thoughts in no particular order:

Dang, Slot Machine is awesome and I should go look them up. (We amazed a random discord member who randomly wandered into the stream about Mile having previously been just a filthy wealthy dude that played the guitar)

Oh my goodness, Jeff!!! Said multiple times, by multiple people.

The VegasPete scene was chef’s kiss. Gonna wax dance show critic here but Bible has some amazing physicality and charisma. Like I’m pretty darn ace and I still can tell that he’s hot and does amazing work as Vegas. I’m in the middle of episode 10, so I haven’t fallen headlong for Pete/Build yet…but it’ll probably happen.

So highly amused that Barcode made up for the clothing deficit amongst everyone else singlehandedly. Pretty sure I missed the main brouhaha about the song he performed to, but nobody mentioned it was a cover of a Blackpink song! I love Blackpink!!!

The chat punched the air when Tay slapped Time. It’s possible to do polyamory ethically. Whatever Time’s deal is…isn’t it. On a sidenote: more Tay centric fics please.

I was highly amused that the mom got a sarong for her little thing with Chay/Barcode. The subtitles were on a horrendous delay, so I don’t actually know what all went on, but it’s cute that she was momming him.

As for the KimChay…I don’t quite see how that ending was horrible? Slightly more open ended than it could have been. But the flipside of forgetting the bad times is remembering the good ones. Obviously there were some good times or else Chay would not have been devastated by Kim’s betrayal. And…then there were technical difficulties and we had to stop the stream in the middle of Jeff’s performance. So that was lame. But Jeff did a good job before technology decided to pitch a hissy fit.

I concur with the person that said they hoped Jeff had gotten cleared to sing by a doctor. I’ve only listened to a few of his live performances and I could tell his range was a little rough. Don’t let them force you back into singing before your vocal cords have healed!!! That’d be awful if you permanently damaged them.

Anyway. Looking forward to the final half and all the Magic Mike bits.

14 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

#4

I’d like to give Jackson Wang and whoever else is on his creative team congrats for having an excellent track record on music videos. I just watched the one for Cruel and my gosh that was neat. I like the through line of vapory lifeforce from Blow. That was cool.

My writing fingers might be slightly inspired…so who knows what’ll come.

17 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

#3

Finished the second half of KPWT!!!! Once again in no particular order.

Would it have killed them to fix the subtitles before releasing the rerun tickets??? Like seriously, I thought youtube subs could be iffy, but these were…special. They could have held off on letting people do the rerun viewings long enough for them to fix the timing and the quality. Yeah, live subtitling is super labor intensive…but afterwards…you get to pause and rewind to make sure you’ve got it correctly.

Anyway. The Minor family thing was entertaining. I would probably strain something in my back if I had to do flips in the air. It’d be fun…but yeah…I’m not nearly as athletic as Bible.

Build playing the saxophone amused me to no end.

I’m excited for the MileApo flick and hopefully they plunk it on iqiyi or something so I can support BOC with my watching.

I’m very impressed at how many parents were there…because if mine were at such an event…I’d change my name and move to the Southern hemisphere.

I must give JJ’s arms and shoulders an honorable mention because he has obviously worked hard on them. I certainly would not want to get tackled by him.

I snickered when I saw how tall the heels on Jeff’s boots were during the final…clubbing moment…or whatever we are calling it. Finale of some sort. Anyway…Jeff is tiny and Barcode is definitely taller than him and I am delighted. I say this as if Jeff isn’t possibly taller than me by a couple inches. Crap. I’m gonna have to look that up. Anyway, Jeff is all the gender in a pint sized package. Except for where he’s still probably above average height.

Ahem. Lovely experience, would watch again if they fixed the subtitles.

22 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#2

Oh dear lord, if the infantilization of Apo that’s going on on twitter by some people also has a side of ableism…I will riot.

I haven’t exactly watched a lot of interviews with him but the ones I have watched screamed possible adhd. He could just be very energetic. But if he does have adhd…infantilizing the grown man is doubly aggravating.

Anyway, glad I don’t go searching for stuff on twitter.

24 notes - Posted August 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I wish I remembered who wrote the fic with Kinn comparing his accent in English to Vegas’ and lamenting the fact that nobody was gonna send a second son to an international school and that’s why there’s a difference. Because it lives in my brain rent free and I wish I’d made a note of the fic.

26 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[dathen]

Okay I have some complicated thoughts following Melanie’s arc that all build on top of each other and hinge HEAVILY on unreliable narrator interpretations so bear with me

In my relisten I’m at the beginning of s3, and it always shocks me a bit at how quickly she interprets Martin’s interaction with her as hostile.  I’m going to skip over the “it’s understandable, Melanie’s had a hard time in her career” disclaimers since there’s plenty of meta on that already, and instead follow the effects of this tendency: not on others, this time, but on her

(This got absurdly long and covers so many episodes so I’m going to split it into separate pre- and post-bullet surgery posts)

Rewinding a bit, the last time she was at the Institute, she was starting to get along with Jon before he seemed confused about her comment on “the other Sasha.”  It takes her a split second to interpret that confusion as him suddenly deciding to gaslight and mock her, gets angry and tells him there is something seriously wrong with him, and leaves before he can ask what she means.  Given how tenuous their truce was and the fact she and Jon had mocked each other in the past, it’s an outburst that at least has some personal history behind it.

But only a couple episodes later, we learn that it’s not just Jon she responds to in this way.  In TMA 84, she meets our Martin Blackwood!  Customer service voice opposite-of-Jon politeness extraordinaire!  And as soon as he gets confused about the two Sasha comment, she.......immediately assumes that HE is also trying to gaslight her.  She insists that “I’m not doing this again” without giving him a chance to ask or explain, so they miss the opportunity to piece together the deal with the Not!Sasha.  Her doing this with someone she just met shows a much broader pattern than her interactions with Jon.

That very episode, Elias offers Melanie a job, and she accepts despite Martin’s protests.  Later, she accuses them all of them being an “old boy’s club” because she interpreted Martin’s warnings as sexism rather than trying to protect her.  As the audience, we see the unreliable narrator of her perspective at work: we know that Jon and Martin were genuinely confused, and we know that Martin was trying to save her, and that all of these instances were her seeing it as people being out to get her.

Hop forward to the notorious gossip scene in TMA 106.  Here, Melanie complains about Martin being hostile to her.  My first assumption was that this was all offscreen, but after this parade of misinterpretation and comparing to her and Martin’s actual interactions, I have to wonder:

TMA 84, after Martin tells Melanie about the murder, and right before Elias interrupts:

Martin:  Are you sure you’re alright?

Melanie:  Yes!  I just got… God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?

Martin:  The end of what?

Melanie:   Everything.  Friends, clues, savings. Everything.  Options.  There’s nowhere left for me to go . I don’t know why, but…  I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help.  And talking things out with Jon.  I mean, I mean he’s awful, but at least he listens, you know?

Martin:   (soft) Yeah.  ...I’m sorry.  Um, is there anything that I could, like, maybe...do for you?

They get interrupted immediately after this, so this was the first impression Melanie was given.  Then, when Elias offers the job, she...assumes Martin’s “I don’t think that’s a good idea” is from sexism, when he’d just been talking about murders and disappearances that caused that very job opening.

TMA 88 

Melanie:   Are you alright?

Martin:  Yeah… Sorry, just a lot of change recently, y’know.  You and John and Sasha and… everything’s gone a bit wrong.  It’s the not knowing, you know?  I mean, Jon’s still alive.  Not sure why, but I’m sure of that.  But Sasha, I…

Melanie:   Yes, it’s… it’s probably, um…

Martin:   Sorry, sorry, I’m...  What do you need?

Next interaction!  Oh this one HURTS.  Martin takes her question literally, and starts telling her why she’s not alright, a reverse of their earlier exchange.  But Melanie came by for a question and wasn’t prepared for an honest answer, so Martin quickly reels it in and asks what he can do for her once again.

Skipping forward a bit in that same scene:

Martin:   Oh, you weren’t here when we took the place over from Gertrude!  It’s been over a year just to get it like this.  I mean, I think the database was on Jon’s list, but--

Melanie:  So how do you track someone down?

Martin:   Oh, oh well, y’know, we’ve a few contacts in various record offices around the place.  Aside from that it’s just… just a bit of detective work, really.  Tim used to do a great line in impersonating people to utility companies!  Heh, the number of times he got them to give him ‘his own’ address--

Melanie:  Right, right… Um, this one, the name is 'Jude Perry.’ Doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?

I LOVE THIS EXCHANGE.  I TREASURE IT.  Having bottled up his emotions, Martin is going in full Friendly Helpful Coworker mode.  There are so many little details here signaling that he’s embracing her as part of the team, sharing anecdotes about Tim’s shenanigans and Jon’s old plans, looping her in as One of Them as he helps her get what she needs.  This is the kind of approach you go to management trainings to get, to help new hires feel welcome and part of things.  But alas, Melanie is in a hurry and wants to cut to the chase, so all this is lost on her.

TMA 98 - I won’t copy it all in here because it’s long, but this is an overwhelmingly positive interaction.  She asks if he’s okay, but he bottles it up and says he’s fine.  This time, she presses, and he admits it’s because of the statements.  Martin ends up asking for help!! and Melanie agrees!  She’s on the way to murder Elias, but she still gets credit for “I’ll ask him to cut you some slack.”  Then she invites him to drinks!

And then.... TMA 106

Melanie:   Anyway, Martin’s always been lovely to you.

Basira:  Hmm. I don’t know, I mean, you should have seen him when I turned up last year. I think he thought I was trying to steal his precious Archivist.

Melanie:   Ahhh. I got the exact same when Jon was hiding out, and came to me with his “source on the inside” stuff.  Martin was not impressed.

WAIT WHAT

We just looked over all their interactions!  They were all soft and lovely and welcoming!!  But then we hear Melanie with “well unlike how he is to me, Martin is nice to you.”  This was taken at face value for years, but when you line up all of the above, I feel there is a strong basis to say this is another case of Melanie’s first impressions + over-defensiveness gone wrong.  Just like we saw her initial bickerings with Jon solidify into series-long hostility, her interpreting Martin’s confusion as gaslighting and warnings about the job as sexism seems to have doomed her opinion of him long-term.  We hear Martin being kind and concerned and welcoming, then hear Melanie contrast it as bad treatment.

Recently, a mutual considered this even further to how she talked about losing all of her friends with the Ghost Hunt UK circles:

Melanie:  Even back then, I could feel all my old friends starting to distance themselves from me. ...  I stopped asking the others for help, and I kept my research to myself. I talked to them less and less. By the time I was arrested, I think a lot of them had already given up on me.

I have to wonder...did this sort of dynamic play out here, too?  Did she assume that her friends’ concern was judgment or hostility?  Were they giving up on her, or did she lash out and push them away?  Either way, it’s easy to see parallels to s2 Jon in her description, here, with her withdrawing and diving alone into increasingly risky research without asking for help.  And s2 Jon definitely shared Melanie’s tendency to see offers for help and support as hostile.  (Aside:  I interpret her and Georgie as not very close at this point, like a networking contact rather than a friend; Melanie comes to Jon for someone to talk to about her struggles above her, and Georgie seems to be unaware of all of Melanie’s encounters pre-s3)

And on that downer note I am ending part 1...but PART 2 IS GOING TO BE WAY HAPPIER THAN THIS.  Here, we see Melanie with a lot of people who would have supported her if she let them:  Martin, Jon, possibly the friends she said abandoned her.  But in her effort to protect herself and not let history repeat for how she’d been hurt in the past, she ends up alone and spiraling.

[gingeraleluke]

𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: tom holland x fem!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: your boyfriend got home just in time to watch his most recent interview on tv with you.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: swearing, nothing just fluff! :)

𝗔/𝗡: this is my first time writing for tom so i hope you guys like it!! <3

this is based on the spider-man: far from home interview with jimmy kimmel!

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

the young girls heart was silent for the first nineteen years of her life. nothing but a faint heartbeat and some clouded thoughts of little to nothing inconsistencies. from the moment she first opened her eyes as a baby, separating her fingers and spreading her toes while her newly polished eyes tried making sense of her surroundings, to the ripe summer when her mother insisted she become a camp counselor to succumb enough money to buy her very own long-overdue car. the girl felt nothing.

the teens she longed to be alike were a mere hourglass, y/n a shadow. portraying their success and growth without mirroring any of her own, she felt like a weak duckling surrounded by marvelous swans. she would spend her youth watching blondes fall for brunettes on television, plopping popcorn into her mouth while pressing rewind on her favorite romantics, watching the way they would look at eachother and move with one another. she never thought she could be able to experience that. everything inside her was too quiet, too plain.

and then she met tom. it became loud, too loud, and she loved it. everything she thought she could never achieve, she achieved with him. her colorless days no longer existed and she fell deeper and deeper in love with him everyday.

switching the tv from some medical soap opera, y/n sat on her couch. she wore nothing but a plain bra and a pair of baby blue satin shorts. normally, she’d cover up more, especially if she had company over, but tom was a different kind of company and a comfortable one at that.

“THOMAS HURRY UP!” she could hear her boyfriend yell a faint, “i’m coming,” through the noise of the water running. shortly after, the shower stopped as y/n scrolled mindlessly through her phone, impatient.

she expected to see her boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, a trail of steam behind him, but instead she heard the loud roar of a hairdryer.

“for fucks sake-“ her mouth was lacking the salty and buttery flavor she craved so she took the opportunity to use her time by putting some popcorn in the microwave while her boyfriend blowed out his hair.

as she watched the minutes on the timer go down, the machine dinged as she grabbed a bowl and poured the snack inside it. she made her way back to the bench sofa and extended her legs out on the grey island cushions. the lace on the trim of her shorts tickled her feet as she folded her legs. “TOM HURRY THE FUCK UP, ITS ALMOST STARTING!”

the girls mouth was full as she yelled, losing patience with the boy. “IM SORRY, IM COMING!”

minutes later, a shirtless tom holland, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, appeared in their shared living room. the girls eyes grew big, his doing the same as he took in her taboo and exposed form.

“what- tom! you haven’t even gotten dressed yet?!”

“well, neither have you, apparently! plus, this is pretty comfortable, is it not?”

“tom-“ she warned.

“i got it, i got it..” his bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors as he quickly ran into their bedroom and retrieved his clothes. he came back out wearing a black t shirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants.

“KIMMEL IS STARTING!” she pointed at the tv and looked over to see tom bounce down onto the couch next to her, sprawling his legs out like she had done earlier.

“baby, that’s just the intro, i’m not there yet.” she peered over at him.

“who said i’m watching this for you?” he turned his head and made a sarcastic face.

“yeah, sure..” he mocked.

“WAIT, i need my blanket! go, get it, i don’t want to miss this!”

“y/n, it hasn’t even started yet-“

“now tom!”

“but what if i miss it!”

“you were there, you already know what happens-“ you lightly shoved his clothed knee and he sprung to his feet, so fast that tessa jolted up and ran after him.

“tessa! calm down!” the dog didn’t listen and continued following her dad, panting the whole way back.

once they were settled, jimmy announced his upcoming guests before a quick commercial break.

“quick, my ass..” she muttered.

tom stifled a chuckle. “why are you so bent up about this? you’ve seen my interviews before!”

“yeah, but i’ve never been able to actually watch one with you! it’s like… an entirely different experience!”

he didn’t believe her. “are you sure that’s the real reason? or is it because you just want me to give you secret info on the film, because love, you know i can’t do that, not after last time.”

she placed a hand on her chest playfully, “tom! i would never, how could you think of me like that?! as if i would ever do such a thing!”

“mmhmm..”

the commercials came to an end and y/n looked up to see jimmy start announcing the cast.

“shit, oh my god, it’s happening.”

“shhh, calm down!” tom laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder, his other arm sprawled out behind the frame of the sofa.

“how can i keep calm!? my fucking BOYFRIEND is about to be on tv! you know how many people can say that they are dating spider-man? like, no one!” her knee was bouncing and she couldn’t contain the excitement. watching someone on television while sitting in the same room with them was a rush she had never felt before.

she was loud as hell inside.

“please welcome, tom hol-“

“WHOOOOO, YEAH!!” she started clapping dramatically and stood up for a quick second, her eyes glued to the tv as she watched her boyfriend appear, while her actual boyfriend sat there laughing at her excitement.

they did a stupid elevator bit, before him and everyone else walked up to their chairs.

“really, tom?” his dark eyes flickered to hers. “what?! i thought you would like it, it’s funny!” she rolled her eyes and smiled, thinking to herself: my boyfriend is a dork, even on national television.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“oh my god, you all look so good.”

“i know, right?”

“look at jake!”

“yeah-“

“look at zendaya!”

“i know-“

“OH MY GOD LOOK A-“

“OKAY Y/N, i get it, everyone but me is attractive, thanks. you’ve made it pretty clear.” he frowned as you gushed over how good his coworkers looked.

“yes, tom! i think you look awful, that’s why i’ve been dating you for the past four years, because i think you are ugly.”

he looked at his girlfriend, uncertainty in his eyes.

“oh, come on, i’m joking! you’re beautiful, come here.” she grabbed the side of his head and pulled him over so his head was laying on her chest. she began to play with his hair while watching.

“so the trailer came out, the trailer got like 135 million views within the first hour-“

“yeah it did!” she exclaimed, her fingers busy in his hair.

“see, i didn’t know that then.” he muttered, his brows furrowing together as tessa looked up at him from y/n’s lap.

“well it’s no secret, i’m not very good at instagram.”

y/n bursted out laughing. it wasn’t even that funny, but all of her emotions where heightened in this moment.

“oh god, i know where this is going.. this is the zendaya story isn’t it?” you smirk down at him and he lifts his head to nod at you.

“i knew it..”

“i basically.. forgot to post the trailer.”

“that’s bad.”

“yes jimmy, yes it is.” she couldn’t contain the snickers leaving her mouth and tom protested against it.

“listen, it’s difficult for some people, okay!”

“mmhmm, whatever you say baby.” she remembers distinctly, waking up and asking her boyfriend why he never posted the trailer, which caused him to wind up into a frenzy and immediately contact zendaya for assistance.

“well, you wouldn’t tell me how to!”

“tom, you’re a grown man! you should be able to figure that out yourself, peter parker.” she leaned over and kissed his cheek, his arm wrapped around her.

“so you’re IT for the team?”

