#Stopped being normal salute emoji

[loveireandblog]

The way I talk is so diff these days. Win for me. I round it up lol. Point, evidence, explain

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (140-141)

A lot of ass. A lot of ass.

If you want to follow along, the series page is here.

140. Covering Asses

They don’t sleep together on the road. That rule’s ironclad.

Says the a man who has nursed multiple shower sex injuries.

Naps count. Naps involve sleep. Naps together are not allowed, no matter how much Bryce flashes him his big sad eyes. Besides, they’ll just get distracted, and zero napping will get done, and where will they be? Not game ready. Game readiness is very important.

Jared’s pretending he doesn’t see the eye roll from Bryce as Jared escorts him out of his room so they can take their separate naps.

Intellectually Bryce would agree with this. But most of the time instant gratification wins for him, and instant gratification says ‘why should I nap in a different bed from my husband when he is right here’.

The exciting novelty of Jared being there at naptime is a factor, but Bryce sleeps better with Jared beside him.

Bryce tells him to get some sleep, gives him a kiss goodnight, then goes back to his room without even being asked, which is good. That’s good.

Just like you told him.

“Want me to come back?” Bryce asks.

“No,” Jared says.

“Want me to trash Deere?” Bryce asks.

Jared shuts his eyes and makes himself comfortable, wakes up the next morning to rapping on the door, his phone dead and digging into his shoulder.

Bryce was so willing to break Jared’s rule if Jared wavered even a little, but he’ll offer a lullaby of ‘fuck that goalie, that would have been such a beauty’ if that’s what Jared needs from him.

Well, ideal right up until he gets woken up by loud douchebags giggling and shushing one another in the hall right around curfew.

Jared opens the door and glowers at his husband and his husband’s bad influence.

Bryce is perfectly capable of making those decisions himself, as you well know, Jared.

“Sorry J, did we wake you?” Bryce asks in this faux-whisper louder than his normal voice.

Jared rolls his eyes at him and goes back to bed.

sorry babe Bryce sends him with a bunch of apologetic little emojis.

Probably good it wasn’t ‘sorry babe did we wake you’ considering the situation. J is a slip in itself, actually — J and B don’t get used as nicknames in front of non-Gabe Canucks before Julius’ interview other than, well, right here.

Bryce is half-asleep over breakfast, and Jared feels zero sympathy. Absolutely none.

“Here,” Jared says, as they get on the bus to practice.

Bryce’s sleepy face becomes a confused face.

“I got it from the cafe next door,” Jared says. Bryce hates hotel coffee. So does Jared, but if they’re in a hotel without proper coffee, he drinks tea at breakfast. He’s recently learned Bryce just chugs water and silently suffers without his morning cup of coffee. It’s stupid. “Sickeningly sweet.”

So little sympathy you cut your breakfast short to get him a treat.

He decides ‘just like you’ is not a bros addition to that, even if it’s an objective fact their friends would testify to. The coffee, knowing how Bryce takes it, that could be bros. Jared got Julius coffee all the time, and vice versa, and Gabe grabs Jared coffee when they carpool. Bros can know their bro’s sickeningly sweet coffee order.

“Thanks, J,” Bryce says, face soft and open. He’s too obvious.

“Whatever,” Jared says.

Jared: brings Bryce a coffee, very nearly says ‘sickeningly sweet, just like you’

Bryce: says thank you.

Jared: how dare you expose us.

But also, okay, Bryce calls him J here as well, so maybe Jared has a point.

“I like him better than you,” Jared says.

Bryce, walking down the aisle, stops to beam at him. Too obvious.

And like, Jared wasn’t even saying much. Dmitry sucks.

“Move it along, Marcus,” Jared says.

Bryce salutes him with his coffee, still beaming.

Here Jared is using ANOTHER pet name in the form of Bryce’s last name AND bossing him around. And still he says Bryce is being too obvious. (To be fair, Bryce totally is. Heart eyes everywhere)

“But you’re not mad?” Bryce says.

“You like people,” Jared says. “Why am I going to be mad at you for liking people.”

“I like you the best though,” Bryce says very earnestly.

;-; I like YOU the best, Bryce.

The Canucks, as Jared feared, want to do a bromance video.

It’s Dmitry mercilessly chirping a comically offended Bryce.