“yeah, y/n, making poor zendaya the it for the team-“

“oh, shush, it was funny as fuck. but not as funny as the time you spoi-“

he placed his finger on her lips to quiet her, “oh, stop it!” she giggled in response.

she watched as zendaya recalled the moment she had to screen record how to delete an instagram story for him, which was another thing y/n refused to help him with. sure, she loves him and all, but watching the panic on his face as he realizes that he messed up, always cracked her up. especially since he brags about how ‘tech savvy’ he is for his age.

“it’s not my fault you’re a grampa!”

“yeah, we’ll, you’re dating a grampa!”

“true, i am.”

her hands reached towards her blanket as she put her popcorn bowl down and laid the covering over her and her boyfriend. the grey weighted blanket matching the couch perfectly.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“okay, wait…why are you guys still in highschool?!” y/n had paused the program to engage in a very serious and heated discussion about the aftermath of endgame which led up to the beginning of his new movie, far from home, which had yet to come out.

“i mean.. it’s five years! i’m so confused.” tom sighed, placing his hands on his knees, he sat up straight. “like i said in the interview, y/n, i don’t know.”

“well… ask the russo brothers! i mean, jacob is right, that’s a huge plothole!”

toms eyes sparkled as he looked at his lover trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“i… i don’t even know what to say right now. my whole life is a lie!”

“okay, let’s not get too dramatic here-“

“NO, tom! as an avengers fanatic, i need to know!” she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, his body jolting forwards.

“tell me!” she shook him as he laughed and tessa barked.

“i don’t know, baby!” she frowned slightly and looked at her boyfriends amused face.

“i’m dating spider-man, you’d think i’d get the inside scoop.” she rolled her eyes and placed her legs back up on the cushions. tom leaned over and looked her up and down, flickering from her bare chest and her eyes. he leaned into her neck and started planting kisses. “i’m sorry, i will be sure to ask someone at marvel for you.” she smiled sweetly before thanking him.

“has everyone seen avengers: endgame?”

the girl rose to her feet, the blanket stuck to her bare legs. “yes, jimmy, i have! i saw my boyfriend get dusted right before my fucking eyes!”

tom remembered the first time he watched the film with her. it was hard for him to keep it under wraps and while he did end up telling her some spoilers, he kept out the whole ‘death by thanos’ part.

“okay, calm down little one.” he reached his arm out to pull her down, back to the couch.

“tom, baby, i know you like.. could get in trouble for it but-“

“y/n… not this conversation again.” he put his hand up to his forehead, two fingers on the bridge of his nose. she knew that if she prodded and poked in all the right spots, that her boyfriend would give in. that it just took a little push for him to confess all the dirty details of his new blockbuster.

“come on! i am begging, tom- i have so many questions, can you blame me? i mean… mysterio, like.. what’s that guy all about?! he’s a villian right?”

“well…”

“a hero?”

“definitely not.”

“antihero?”

“not exactly-“

“UGH, tom! you are killing me here.” she whined, putting her hands on his chest as the paused tv shined upon his features. “please give me something… anything.” she trailed her fingers down his chest, tauntingly.

“anything?” he smirked at her.

“yup. like… maybe just exactly what jakes character is? i mean, i remember him telling us at dinner that time, but that was barely enough, i mean.. there’s gotta be more right?”

“go on.”

“and mj, i mean.. is peter finally going to ask her out? baby, so many questions, i just have so many.”

“well… i guess i could tell you one thing..” he tempted her. her lips twitched upwards as she pressed her forehead against his.

“mmhmm?”

“i could tell you that… the ending of the movie?”

“yeah..”

“is fucking fantastic. really, it’s brilliant babes.”

“because?”

“you will just have to see-“ he was cut off by his girlfriend hitting him in the face with a pillow.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE TOM-“

“quiet down! you are going to get tessa all going..”

“sorry…”

a moment of silence passed as tom squealed, “for fucks sake tom!” in his best high pitched, y/n impression possible.

“shut up!”

the two laughed before she clicked play.

“you look so good here, tom. it’s so weird like- i’m sitting next to you-“ she pointed at tom, “but, there you are on tv!”

“you are just realizing this?”

“well, it’s like inception!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i was told, it was a wedding!”

her chest boiled with anger as she quickly hit pause. “NO BECAUSE, fuck you for that! i remember being all excited, thinking tony and pepper were gonna have a beautiful wedding, only to see hes fucking DEAD.”

tom couldn’t hold in his laughs. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know!”

“well it’s pretty obvious, tom! everyone’s sad and in black, baby, you really are an airhead.”

“hey-“ she cut him off with a kiss to his lips.

the two cuddled up while watching the interview, small laughs leaving their bodies.

“like, zendaya! when did you find out how endgame ended?”

“oh, i remember. me, jacob, and zendaya were all in a facetime call freaking the fuck out, while my boyfriend over here, was chilling like nothing was wrong.”

“you guys were in a facetime call?” he questioned.

“yes! i was heartbroken and i had gotten a call from z who was clearly also upset!”

“well, he’s fine clearly! i mean, i wouldn’t be in far from home if peter was dead, right?”

she looked up at him, his heartbeat still lingering on her skin. “so you can tell me that you are still alive, but you can’t tell me about jake gyllenhaals character?”

“well, it’s a given! obviously peter is alive!”

y/n groaned, her head now resting on his chest.

“dating a superhero is difficult.”

“aww, poor darling, i’m sure it is.” he peppered kisses along her forehead.

“hey! you ate all of the popcorn?!” tom was flabbergasted, his voice heightening a few octaves.

“yep, and what about it?” her tone dripping in sass.

“i wanted some, for one!”

“too bad, maybe if you would spill the deets on far from home, you’d get some of my popcorn. hell, tom, if you confess right now, i’ll make you a whole bowl!”

“no.”

“well it was worth a try!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i can’t believe it’s over.” the house was completely silent, the only thing audible being tessa’s light snores.

“i’m gonna miss that guy..”

“baby, i’m right here.” he placed his hand at the small of her back, looking at her lovingly.

“i’m talking about mysterio.”

“oh, yeah, great!” she giggled at his response. “he’s just so hot, tom! way hotter than peter-“

“yeah, maybe if you think manipulation is hot!”

her mouth fell agape at his words.

“what?” he said, oblivious to the screw up he just made. she smiled widely at him as he slowly was hit with realization.

“oh, fucking damn it!”

[harrywritingsbyme]

The Shark Stuffie

Anonymous Said: my life’s been pretty shit recently and I’m so stressed rn and my anxiety is through the roof meaning I can’t sleep either..could you maybe write something small about harry comforting you and coaxing you to sleep with sweet coos💕

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One 

A/N: I feel like I haven't written some fluff in a LONG ass time...like the last pure fluff piece I wrote was all the way back in the beginning of January. That’s lowkey due to my vibes being off, my lack of motivation to do just about anything, and the fact that my writing schedule has been rearranged too many times. Either way tho...I hope y'all like this fic, it’s rlly cute and softtt and it’s definitely relatable for many of us. Enjoyy🙃

3.5k wordss

You had a bit of an obsession with animal documentaries. There was just something about them that just drew you in and captivated you. Whenever you watched the films or shows, you were always glued to the screen and utterly fascinated with the creatures being displayed before your eyes. Whenever you watched them with Harry, he’d always tease you about your obsession and being completely glued to the screen, jokingly saying that you were more in love with the animals than you were with him. Which couldn’t have been the farthest thing from the truth of course. But in true Y/n fashion, instead of just shooting his far fetched claims down, you would always tease him back; saying that you were in fact madly in love with whatever animal was on the screen at that moment, and that if he wanted to reclaim his number one spot on your list of loves, he’d have to put in some serious work. And then over the following couple of minutes, the two of you would go on to further the banter, trying to land the snarkiest little remark and “win”...even though it wasn’t even a competition to begin with. Sometimes you two were able to go a good while going back and forth on who you loved the most, Harry or the animals and their documentaries. Other times, and most times for that matter, you two would just burst into a fit of laughs before snuggling up together for the rest of the documentary. You of course rewinding it to play back anything you missed when your attention was on Harry. 

Which speaking of Harry, he thought your obsession with animals and the documentaries was the most precious and adorable thing thing in the entire world. He couldn’t (and never wanted to for that matter) get the image of your face lighting up when you watched the documentaries or discovered that a new one had come out for you to watch. He loved how happy and at ease you were when you watched the animal documentaries. On top of the fact that Harry loved how happy you got when watching the documentaries, Harry was slowly growing a little bit of an obsession with the documentaries too. And because of that, not only did he suggest making you guys’ date nights animal documentaries nights, but he also began to feed your obsession by means of plushies. If you two watched a documentary on giraffes, he’d be on the hunt for the cutest little giraffe plushie the entire week after and leading up to you guys’ next date night. And if you were going on and on about a particular animal he’d try to find the cutest plushy to get for you to add to your collection. Most times Harry was able to get lucky and find the cutest plushy for the animal you were obsessed with at the moment. But there were also times where he wasn’t so lucky. Either the animal was too exotic to be in stuffed animal form, or it wasn’t cute enough for Harry’s liking. He took his job of feeding your animal obsession very seriously. 

But either way, plushy or no plushy, you were just happy to enjoy and share your love of animal documentaries with your boyfriend who you loved even more. And Harry, whether or not he’d be able find the perfect plushy, was always going to do his very best to put an even bigger smile on your face. Even if it meant having to get a little creative at times. 

Now for the first time in the five or so months you’ve been obsessed with animals and watching the documentaries, you were stuck on one animal; Sharks. You weren’t quite sure as to what was so fascinating about the incredibly deadly creature but you couldn’t get enough of them. You were watching documentary after documentary on them and you even went as far as to find and watch old shark week episodes. You were quite obsessed to say the least. For the past, just about two weeks when you and Harry had your weekly animal documentary night/date night, you’d turn on something about sharks. Which prompted Harry to go out and find the perfect plushies to add to your collection. He managed to find the cutest one online the thought you’d love and he immediately placed his order so that it would arrive as soon as possible. While he waited for that stuffed animal to arrive, Harry figured you’d be onto the next animal. But no, the following week you were still obsessed with sharks. Which meant that a knot her shark plushy would be coming your way in no time. So once again, Harry went back on the “prowl” for the best shark plushies out there, spending the better part of his Wednesday evening looking for the perfect one. 

After looking through the pages of plushies, hoping to find one that he could buy in-store, Harry finally found the one. It was a fairly big shark plushy, and from the photos it looked to be pretty cute, and it seemed to be very soft. All of Harry’s boxes were checked off. But the ultimate selling point for it though, was the fact that it was weighted. See, you had really bad anxiety. Your mind was constantly racing, you were constantly worrying about things and what could go wrong, and you couldn’t stop overanalyzing everything and the decision you made. It was hard for you to get rest, even when you were exhausted and in dire need of a good nights sleep. And your preexisting anxiety was only exacerbated by school. One of the things that made your mind and body all calm down in those moments where you were completely overloaded and inundated with anxiety and stress was your weighted blanket. It kind of forced you to take time out for yourself and relax, and feel comfortable, taking your mind off of the stresses that were fueling the fire of your anxiety. It was honestly like a much needed big hug and was absolutely perfect when you couldn’t exactly have Harry, your ultimate anxiety and stress reliever. 

And on the topic of school, you were drowning. You were having a very rough week to say the least. Your to do list grew longer and longer as the days passed, and you were pretty sure your anxiety had reached an all time high and was on the path to reaching another record high. This week you had so many academic responsibilities you had to take care of, on top of all the things you had to do and wanted to do when it came to your personal life. You felt like every time you got one thing accomplished, two or three more things were thrown at you and demanded your attention. No matter how hard you tried to put things on a schedule and properly manage your time, a sudden wrench would be thrown into your plans and screw everything up; making your life increasingly difficult to navigate. Just the idea of school caused your anxiety to flare up. So to add everything you had to do for school this week along with your other responsibilities on top of that was quite much for you to handle. You didn’t even have the time, let alone the energy, to even have a proper breakdown and let it all out. You’d simply shed a few tears, take a deep breath, take a sip of your water, and push your feelings of being overwhelmed and tired to the side so that you could get shit done. The only things that brought you some type of relief this week were your weighted blanket, Harry’s comforting words, and you guys’ Friday night date night. And the plushies Harry told you he had for you.

When Harry spoke to you throughout the week and listened to how your week was going and how horrible it was going for you, he made it his mission to give you everything you needed when you came over on Friday night so that you can throw the terrible week you had away and have a relaxing and stress-free weekend. Once Friday finally arrived for you two, Harry spent most of the day just getting everything ready for when you came over. He went out and picked up all your favorite snacks, food, and anything else you liked, along with the weighted shark plushy and a new weighted blanket for you. You on the other hand were laser-focused on your school work and anything else that needed to be taken care of. You wanted to get everything done so that you’d have to spend no time whatsoever over the weekend doing anything besides being with Harry and relaxing your entire being. The only thing keeping you going today was the weekend Harry had planned for you. That’s it. And once you finally cleared your plate later on in the day, you dashed right over to Harry. You couldn’t wait any longer to watch your shark documentary with Harry and your new, no doubt, shark plushies.

 When you get to Harry’s place, you practically break the door down and you nearly knocked Harry off his feet from how you ran in and immediately nestled yourself into him. It was nearly five minutes before the two of you even verbally greeted each other. At that moment, you just wanted to be held. Harry was the sure-fire way to calm you down when you were going through a major bout of anxiety. His presence alone made you feel safe and okay. You had your arms locked around his midsection, keeping your grasp on him as tight as possible. Almost as if you were afraid that he was going to float away from you. And Harry didn’t mind this one bit, nor did he hesitate to wrap you up in his arms and just hold you just as tight and close to him. 

“Hi” You mumble into the soft fabric of Harry’s hoodie, breaking the silence between you two.

“Hi baby” He softly replies to you, squeezing you a little bit. 

“Missed you this week.” You continue on, relaxing a bit more into Harry. 

“I missed you too sweets. You had a pretty rough week huh?” Harry coos, continuing to hold you and stroke your back. 

“Mhm…m’so tired.” You sigh. 

“Well how about we get you upstairs and in a nice warm shower to get you relaxed a bit while I bring everything up. And then we can watch one of your documentaries. How does that sound sweets?” Harry proposes. 

“Sounds amazing.” You agree, loosening your grip on Harry in the process. 

“Then let’s get you upstairs” He then proceeds to loosen his grip around you as well before guiding you from the front door and up the stairs. Once you’re all squared away and in the shower, Harry moves his setup in the living room upstairs in the bedroom, hiding the little gifts he got for you on the floor on his side of the bed. Harry also lays out some clothes for you to throw on. You had your own drawer and everything, but even though that was the case, you still went right to his clothes. So Harry didn’t even bother going through your drawer for anything. After laying out your clothes and everything you needed for when you’re all done with your shower, Harry orders what you told him you wanted for dinner before you got in the shower. Which ends up being a good thirty minutes. It was just so nice to have some time to yourself and not have to stress or worry about something you had to get done. It was such a relief to be able to just stand under the running hot water and just not have to think. The steaming hot water melted the caked-on stress from the week and just rinsed it away, making you feel so much better than you did when you first walked through the door. 

It was also a relief to walk out of the bathroom and into your boyfriend's bedroom with everything waiting for you. When you stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, you stepped into this warm and cozy atmosphere Harry created for you. The bed is all warm and comfy, and extremely inviting. He had your clothes and all your post-shower stuff laid out for you on the bed. Harry even had one of your favorite candles lit on the bedside table. The tv was even on with an array of animal documentaries for you to pick from. Up until he had to rush downstairs to get the takeout he ordered for you two, Harry helped you get all settled in bed. And when he comes back upstairs, this time with the food you (and your stomach) were beyond excited for, you were all done getting ready and tucked right under the covers waiting for him to come back.  

Harry quickly shuffles across the room to sit the food down onto the bed before lifting the little basket he filled to the brim with your favorite little snacks up onto the bed, making you even happier than you were already, and hopping into bed with you. He then hands you the remote, giving you the power to choose whichever documentary you wanted to watch, along with a small peck to your cheek, marking the official start to you guys’ date night/relaxing weekend. While you and Harry watch the first documentary of the night together, you’re intently watching the screen just like always as you happily stuff your mouth with the delicious food in front of you. As you watched the documentary, Harry on the other hand couldn’t help but sit back and just watch you. He was so happy to see you all relaxed and peaceful, opposed to being all stressed out and anxiety-ridden like you were when you first came over.

By the end of the first film, you and Harry are completely done with your food and have moved on to clearing off the bed so that you two can cuddle and possibly fall asleep during the next one. Once the bed is all clear and free for you and Harry to move around, you two immediately move in closer and get nice and comfortable in each other before starting the next shark-related documentary.

“Thank you so much for all of this Harry.” You thank him, breaking your focus on the tv and shifting it to Harry.

“Anything for you sweets” Harry coos, turning his attention away from the tv as well. “I hate it when you’re going through it, especially when I cant be there to help you get through. So I just wanted to give you a nice relaxing and calm weekend for you to just feel better.” He explains.

“I love you Harry.” You hum, lifting your head up from his chest to peer up at him. You weren’t able to fully comprehend why and how you even deserved such an amazing boyfriend who always wanted to make you happy when you were sad and not doing okay, and even happier when you were already beaming. He was one of the best things in your life, and one of the few that didn’t stress you out. 

“I love you too baby.” Harry whispers, looking down at you and locking eyes with yours. The same way you felt like Harry’s mere existence made everything at least feel better, Harry felt the exact same way. So whenever you were going through it and not doing okay, Harry didn’t take that lightly. He always made sure to do everything in his power to get you to a better place. 

When Harry puckers his lips in your direction, you immediately lock yours with them, sucking you both into a love-filled little kiss. It was nice and soft for the atmosphere you and Harry were in, but it wasn’t incredibly slow, nor it did it feel rushed or like it was lasting forever. It was perfect.

“I got you something baby!” Harry whispers excitedly upon pulling away from your lips, tapping at your sides for you to sit up.

“You told me they were plushies.” You reply, excited to see what he picked for you this time. Harry always managed to get you the cutest little stuffed animals so you were really excited to see what he got you this time. 

“Yup! And here’s the first one.” Harry says, leaning down to pick up and reveal to you the regular plushy he found for you the first time.

“Oh my goodness! That’s too adorable!” You coo, holding up and looking at the adorable little shark Harry got for you. It was absolutely amazing and you were so so so excited to see the next one. 

“Ready for the next one? I think you’re gonna like this one the most.” Harry says, causing you to immediately nod your head in response. “M’gonna need you to close your eyes too.” He instructs.

Once your eyes are closed, Harry leans down and picks up the weighted and fairly big shark plushy before sitting it in your lap. He then grabs the new weighted blanket he got for you and sits it between you both before instructing you to open your eyes.

When you see what Harry placed into your lap, you could instantly feel the tears welling up in your eyes. It was like Harry knew exactly what you wanted and needed. You absolutely loved your weighted blanket and you always used it, even when you weren’t in need of something to calm your anxiety. You also loved plushies, even before you were heavily into animals and Harry was finding you all sorts of plushies. They brought you some much-needed serotonin whenever you were feeling down and they were your little cuddle buddies. So to have a weighted one, a combination of everything that never failed to calm your anxiety down was absolutely amazing and you couldn’t have been more happy and appreciative. That’s why you just couldn’t help it when you started crying. You wasted absolutely no time wrapping Harry in the biggest hug, thanking him over and over for the plushy. But it wasn’t long until you just broke down. 

“You have no idea how much this means to me, I had such a horrible week.” You sob into him.

“I know baby.” He coos, stroking your back as you cried. Even though he hated it when you cried, he knew that you always felt lighter whenever you just let it all out.

“I had panic attacks every day and I didn’t get enough sleep and I didn’t eat much either and I didn’t have you there for cuddles. It was so bad.” You cry, your voice cracking at the end, making Harry only tighten his arms around you. He knew it was a bad week for you, but he didn’t know it was this bad. You only told him but so much over the phone.

“Well I’m here now baby and I’m gonna take good care of you and get you back and feeling better.” Harry promises, continuing to hold you as you cry into him. You were so vulnerable right now and he just wanted you, his baby, to feel better. 

As you continued to cry, you continued to mumble and talk about just how bad your week was and how much he was doing for you helped you feel better. Eventually, you ran out of words and the energy to speak or even cry. So Harry began to whisper sweet little nothings and reassurance that you’re going to be okay and that he’s going to take care of you. And as he did this, Harry could feel your body heave less and less from the crying and the little hiccups that came along with it. Once you’ve calmed down a little and as the sleep begins to overtake you, Harry then unwraps an arm from around you and reaches over to turn out the light and blow out the candle before pulling the covers higher up over you two. He also pulled the plushy and still folded blanket up as well, just in case you wanted either of them.

 “Please don’t watch without me.” You mumble, your voice all nasally and filled with sleep. You were no longer tightly wrapped around Harry, but instead resting on his chest.

“I won’t darling. I just paused it so that we can go back and watch it later on when you’re nice and rested.” Harry replies through a soft chuckle continuing to stroke your back. 

“Pinky promise.” You mumble back, lazily lifting your pinky up from under the covers for Harry to hook his around.

“Pinky promise.” He replies softly, bringing his pinky in to hook it around yours, sealing his promise. “Now get some rest baby.” He whispers, pulling your still intertwined hands down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

Masterlist

[works-of-fanfiction]

“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

_______________

No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 3

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; gender stereotyping; mentions of therapy; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

--

2.

-

Morning. Night.

He wasn’t on the night train.

Morning. Night.

He wasn’t on the night train.

Morning. Night.

You were the only one exiting at the last stop. Running. Running.

Morning. Night.

You hated this replay. This song sucked. This cassette tape sucked. But you kept going, ending all your bad days with dancing, dancing until you wore your own heart out, dancing to sad songs with happy beats, attending your dance party of one. Never had you wished your dance party to be of two.

Never, until now.

Morning. Night.

You were wandering around your neighborhood on your off day, idle and antsy. There was a garage sale happening. You walked over, seeing all the old things. Weird lampshades with no bottom half. Chipped coin banks. A pair of ping-pong paddles with no ping pong ball. Single teacups without the rest of the set. Old VHS tapes that no one had a player for.

Cassettes.

A bunch of cassette tapes, sitting there, spilled out. You tilted your head, picking one out. Love Songs for my Love. It was written in faded pen, a barely legible scribble. You flipped it over, but there was no indication of said songs. Just a Side A and Side B. Did someone make this? Did they use a tape player and record this by playing the songs on scratchy audio?

You suddenly remembered Yoongi’s girlfriend throwing a cassette tape on the subway concrete as she declared she hated him. The thin plastic has shattered, black ribbon flying everywhere.

Did Yoongi make her one?

And she smashed it, just like that?

“Do you want that?”

You started as an old woman indicated the tape in your hand. She was wearing a blue and white floral dress, a bright pink fanny pack at her waist. Her hand held a wad of change bills.

“Uh…” you said, not knowing if you did or not.

“I have a cassette player too.” The old woman tucked a gray hair behind her ear and rummaged around her, producing a silver and brown cassette player. It was huge, nearly the size of your forearm. “Still works. Needs batteries though.” She stated the price.

You walked out of the garage sale with the cassette and the player, wallet lighter.

You went home and played the tape after shoving some batteries into the player. It was full of old, cheesy eighties songs. You didn’t know any of these songs. They were all weird. Some were poorly recorded, cutting off strangely. The speaker was terrible, scratchy and pitching the audio due to its age, not that the audio was very good to begin with.

But you danced to it.

You danced to it.

Danced to these terrible love songs of a different time, of a different couple, not knowing if they were still together or not, not knowing if they were still in love, not knowing if they were even in Korea, but dancing to these retro beats anyway, not caring. Because someone, at one point, tried clumsily to make this for the one that loved, only for it to be sold like cheap candy decades later and you might as well enjoy it, because, hell.

What else was there to enjoy?

Morning.

Night.

You stopped at your doorstep.

Someone was sitting there, wearing a black parka and black sneakers. Black face mask. He raised his head as you stopped. Dark eyes, void of any sparkle. He stood up.

You swallowed. Bowed your head politely.

Opened your door for Min Yoongi.

-

You hadn’t changed the couch all this time. Left everything there, waiting.

Blankets. Pillow. The suitcase of his clothes.

Everything.

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

You went to your room, wordlessly.

In the morning, the blankets were folded neatly and the pillow set on top, as if he was never there.

Pause.

Fast forward.

He would be there one night and then not there several nights. He would stay several nights in a row, but not be there in the morning. Never saying anything. You didn’t say anything. You just went to your bedroom and danced to sad songs with happy beats, door closed, the pressure in your chest unbearable.

Replay. Turn the tape around. Replay. Turn the tape around. Replay.

You wanted to fast forward. You wanted to pause. You wanted to rewind.

But you had to press play.

You had to live the moments.

You had to run as you exited to night train, run and run and run, sometimes finding Yoongi sitting at your doorstep, sometimes finding nothing but air. And it didn’t matter. They were all bad days, ending with you dancing to gloomy songs with upbeat tunes, dancing and dancing until you passed out.

You were stuck.

Stuck in this odd loop of reality.

Trapped in sad lyrics with a happy melody.

-

You talked to your former therapist about it. 

Explained the situation, trying to remember all the details. He was retired already, but as usual he listened patiently and with kindness. He didn't have to. When your therapist retired, he let you know that he meant it when he told you that you could call him any time and he would set aside some of his day to talk with you. You were grateful and never tried to abuse it. Sometimes you would just call and say hello, ask him about his health. Send him cards every once in a while, wishing him well. He had been a great therapist and now he was a good friend.

Those were really, really hard to come by. 

You saw Yoongi once again, sitting in front of your apartment doorstep. Bit your lip seeing his crumpled form wrapped in his black parka. You walked up to him and smiled, but Yoongi didn't look at you. He only stood up and moved out of the way for you to unlock your door. 

Your former therapist's words echoed in your head. 

You need to consider the effect of your kindness, not only on him, but on you. 

You held up your keys and found your hand shaking, missing the keyhole. 

It is up to you how much you want to say. But remember to communicate with empathy. He is a victim and he may not respond rationally because his thought processes have been manipulated and warped.

"I'm sorry."

Yoongi's whisper was very soft, almost inaudible. You wanted to scream, cry, laugh it off, hug him, all at once. Instead, you took a deep breath and put your key in your front door. Turned around and beckoned him warmly into your home. 

"Come in."

Everyone's reality is different. Even if you're sharing moments together, one person might have a completely different way of interpreting and processing events. 

Yoongi stepped into your apartment once more, carefully taking off his shoes. Trying to keep his eyes on the floor. You didn't see any visible bruises on his face, but you could see the bruises to his soul as he timidly walked to the couch.

In life, you get to choose only how you feel about things. You only get to choose your own reaction.

You closed the front door, locked it.

You can't choose for other people. 

You turned around to see Yoongi looking at the pillow, blankets, the little bag of toiletries. The suitcase of his clothes, washed and folded. You kept them on the couch, all this time.

"Yoongi."

He didn't turn his head, but you saw him move his chin slightly to indicate he was listening. 

"This time... this time, before you leave in the morning," you said quietly, gently. "I hope you reconsider. Even if it's only for a second."

Yoongi didn't respond. 

-

The next morning, you didn't know what you would find. The same folded blankets with the pillow on top? The same empty couch?

You went out to the living room. 

Folded blankets. Pillow on top. No Yoongi on the couch. Your heart sank. Okay. It was worth a shot. 

"I told myself this would be the last time."

A familiar raspy, soft voice. You jerked your head to the door. Yoongi was standing there, fully dressed, face mask on, sneakers on his feet. He wasn't looking at you. He was staring at the couch. 

"I told myself I wouldn't take advantage of your kindness anymore."

It's okay, you wanted to blurt, but you hesitated, because was it? Was it okay to watch this all the time, to witness this toxic relationship, and not be able to help because you can't help unless they want to be helped?

"I'm weak."

Yoongi raised his head. He made eye contact with you. And it hurt so much, seeing those eyes and knowing you could do nothing, knowing he was just going to go back because that's all he knew. 

You smiled even though it hurt so, so much to smile.

"You might think you're weak," you said softly. "But you always have a choice, Yoongi. Even if it's a small step. Even if it's something dumb, like taking off your shoes."

You couldn't tell his expression, most of it hidden behind the face mask. You thought of that time, in the convivence superstore, where his fingers had accidentally gotten caught in your sweater and unfurled the yarn, tangling you two together with red string, an awkward, embarrassing moment. Your lips curved a little wider, remembering that time. If anything, at least there was that one precious memory.

Yoongi looked down. 

He placed his hand on the doorknob. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to watch him go. 

You heard shuffling. Then a presence close to you. Your eyes snapped open. Yoongi's shoes were by the door. You looked up, right in front of you. Yoongi gazed back at you with uncertainty. Then he pulled down the face mask and stepped closer to you. Voice trembling, still so soft. 

"What... what should I do now?"

You couldn't help it. 

You began to cry. 

It all came out, the tears spilling like a broken dam. Yoongi's eyes widened, startled at your sudden reaction. You wrapped your arms around yourself and buried your face in your chest, sobbing ugly tears. You turned away quickly, wiping them away and attempting to talk, but it was impossible. They kept coming. 

Was it happiness? Relief? Stress? Anxiety? The crying racked your entire body. All those weeks, all those days, all those moments. You were just a person. You wanted to say, don't do this to me anymore, but that wasn't a fair thing to say, so you never said it, but, please, please Yoongi, don't do this to me anymore. 

Arms appeared around you, black parka covered arms, and they encircled you, first a tentative hold, then tighter and firmer, steadying your sobs, turning them into sniffles. You realized your sweatshirt sleeves were wet and gross now, covered in snot and tears.

"Thank you."

The whisper behind your head, making you freeze.

"Thank you so, so much."

You didn't want to start crying again. 

You started crying again. 

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi looked back at you, face full of uncertainty. Black face mask on his chin, squishing his cheeks together. You smiled at him from the waiting room, waving. The doctor’s name was printed clearly on the door. The name of the therapist you had helped Yoongi find. They specialized in domestic violence victims.

“I… I can’t do it.”

He said it softly, but the waiting room was dead silent.

You smiled at him.

“You only have to take one step,” you replied gently. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

Yoongi looked forward again. He took one step. Then another. Then more, walking into the door and closing it behind him.

Pause. Rewind.

You remembered your similar moment. You were by myself at that time, years ago, confused and alone, about to walk into an old man’s office who you thought could do absolutely nothing, but you didn’t know what else to do. You knew there was something wrong with you and you didn’t know what and you knew you needed help. But there was no one to tell you to take a step forward. You were frightened, scared of being alone. Equally scared of being with someone else, which was why you were so boring in every relationship, never putting in any effort, because you were afraid.

The therapist had noticed your hesitance. He stood up and said your name kindly. You snapped to attention, nodding slowly. The old man had smiled, hands crossed in front of his waist.

“You only have to take one step,” he had said. “Just one.”

You looked at the ground.

Took one step.

That seemed too small. Maybe one more.

One more.

One.

More.

You were now in the office, standing in front of the sofa.

The old man had beamed at you proudly.

“You did it.”

Pause. Fast forward.

“You did it.”

Yoongi stepped out of the office. His eyes found yours. “I did.”

You smiled proudly.

“Wanna go buy some bread?” you asked, pointing in the direction of the market plaza next to the clinic. “There’s a bakery nearby. It would be nice to have bread for breakfast, don’t you think?”

Yoongi gave you his little half-smirk. “Yeah, it would.”

-

Reset.

Pause.

Play.

-

“Why do you have that?”

You looked up from your bed to your desk. Yoongi was pointing to the cassette tape player. His face was white, almost tense. His other hand was holding yours. He held it tighter, biting his lip.

“I bought it at a garage sale,” you answered truthfully. Yoongi lowered his hand, not quite looking at you. You continued. “I was walking around the neighborhood and someone was selling their old stuff and I saw some cassettes, so I bought one. The lady upsold me the player too. It was after the first time you…”

You left me.

You felt a painful pluck of your heartstrings, like a guitar strand pulled too tight and producing the wrong sound. Yoongi turned to face you, but you shifted your eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s not his fault. But it had hurt. You couldn’t pretend it didn’t.

You laughed apprehensively. “It was full of eighties love songs anyway. The audio is scratchy and old. The couple probably aren’t even together anymore.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.”

“The eighties were forty years ago, Yoongi.”

Silence. Yoongi was still holding your hand.

“How many times do you think it’s been replayed?” Yoongi murmured.

Your eyes shifted back to the silver and brown tape player. “I don’t know. But I kept playing it.” Your voice was a little choked up now. “I kept playing it until you… until you came back.” And sometimes I think… sometimes I think there might be a chance you’ll leave again. And maybe that was impossible, but you knew better, because impossible things happen all the time and it would be easy to think a person could fully heal, but things like that don’t heal so easily.

You know, because you witnessed it firsthand.

“They’re all terrible,” you said quietly.

Yoongi squeezed your hand. “But you kept replaying them.”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. And then another. You waited. He seemed like he wanted to say something. You rubbed his thumb gently with yours. He kept staring at the cassette player.

“That… was the first gift I gave her.” His dark brown eyes were misty, gazing into the past. “Our hundred-day anniversary. I gave her a cassette of my favorite songs. I thought it was more original than a mix CD or a link to a Spotify playlist.” He looked down, not quite at the floor. “She was so excited and happy. She told me she was going to play it as soon as she got home.”

Silence.

When Yoongi spoke again, there was a quiver of hopelessness.

“I never saw a tape player at her place.”

You saw the pain in his eyes.

“Did she play it even once?”

He shut his eyes, hiding them with his hair. His voice was getting smaller and smaller, almost disappearing.

“And then she smashed it.”

He was clutching your hand so tightly that your fingers felt numb, but you didn’t move away, listening carefully.

“She smashed it so that not even people like you could pick it up years later and listen to it. Smashed it so that not even one person in the whole world could appreciate it.”

“The Yoongi at the time appreciated it,” you said softly.

Yoongi hid his face with his hair.

“The Yoongi back then was a fucking fool,” he sighed.

“It’s not so easy to have a pure feeling.” You placed your other hand on top of his. “Not everyone can feel that way. It’s not fair when someone takes advantage of that.”

He hung his head. “I could have gotten out. I could have been a man and left. But I kept going back. I enabled her. I was just as bad.”

You sighed softly. “You know things like that are easy to say and impossible to do in the moment.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

Yoongi lifted his head, looking at you through his bangs. Not wanting to fully show you the pain in those dark brown orbs.

“For going back?”

You shook your head. “No.” Your lips curved into a sad smile. “I watched my dad crawl back over and over. I watched it happen right in front of my eyes.” You exhaled the tenseness from your chest. “He kept thinking that because they had kids he had to come back.” The next breath was rougher, pushing out all your anger. “I think it would have easier if she was my stepmother. But she wasn’t.”

And the fear stabbed through you.

“I keep thinking, what if I’m like her? What if I’m just like her and I don’t know?”

You shut your eyes.

“All of my previous relationships ended because I didn’t invest into them.”

You suddenly let go of Yoongi’s hand, pulling away, but Yoongi held on, held on desperately, interlocking his fingers with yours. You dropped your hand, all strength gone, measuring your breathing, trying to calm yourself down.

“What if…?”

Silence.

“We’ll never know unless we try.”

Pause.

“I can’t ask you to try after what you’ve been through, Yoongi.”

“You don’t have to ask me.”

You opened your eyes and slowly, slowly raised your head. Your eyes connected with his.

“You know you won’t be that way,” Yoongi murmured quietly. “Because you know and can recognize it. You recognized it when… when I saw nothing.”

You held his hand.

Fell back on the bed and the two of you stared at the ceiling, holding hands.

-

You laughed as you exited the train car with Yoongi. At the last stop, stepping out to the harsh streetlights and concrete.

“What do you mean, is that where I got my dance skills? It’s just a music video! They’re supposed to be weird!” you were saying, shouldering your backpack.

“That was bizarre and that’s putting it lightly,” Yoongi chuckled.

He didn’t look at the edge of the train station anymore. He was only looking at you, with his dark brown, cat-like eyes full of sparkle, smirking at you fully now. There was still space between you two at this particular place, this last train stop, but somehow it had gotten smaller. Shrunk. Not because he was shrinking either. He was a smoothed-out piece of paper now, still winkled; the old marks erased but still etched on the page. Not forgotten, but finally able to be written over.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

Both of you froze.

Yoongi frowned and looked up. The pressure on your chest returned.

The woman. Yoongi’s girlfriend.

No.

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I told you it was over. It’s still over.”

Ex-girlfriend.

She furrowed her brows, bristling. “You can’t do this to me, Yoongi! I’m the only one who loves you! Me! Or did you forget, you stupid bastard?”

Yoongi paused. He took a deep breath and stared up at the streetlights, up to the sky. For a second, you despaired, thinking he was going to consider it, thinking he was going to walk away from you. Then he let out a puff of air and ticked his head.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” he said evenly, not looking at his ex-girlfriend.