Jared doesn’t read the reactions, but the fans apparently love it.

Who amongst us doesn’t appreciate a good bromance video?

“Jared,” his mom says. “Are you jealous of your linemate?”

“No,” Jared says.

“Your married linemate?” she asks. “With children?”

“He’s manipulated Bryce into babysitting for him,” Jared says. “It’s unethical. Stop laughing at me.”

Never.

“They weren’t even funny chirps,” Jared says. “Haha, Bryce, look at your nice hair, it’s so nice, that’s so funny. Everyone point and laugh at Bryce’s nice hair.”

“He called me a Ken doll,” Bryce says, right back to comically offended. It isn’t even an insult. Ha ha, look at you, so conventionally attractive. Burn.

Bryce’s hair is very nice and he gets very offended if you say that for some reason, which makes it fun to compliment him. Ken doll from Dmitry, Disney Prince hair from Stephen. All very upsetting to Bryce, which mystifies Jared.

“Ha ha, isn’t it funny that we call you Bullet but you’re a softie,” Jared says.

“I’m not a softie,” Bryce mutters.

“You’re objectively a softie,” Jared says. “Come on.”

He’s a Squishmallow.

Okay, I just looked up whether there was a Bryce Squishmallow, since there are like, 1000 of them so I had a chance, and look at this guy. A rainbow dog covered with hearts. It's him.

“So tough that you’re sulking over being called a softie,” Jared says.

Bryce’s sulk intensifies. It’s incredible he can multi-task driving and pouting.

“Attention on the road, tough guy,” Jared says.

“I’m not talking to you,” Bryce mutters.

You two deserve each other. I say this with great affection. And also mockery.

“Good morning handsome friends!” Dmitry says as he walks in. He’s four minutes late, but Coach doesn’t even bat an eye.

Possibly because he’s only four minutes late, you ridiculous boy who just checked his phone to time Dmitry’s entrance.

“Fun fact,” Bugsy says on Jared’s other side. “You can’t actually kill someone with your eyes.”

“Wanna bet,” Jared says, looking over at him.

“You know what,” Bugsy says, hands up. “You do you, man.”

Jared’s death glare quota has gone up significantly since Bryce joined the team. It’s…unsettling.

“Blinded by your pasty ass,” Bugsy says. “Where did you spend your summer, Nunavut?”

“Some of us know what sunscreen is, Bugger,” Jared says. “And Nunavut has sun twenty-four hours a day in summer, so hard fail on that one.”

“Only Northern Nunavut,” Gabe says, lacing his skates up. “Which is almost entirely unpopulated.”

“Why are you undermining me,” Jared hisses.

“I don’t think clarifying a misconception is undermining you,” Gabe says mildly.

Gabe usually would keep the correction in his head (this is a key difference between not only Jared and Gabe, but Stephen and Gabe), but sometimes he decides Jared deserves it. This is one of those times.

“Full-on Canadian Heritage minutes over here,” Scotsman says, clapping a hand around their shoulders, then, “Put some fucking pants on, geometry nerds.”

“Do we tell him—“ Jared says as Scotsman saunters away.

“No,” Gabe says firmly.

Don’t correct the goalie.

“Your ass isn’t pasty,” Bryce blurts the second they get in the car.

This has been killing him inside.

“How long were you holding that in,” Jared says.

“It’s a great ass,” Bryce says. “His ass is pasty.”

Absolutely fucking killing him, how dare someone insult Jared’s terrific ass in Bryce’s presence.

Jared pats his thigh. “Do you know what pasty means,” he double-checks. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he found out Bugsy used like, spray tan or something. Though he probably just wanders around naked in the wilderness all summer, getting bitten by his insectoid namesakes.

No tanlines on Bugsy. Clothing optional at Bugsy’s cottage.

“Thank you for defending my ass’s honour,” Jared says. “And thank you way more for not saying any of that in front of our teammates.”

“They can see your ass too,” Bryce says. “It’s not pasty.”

“They’re probably a little less eager to defend my ass,” Jared says.

“Great ass,” Bryce says firmly.

He has been SEETHING.

“It’s really sad that you’re not even doing this to like, get laid,” Jared says. Not that Bryce needs to do more than say, like ‘hey J, wanna fuck?’ to get laid, but still.

“Doing what?” Bryce asks, looking confused. Just defending the honour of Jared’s ass because he feels like, morally obligated.

Jared says this like he wouldn’t be so fucking mad if someone insulted Bryce’s ass. (Livid! Have you seen it!)

Bryce frowns at him.

“What,” Jared says.

“You’re mean to Dima,” Bryce says, still frowny, then starts rooting through the belts. Only Bryce would be careful to make sure his belt’s coordinated before he goes to babysit small children.

You’re right and you should say it, Bryce. Even if Dmitry thinks it’s hilarious.

The babysitting is a red herring -- Bryce Marcus would not leave the house at all without coordinating his belt.

Trade Kurmazovs with me., Jared texts Raf.

Absolutely not., Raf texts back immediately.

Raf has been fed information about Dmitry from a) Jared and b) Oleg. It has not been a flattering profile. Also that’s Raf’s hockey grandpa.

“Really?” Bryce says, popping his head back in the room. He’s beaming. Jared hates how effective Bryce’s beam is.

“We’re telling him I lost a bet or something,” Jared says. He doesn’t want Dmitry to think he does this willingly. He doesn’t.

I mean. You just offered. Which sounds kind of willing to me.

“Stop smiling at me like that,” Jared says. It’s too powerful. He thought it would get less powerful with time, or that he’d be more inured to it, or something. Instead it just keeps getting stronger. Or Jared gets weaker to it. Whichever.

You’re both fucking softies.

141. Antagonism

“Would you rather — ”

Another day, another round of ‘would you rather’ in the Canucks’ locker room. Jared is so ready for whenever they get sick of the game, or run out of questions. Unfortunately, neither day has arrived, and Jared is now very well versed on his teammates’ preferences and the way they’d act in ridiculous hypothetical situations, whether he likes it or not. And he does not.

The fact that Jared visibly seethes every time someone asks the question only makes his teammates more inclined to play the game.

“Super strength,” Dmitry pipes up.

“Kurmanator,” Stevie says. “Come on, man.”

The only IJ appearance of Dmitry’s retro nickname of Kurmanator. That was more popular in the aughts.

“Super strength,” Dmitry says firmly, just like he always does, no matter the question. Jared’s not sure if it’s just him being annoying to be annoying, or if it’s his equivalent of Jared looking blankly at whoever is asking the question until they go bother someone else.

Both. With the addition of Dmitry finding it funny, and also: who wouldn’t want super strength?

Either way, him and Dmitry don’t get asked anymore. Gabe does, but he tends to answer so thoughtfully, over-analysing the question and explaining the reasoning behind his answer, that it drives them all nuts, and he’s not getting asked much either now.

Gabe will also debate how realistic the possibility was, and that is not fun in a game based on ridiculous scenarios. He is not doing it to fuck with them, unlike Dmitry. Entirely in earnest.

“Would you rather have no kids, or a dozen of them?”

“Dozen,” Bryce says with absolutely zero hesitation as he tightens his skate laces.

No. That is not the correct answer. The correct answer is ‘if Jared and I were to have children one day, which we have not decided yet, it would be a reasonable amount, like one or two, and not enough to ice an entire fucking scrimmage’.

That is not the question he was asked, Jared. He was asked none or dozen. And he says dozen.

Gabe kicks Jared’s skate, which is probably a silent ‘your face is doing something it should not be doing in front of everyone’. That or ‘haha, sucks to be you’. Jared gives the kick the benefit of the doubt, and focuses his attention on his own laces.

It’s mostly the second one, honestly.

“This conversation is not happening in my car,” Gabe says. “Have it after I drop you off. It’s bad enough dealing with you bullying Bryce into taking the back seat every time.”

“Obviously not a dozen,” Bryce says, twisting around in the front seat to give Jared an earnest look. Jared generously allowed Bryce to have shotgun this time, maybe because Gabe called him out over always taking the front seat. Which is not bullying. He does not bully his husband. He states his personal preference and Bryce is typically happy to oblige.

This is literally the first time Bryce has had the front seat in Gabe’s car. And it’s only because Gabe called Jared a bully.

“Oh no,” Jared says. “No. Absolutely not. Tops is not five. We are not having five kids.”