Yoongi turned away.

He caught your eye. He wasn’t smiling, but you could tell there was something different this time. Resolve. He nudged your arm with his.

“Wanna race?”

The pressure on your chest lifted suddenly, leaving you breathless.

“What?” you gasped.

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re gonna lose.”

And then he tore off. You started, running after him, the young woman shouting after you two, but neither of you heard, neither of you listening, because you were running, running, chasing after that black parka with indignation, calling his name and him mockingly bellowing yours back, causing you to run faster, faster, smile on your face, tackling him into your front door laughing. Yoongi snickered, stating he won and you chastised him, telling him he cheated as you unlocked the door.

“Your fault for getting distracted.”

“I wasn’t ready!” you flailed, dumping your backpack onto the ground. You took out your phone and accidentally pressed the play button on your music. Your Bluetooth house speakers started blasting quirky guitar, snazzy drums, and twanging bass, ridiculous lyrics singing along. In frustration, you tossed your phone on the couch and began to wiggle your arms, pointing accusingly at Yoongi, as if to say, this isn’t over, but kicking off your shoes and prancing about your apartment, bouncing your shoulders to the beat.

Yoongi shook his head, but you didn’t care, singing on the top of your lungs.

“Don’t know a night without dancing, don’t like the night without dancing…”

“Is that dancing?” Yoongi interrupted, but you just wiggled up and down like a fish out of water, and Yoongi shook his head once more, looking exasperated. You spun, you frolicked, you whipped your hair around until you were lightheaded, not caring about anything, not caring about what Min Yoongi was seeing, because this was your time, your time to shine, your nighttime dance party.

You tripped on the couch and Yoongi darted forward to snatch you from the air. You laughed at your own clumsiness, dizzy from spinning so much, not realizing how close you were to Min Yoongi, not realizing until the song ended and you were staring up at him and he was staring down at you, still in his black parka and face mask squishing his cheeks.

The next song began.

But for some reason you couldn’t brush it off. You couldn’t get up and begin dancing again. You were only looking up into Yoongi’s eyes and he was looking down at you. You were reminded of his face that day in the grocery store, when the red yarn from your sweater unraveled due to the Velcro on his sleeve, reminded of that split second where you were happy and sad at the same time, happy and sad at the idea of red yarn attaching you and Yoongi together.

Happy because it was funny.

Sad because you knew you had to pull away.

Yoongi’s dark eyes looked down at you and he leaned down a little. Stopped.

You raised yourself a little. Stopped.

Pause.

Heart beating fast, so fast. Was it from running? From dancing like an idiot? From staring into Yoongi’s eyes? From being so close to him? From knowing you shouldn’t kiss him, because maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but really, really wanting to?

Yoongi leaned down the same time you rose upward.

Your foreheads knocked together.

“Ow!”

“Motherfuc–”

You swore and he jerked up, rubbing his forehead as you winced, massaging yours. It was a hard hit and you felt woozy from all the emotions and the physical exertion. You grabbed his arm for balance as you stood, and he grabbed yours, grimacing as he rubbed his head.

“Damn, that fucking hurt,” he mumbled.

“Ugh, am I bruised?” you asked, removing your hand.

He squinted. “No?” He leaned forward a little.

You leaned forward too. Stopping just a centimeter away. Yoongi’s eyes widened. You looked into his wide eyes with your wide eyes, waiting. You shouldn’t kiss him, because you didn’t know if he was okay with it, you didn’t know if he was even thinking about it. It was way too early, it was too soon, and you should just back off–

He pressed his lips to yours.

You both stared at each other with unblinking, huge eyes, lips on lips.

You jerked back, sputtering. “Y-You’re making this weird!”

Yoongi pointed to you and all around him. “And this bizarre indie rock isn’t making this weird?”

“D-Don’t blame the music,” you stuttered, fingers on your lips. “You shouldn’t stare like that!”

“You were s-staring back!” he accused.

“F-Fine!”

And then you grabbed his face and kissed him, deeply, fully. You kissed Min Yoongi, kissed his soft lips with your eyes squeezed shut, breathing in his scent and his presence, a presence you never wanted to go away. You didn’t know if it was right or wrong. You didn’t know if this was the start of a wonderful story or the end of a rollercoaster one, but it was yours, your cassette tape with your love songs, and you wanted Yoongi on the playlist, you wanted his song to play on repeat, and he grabbed your arms and pulled you close, kissing you back, murmuring your name, wrapping his arms around you, and you knew you had his song, his song on your cassette to dance to.

Don’t let this beginning end.

-

4. smut.

--

masterpost

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 9 - A Deal is Made

When Stan ran off, to Ford’s relief – he didn’t think he could handle any more of Bill’s cruelty towards his little brother – the demon didn’t chase after him. After his little display Bill turned to Ford with a wide, unnatural grin and lifted his arms like an actor bowing after a particularly brilliant performance.

“I do a wonderful Stanford impression, don’t I? It’s pretty easy. You’re like a broken record, Sixer, all repetitive and annoying. ‘My science project, my science project!’ But I really think I spiced it up a bit while still staying in character!”

Ford stabbed a finger at the demon wearing his skin. “You – how dare you?”

Bill merely shrugged and rifled through Ford’s pockets, letting out a little ‘ah’ of triumph when he pulled out a pocket knife. “Hah! I didn’t take you for the stabbing type.”

“It’s for self defense!” Ford fumed.

“Sure, sure, don’t wanna get eaten alive by monsters, excuses excuses.” Bill stepped back, sizing up a nearby tree. “I was looking for rope but this will work too.”

“Wait, what are you-”

Bill placed one hand against the tree’s bark and slammed the pocket knife into it, cutting through skin and flesh to bury the knife into hard wood. Ford hissed.

“That should do it!” Bill said cheerfully, watching blood drip down Ford’s wrist. “That looks like it’s gonna be a gusher, Sixer. I wouldn’t take the knife out if I were you. You never know, maybe you’ll bleed to death!”

Ford very deliberately kept his mouth shut about the placement of arteries in the human body. What Bill didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And getting stabbed through the hand couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

He soon found out, once Bill zipped away and he lunged back into his own body, that it did indeed hurt. Ford bit down a scream and fought to keep his hand still. Every twitch and tremor sent pain racing down his arm and he was very aware of the metal piercing through his hand, sharp edge rubbing up against skin and muscle and nerves.

Ford grabbed the handle of the pocket knife with his free hand (pain pain pain) and wrenched it out. This time he couldn’t smother the scream that bubbled from his lips. He dropped the bloody knife and clutched at his bleeding hand.

Calm. Calm down. He couldn’t help anyone if he was panicking.

Ford fumbled around in his pockets until he found a handkerchief, wrapping it around the seeping wound and tying it tight with his teeth. It wasn’t a long-term solution but it would stop dirt getting under the skin, and hopefully slow the bloodflow. Though the fabric was already getting stained with red.

Move. He didn’t have time to waste, Bill could have caught up to Stan already. Who knew what the demon would do? Ford took off through the trees in the direction he had seen Stan run, every step sending a flash of burning pain up his arm.

By the time he caught up with his brother he was lightheaded, a yellow triangle swimming in his vision – Stan looked so small, so confused in the demon’s shadow. Ford would not fail his brother again.

“STAN!”

 _______________________________________________________________

Ford was here. Stan’s gaze snapped up at his brother’s shout, the traitorous part of him whispering, ‘apologize, make him like you again’. He clenched his fists as Ford staggered into sight, looking kinda pale.

“Stan-” Ford caught a tree and clung to it as he struggled to regain his breath. He looked shaky, and Stan ached to go over and make sure he was alright. He took a few steps past the demon despite himself. “Stanley – listen to me, whatever Bill is telling you, it’s a lie-”

“Well well well well well!”

Stan was treated to the lovely sight of the skin on Bill’s back peeling open to reveal an eyeball, his body contorting and turning inside out until he was staring right at Ford with that neon yellow gaze.

“Just when I thought I’d taken care of you.”

Stan hesitated, the word striking a chord. “…taken care of? What does that mean?”

Bill drifted forward, placing himself in front of Stan but Ford looked right past the triangle, staring at Stan with desperation in his gaze. It made Stan’s stomach twist, made him feel guilty and angry and so very confused. He wrapped his arms around himself and backed away, Ford reaching after him.

“Stanley please. I’m sorry – I was stupid and cruel and I treated you badly because I was angry, but you didn’t deserve it. I saw what Bill said to you in my body and it’s not true, Stan, none of it’s true-”

“Shut up!” Stan stabbed a finger in Ford’s direction, glaring at him through tears. Ford didn’t even look scary anymore – just afraid, and that was the scariest thing. Adult Ford was supposed to be big and determined, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid. “Just – just shut up! I don’t even know what you’re saying!”

“Exactly!” Bill’s cheerful tone reverberated through the trees, making Stan shiver despite himself. “The man’s speaking nonsense, don’t listen to him.”

Stan wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t totally stupid either. He could see the ‘shut up’ glare the demon sent his brother. Bill was trying to be his friend, why was he hiding something from him?

Ford pushed himself off the tree to stand by himself, gaze still fixed on Stan. “The eyes, Stanley! What colour were my eyes, when I was saying those terrible things to you?”

“I dunno!” Stan yelled back.

What kind of stupid question was that? Stan didn’t want to think about that, he didn’t want to think about how he was a dead weight and a nuisance and how Ford was better off without him. But something – something about that encounter seemed off…

“Answer me, Stanley!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“What colour were my eyes?”

“Yellow!”

Wait.

Yellow?

“Please believe me.” Ford stepped closer, holding his hands out desperately. “Bill took over my body and he made me hurt you, more than I already have. He’s evil, he’s trying to take advantage of you and trick you into doing terrible things. And – I know you have no reason to believe me. I know I’ve treated you badly, since you arrive at Gravity Falls and before that. But please.”

Stan twisted his hands, anxiety swirling in his stomach and making him want to barf. He glanced up at the fuming demon.

“You’re all-powerful, right?”

“Stanley no-”

Bill’s body flashed lemon-yellow, his eye curling into a grin as he spun around to face Stan. “Sure I am kid! I can get you anything you want.”

“…anything I ask for? Anything at all?”

“You bet!”

“Stanley! He’s trying to trick you, he’s evil-”

“Oh shut it, Sixer!” Bill snapped his fingers and Ford’s body lurched sideways, sending him slamming into a tree with a yelp. He slumped to the grass. Stan dug his fingers into his palms. “See, kid? When you open the portal I’ll be even more powerful! Enough to give you anything you want.”

Stan looked between the prone body of his brother and the demon, and he made his decision. His hand reached out to snatch Bill’s.

“It’s a deal.”

Blue flames erupted across their joined hands, flicking over Stan’s skin but not burning, warm and tickly. Bill’s eye creased up in a grin.

“I knew you were the smart one! Now come on, name your price! Anything you want is yours, once you open the portal for me.”

Stan frowned, staring at their joined hands. The fire was the least weird thing about these last few days – it blazed warm and blue, spitting sparks every which way. Hypnotizing, almost. It was so much power – not his, of course – but flaming at his fingertips. He wanted it.

Bill released his hand, letting Stan’s drop down by his side. Stan stuffed them in his pockets, feeling the tingle of residual warmth against his skin.

“Well? I don’t have all day!” Bill heaved a sigh, folding his little stick arms. Stan’s mouth tasted sour. “What’s your price? A galaxy all of your own, right? Or a billion dollars?”

“…I want a hug.”

Silence reined in the clearing.

“Are you kidding me?” Bill’s eye hung open in disbelief. “I’m offering you your own galaxy and all you want is a flipping hug?”

Stan nodded. “Yep. And like you said, you gotta give it to me.” He opened his arms. “I want my hug now.”

Bill sighed in frustration. “I’m incorporeal, kid, I can’t give hugs. Why would I even want to touch a fleshbag like you in the first place?”

Stan put his hands on his hips. “You’re just gonna have to be corp-or-real. I know you can, you can touch and move things around! You gotta do the deal or the whole thing’s off, remember?” He scowled. “If I don’t get my hug you can’t use me to open the portal.”

“Ugh.” Bill’s form shimmered, becoming a little more corporeal – enough, at least, to interact with the physical world. The triangle’s ‘face’ screwed up. “Gross. Let’s get this over with already.”

He extended his stick-arms out with a grimace, and Stan flew in to hug him, wrapping tiny arms around the triangular body and squeezing tight. Bill let out a disgusted noise and patted his back awkwardly.

“There. There’s your hug.”

Stan pulled back enough to grin at him. “You give shit hugs.” Then he jammed the magic capsule into Bill’s huge eye.

 The triangle-

 Screamed.

 There was an explosion of light and colour and searing heat that scorched across his face and Stan was flying back, breath knocked out of his lungs. He slammed into something and that something wrapped its arms around him and swung him away from the blast, shielding him with its body.

 When Stan’s ears stopped ringing and the spots faded from his vision, the sight that met his eyes made him freeze.

 Bill was dripping, fizzling like a dying candle, his eye seeping down his figure and body glitching red in places, showing glimpses of scarlet-colored bricks and bits of muscle and scenes played in sepia like they were being shown on an old TV. The demon lurched towards them, fingers curled into half-melted claws and body pulsing with its deep, distorted voice like an earthquake.

 “STANLEY-”

  There was the pop of a rifle being discharged and a hole blew open Bill’s body. Something crackled like broken glass, and then the demon

shattered.

[phoebenavarro]

and on you stumble on (ch 1)

part 6 of my Jon trusting Tim s2 AU, we’ve reached the end of season 2! woo let’s go

the magnus archives, established JonTim, pre JonMarTim, 1642 words

read this part and the rest of the series on ao3 here

Jon sits, frozen, as his mind struggles to process everything. He told Tim what Melanie said about Sasha, the two Sashas, but he’d kept the rest of his little investigation to himself. It wasn’t fair to Tim, but Sasha is a delicate subject for him, and Jon wanted to be sure. And maybe, as long as he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real. Sasha wouldn’t have been replaced by a monster that looks nothing like her, the real her. But the time for that willful denial is over now; he knows the truth, much as he wishes he could change it. Sasha’s dead, and she has been since Prentiss.

Tim. He has to tell Tim. He deserves to know, and he deserves to help kill it.

Especially after the tapes. The tapes with the real Sasha’s voice on them. He presses play on the recorder with a shaking hand, and the voice he still can’t recognize as Sasha’s crackles through the speakers. He sits there and listens and hates himself for not figuring it out sooner. That thing hasn’t even been trying to be like Sasha, the real Sasha, and he still didn’t realize that his friend had been replaced by a monster.

He’s listening to the tape—her statement about her encounter with Michael—for a third time when the door to his office opens.

“Alright boss, you about ready to go?” Tim asks cheerfully, striding in, but he freezes when he sees the distressed look on Jon’s face. “Jon. What’s wrong?”

“I, um…” Jon says, at a loss for words.

“What happened? Did Michael come back?”

“What? No, no…” Jon sighs and rubs his eyes. He’s so tired. “No, it— it’s not that. I suppose it’s easier if I show you.” He gestures Tim over to his desk. “Do you remember what Melanie King said, about there being two Sashas?” Tim nods slowly.

“Yeah, what— did you figure out what’s going on?”

Jon sighs again. “Yes. Tim… I’m sorry.” He hands Tim the paper copies of the statements. Tim frowns, but he doesn’t say anything, he just starts reading. Jon tries not to stare at him while he reads, heartbroken for him and a little bit terrified for how he’s going to react. Jon’s own grief for Sasha hasn’t hit him yet, he’s too preoccupied with thinking about what they’re going to do now. He’s got a plan forming, but that will entirely depend on what Tim wants to do.

Tim sets the papers down and rubs his eyes. “Fuck,” he swears quietly. “That’s it, then. She’s dead,” his voice is disturbingly flat, and Jon aches to reach out to him, to comfort his boyfriend, but Jon’s never seen him like this.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“When did it happen?” Tim asks.

“I uh… It seems like it was during the Prentiss attack, when she got separated from Elias and ran into Artifact Storage.” Tim breathes in sharply and swears again under his breath.

“She hated Artifact Storage,” Tim says quietly.

“I know.”

“Or are our memories of her even real? If this thing could replace her and change what she looked like in our minds, why couldn’t it completely change everything?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jon admits, “It’s certainly possible, but we can’t— we can’t start questioning every little memory. I think that’s what it wants, what it feeds on, and besides, it’s just not feasible.”

“Yeah,” Tim says quietly. Jon reaches for his hand, trying to find some way to comfort Tim, to make this news a little more bearable. Tim lets him.

“I think our memories are our own,” Jon continues, “I mean, we both remember her being different before the Prentiss attack. She… changed. We both noticed. We didn’t know why she changed, but we definitely noticed.”

Tim nods, but he doesn’t say anything, so Jon just launches into the next thing he needs to tell Tim about.

“I-I found the missing tapes,” Jon says, and he chuckles bitterly, “They were in Sasha’s desk. Not even well hidden, almost like it wanted us to find them. Finally figured out what those tapes had in common, they all had Sasha— the real Sasha’s voice on them.

Tim cocks his head. “How do you mean? I thought the monster changed pictures and recordings too.”

“Yes, but not polaroid photos, for some reason, and apparently not tape recordings.”

Tim’s breath hitches. “So, what’s on the tapes— that’s real?” Jon nods.

Tim swallows. “Can I— Can I listen to them?” he asks, and Jon’s chest feels tight.

“Y-yes, of course,” Jon says, and he starts rewinding the tape with Sasha’s statement. “I-I don’t think you want to listen to all of them, a-at least not right now, one of them is from the Prentiss attack, when it h-happened.”

“I need to know what happened, Jon,” Tim says, “I need to know how, if it was painful, if she…” Tim trails off. Jon thinks about Sasha’s scream, and he shudders.

“It was awful. I wish I hadn’t heard it. And- And I don’t think there’s much point to you listening to it if you’re just going to use it to punish yourself for not doing anything about it.” Tim glares at him, but Jon keeps his voice steady. “I know you, and I know you’re gonna blame yourself, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Tim mutters, “Yeah, right,” and he turns his head to stare at the floor.

The tape finishes rewinding, and Jon presses play without another word. They listen in silence as the Sasha on the tape tells her story, Tim gripping Jon’s hand so hard that it hurts. Jon can’t help but be hyper focused on every one of Tim’s reactions, every sharp intake of breath, every sigh, every small exhale of laughter. Jon remembers Sasha being funny, and it seems like she was. Jon notices a few tears on Tim’s face, and he pulls Tim close to put an arm around him.