“Just ignore the driver to have a private conversation in front of him,” Gabe mutters. “That’s fine.”

Poor Gabe.

“Every time we’re back at home it’s ‘when are you getting married’,” Gabe mutters, presumably to himself, though he’s loud enough that Jared can hear him. “‘when are you two having kids’, ‘Gabriel, stop giving me that face, it’s a perfectly reasonable question, you two aren’t getting any younger and I’d like an answer before I get old and die’, can we just not—”

Gabe has some baggage vis a vis the kids question, obviously.

“I am not saying that,” Gabe says. “I am emphatically not saying that. Why are you like this.”

“Hereditary,” Jared says.

Hobgoblin gene.

“We can’t have one,” Bryce says. “That’s like — we can’t do that to them. We can’t just have one.”

“Oh good, and now we’re insulting only children,” Gabe says. “I’m glad this car ride is going so well. It’s so nice to have you both. What a pleasant trip this is.”

Gabe is an only child, obviously. Also his voice is getting higher and cheerfuller with every word. Anyone with any self-preservation skills would find this ominous.

“Are you channelling your mom right now?” Jared asks curiously. The over the top cheeriness Gabe’s complaining with is fascinating.

“…Yes,” Gabe says. “Also fuck you.”

Jared does not have these self-preservation skills, at least when it comes to Gabe.

“It’s cool,” Gabe says on the drive into practice. Jared’s a little surprised he was actually there to pick them up this morning.

Nobody deserves Gabe. Especially Jared.

‘Would you rather’ mercifully peters out just in time for Bryce to fuck up his shoulder again. Not too bad, he claims, but considering the head athletic therapist told him to take a mandatory practice off, Jared suspects he’s underplaying the severity, or, at the very least, that if it’s not too bad now, it will be if he doesn’t rest it.

Another straw on the precarious haystack that is Bryce’s shoulder. (Yes I am mixing my metaphors, no I will not use them properly)

“No way you’re wearing cashmere and hand-tailored pants to sit around and watch TV,” Jared says.

Bryce smiles proudly at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m learning my fabrics,” Jared says. It’d be harder not to at this point. And Bryce can’t get pants to fit him like that without getting them altered.

Cashmere’s the one that makes Jared want to rub his face on Bryce’s chest like a cat, obviously he recognises it sooner rather than later. And the hand-tailored pants are all ‘dat ass’ pants. It’s also most of Bryce’s pants. For reasons. Ass reasons.

“Meeting Dima for brunch before practice,” Bryce says. “I’d have invited you, but.”

But you’d make a face like the exact face you’re making right now.

He wonders what Bryce is doing right now. Icing his shoulder, Jared hopes.

The continued naivete of Jared Matheson.

There are four reasons to miss mandatory practice: you’re injured, you’re sick, you’re dealing with personal issues, or you’re dead. And those personal issues better be a full on emergency.

Also BABY!! but I feel like that falls under personal issues. The issues don’t have to be BAD issues. Perhaps 'personal matters' would be better phrasing.

The last thing Bryce needs is a reputation of someone who skips out on stuff. That reputation lingered on the Flames long after it stopped being accurate, and Jared will squash the smallest sprout of it here, even if him knowing is like, friendlier than they should be.

Jared there is literally an article about how you’re best friends.

Jared gets poked in the arm, looks up with a scowl. At Dmitry, because of course it’s Dmitry. Everyone else knows better.

“Don’t poke me,” Jared says.

Dmitry pokes him again, which Jared really should have expected.

There are two people who should know better in this equation.

“That,” Dmitry says, pointing at his left hand.

“Yes?” Jared says. “I’m married? You know that?”

“Yes,” Dmitry says.

“Uh,” Jared says. “Is that all or—”

“To Bullet, right?” Dmitry asks in an undertone.

“Um,” Jared says.

“Okay,” Dmitry says, then pats him on the shoulder and walks over to his stall.

Dmitry has confirmed he is not being fucked with AND has fucked with Jared, so he may now carry on with his day.

“But you told him about us?” Jared says. “Like. On purpose?”

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “Gabe said Dima was like, the first person to find out him and Stephen were together and he was super supportive from the get-go, so I figured he’d be like, cool.”