When it ends, Tim wipes his eyes with his free hand.

“I still can’t believe she did something that reckless,” he says, “She was always going on about being the rational one.” Jon smiles. He moves to switch the tape out for the one where Sasha interrupted him to talk about the proper way to pronounce calliope, and he fast forwards to around the point where she walked in. Tim listens just as intently, like he’s trying to catalogue every little thing he can gleam about the real Sasha from these tapes. Then the Jon on the tape resumes reading his statement, and they let it play out in the quiet of the office.

Eventually, the tape ends, and Jon stops it. Jon looks to Tim expectantly, but Tim is staring at the wall with a far-away look in his eyes.

“What are we going to do about that- that thing pretending to be Sasha?” Tim asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Ah,” Jon says, “I’ve been thinking about that. It’s tied to the table, so it seems like destroying the table will kill it, or at least weaken it.”

Tim nods slowly. “Makes as much sense as anything else around here.” He runs a hand through his hair. “When?”

“Tonight? After everyone’s gone home, artifact storage will be empty.”

Absently, Tim presses a kiss to Jon’s hand. “I’m not letting this go, by the way. I want to listen to all of those tapes. But… Maybe you’re right. Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

“That’s reasonable, I suppose,” Jon replies.

Tim stares off into space again for a few minutes, clearly thinking, before he speaks again.

“Should we tell Martin? In case something happens?”

“No,” Jon says immediately, and he can’t ignore the panic that rises in his chest when he thinks about getting Martin involved in this, “No, he’ll insist on staying to help and I won’t put him in any more danger.”

Thankfully, Tim agrees. “Yeah,” he says, “He’ll be pissed when he finds out, though.”

Jon thinks back to the stern lecture Martin had given them on trust, on treating him like an adult, and when he thinks about how Martin is going to react when he finds out, he does feel guilty. Just this, he thinks, This is the last thing we’ll keep him in the dark about.

“We can deal with Martin being angry at us, if we live, but I can’t lose anyone else. It’s my job to protect you all, and I’ve already failed Sasha…”

“Hey, no—“

Jon cuts him off, “I know it wasn’t my fault, what happened to Sasha, wasn’t anyone’s fault, really, but I should have been able to protect her. And Tim, if I could, I’d send you home too, deal with this on my own.”

“Jon…”

“I know you won’t go, you’re too stubborn, and I won’t make you, because I know this is just as important to you. But I’d rather you be safe.”

“How do you think I feel?” Tim says, “That’s two of the most important people in my life, dead, and I did nothing to stop it.” Jon opens his mouth to protest, but Tim plows on, "I don’t want you to be number three, and it seems like, as Archivist, you’ve got a target painted on your back. I also know that you’re too damn stubborn not to put yourself in danger, and well, we’ve got a better chance of not dying if we do it together.”

“I certainly hope so,” Jon agrees, “Have I mentioned recently how much I love you?”

“Once or twice,” Tim replies, “I love you too. Now how exactly are we going to go about killing this thing?”

“Did you know, it is remarkably easy to buy an axe in central London?”

Tim smiles.

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part 8 - Recovery)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation 8. Recovery

This one is over 4600 words to the point I considered cutting it in half. But lots happens so I’ve posted it whole. Now I just need to play catch up because I had a crappy couple of weeks and now I’m only about 500 words ahead of this. I have a few days off coming up, so wish me luck :D

As always, many thanks to the amazing @janetm74​ @scribbles97​ @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ and science officer @onereyofstarlight​ You guys have helped me make this what it is. I so hope you are enjoying it.

For the first time in this story, I’ve slightly gone off plan and have had to add in a chapter because of it. Here’s hoping I can keep this going. We are now at 35,000 words which is approximately halfway.

Warnings: some whump.

Thank you for all your support with this fic. I doubt I could do it without all the cheerleading and support. You guys are just amazing ::hugs you so much::

Enjoy!

-o-o-o-

Jeff Tracy was a man of action and drive. Eight years in the depths of space had eroded the edges of his impatience, but hadn’t eliminated it.

So, sitting in Callisto Base watching his family work and not having anything much to do wasn’t in the best interests of his mental health.

But what could he do?

He had set up a kind of mobile control despite not being in control of anything. John had linked him into everything and he and Lee had pretty much taken over one of the command centres of the Base.

Grae hovered the entire time.

Jeff watched the well-oiled machine that was International Rescue with no small amount of pride. He watched them track down the lifesigns, survey the site, drill extra access, deploy Thunderbird Four and-

“Gordon!”

“Guys, get out of there! Now!”

The holographic image of the lake swelled and swept his sons away.

Jeff was on his feet without thinking.

Three of the five life signs on the strategy map darted erratically, one coming to an abrupt stop against the cavern wall, while the two others travelled some distance up the main tunnel before stopping suddenly.

“Thunderbird Five!”

“Please hold.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “John!”

Data was suddenly thrown at his terminal. His sons’ vitals sprung up and he was relieved to find them all strong. A sitrep appeared a moment later tracking where the wave had come from, probabilities of a recurrence, a site safety scan and a feed from the Dragonfly Pod.

Its lights were still on, one shining at an angle across the tunnel it had landed in, the other reflected back a glare of white and a blue as beautiful as an Earth sky in the early evening.

The first one explained why.

One of the Dragonfly’s legs was sticking up out of a solidified white mass.

Of ice.

The math added up in his head very abruptly and he was suddenly moving.

It was a sign that Lee and he still had that unspoken communication as the engineer didn’t even ask and just moved with him, following his mad run to the hangar without a word.

Alan and Gordon had left the second Dragonfly pod at the Base and Jeff was ever so grateful.

“What’s…where are you going?” Grae’s eyes were wide as they all skidded to the side of the pod.

“Three of my sons are buried in ice. Where do you think I’m going?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, climbing up into the cockpit with a leap of agility he hadn’t felt for years. With a nod from Lee, he snapped the hatch shut and grabbed controls he hadn’t used outside of a simulator in over a decade.

It was like returning home.

The Dragonfly took off for the airlock far above as the doors began their opening sequence without request.

-o-o-o-

John reacted the way he always reacted.

Without thought. There was no time for thought.

Hands moving across his console dragged as much information as he could from the static-fouled scans.

He blinked as the interference cleared somewhat.

A worried plea from his father John had no time for. A flick of his wrist and he mirrored his sources to his father’s terminal.

All three of his brothers had come to a halt. Gordon was still in the cavern, Four slammed up against a wall. Scott and Virgil were in the tunnel. Vital signs were still good, but there was no response from any of them.

No matter how much he yelled into comms.

One of the beacons had been swept away, causing the interference to intensify in that area, but the readings he had added up to a scenario that echoed past hell.

His father was already moving.

“John?” Alan’s voice was professional but sported an edge of terror.

“I’m coming down, Thunderbird Three.” He grabbed his helmet. “Dad is on his way out there. Do we have enough parts for a third Dragonfly?”

His brother’s voice solidified with the plan of action. “Yeah, Virg overcompensated as always. He packed stuff in as if he was planning to stay out here for a couple of years.”

John didn’t answer that. “Assemble another pod. I’ll see you down there asap.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos, align the Excel with the danger zone. Initiate elevator deployment.” He flung himself through his ‘bird. “I need as much information as you can give me. Relay on descent.”

“Yes, John. It appears that the water volume of the lake increased dramatically before the incident, but has now returned to its previous status.”

John slipped through the airlock to the elevator. He hit his comms. “Michael, there has been an incident. I am going down to the surface. You have the Excel.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I will monitor.”

“Liaise with Eos.” He killed the connection as he entered the cockpit, his seat rotating towards him in welcome. “Eos, be nice.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Too bad. We need him.”

She grumbled in a way reminiscent of Virgil before coffee.

Maybe she had been taking notes.

He ignored it. “Send all information to my terminal here.” The elevator shuddered as it disengaged from Five and began its descent. The cockpit lit up with holograms.

He eyed the replay of the static-riddled scan as the lake swelled and overcame his brothers.

Four had been swept out of the water and washed ashore violently. Scott and Virgil, standing on that shore, hadn’t stood a chance.

One gloved hand reached up to poke the playback, pause and rewind. There had been a local seismic disturbance just before, epicentre to the north-east by a few hundred metres. Minor on an Earth scale, but since Callisto supposedly hadn’t had any major crustal movements in eons, it was unusual in the extreme.

“Eos, pull the Base seismic records. Have they detected anything like this before?”

The elevator’s thrusters fired as it hit the faint atmospheric boundary.

“Their system has recorded several incidents, but nothing of this magnitude.” Eos’ voice shifted to one of concern. “Incidents have been increasing recently. There have been three in the past month. John, one was recorded by the Base system the same day as the five members of their crew disappeared.”

“What? Why wasn’t that mentioned?”

“Unknown.”

He stared at the scan. “Do we have any source for more water to reach the lake?” It hurt his physics sensibilities. Water should not exist as a fluid in this environment at all.

“None within sensor range.”

Damnit. He was used to being able to see everything.

“Deploy a net of probes. I want everything in a ten thousand kilometre radius as crystal clear as you can get it.” If there was a pun in there, he refused to acknowledge it.

“Yes, John. That will cover the entire surface of the moon.”

“Exactly.” Something weird was happening here and he wanted to know what. If he had to throw everything Thunderbird Five had at it, he would.

The elevator thrusters fired again and the moon appeared around his windows, followed by the striking red of Three.

“Alan, are you ready?”

“Pod assembled, Thunderbird Five. Awaiting your orders.” There was no tremble in his brother’s voice, but there was an anxious impatience.

The elevator touched down with a soft thud. Eos’ control was perfect. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You are welcome, John.” A pause. “Be safe.”

His lips tightened a little. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

She didn’t answer as he stepped out onto the moon.

-o-o-o-

Alan didn’t remember his mother, but he had four brothers who did and he knew far too well the pain of what had happened when she was taken from them.

The fact that three of those brothers were now buried in the space-ice equivalent of an avalanche was absolutely terrifying.

The water had managed to travel some distance before solidifying and trapping everything. As far as Alan could tell, his brothers were encased in ice.

If they had been on Earth their lives would be in peril. In space, they were at least wearing their spacesuits. But spacesuits could be damaged.

He didn’t let himself follow that train of thought. He couldn’t afford it right now. Instead, he followed procedure.

That was what procedure was for.

It was a matter of minutes before John was stepping off the space elevator, his tall brother as confident and professional as ever.

Part of Alan was still surprised when John directed him to take control of the pod. Perhaps it was because Alan was used to the control freak habits of his two eldest brothers?

“Get us down there Alan.” John was distracted, glaring at his wrist projector.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With John secure in the backseat, Alan threw them down the gaping hole his ‘bird had dug, through the mole’s extension and into the dry cavern below.

The dragonfly latched onto the beacons and they darted down the correct tunnel, glittering rock streaking past them as their twin beams of bright light hit everything.

Including the mass of white that that suddenly swelled up on one side of the tunnel.

It wasn’t quite a wave, more a slosh of water, frozen in motion.

“What the hell?”

“Edge down the tunnel a little further, Scott is...” But they were already there and the flash of blue and red was obvious.

His eldest brother was embedded in the ice halfway up the wall. Alan only had breath as he yanked the dragonfly to an abrupt halt, her claws leaving gouges in the ice. “Scott!”

He was out of the pod as fast humanly possible.

One of his brother’s arms was dangling free and Alan reached for it. “Scott?”

Limp, gloved fingers.

John already had a hand laser out and the red of its beam was cutting ice in a loose silhouette of their brother’s body. As they worked him free, bits of ice fell away to the floor. It was fragmentary. Somewhere between solid and hard packed snow. The water had obviously frozen so quickly, it was aerated enough to stiffen fully.

Fortunately, because Alan had the sudden realisation that spacesuits or no, if his brothers couldn’t expand their ribcages, they couldn’t breathe regardless. The sudden relief sprouted new terror.

John helped Alan lower their big brother to the floor.

“Sc…Scott?”

For a second, Alan thought it was John speaking, but his astronaut brother answered, voice urgent. “Virgil?”

No response.

“Thunderbird Two, status!” John was moving, long legs leaping in the low gravity, propelling him back to the pod. He reached inside and pulled out a large torch. “Alan, attend to Scott.” And then his brother was running further down the tunnel, light bouncing ahead of him, holographic map hovering over his wrist.

A further spark of terror was smothered in Alan’s brain as he turned back to his prone and unconscious eldest brother and began chipping and melting ice to free him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was lying flat on his back staring at white lit up by his helmet lights.

It took him a few solid minutes to realise exactly what he was looking at. His brain felt sluggish and was hurting like hell. He really needed more painkillers.

He automatically tried to calculate how long it was since his last dose and came up blank. There was time missing.

This realisation was quickly followed by the discovery that he wasn’t able to move.

God, his brain was slow. The first thought that came to mind was that yet another building had fallen on him. It happened far more often than he was willing to admit.

But then where was his exosuit?

He blinked slowly.

One arm was caught at an awkward angle and was protesting its position. His legs seemed to be splayed out evenly, though and his other arm seemed happy enough. Hell, there wasn’t really even much weight on him. He had definitely had worse.

But his chest was tight and breathing shallow. Something had him in its grip and he had to force down the visuals that came with that.

Not being able to move always sucked.

He really wished his head would stop hurting.

“Sc..Scott?” It was instinctual. In trouble, call for his big brother.

Need a hand.

“Virgil?” John’s voice. Johnny had the power to call Scotty, to get him help.

He opened his mouth to answer, but something shifted in the ice...ice...it was ice! Memories slammed into him of ice and snow and trapped and oh god...his sluggish brain couldn’t handle it.

“Thunderbird Two, status!”

John’s voice shook him.

Um, um…his heart was beating a mile a minute. He fought for control.

“Virgil? Son?”

Dad.

His father’s voice set off both relief and fear. Relief because of a deep-seated trust in his own father.

Fear because where was Scott? Scott should be here.

But Scott had been with him when the whatever had hit him.

Had hit him.

Water.

Space.

Callisto.

Sparkling crystal flickered in his mind’s eye.

“Scott?”

“Your brother is in good hands.”

Even his sluggish brain could see that as a non-answer. “Dad?”

“We’re digging you out.”

Oh.

As if to emphasize that statement there was a red flash and the world around him hissed. He closed his eyes as the light stabbed into his hurting head.

“Dad? Gordon?”

“Nearly there, son.”

Virgil’s heart clenched.

They uncovered his head first and Virgil teared up at the sight of his father’s worried expression above him. John was there as well, darting in and out of sight, obviously the source of the laser light.

“Johnny…”

There was a crack in the ice.

Ice.

His mind blanked in terror again.

Too many memories.

Far too many.

“Virgil! Look at me!” Dad’s voice held command and he had no choice but to obey. “You are safe.” His hand was being held and Virgil realised it had been cut from the ice. He tried to move his other arm, every heavy-lifting muscle he had straining against its restriction.

Another crack of stressed ice, a yelp from John and Virgil’s arm was suddenly free, ice fragments raining down on him.

Encouraged, he began working on his feet.

“Virgil, stay still just a moment longer.” John’s voice was strained.

Virgil wanted out.

“Virgil.” His Dad grabbed his flailing hand forced him to look at him, grey eyes reflecting the white ice. “Hold still, John is cutting you out.”

Yes, John was cutting him out. Red flickered amongst the white. Virgil swallowed and attempted to get the panic under control and found that he was trembling.

Damn.

He was a rescue operative. He should be calm.

The remaining weight on his belly was removed and he was finally able to take a deep breath.

It helped ever so much.

He closed his eyes and sought his centre.

And fell back on procedure.

If Scott was down, International Rescue was now his responsibility. He needed to be in control.

In control.

By the time John lifted the remaining ice off his legs, Virgil had found himself again. He clambered out of the ice as fast as he possibly could and shot to his feet.

And nearly fell flat on his face for the effort.

His father grabbed him and prevented his fall. “Virgil, sit down.”

There was a flicker of a medscanner, but Virgil was too busy assessing the situation to care. “Scott?”

“With Alan. Unconscious, but safe.”

“Gordon?”

“Still in the cave. Thunderbird Four is silent. I sent Lee. John is following him down.”

Damn. Virgil shook the last of the ice stuck to his uniform, straightened his baldric and took a step towards the direction of the cave, but was halted by a firm grip on his arm.

“You’re not going down there.”

Virgil spun on one foot and the world in all its glittering glory spun with him. “Gordon is down there.”

“John and Lee have him. You were buried in ice, Virgil.”

To his ultimate shame, Virgil shuddered at the concept.

But Gordon...

That grip on his arm tightened. “You’re coming with me.”

Virgil straightened, forcing steel into his spine. “With Scott unconscious, I am in command. I need to be down there.”

“No, you don’t.” His father took a step back up the tunnel, obviously intending to drag Virgil if he had to.

Virgil was no longer the scrappy kid who wanted to play with his paints instead of cleaning his room, and he stood fast.

His father had been in space a long time and his strength had paid the price.

There was no competition.

Buried in ice or not.

“Dad, I am going down to help with Gordon. Scott needs you. I’ll meet you up there the moment Gordon is safe.”

The need to be in two places at once, or more correctly four places, at least, was a common feeling Virgil had to ignore.

Gordon was the priority.

“I need an analysis of what happened. There was a wave. Why? See to Scott and Alan.” He reached up and gently peeled his father’s grip of his arm. “Thank you for helping me. Now I have to go help my brothers.” Turning he hit his comms, asked John for a sit rep and hurried down the tunnel.

He did not look back.

-o-o-o-

Scott had a headache.

That was the first hint of reality and not a new one in his life. He often woke with headaches, the only remaining question was what caused it this time.

“Hey, Scott, are you with us?”

Alan.

Several factors hit home at once. He was wearing his helmet, hence his uniform and Alan, only Alan, had said his name.

Mission.

He was sitting up before his brain had filled him in on the fact he was millions of miles away from home and gravity was a whole different thing on Callisto.

“Whoa!” Hands grabbed him. Hands that definitely belonged to Alan. The astronaut was crouched over him with worried eyes. “Take it easy. You might have a concussion.”

Head injury then.

“Mission status.”

“John’s gone after Gordon. Virgil is awake and out of the ice.”

Gordon. Gordon had been in the water. The weird water.

The very idea of Virgil being buried in ice again awoke horrors he did not want to face.

“Help me up.” Scott rolled himself over, ignoring the protests from his brother to stay put. His head protested very loudly and it became very apparent that the supposed head injury was not impressed with any movement.

Ow.

But, mission.