Considering Bryce and Jared will be out to the entire team VERY shortly, it’s significant that Bryce actually came out on his own terms to a teammate first. Also that there was zero Jared involvement in this — every other time Bryce has come out (barring to Elaine) it’s at Jared’s urging (Chaz) or directly as a result of his relationship with Jared (Dave, teams, even his grandparents), so the fact that Jared didn’t even know it was happening — Bryce was taking a big step.

Jared does not know how he feels about Bryce and Gabe having heartfelt conversations about their sexuality without him present. Warm? But also not. He doesn’t know.

Jealousy warring with relief that Bryce has support and someone to talk to.

“How’s your shoulder actually?” Jared asks.

Bryce sighs dramatically.

Jared waits.

“Fine,” Bryce says.

Jared waits some more.

“Like, kind of being a bitch,” Bryce says. “But it’s fine.”

“Ice or heat?” Jared asks.

“Come on, you’re at least supposed to say something like ‘you’d know’,” Bryce says as Jared rolls off him and goes to the kitchen.

Like Jared would ever set himself up like that.

Bryce snorts. “Honestly you’re not far off,” he says. “Dima kept asking when him and Oksana were going to finally meet my wife. He was all like, hurt.”

And by hurt Bryce is probably referring to that over the top pouty thing Dmitry does, pretending someone’s hurt his feelings then laughing it off if they start to apologise.

He was legitimately a little hurt, considering they’re bros and Bryce got squirrelly every time his spouse was mentioned.

“So I told him he actually already knew my husband, and he was really good about it,” Bryce says. “Said we’re welcome to come by any time. And not just like, for babysitting.”

“How generous of him,” Jared says.

“Right?” Bryce asks, either not registering the sarcasm or cheerfully ignoring it. Probably the latter. Bryce is extremely fluent in sarcasm by this point. Though it always seems to go over his head when it’s Stephen being sarcastic, so maybe he’s just fluent in Jared.

Tremendous fluency in Jared, working familiarity with Matheson, but sarcasm outside these parameters can still trip him up, especially from Julius and Stephen.

“No,” Bryce says. “But they’re adorable, J, those little guys are just— the cutest, you know? And like, they’re so smart and they’ve got their own personalities and—”

Bryce isn’t allowed to babysit anymore.

It’s so cute that you think you can stop him.

“You,” Jared says.

“Good morning Mathematics,” Dmitry says, then, “Did you just kick me?”

“Yes,” Jared says. “I did.”

Dmitry looks down at his shin, then up at Jared. “Was it supposed to hurt?” he asks.

“Yes,” Jared says.

“Oh,” Dmitry says, then ruffles Jared’s hair.

I love that Dmitry’s immaturity gives Jared the excuse to embrace all the immaturity in his own heart. And there is far more than he’d like to admit.

“You’re my nemesis,” Jared says.

“Aww,” Dmitry says.

“It — it means adversary!” Jared says. “Antagonist! Enemy!”

“Aww,” Dmitry says, then reaches out, presumably to ruffle Jared’s hair again, like Jared’s a little boy who’s so smart and has such a personality and —

Dmitry is so touched Jared has declared him his nemesis.

“Okay,” Dmitry says, with this little coo to it like he’s trying to calm a skittish horse or talk one of his sons out of a tantrum. Possibly one in which they hit him with their tiny little fists and kick him with their tiny little feet, and it doesn’t hurt at all. Jared is appalled with himself and his puny fists and his nemesis having.

“Are you talking to me like a toddler right now,” Jared says.

“Yes,” Dmitry says.

“That’s fair,” Jared admits, and then retreats to his stall to seethe some more.

Nobody can say Jared is not aware of his faults. Eventually.

[snootlestheangel]

Soap

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

Gaz

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Ghost

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Price

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Nik

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

Kate

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Soap

12. My headcanon is that he's horrible to live with. There's a lot of evidence in the campaign stories to kinda imply that he's not shy about getting dirty and I feel like that's just cause he is. He just doesn't keep a clean area at home when he's off duty. Part of it might be he doesn't feel pressured by the demands of military living, but idk. He's terrible about cleaning up after himself, hardly does the dishes, doesn't really clean. And I also feel like he's incredibly loud at home. Like he stomps. You cannot tell me this man doesn't stomp everywhere. I'm sorry, I just refuse to believe he wouldn't. He just isn't aware he's being that loud, definitely. And if you were to say something he's definitely taking it seriously and being more conscious of his noise level.