“Scott, what are you doing?” Another set of hands grabbed at him, which was probably a good thing because he was going down if they hadn’t. As it was, the whole world shifted as he was forcibly lowered to sit on the white, white ground again.

There was a flicker of yellow light and muttering from his youngest brother. “We need to get him back to base.” Alan’s voice was worried.

But Gordon. “I’ve got to go help Gordon.” He tried to stand up again, but too many hands held him down. His shoulders were grabbed and he found a pair of grey eyes staring at him. “Dad? Gordy is in danger.”

“I know son. John, Lee and Virgil will see to him.”

Virgil. He blinked. “Virgil was with me!” Again he struggled to get up.

His father held him down. “Virgil is very determined that he is fine. You, however, are not. You have a concussion. I will take you back to the Base and you will rest. Alan will help his brothers.”

“But-“

The hands on his shoulders squeezed. “Do I have to ask Virgil to reinforce that order?”

Virgil? Order? God, his head hurt.

But this was Dad. Dad knew what to do in space. Dad was...Dad was...

“Scott, you with me?”

He was shaken just a little and his head hated him for it. A groan and his hand encountered his helmet. Augh.

Space sucked.

“C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you into the pod.” Alan’s voice was gentle and professional. He was so proud of his little brother. “Yeah, well, I learnt from the best. Up you get.”

He was pulled slowly to his feet and he had to bite down or lose whatever the hell it was he had eaten last. There were steps and then he was sitting and familiar restraints were holding him in place.

He closed his eyes.

Gordon. He had to help Gordon.

“Your brothers will help him, Scott, you know that.”

But-

His world shook as the pod lifted. He glimpsed the back of his father’s helmet. Dad. Dad was driving. Dad had control.

He could let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan swallowed as their father launched the pod back down the tunnel, its headlights sparkling.

He had reported Scott’s status the moment they had the medscanner’s results and had received a very abrupt acknowledgement from Virgil.

It was unusual to have Virgil in command in space. It wasn’t his native environment and he didn’t venture into it very often. It, of course, wasn’t the first time, and Alan trusted Virgil with his life. But this was Alan’s turf, he needed to be there to help.

He leapt into the remaining dragonfly and dashed off down the tunnel.

It got tighter and tighter as he flew closer to the Crystal Cave, his access blocked by frozen lake water. For a moment he thought he was going to have to abandon the pod, but he was just able to squeeze through the entrance.

The lake was exactly as it had been. Calm and glittering in the pod’s headlamps. He turned slowly on the rocky beach to find Four, free of ice, jammed up against the wall beside the tunnel entrance. She was on her port side, cabin rammed into the rock.

Alan’s heart clenched as he set the dragonfly down.

Both John and Virgil along with Uncle Lee were attempting to gain access via the rear hatch. The ‘bird was made for water, but on the very rare occasion such as this, Brains had built space capable redundancies into her airlock.

How many submersibles in this universe were also space capsules in disguise?

But all this was redundant if the seals had been compromised.

A quick query of Thunderbird Five reassured Alan that Gordon’s vitals were still strong. There was still no response from their fish brother, but he was alive and relatively stable and Four reported no seal ruptures.

Yet.

Virgil grunted as the back of Four was slowly cranked open. Uncle Lee and his engineer brother were putting all their muscle into heaving the hatch open while John slipped into the vehicle.

A moment later the door was shoved shut again and Alan was surprised to see Virgil seal it with a hand laser.

Tired eyes caught Alan’s. His brother didn’t need to explain why he was doing what he was doing.

“Inner airlock door is now compromised.” John’s voice was calm and sure despite the subject matter. “Proceeding to the cockpit.”

Alan stared at Virgil a moment, caught by his haggard expression before hurrying around Four towards her belly viewports.

All he could see was Gordon’s feet. No matter how he shone his hand light through those windows, he could see nothing more. Gordon’s pilot’s seat obscured everything.

For it to be in that position it had to have been severed off its mountings.

Hell.

Determined, Alan scrambled around Four’s nose and tried to find her front viewports. Everything was obscured by rock.

Crystal glittered mockingly at him, an almost scarlet chunk of quartz sticking out of the wall and falling over as if it was reaching for Four.

Alan fought the urge to shove it away from his brother’s ‘bird.

“Cockpit hatch is non-operational. Eos, relay through my suit sensors and give me a detailed report on Gordon’s position.” John’s voice was ever so calm.

Alan wanted to scream.

He hurried back to the lower ports and stared at his brother’s feet.

Again Gordon had been crushed in his ‘bird. How hurt was he this time. How long would he take to recover?

Virgil spoke up and Alan was startled to find his engineer brother and Uncle Lee standing beside him. Virgil was standing ramrod straight. “Eos, can you pull any medical data?”

“Please hold.” The AI’s voice was crisp and professional. “Compensating for interference.”

Damned interference. Alan was so sick of static. Their comm lines and sensor feeds were usually perfect. What was it with this place?

A big hand gently wrapped around his arm.

“I’m fine, Virgil.”

The hand did not let go.

“Thank you, Eos.” How did John stay so calm? “Cutting into the cockpit now.”

Virgil’s wrist control lit up and projected the sensor data he had requested from Eos. True to this place, parts flickered and there was some pixilation, but a clear outline of both Gordon and John inside Four was all the reassurance it could be.

Gordon was curled up on the ‘floor’ of his ‘bird, on what had been Four’s portside viewports.

The laser cutter in John’s hand flared up brightly as he cut through the cockpit hatch mechanisms.

Red light flickered through the marine acrylic enough to catch on Alan’s uniform.

“His right arm is broken again.” Virgil sighed. “He’s going to be so pissed.”

“I’m in.” And John was. Light lit up the viewports, quickly followed by the yellow of a medscanner.

“Oh, thank god.” Beside him, Virgil visibly deflated in relief. The hologram lit up with Gordon’s full medical details. A red alarm hovered over one arm where the break snapped his right ulna and his head had an orange flag that pinpointed a likely concussion. But other than that, Gordon appeared whole and safe, his spacesuit undamaged and airtight. Alan’s shoulders dropped almost as much as Virgil’s.

“He’s safe to move, John.” No doubt John knew that, but Virgil obviously had a need to confirm it anyway. He had a habit of doing that. Alan wasn’t really sure who it was for, Virgil’s brothers or himself.

The next few moments involved cutting open the rear hatch of Four again. This time there was the hiss of escaping atmosphere as Virgil took the entire door off the sub, no longer needing to worry about Gordon’s suit integrity.

John emerged carefully carrying his unconscious brother, Gordon’s helmeted head limp on one shoulder, his arm in an emergency splint, no doubt from one of Four’s first aid packs.

“Vincent, I’m thinking you boys need to take your brother back to base.”

Alan suddenly realised they were a pod or two short to carry all of them. There were five operatives and only one pod.

Uncle Lee eyed Virgil, his lips thin. “Albert, you could fly George while Vincent, John and I dig out the other pod.”

Virgil shifted his feet as he translated that, and Alan frowned at him. His engineer brother was wrecked. Alan could see it in his eyes. Understandable

Virgil’s nod was firm, regardless. “FAB. Alan, you’re with Gordon. John, what is the impact of the interference on Eos’ capability to pilot the pod if necessary?”

Their space brother was looking down at Gordon’s face frowning. “Eos is deploying a moon-wide probe net. We can use them to strengthen the signal. I think that above ground, Thunderbird Five should be able to pilot reliably. I would not recommend attempting it underground.”

Virgil nodded again before striding over to Alan’s pod and, climbing up and throwing the hatch back, began reconfiguring the backseat to transport their injured brother.

Alan hurried over to help and within minutes, John had secured their unconscious aquanaut brother prone on his side in the back of the pod.

Silent, eyes closed, non-responsive.

Alan took off smoothly and with as much care as possible, flew back up the tunnel, heading above ground and back to Callisto Base.

His last glance at the Crystal Cave outlined the shapes of two brothers and an uncle standing ever so alone in a giant cavern that had tried to kill three of his brothers.

-o-o-o-

Next

[timerainseternal]

New theory: the amount that the Hargeeeves' powers are confusing to me specifically is directly correlated to the amount of impact they have on the plot.

To be clear, I'm not talking about how much they break the laws of the universe. This is just a Certified Silly Post and I do not have the brainpower to debate whether monster tummy, Very Convincing, spooky scary skeletons, or the ability to manipulate physics in a very specific way, is the most glitch-inducing. Nor am I talking about how much we don't understand about the powers, just what we do know about them and how consistent they are with the stated power. (Could Diego yeet the moon into the Earth? The world may never know.) Basically, as I watched the show, how much my brain said "that works for me, I guess" is the metric I'm working off of. They're also grouped together, since I couldn't decide on a 1-7 scale, so there are instead three levels of confusing and plot-relevant. This is also entirely memory-based, so I may miss things, and does not account for the character's importance to the plot, only the power's.

The Completely Understandable:

Luther: Strong and Tough™ are not confusing, and nor are they brought up very often. A chandelier fell on him, he punched some things, but like, what did that change, plotwise? Not much.

Diego: Again, this one only sort of gets used, like with the bullets and all, but it's also not really a plot changer. We know he can change the trajectory of thrown objects, which is fairly straightforward to see and understand. Like in my moon example, we don't know how far that extends, but while there are a lot of questions about his powers, what is directly shown is neither too confusing or too contradictory to our understanding. I've seen people curve soccer balls before, and bullets and knives are not different enough from one another to surprise me when he switches.

Ben: Now, you may be wondering why this is here and not later, but that is because we are Not discussing logistics here. I do not know how this power works in terms of physics, and I do not know where the tentacles are when they're not out. However, Ben's power isn't confusing, practically speaking. Open chest: boom, tentacles. It's also not plot relevant because he's dead (oops), though if losing control was how he died it's a bit more important. That's conjecture though, and should be stricken from the record.

A Bit Weird, But I Get It:

Klaus: I'm gonna be honest, I debated where to put Klaus. His power is a major driving force behind his personal plot, but his personal plot doesn't tend to impact the course of events as a whole too much (sorry, Klaus). I guess it gives us Ben, which is nice, but also he's very rarely plot relevant since he's, you know, dead. Also Klaus' powers grow as he sobers up and practices, so it's pretty inconsistent, but given a general understanding of how ghosts work in media there's nothing too out of the realm of understanding. I'm...not sure how much of the Little Girl putting him back on Earth is part of his power--like whether his power annoys her or if he just does that through sheer force of personality--so I'm just...not gonna touch the strange not-immortality that is seemingly not caused by his own doing. In short, if ghosts were just dropped on us without general media context, he'd be way up there, but since it's not, and since the power averages out to kinda plot-important but not completely, I put him here.

Allison: Rumors are obviously very important to the plot as a whole, both in Allison's personal journey and with they key rumors of repressing Vanya's powers and then of being throat-slashed. This normally wouldn't line up with how confusing her power is--mind control is pretty understandable so long as we put away the questions about how it works--but the scene that really boggles me is the "I heard a rumor I blew your mind" part. Like, what? I thought it was just make a person do a thing they can do, not making brain explosions! What is that!!! I know it's in the doomed timeline, but it still counts as a thing she can do. Theoretically I could use this one example to put her in the next category because of how many questions it opens up, but Five and Vanya are so plot important and confusing that they are a class on their own, so Allison gets to be with Klaus on this one in the kinda plot-important, kinda strange section.

The Utterly Wild:

Five: On the surface, Five's powers kinda make sense, except that they don't because the Umbrella Academy categorically refuses to make rules about time travel. Time-travelling back made him thirteen! And also made his siblings briefly children again too, unless that was a metaphor! How does changing the past change the future? How does it change your personal past? He can just completely rewind everything, which is sort of fine except that it also rewound and unshot him, even though he should still be travelling forward in his personal timeline! Also his powers run out even though nobody else's seem to, and maybe if they explained why that happened with even one line I could let it go but they have not! And my, oh my, the plot relevance of Five's powers. They are there to solve everything and kick off the plot, and also create problems on accident. Very confusing in the presentation of the power's rules, and very plot-relevant.

Vanya: Oh, Vanya, destroyer of worlds. Her powers are the exact opposite of Five's in terms of plot: there to ruin everything and end the plot, and also solve things on accident. They are the thing the plot is working to stop, so they're very important. They're also wild. Okay, sure, turning sound into energy, that's fine, I can play ball. Blowing up the moon, sure, that just takes a lot of energy. Destroying the world in the original timeline to a level where things are not absolutely atomized nearby, but also it seems like absolutely everyone is dead, and that's only with an energy blast or something? That's...hard to figure out exactly how it got done, but I guess that's fine. Holding up your siblings with weird energy beams as your skin and eyes are bleached white? Uh... Using your sound-based powers to heal a drowned child and gIVE HIM POWERS TOO??? WHAT? WHAT?????? VANYA WHAT ARE YOU DOING???????

So, in conclusion, the plot relevance of a power is directly correlated to how absolutely bonkers it is. People are free to disagree with my ranking, especially since I did rank this under the caveat of "not touching how any of this works," but I think it's pretty funny that the more the writers have to use a power in the plot, the more they freak out and slap extra stuff onto it and absolutely refuse to explain any inconsistencies that arise. (This is a very fun show to analyze at 3am.)

[mickstart]

what do you think are some iconic/memorable schumi moments? i just got into f1 and would like to know more about him bc somehow i can’t really find anything like that about him.... just stats which are incredibly impressive but i can’t find anything about how he behaved or just anything about his personality..... thanks <3

:) Hi anon, thank you for unleashing the beast.

Ok I love you for asking me this thank you SO MUCH. Welcome to the circus I’m glad you’re here! Also yeah, Schumi is often talked about in terms of statistics and not as a human, Which is a shame bc like! Schumi is fascinating and the dynamics on the grid in late 90s F1 is so much fun! Also, this is mainly going to be late 90s -> early 2010s stuff bc I was born in 98 so uhhh I didn’t properly witness ANY 90s stuff and had to learn about it.

OK so I got super carried away but I’ve divided this into 3 sections: Drives/races that I think showcase some of his talents, human moments we need to talk about more, and Chaotic Little Bitch moments. The key thing to remember w/ Schumi is that he personally tends to be nice but as soon as you put him in a competition, Bastard Mode activates like a cat’s pupils going wide.

I am so sorry for the following short essay. Also some crashes are briefly mentioned but only ones with absolutely no injuries and there’s no details.

Chaotic Little Bitch Moments

Schumi debuted as a SUBSTITUTE driver for Jordan when one of their drivers was in police custody (yes. really.) The highest a Jordan had qualified all year was 10th and in his DEBUT at SPA, one of the toughest tracks, in the middle of the season, Schumi qualified that Jordan 7th! THEN his clutch failed before the first lap was even complete, but Benetton and Jordan WENT TO COURT to fight each other to sign him for their team before the next race in Monza. He couldn’t debut normally he HAD to cause a scene and set the tone.

The Red Strings of Fate: He qualified 7th, his iconic 7 starred helmet, his first victory next year was ALSO at Spa - his first complete race would be at Monza, Ferrari Holy Ground, and he finished 5th which 👀 1) he was immediately racing with The Greats. 2) Mr 5 Championships With Ferrari.

Winning a race by taking a stop and go penalty on the last lap, crossing the finish line in the pits, and making such a complicated argument about said penalty that in a hearing that was SUPPOSED to be Mclaren protesting the race result the stewards scrapped the entire penalty and the 3 who awarded it handed in their licenses??? Iconic.

Austria 2002 where Rubens was ordered to give the win to Michael. And then Michael fucking made him stand on the top step on the podium like “oh no no no RUBENS deserves this” and made a big SHOW out of it and its like “Michael stop you’re not making it heartwarming you’re making it WORSE Michael STOP” The Tension of germany 2010 podium VS the theatricality of THIS podium.

Team orders were banned because of this which also makes this indirectly responsible for Fernando Is Faster Than You having to be a coded message. You can’t escape him,

Blocking Alonso in Monaco qualifying and then, years later in 2010, overtaking Alonso technically illegally at Monaco (the race was ending under safety car, but the safety car doesn’t lead them over the line it pits and they’d crossed the safety car line and the regulations were NOT specific about the rules) and getting a 20 second penalty bc Damon Hill was a steward. Haunting FERNANDO specifically at Monaco like the ghost of christmas past? Getting a harsh penalty because ANOTHER driver he’d fucked over was a steward? Forcing the FIA to rewrite the rulebook to account for his nonsense when he was in his FOURTIES? I don’t know another chaos king.

Winning the 1995 championship by crashing into Damon Hill, getting AWAY with it for some reason, and then trying to do the same thing in 1997 to Villeneuve, failing to do so and simply rebounding off of him harmlessly, almost COMICALLY, and beaching his own car in a gravel trap at which point the FIA said “I have had ENOUGH of you Wacky Races Man!” and disqualified him from the entire championship

Forcing Mika off the track so bad at Spa 2000 that Mika realized the only way he was gonna be able to get past him was to re-invent the overtake and go for it whilst they were passing a backmarker. (The overtake itself is at 2:05 in the video but the build up to it is Important bc the key part it’s not just badass, it only happened bc Mika knew who he was dealing with.)

Spa 1998 was a Ridiculously Chaotic race it truly was the Mugello 2020 of its year, and after a crash at the start that took out almost the entire grid Schumi accidentally collided with Coulthard later in the race. (The teams used to have a spare car at every race then, so the race was able to continue after a restart.) This wasn’t a racing thing, Coulthard was getting lapped. So something in Schumi SNAPS, and he storms down the pitlane and tries to fight Coulthard while the mclaren and ferrari mechanics both hold him back and finally drag him away. He projected into the future, saw Coulthard was gonna talk non-stop shit about Seb, and acted accordingly.

Monaco 2012 Pole don’t talk to me about this I still can’t believe the audacity of this man to get the only pole of his comeback, at MONACO, at the ONE RACE where he had a 5 place grid penalty to take!!

In general, I know Cheating Bad but. I HAVE to admire the brainpower it must take to have the rulebook so memorized that whilst driving an F1 car Schumi could spot a loophole the size of the eye of a needle and then dance through it, forcing the FIA to add ANOTHER page to the rule book specially for him bc nobody else even REALISED that loophole existed.