13. 🫡 avid user of the salute emoji. It feels right

Gaz

12. A nerd. He's a big fan of DND. He's the type of gamer to play all the Halo games on the hardest difficulty like it's nothing. Absolutely was the type of kid to get in trouble for staying up late gaming. His mother definitely had a moment where she's complaining about him playing games all the time and he definitely (being the sassy bastard he is) bites back with "at least I'm not doing drugs or committing crimes". Of course one of his sisters calls out the execution thing they witnessed in one of his games. His mom gave up, cause at least he isn't doing drugs.

5. I have no idea tbh.

Ghost

12. You know that trend of girls and stuff being like "my man sleeps like those paintings of a passed out maiden"? Ghost would be one of those guys. Armed draped dramatically over his face and other on his belly. A dramatic sleeper

2. That he's actually so chill. If I'm remembering this correctly, in the comics he's like being really gentle with kids. He called a hostage "love", he's telling terrible dad jokes to his teammate to help him stay sane during a really stressful situation. He's just actually out here vibing

Price

12. I feel like he snacks on the weirdest things but also like they're still perfectly normal things to snack on. Like celery? Good snack, especially dipped in something or with peanut butter. Price? Just monching straight celery. Like apply that to most other snacks and that's Price being weird

1. He's such a cocky piece of shit and I love it. He's intelligent and cunning and dangerous and holy fuck- *I'm gonna stop talking*

Nik

12. Doesn't have any surviving family, but if he did, they'd still be hella close. It just feels like he gets his fierce loyalty from his family. It feels like he's the type of person to be like "we're family, of course I got your back" and it's something he has because he grew up in a family very much like that

22. I love when people really explore the sketchy side of Nik. Like the fact he's got connections that he really shouldn't. I don't really read enough with Nik in it so I don't know what I wouldn't like. There's the obvious and general "diminishing this complex character to a single trait or characteristic and calling it a day" when he's playing a more centric role in the story.

Kate

12. Used to be a heavy smoker, but quit after a while. Started smoking in high school and smoked well into adulthood. Eventually stopped when she realized how it was affecting her health. She occasionally still has a cigarette every now and then but it's more of a test of her self control at this point

15. Her wife! I don't know, but I am fiercely protective of her status as a married woman and her wife!!

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[aceofshitposts]

Happy Valentines Day everyone!!! This wasnt actually what I initially planned and it technically... isn’t v-day themed but it DOES feature idiots in love so that’s good enough, right? No beta we die like robins okay hope you enjoy! (will probably throw this up on ao3 tomorrow too)

ALSO a reminder that you can totally send me prompts for little drabbles/ficlets!! a sentence or dialogue or just an au you think might be cool (i adore aus) or if you just wanna say hi!

-

Jason's not stupid. It's just that. Things can sneak up on you sometimes, okay? They all have that habit of getting lost in the details or not looking for what isn’t expected. And boy, is this not expected.

"Please," Tim is imploring in the same tone a child asks their parent for a candy bar at the grocery store checkout, "Bruce isn't even going to be there so you don't have to worry about him."

That's. Really not the problem. The problem is Jason has no idea why Tim is asking him, of all people. Not that he doesn't like hanging out with Tim, as a matter of fact he probably likes it too much. Seeking Tim out had become a bad habit, if he’s honest, that has escalated from working on cases together to eating meals after patrol and even occasionally meeting up during the day to whisk Tim away from the office for a proper lunch.

They're friends, right? But that doesn't explain why Tim is inviting him to an important social gathering and not, say, one of the Titans if he needs a second that badly. Hell, Dick or Stephanie are better choices than Jason is. Asking Jason is. Is. It’s-

It feels a little like Tim’s asking him on a date. Which is absurd for all kinds of reasons, least of which is that Tim doesn’t like Jason like that.

"Why are you asking me?"

Jason winces. That sounded harsh even to him and the way Tim’s expression goes from distinctly hurt to completely closed off has Jason cringing even more.

“Okay,” Tim says, turning towards the open window.

“Okay?” Jason repeats, already forgetting that Tim hasn’t answered his question.

“Mhmm, don’t worry about it,” he says in a tone that suggests Jason should absolutely worry about it.

With that Tim slips out the window and into the early Gotham morning, leaving Jason with an extra breakfast burrito that they’d never even got around to eating before Tim had… whatever the hell that had been. Jason stares at the open window for a moment more, the wind blowing a napkin into his face, and decides he’ll deal with it after sleeping.

-

“What the hell did you do??”

If the sound of Jason’s bedroom door violently hitting the wall didn’t wake Jason up then Stephanie’s indigent yelling would have done the job just fine.

“What the hell do you want?” Jason asks, then shoves a pillow over his head in the vain hopes she will go away.

“Get up!”

The covers are pulled from his body which wouldn’t be so bad if this didn’t also give Stephanie better access to punch him squarely in the stomach. Jason snarls, leaping out of bed to tackle Stephanie to the floor. They grapple around on the floor for a while, Stephanie succeeding in nailing Jason in the throat with an elbow and pinning him to the floor.

“What,” she says pointedly, “did you do to Tim??”

Jason wheezes, only half due to the pressure still on his throat. Stephanie stares down at him furiously.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jason says hoarsely. 

Stephanie’s eyes narrow.

“Well, you better figure it out because he showed up at my apartment and has spent the entire morning moping under my blankets and obsessively redesigning Redbird on his tablet.”

Stephanie gets up in one smooth motion then offers a hand to help pull Jason up from the floor. Jason rubs at his sore throat giving Stephanie an incredulous look.

“I dunno what his problem is; he asked me to some fancy dinner and I just asked why he wasn’t asking you or whatever-”

“You what?”

“What! What did I do?”

“What did you do??” Stephanie shrieks in lieu of answering the question. “You have to be joking.”

When Jason just stares at her for a good minute Stephanie’s expression breaks and she starts laughing.

“Oh my god, please tell me you got dosed with something from Ivy or took a blow to the head recently,” she wheezes through her laughter. “Oh, noo, this is too stupid.”

“If you’ve figured out whatever is going on, could you clue me in?” Jason implores which only makes Stephanie laugh harder.

“Nope!” she says, popping the P, “this is too fucking funny. You’re on your own, bro.”

Before Stephanie leaves she makes sure to steal some of Jason’s leftovers and laugh at him some more, giving a two fingered salute as she leaves through the same window Tim had earlier that morning.

Over the course of the day Jason tries to busy himself cleaning his weapons and kitchen but he just end up stewing in the echoes of Stephanie’s laughter. He’s slumped on the couch rereading the same paragraph of a random paperback he’d grabbed when around four in the afternoon he receives a text from Cass that’s just a smiley face. It’s the only warning he gets before Tim comes stumbling through his window, laptop tucked under his arm.

“Okay, so, I’m still mad at you,” Tim starts, which is great, “but I want you to watch this.”

He sets his laptop down on Jason’s coffee table and maybe Jason can finally find out what this is all about.

On Tim’s laptop screen he opens what looks like a power-point presentation, and isn’t that just incredibly Tim, with the title: “Reasons We Make A Good Couple and Shouldn’t Break Up”.

Wait-

Back up.

“Break up??” Jason asks incredulously.

Tim’s head whips around to look at Jason, the slide on the screen changing to a picture of the two of them in uniform at the local 24 hour diner, probably taken by the waitress and posted on some social media platform, Tim reaching across the table to snag a piece of Jason’s bacon. It’s got several heart emojis all over it.

“You- yes? Isn’t that?” Tim sputters suddenly turning a bright shade of red.

“To break up don’t we have to date first?” Jason asks in a rush before his brain has really caught up with the situation.

Tim gets impossibly more red, muttering, “oh my fucking god,” while slamming the laptop shut. He runs a hand through his hair, looking as nervous and off kilter as Jason currently feels.

“I’m. I’m so sorry, Jay, I thought-” Tim starts rambling, words flowing together into an incoherent string while Jason’s brain tries desperately to parse what’s happening.

Like a lightbulb finally turning on in the middle of the night, Jason understands.

“Tim. Are we dating?”

Tim stops, jaw audibly snapping shut. He looks at Jason for all of two seconds before his gaze darts away miserably, looking at the floor.

“Yes?” he ventures, sounding unsure. “I just. I assumed you wanted to take it slow.”