Human Moments

A quick rant about Mika and Schumi’s entire friendship. After Spa 2000 Mika goes up to Michael, says something like “Don’t ever do that again” then they’re friends again. They had this mutual understanding that Racing was not Reality. This goes all the way back to their F3 days they were rivals AND friends for their entire career. They truly were the Sewis of the era if Sebastian was like 50% more evil. Their entire dynamic is “You’re the only motherfucker in this pit lane who can handle me”. Schumi would do some bullshit and every other driver would throw up their hands in frustration and Mika would just go “Okay” and drive better to put him in his place bc he was the only one who could keep up, and Schumi very visibly LOVED that he’s grinning after Mika owns his entire ass with that overtake at Spa. They were unstoppable force meets immovable object and I’m so sad their rivalry isn’t more talked about bc the way Mika is the only driver who can get him to behave like a normal human being is SO entertaining.

This is a sad one so I won’t link it but he started crying in the 2000 Monza press-conference with his brother and Mika when he equaled one of Senna’s records. The press kept trying to ask questions about it and Mika just has this death grip on his shoulder and tries to get them to stop or let them take a break and it’s so sad but also important to know about.

Once said he didn’t want Mick to race in F1 bc the pressure of his name would put Mick under so much stress and he wanted his son to be happy. (He fully supported Mick in his endeavors! But only after making absolutely sure it was what Mick wanted, and making sure he knew he could just race for fun if he wanted and it didn’t have to be F1)

This whole interview just after Mick was born with the Schumacher family. Special shout out to Gina on his head the entire video and also Corinna talking to the press while Michael is captivated by Mick. Me too Michael.

Once allegedly pleaded to take a stray kitten home from the track?

I reblogged this yesterday but. Sticking like glue to Sebastian at an F1 test and immediately being like “This is my new son he’s gonna go far”. There’s a lot of pictures out there also of Michael being a guest at the karting races Seb went to as a kid and baby Seb visibly losing his fucking mind at being given a trophy by his idol. Every day of my life I think about him trying to ruffle Seb’s hair through his helmet at Brazil 2012

WInning the championship in 2000. Him thanking the entire team individually and pausing mid-celebration to kiss his wife Corinna so tenderly it’s in the F1 opening. Also, the way it literally cuts from the rest of McLaren looking like they’re attending a funeral to Mika grinning at him and hugging him fucking SENDSSSSS me.

Schumi was a little shit in all the 2010-12 press conferences like, lowering Lewis’ chair, playing with a microphone wire, but ESPECIALLY corrupting baby Seb and getting him to mess with Nico Rosberg.

He’s just GOOFY! Like I refuse to let him be remembered as a terrifying force of nature he was so goofy kind of similarly to Seb. PLEASE watch this incredibly awkward interview he did with Coulthard on a golf buggy where they both had to pretend they hadn’t thought about murdering each other at least once. I think Sky F1 should force Brocedes to do this when covid’s over. “Do you mind if I drive?” “Yes.”

EDIT: I CANNOT BELIEVE I forgot the 1999 Canada press conference where Eddie Irvine and Mika Hakkinen get into a water fight and Schumi immediately grabs a towel and hides behind it and is like “I had NOTHING to do with it” 🥺 adorable, actually

A lot of people at Ferrari, including Rob Smedley (who was on the other side of the garage with Felipe Massa so not in his inner circle) have said that a lot of the success of the team came from Schumi’s LEADERSHIP more than anything, that he’d make the team get together to bond all the time. When Schumi moved to Ferrari in 1996 they were NOT dominant. He did the same thing Lewis did - went to a team that everybody said would be a huge mistake and helped build them up behind the scenes.

THIS bit of the Canada 2011 Rewind where his engineer gives him the strategy and he’s like “... OkaAaAaAay?” and then when it turns out to be the wrong strategy he cheerfully tells them it’s too late. Little shit.

Speaking of Mercedes I also wanna say that like. They were a MESS in 2012 and his car DNF’d because of a failing on their part MULTIPLE times. (In Canada qualifying his DRS was stuck open and they couldn’t close it.) He did not say a single bad word about them EVER even though the press used this to attack him non-stop as washed-up and bad without Ferrari to cheat for him. At Ferrari he was the exact same with the team, any bastard antics Schumi had for his rivals did not extend to the engineers and crew.

OK this one is soured bc Top Gear is trash BUT if you were like, a kid in England who followed motorsports? Schumi’s fake reveal as The Stig on Top Gear was like the coolest, sickest thing,

Please view this image of Schumi and Mika when they were young and stupid

Iconic Races

ok so I have limited myself to a few races that show off some of his key strengths!

Hungary 1998 / France 2004 - STRATEGY/SPEED - Schumi switched to a 3 stop strategy in 98 and a FOUR STOP strategy in 04 and won both races. In order for the strategy call to work he’d have to basically make every single lap a qualifying style ‘flying lap’ and you best fucking believe he DID THAT. God I fucking miss when Ferrari was the king of strategy.

Argentina 1998 -  has it all. Talent, battling Mika, pit lane mind games with mclaren, and bullying coulthard xxx

Spain 1996 / a majority of the wet races - RAIN - One of Schumi’s nicknames was Rain Master bc he was so fucking good in the wet. If it started raining and you were a Schumi stan you were cackling evilly before the red lights even went out. I single out 1996 bc it was his first win for Ferrari and it was unexpected but in most wet races, even Canada 2011 post comeback, you can see Schumi thriving.

Malaysia 1999 - Schumi missed pretty much the entire second half of the season with a broken leg, came back for the last 2 races with everybody murmuring about whether he would struggle, and immediately put the Ferrari on pole. Also worth noting is that he was the number 2 driver for these 2 races bc his teammate Irvine was fighting Mika for the championship and he went along with that without complaint, allowing Ferrari to win the constructor’s championship if not the driver’s.

Monza 2002, 03, 04, or 06 just because it has the energy of the tifosi kneeling at the feet of an idol to their red god.

Brazil 2006 - Fuck All Y’all - Schumi’s last race for Ferrari. He got a puncture and ended up almost lapped, and then drove his way back from that to 4th bc he couldn’t go out without reminding us he’s a bad bitch.

Monza 2012 - Defending - Don’t tell F1 Twitter that there’s actual footage of Lewis and Michael having a genuine lengthy battle on track but DO watch Michael defending like a motherfucker and Lewis breathing down his neck for half the race we need to talk about this more.

Valencia 2012 - This isn’t necessarily anything special but I cried in my living room over the only podium of his comeback so it goes on here. It doesn’t have the same impact if you haven’t been watching him struggle with the car for years, DNF-ing from car failure most of 2012, and having BBC F1 telling you he’s washed up every single weekend, but you can just enjoy one of the best drives of FERNANDO’S entire career as he DRAGS that Ferrari by its hair to a home grand prix win and then watch the crowds embrace him like jesus and also Schumi being happy on the podium. Also, the very start of this clip from the press conference: him forgetting what language he’s supposed to be speaking 

Basically, Schumi was a hyper-competitive ambitious bitch who turned into a goofball as soon as he switched the engine off. This is by NO MEANS everything if I was making an exhaustive best races guide I’d do more research and another post but I hope this is what you were looking for?? THANK YOU SO MUCH for letting me go MAXIMUM SPECIAL INTEREST and I apologize.

[killian-whump]

Game Night! [Liveblog #1]

Alright folks! There’s been a lot of to-do over the last couple days over this video... a lot of debate over paid content and whether folks have $10 or not and whether it’s worth $10 or not and who paid what for who to see it and why can’t we all just get along and what the hell are blobs, anyway?

Long story short, this video has proven rather difficult to rip from the site in order for us poor folks to share the video amongst ourselves so everyone can enjoy it... so I’m going to attempt to liveblog it in a fun, animated way that will (hopefully) let you all sort of enjoy it along with me. ‘Cos I paid ten fucking dollars to make sure everyone could enjoy it, and I’m going to make you all enjoy it somehow even if I have to make you a post like this.

Note: I don’t want any bitchy asks about how terrible it is for me to “ruin” the exclusivity of paid content or whatever. I’m a pirate. If I could, I’d rip the fucking thing off the website and send it to every person I know who doesn’t have $10 to spare or a credit card to use. So don’t waste your breath trying to shame me for making this post - I do not care.

Without further ado... LET’S ENJOY SOME CUTE COLIN CONTENT.

Okay... Here we go. I have to admit, Josh has a cute, professional-looking intro for his little channel/show here. I mean, it’s still a zoom call he recorded. But the intro looks professional.

Anyway... Josh is now introducing the show, and he makes a joke about his celebrity friends... or fake friends... or sort of friends... and then says, “We’re real friends, right Sam?” and Sam’s like, “No.” and Colin goes:

I DIDN’T EVEN MEAN FOR THAT TO LOOP PERFECTLY, GUYS, IT JUST DOES - and I feel like this is a fortuitous start to our journey.

Oh, there’s also some nice upbeat jazzy sort of music here, so you can play some while you read this post, that’s probably a good idea.

Now we have bagpipes as Josh introduces Sam...

HAHA, Josh introduces Colin: “He’s probably too classy to be here, but he’s also too kind to say no to me... You know him from Once Upon a Time and The Right Stuff: It’s Colin O’Donoghue.” Colin waves and Josh goes, “hey buddy” like he’s talking to a puppy, because he basically is, and Colin goes, “Hi Josh.”

Josh: Colin, is that the first time you’ve been called classy? Do I have you pegged wrong? Colin: It’s probably the first, and I suspect will be the only time I’ll be called classy.

I have to take a moment here to say that Colin still has a crap camera, lol. He sounds like he’s phoning in from a tin can under the sea, and his picture’s already broken up a couple times. Like, if my $10 went towards buying Colin a new webcam, I wouldn’t mind it. I’M JUST SAYING.

Now we’re talking about the trash-talking capabilities of the group... and Kat says something, Sam says he can’t hear what she said, and Colin says he can’t hear anything. I take back the nice things I said about the professionalism of the intro, like please, can we do a sound check 😭

Topic moves on to fandom overlaps... Kat says something about how they all wield swords on TV, so people who enjoy that would probably enjoy all of their shows. Sam nods thoughtfully and shakes his head a little as she speaks, and Colin looks frozen in time with a neutral smile on, in a way that makes me pretty sure neither of them heard a goddamn word of what she said. Josh repeated the bit about sword-wielding, and now the guys are chuckling and talking swords. Sam informs Josh that he doesn’t wield a sword, but at least he has a plant.

And it’s game time! We’re starting with Would You Rather...

We’ve got an animated intro... and then some sparkles and pictures to illustrate the questions, which all seems rather superfluous when we paid $10 to look at celebrities, but whatever, I mean, it’s his show.

First question: Would you rather hear dogs’ thoughts or your significant other’s thoughts? Colin says dogs. Josh asks why, and Colin laughs as he says “I suspect I know them, and I really don’t think... I really don’t think I want to know them sometimes.” He also says he has a dog, and he’d like to know what he’s thinking half the time. Sam says dogs, as well, because “they’re gonna be way more interesting than your partner” and this greatly amuses Colin.

(By the way, I’m using a GIF program with a screen recording function to make these GIFs. It’s not a viable method for recording the whole thing, but it works good for GIFs :))

Second Question: Would you rather have the body of The Rock with your face? Or the face of The Rock with your body? Kat answers, and then Josh says, “Colin you had something?” and Colin goes, “I didn’t really have something” because he didn’t really have something. He says it’s a real Catch-22, and takes a minute, but finally goes with “the body of The Rock... with my head on it, I guess.” Sam agrees, and there’s some chat about how awesome The Rock is. Colin also said The Rock has an amazing body.

Third Question: Would you rather always be naked or always be wearing the most embarrassing, uncomfortable costume you’ve ever worn? Josh shared a snippet of this part on his Twitter and Colin re-tweeted it, so you can actually see this part. Sam says he can’t stop thinking of when he wore Colin’s costume... and Colin’s having fun playing offended :D Kat answers and then Colin says his worst costume was when he had to wear just a pair of Y-fronts (he’s talking about when he did the play Outlying Islands), so he might as well pick being naked, and I’m feeling a little better about that $10 I spent if he’s gonna go on saying things like that and then making faces like this:

Bahahaha, Colin shares that the Y-fronts “had been stained for the production” 😂 Kat’s giving him two thumbs up and Josh intones, “The glamorous world you guys inhabit.”

Fourth Question: Would you rather have a mouth full of bees or one bee in your butt? 😂 “I’d probably have a bee in my butt,” Colin O’Donoghue states, after giving this very serious question a very serious moment of thought. Meanwhile, your fearless liveblogging friend had to rewind a couple times here, due to the sheer force of her laughter. Everyone looks flummoxed. This appears to be a real dilemma. Josh tells us that this (the bee in the butt) seems to be the common consensus, and that this is what Sam answered when Josh had asked him this question previously. “And how did that work out?” Sam asks. Josh says he doesn’t know and, “Have you tried it out?” “It’s still in there,” Sam says. Kat agrees with the ‘bee in the butt’ consensus, I’m pretty sure Colin and Sam still can’t hear her, and Josh thanks them for giving that question the intelligence it doesn’t deserve.

And that’s it for Would You Rather?! And this seems like a good spot to take a break and maybe have a beverage and post this bad boy, so you guys can start having fun too - and so I don’t end up with TOO long of a single post :)

As always, you can use any GIFs/caps in here however you like :)

Here’s a handy link to go on to PART TWO...

[jayjaydawn]

hide-n-seek

Summary: Where the members find out about your secret relationship

Pairing: Soonyoung/Hoshi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Sorry for the typos, I hope you like this regardless.

“There are no secrets that time does not reveal.”

Soonyoung and you were sitting on your couch, your leg stretched out on his lap, him scrolling through his phone. The tv was on, you were focused on watching the k-drama, the main leads were just about to kiss when- “Ya! ____, Why aren’t you picking up your calls? Your mother is worried, she’s messaging me” Soonyoung says as he pushes my arm.

“Hossshhhh, you made me miss out on the most crucial scene ever, I can't even rewind it because it's on tv!”  “If you’ve missed it anyway, might as well call your mom and let her know you’re alive.” 

“Ughh! Fine, I'm calling her. I left my phone in my room.” you said as you forced yourself out of your comfortable position. As soon as you stood up, you felt soonyoung smack your ass, making you turn around and glare at him as you walked away. You could hear him snickering as you left. 

At the same time, Soonyoung received a call from Seokmin.

“Hello” “Hyung, where are you? When will you be back at the dorm, we’re ordering food, what should we order for you?” “Uhhmmm, i’ll let you know in 5 mins? I don’t really know when i’ll get back” he said and looked up as he saw you coming back from your room, phone in your hand. You gesture at him, ‘who is it?’ “Okay hyung, call me back as soon as possible, the restaurant doesn’t take orders past 10pm” “Yuppp, bye seokmin”

“Ooooh why did he call? Did something happen?” you ask him as you try to make yourself comfortable again on the couch. 

“Nothing, he was asking when i’ll be back, they’re ordering take out”

“Oh, I think you should get back tonight, you haven't been back on time this past week, they might get suspicious”

“Hmm, i’ll text him and let him know i’ll reach in a bit”

"Cool" you replied and looked back at the tv as he texted Seokmin to let him know he'd be reaching in sometime. 

Hoshi and you had been in a 'secret' relationship for the past two years. It wasn't that much of a secret really, both of your families knew about your relationship and you all had interacted on many occasions. Often his mother would contact you and the same goes for him. But due to personal reasons, you both decided to keep it a secret from his team members. One of the reasons being management, they didn't really approve of your relationship and when they figured it was quite serious, they made sure we kept it as private and secret as possible. Also between the two of us, we liked the thrill that came with the hide-n-seek. 

"Okay ___, I'm leaving, my phone is blowing up with messages" Soonyoung brought me out of my thoughts, as he gently pushed my legs off of his lap. 

You cutely put your hands out towards him and made grabby hands at him. He chuckled as he leaned down to hug you and kissed you deeply. "Mmm, okay now you really need to go before I don't let you" you said as you pulled away. He laughed and you both finally said bye, for real this time and he left. 

°°°

Soonyoung made it back to the dorm in record time. 

"He's finally here" Chan announces from the table when he notices Soonyoung is back.

"Sorry, I'm a little late." He said as he sat in his spot on the table. The rest of the members came in and began eating. 

"Okay so we'll be starting practice a little late tomorrow so it'll probably end a little late too. Just warning you guys." Seungcheol said casually while eating. 

Everyone acknowledged what he said and went back to eating. Soonyoung finished his dinner and got up to leave when Joshua asked him, “Hey hoshi, can I borrow your phone for a minute. I’ll give it back to you in your room.” “Okay” he says as he hands him the phone and leaves. 

Joshua’s phone camera had stopped working this morning. He needed to send himself some photos of documents he had. He took hoshi’s phone and opened his gallery to send himself the photos when he came across something that surprised him. There were pictures of him with a girl that he didn’t know. As he was staring at it, trying to recall if he had ever seen her, he felt someone leaning over his shoulder looking into the same screen he was. “Who is that with hyung? She’s so pretty.” Hearing Seungkwan say this, Seokmin and Mingyu rushed towards Joshua to get a glance too. Joshua hurriedly turned off the phone and stood up, “Don’t mention this in front of Soonyoung. You know him, he might get mad. I’m going to return the phone to him, I don’t want a single word coming out of your mouths. Understand?” 

The younger ones nodded their heads and looked at each other excitedly. Joshua headed back to his room and returned the phone to hoshi on the way.

°°°

 “Okayy guys, let’s take a water break.” Soonyoung announced to the rest of the group. They all stopped, panting and making their way towards their water bottles. Soonyoung sat down as he downed his bottle when he heard his phone ringing. 

____ Calling..

____ never calls in the middle of practice. He had made sure to tell her he wouldn’t be coming over today due to practice. Worried, he picked up his phone and rushed out of the studio to answer the call.

He heard your sleepy voice on the other line asking, “Why aren’t you here yet? I’ve been waiting.” “Baby, I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it today. Have you not slept yet?” “Oh yah. I completely forgot. I fell asleep watching Tv and woke up suddenly and I guess I just felt sort of disoriented. Sorry to disturb you.” “It’s okay, go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Byeee” 

He hung up the phone and went back into the studio. The rest of the members were sitting and seemed to be in a deep conversation with each other. 

“What’s going on here?”

“Oh nothing, just discussing that pretty girl whose pictures you had on your phone.” 

“SEUNGKWAN! WHAT THE HELL!” Seokmin yelled as he smacked him on the back of his head. Seungkwan’s eyes grew big as he realised what he had said aloud. 

“OH NO! FORGET WHAT I SAID.” Everyone sighed and looked at Hoshi, expecting him to blow up.

“Let’s get back to work now.” Soonyoung said gently and everyone hurried back to their positions, slightly surprised that he didn’t react they way they had expected.

°°°

“Hello baby, what’s up?” You answered the phone. “___ why don’t you come over to the dorm today. The members have all gone out to do their own stuff.” “Oh really? It’s been a while since I’ve been over. Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. Byee” You hung up the phone and got ready to leave.

°°°

You were lying on Soonyoung’s chest as he played with your hair. You looked up at him and rested your chin on him as you asked, “Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s order some food?” 

“Sure” As soon as he said that you turned to the other side and put on his T-shirt. You got up and rushed out to call the restaurant as he followed while simultaneously pulling on his boxers. 

Once, takeout arrived, you both started gobbling up the food. “Sex really does make you hungry ___” Soonyoung laughs. “Shut up will you? When are the members coming back? I’ll have to leave before that” 

“They texted me and said they’ll take longer.” He said and picked you up, making you straddle him. You looked at each other and slowly kissed. The kiss soon turned hungrier and sloppy when you heard a bunch of footsteps walking towards you both. 

You suddenly stopped, shocked and tried to get off his lap as fast as you could. Soonyoung’s grip grew tighter as he forced you to stop moving.

You turned and looked at all the members staring at you absolutely gobsmacked.

“What the fuck did I just see?”Minghao says.

“Aren’t you the girl who we saw on his phone. OH MY GOD ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS??” Seungkwan screamed.

“Okay, I guess it's finally time to çome out and just say it. Im sorry ___ I didn’t tell you first before taking this decision” He put you aside and stood up, pulling you towards him by the waist.

“Guys meet ___, ___ meet the guys. We’ve been dating for two years and that’s it”

The guys and you looked at each other with eyes wider than the sun.

“Uhmm Hi” You gave them the most awkward wave.

“Hi- Sorry for interruping your- uhh whatever that you-- uh- were doing” Dino said

“Okay, we are done for today, let’s talk about this over dinner. Shoo Shoo.” Jeonghan said and everyone moved away, whispering to each other.

Soonyoung and you looked at each other, “Playtimes over I guess” you giggle as you peck his lips and move to finish your dinner and get to know his friends for the first time. 

[baek-at-it-again95]

Partners in Crime (Changbin x fem! reader) (NIS/FBI AU) Chapter 5

Changbin and I walk through the entrance of NEOn city and I'm immediately impressed. There's a stage at the center of the restaurant with plenty of tables situated in front of it. There's also a bar off to the right, but seeing as it's about 10 in the morning, it's not open. And, I don't think the stage is either.

"Table for two?"

I look up and meet eyes with a pale young man, whose fluffy light brown hair is slightly parted and nicely frames his face. His name tag reads 'Chenle.'

"Not this time, love. May we speak to your manager?" I ask him.

"Sure, give me a sec." He walks a few steps towards the stage and suddenly calls out. "Jenooooo!"

A man of similar age with adorable eyes pokes his head out from behind a drawn curtain to the right. "Yes?"

"Um," Chenle looks over at us, "these people need to speak with you." I give the puppy-like boy named Jeno a polite smile as he sees me. He walks out and carefully drops some colored cords he had been holding, proceeding to make his way down the steps of the stage.

"How can I help you?" he says, stopping in front of me and Changbin. I give him the whole spiel that I gave everyone yesterday. "I'm officer Y/N, this is Changbin. We're looking into evidence for Lee Kangmin's case. As you probably know, the victim was found somewhere behind this building. Do you happen to have CCTV footage?"

"I do," Jeno replies. Chenle stands nearby, curiously listening in.

"May we look into it?" Changbin asks. 

"You may." Once again, we're led into a back room. Jeno does us a favor and closes the blinds, allowing us the see a brightly lit computer screen. "There are two cameras, one facing the entrance and one angled towards the stage area." He pulls up a view of the cameras and clicks a few things, bringing it into full screen. Changbin learns the controls unnaturally fast from Jeno and we're ready to go.

Jeno closes the door behind him, but not before I get a small glimpse of Chenle innocently peering inside. His little doe eyes were practically twinkling with curiosity. Cute. 

"Alright Y/N, hopefully this will go by quickly with our bet. We're still on, right? You can't forfeit after we start," Changbin says.

"Still on?" I scoff, "you bet your ass I am." He smirks upon hearing my response.

"May the best person find our suspect on camera."

Changbin finds the footage of the day of Lee Kangmin's incident. He rewinds it and starts playing it from up to an hour before the time of death. As expected, the restaurant is terribly busy on weekends. On one camera, people move in and out of the building. On the other, people are sitting and eating while watching another guest do karaoke. The camera is a bit better quality than the last, and that quality advantage aids our search efforts more than one would think. I squint my eyes every few seconds, searching my hardest for our suspect.

Thirty minutes go by without answers.

But when Changbin leans back to stretch in the office chair he's sitting in, I catch a glimpse of someone who looks like our suspect.

"There, right there!" I say, pointing to the screen where the suspect sits at a table.

"Huh...guess you win, babe."

"Mhm! Oh and look!" Upon further inspection, Lee Kangmin is sitting across from him. The two seem like they're conversing casually as they watch whoever was brave and extroverted enough to participate in karaoke.

"So, they have to have known each other or been somewhat acquainted," I observe.

"Right, which means we could be looking for someone in recent contact which means..."

"Phone records!" I finish his thoughts and immediately pull out my own phone. "Keep an eye on the cameras while I make this call." He nods and turns to the screen.

After one ring, the phone gets picked up.

"Hey angel."

"Hi Minho!"

"Another task for me to conquer?"

"You know it! I need you to find Lee Kangmin's phone records. Oh! And also Kim Hyunwoo's! See if you can find any of the same numbers."

"Can do, me and the boys will go through them right away."

"Thank you, bye!" I hang up and sit right back down, despite being antsy about the new form of evidence. Changbin and I simply continue to watch the video in concentrated silence. At around 3:40 AM, the two get up from their table. Kangmin appears to rub his head. Does he have a headache? Possibly from alcohol intake? Had they had more to drink before coming into the restaurant? I squint as they leave the frame of one camera and appear on the other. The suspect seems to rummage in his pocket and stop very briefly to pull out what looks like a pill bottle. "Th-the victim...voluntarily ingested a pill of what was most likely potassium cyanide," I mutter.

"Probably thinking that it was pain killer," Changbin finishes. He slightly speeds up the footage and we watch the next half hour after the subjects leave, seeing no return of the suspect. 

The car ride back to the office consists primarily of me scribbling notes.

***

Now back at the building, I walk with Changbin into the meeting room. I head for the small black couch in the corner and he stops in the doorframe. "Well, if you're going to take advantage of your win, your well-deserved nap time starts now." 

"I don't even think I should go to sleep," I admit. "I'm so anxious about the phone records. You know, we have quite the work to do. Can you get Minh—"

"Don't worry about it Y/N. I'll go find him and talk to the team about everything we've just learned. I don't think there's a need for both of us to brief them."

"Okay, fine." With a yawn, I set my alarm for exactly 25 minutes from the current time. As soon as my head rests on the couch, I embrace the heavy feelings of sleep—I suppose I never do get enough of it.

***

My vision is somewhat hazy as I wander around a street. Despite the darkness of night sky, the people below it act as if they were just starting their day. The bustling crowds make me feel like I need to leave, or find another way to get to...wherever I'm supposed to be going. I pass familiar yet unfamiliar-looking buildings and decide to take a shortcut—I'll just go between the buildings to escape from the suffocating atmosphere. I take a right into the nearest alleyway and start towards the other side. I have to strain my eyes to see my surroundings in the narrow environment and quickly stumble upon something obstructing my path. What is it?

I bend down towards the object, chills running down my spine when I discover that it's not an object, but a person. They lie with their face towards the ground, the rest of their body sprawled out onto the tight pathway. It doesn't look like they're breathing; I have to check if they're alive. Panicked, I use all my strength to roll the person over onto their back.

It's Changbin.

***

I shoot up from the small couch, breathing heavily and eyes frantically searching the room. "Y/N?" My gaze lands on a concerned Changbin as he rushes over from the door. I don't dare say anything as he searches my expression for any kind of explanation—and I don't know what comes over me. I anxiously reach out for his embrace, and he hesitates only for a moment before accepting. In his arms, I easily calm down, my breathing slowing to normal. He's alive. He's fine. He's right here; nothing is going to happen to him.

It takes me a moment to realize what I've just done before I quickly let go of him. He props himself on the floor with one knee, leveling his eyes with mine before I start profusely apologizing. "I'm...sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't get enough sleep at night so I tend to dream during short amounts of sleep, and I'm sorry, I—"

"It's okay, it's okay. Everything is fine Y/N," he assures. "Do you want to talk about it?" I quickly shake my head, biting my lip anxiously. "Alright. Well, Minho has just gotten the phone records. He's found a match of a number in both call histories." I jump up off the couch and brush myself off.

"Let's go, quick!" I exclaim, gaining some energy back and pretending as if nothing happened. 

***

"Y/N, we've got a number to try! Tracing it should only take so long." Minho takes a glance up at me with a smile before typing up something at his desk.

"Look at you go," I praise.

"Yeah I know," he says cockily. Chan and Felix join us at Minho's desk.

"Hey team, we've traced down the number. Got a name and address," Chan says. "Their appearance matches who you saw in those shots of camera footage."

Felix bounces around on his feet in response. "Are we going? Are we going as a team? Please Chan, please!"

"Yes, Felix, we're going to need all of us. However, I doubt our suspect will be violent. He might have some kind of weapon, but it's not likely—especially if he's not expecting us to find him so soon. Since he's been using a non-contact method of killing up until this point, there's no guarantee he'll start being a physical threat now."

"Does everyone have their handguns?" Minho asks, standing up from his desk and collecting his things. "Yes," we answer in unison.

"Perfect. Let's go catch this guy before he can do more harm."

All five of us head for the parking lot and decide on taking one police vehicle and one undercover car. You know, so that someone can sit in the backseat without being blocked by bars.

Chan stands in front of two cars before us. "Okay, Y/N and Changbin need to be briefed on the new suspect info. Felix, you ride with them and get them up to date. Whoever decides to drive will be following behind me and Minho." Felix nods and excitedly gets into the passenger seat of the undercover car. Changbin and I exchange glances before I opt for the backseat and carefully climb in. He's been quite good at listening while driving, so I won't bother to take turns. Once he sits in the driver's seat, our plan is in action. 

As Changbin follows Chan's car out the gates of the parking lot, Felix begins informing us, craning his neck around to look at me as he talks. "So the number that we found that had been in the call history of both victims belongs to a man named Hwang Hyunjin. He's an ex-trainee of multiple entertainment companies and lives right outside of Seoul. He has no previous record of crime, but we think that some excessive stress has taken a toll on him."

"So the victims...were they people that he had trained under or had schedules with before?" Changbin asks.

"Yeah." Felix looks down with a solemn expression, but it only takes a few seconds for him to perk back up. "We're going to stop him!" I reach my hand out tousle his soft hair.

"Yes we are, Felix."

***

Next chapter

[starsfic]

Smoke and Gold, Chapter 4: The Husband

Summary: The happy couple meet. @fosermi

AO3

-_-

Xiaotian was warm.

   That was the thing that made him wake up because last he checked, he hadn’t been in a warm place. He sat up, looking around in sleep-hazed confusion.

Instead of the windy mountaintop, he was lying in a bed. It was one of the softest things he had ever slept on, warm blankets draped over him. The room itself was one of the loveliest bedrooms he had ever seen, decorated in red and orange with braziers, holding light bulbs, lighting the space. He moved the sheets and blankets aside to reveal he was still in his wedding-funeral outfit. The wreath of flowers had been plunked on a red toned dresser.

He tiptoed out of the bedchamber to enter a sitting room. A large fireplace had a fire stoked in it, which lit and warmed the chamber. Dark red furniture had been arranged around a coffee table in front of the fireplace. There was what looked like a liquor cabinet, set up with a few bottles and glasses. Large windows, firmly shut, looked out on a huge evergreen forest. Before he could explore further, a door opened.

“Oh!” A demon stared at him. Xiaotian moved into an attack position before remembering he didn’t have a weapon. They didn’t seem to notice, stepping further inside. “I was about to see if you were awake, master.”

“...master?” Oh, right, he was supposed to be getting married.

“Yes. You’re married to the lord of this mountain range, so that makes you our new master. In any case, dinner is ready.” As if that was a cue, his stomach rumbled. A hot wave of embarrassment rolled over him.

Good to know he was going to eat before dying.

The servant didn’t say anything about his stomach, gesturing for him to follow them. WIth nothing else to do, Xiaotian followed. He was led through a hallway decorated in red, the slippers he wore doing nothing to discourage the chill of the stone floor. But the dining room he entered was just as warm as the bedroom and the chill was chased away.

“My lord hopes you’re comfortable until he gets back. Something...came up.” The servant explained as Xiaotian sat down. A tea cup was already waiting next to a teapot, steam clearly visible. “And he had to attend to it.” Before he could muster up a snarky response to that, his stomach rumbled again. A few other demons entered the room, filling the table with food.

The scent hit him like a truck, a mixture of spices and juices and...he wasn’t sure where to start. So, Xiaotian tried to keep his manners and got to work the best he could. Everything he tried was delicious and soon, hunger overcame fear.

Finally, he was full. A different servant guided him out of the room and back into what he guessed were his bridal chambers, heading to the bathroom. “I can bathe myself.” he burst out. The servant blinked but nodded, handing him soft pajamas. “Thank you.” Xiaotian mumbled out before running in and slamming the door behind him.

There was a tub. He couldn’t help but be surprised before he remembered the grandeur of everywhere else. With a sigh, Xiaotian started the water. As the tub filled with warm water, he searched for soap and stepped out of his robes. The soap he had found was peach-scented, which brought tears to his eyes.

A burst of determination filled him and he set to work. He worked on getting the oils out of his hair and scrubbed the makeup off. When he finished, he released the water and aggressively dried himself with a fluffy towel. He would go, but he wouldn’t go quietly. Xiaotian gave himself a firm nod, dressing in the orange pajamas.

Nobody was in the room when he entered. Xiaotian ignored that and stalked to the bed, sitting down with a huff to glare at the door. The room was silent.

He was going to play the waiting game again, wasn’t he?

Fine. Xiaotian puffed his chest up and waited for his-

The room went dark. He let out a yelp. It was pitch black, dark enough that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, much less the door. In a blind hope to find some source of light, his hands wandered in hopes of finding the edge of the bed. Then the door opened and closed and he froze.

He was here.

-_-

   Once the servant left with the prototype gauntlet, Red Son was forced to wait. A servant of his had been sent to collect Qi Xiaotian, but he was still needed by his mother. He found himself irritated, forced to watch with Princess Iron Fan over dinner as Sun Wukong and the pig demon employer of Xiaotian broke into a fistfight.

   “Oh, it’s better than I imagined.” she cooed, rewinding the recording. “Good job, Red Son.”

   Usually, the praise would make him happy for the rest of the evening. But the object of his desire was waiting for him and that consumed his thoughts instead. He bit down on a groan, resisting his eyes from flaming in irritation and knocking the large sunglasses hiding his eyes off his face. “Thank you, Mother. Is that all you need for tonight?” Instead of a verbal reply, she shooed him away. Red kept calm as he left the room and down the hall.

   The minute he was sure she was out of earshot, he took off. Nobody stopped him as he headed to the garage, grabbing his off terrain vehicle and taking off. He rode down the city streets before disappearing into flames. When he reformed, he was in the evergreen forest that made up the Fiery Mountains. He travelled through the woods until a complex came into view. The gates opened and he zoomed into a courtyard.

   Fiery Cloud Cave. Home sweet home.

   He parked and turned off the vehicle, heading to the grand doors that led to the main cave. They opened as he approached, a servant coming out to greet him. “Welcome back. Your groom has eaten and is waiting for you in your chambers.”

   Red managed a nod. “Good job.”

That was all he had because his thoughts zeroed in on Xiaotian. Red strode through the doors and headed through the halls until he reached the master bedroom. The bridal chamber. His room. He paused and took a deep breath. Then he opened the chamber door and closed it behind him. He found that his request had been fulfilled and pajamas were waiting for him. He dressed and then headed to the bedroom proper, opening and closing that door.

To an ordinary mortal, the room was dark as a void. He had it rigged that way, guessing from the pictures of Red Boy Xiaotian knew his face. But he didn’t know his voice. The room was dark until he released his hold over his powers, unfortunately his form as well, and the room lit up like it was day. Then he saw him .

His husband was frozen in place, staring in his direction with beautiful brown eyes. Red licked his lips, hearing his heart pound in his ears. “Hello.” he finally managed out. “How are-” That was all he managed because a pillow flew in his direction, smacking him in the face. He let out a shocked noise, grabbing it. “What was that for?!”

Xiaotian now looked pissed, blindly reaching back for another pillow. “I am not going to just sit here-” He found another pillow. “And let myself get EATEN!” That was punctuated by him throwing the pillow. It barely made it to the end of the bed.

“It didn’t-”

“I know.”

“And who said anything about eating?” Red had consumed human flesh in the past, but he was vegetarian now. He strode forward, grabbing the other piece of fluffy arsenal before getting into the bed. Xiaotian scrambled back the minute he did, his face having an expression that cut deep. “Are you scared?”

“When you’re told that a monster that threatened Heaven demanded a spouse and you are that spouse, yeah! You would be a little frightened…” His fire seemed to have died down and he curled up. Red made note to whack whatever general had announced the news. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No. I promise I’m not going to hurt you or eat you or touch you. Not unless you ask.” He gripped Xiaotian’s hand and led it to his face, allowing his fingers to map out his face. He couldn’t resist the urge to press a kiss on his wrist. A moment or two later, his husband had relaxed. “Now… tell me about yourself.” Hah, victory over the love potion and it making him desire to smooch Xiaotian senseless.

"You...want me to talk. About myself."

"Shouldn't I get to know my husband?"

"...fair."

That was how the rest of the night went. With a bit of coaxing, Xiaotian talked about himself, although their conversation soon turned to his interest in art. (Red made a mental note to get some art supplies for him.) And then he found himself being prodded about his interests. He prepared for confusion or boredom, like always.

But Xiaotian sounded interested, asking questions with innocent curiosity. Red found himself more relaxed than he could last remember. Their conversation, bouncing questions and answers off each other, lasted long into the night. It only stopped when Xiaotian yawned and he found himself pressing him to sleep. His husband submitted with a promise of “Tell me more about the truck later, okay?”

“I promise.” Red said. He waited until Xiaotian was snuggled in before he pulled some sheets out for himself. He laid down, enjoying the sight of his new husband peacefully asleep, before sleep tugged at him.

   He submitted to its embrace.