Jason can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes his throat.

“Do I look like I do anything slow, Babybird?”

Tim growls in frustration, throwing his hands in the air and then pointing an accusing finger at Jason.

“We go out all the time! I hang out in your apartment! But whenever I’d try to initiate something more, you’d back off! I was trying to be considerate!”

Oh holy shit. Stephanie is right, this is stupid. Jason had thought he’d been projecting his own desires onto Tim, that there was no way Tim would want to be close to him like that. Even after all this time, Tim still finds ways to surprise Jason.

“Well, this explains why Stephanie punched and then started laughing at me this morning,” Jason laughs while draping an arm over his eyes. They really were Batman’s kids if their complete inability to communicate like normal people was anything to go by.

“God, Jason, I am so sorry,” Tim says, dropping down beside Jason on the couch with an oof. “I never should have assumed anything.”

“Hey, Babybird?” Jason shuffles over so he can throw his arm over Tim’s shoulders.

Tim startles, looking at Jason with wide blue eyes.

“Shut up and let me kiss you.”

Yeah, okay, maybe sometimes Jason is stupid. But he can at least find solace in the knowledge that sometimes Tim is also. Besides that, Jason tells himself, what really matters is that they got their shit together in the end. Even if that realization is undoubtedly going to come with a large amount of their family all pointing and laughing at them for being idiots.

“So,” Tim ventures after they’ve spent half an hour making out on Jason’s couch, “does this mean you’ll come with me to the dinner?”

Jason muffles a laugh against Tim’s collarbone and says, “yeah, sure I’ll come.”

“Okay, cool, cool. We’ve got to be there in an hour then.”

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Hardboiled In Hellkia

Alastor and Telly @usedhearts get DISGUSTINGLY DOMESTIC and shop for furniture at Ikea.

And by "shop for furniture" I mean "break in during the night to steal furniture." And by "Ikea" I mean "the Hell version of Ikea, which is laid out exactly the same as the Earth, except they have antique Louis XIV style ebony desks and elaborately-embellished crystal-studded red velvet chaise lounges."

They also take the opportunity to convince the Egg Bois that Alastor isn't a threat by casually letting them witness just how much Alastor really likes their boss. It succeeds too well. The Eggs catch them making out. Repeatedly.

Also featuring: Alastor and Telly not shutting up, at all, for a second, about anything. They talk about everything from "what were your religious beliefs like before you died" to "what if we made a machine that produces emoji-shaped pasta."

Alastor

Midnight in Hellkia—which is exactly the same as regular Ikea except along with the normal stores with furniture made of particleboard, there's also the rare disgustingly expensive store where every piece of furniture is a one-of-a-kind designer piece, and the dining area is covered in white tablecloths and lit by candlelight. You can still get those Swedish meatballs, though. Not everything in Hell sucks.

Naturally, when the store was closed at night, the doors and windows were bristling with motion sensors and alarms—which was why Alastor wasn't using them. Instead, a portal opened in the lobby, allowing him, Sir Pentious, and several particularly trusted Egg Bois to enter the store. "Last stop, everybody off the ride!" He waited until they were through, then turned to peer into the dark store. "Now let's see, where to start..."

Telly

Telly slithered out of the portal, none the worse for wear-- he really was getting used to travelling that way, amazingly. The Eggs, however, hadn't fared so well. Three of them were on their backs groaning, one was just sitting there staring at his hands, and the last one, well....he was vomitting on the floor. How that was possible, Telly didn't know.

"OH COME NOW, PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER!" He commanded, hands on his hips. The Egg Bois slowly collected themselves and lined up, standing at attention. The five that had lasted the longest. Numbers 9, 22, 14, 36, and 69. His most trusted Eggs. Telly nodded to the Eggs and they fell in behind him.

"Alright, Alastor, this is for your room, so-- where to first?" He asked, still in his commanding Sir Pentious pose.

Alastor

It took him a moment to answer—he just discovered this place had maps, folded up in little pamphlets next to the door. Why did it have a *map*—Oh. Oh that's why. Wow.

"Goodness, look at this." He put a hand on Telly's shoulder and held out the map. "I feel like a minotaur in a maze."

Telly

Telly leaned his head to look at the map, inspecting it. He let out a low whistle. "At least it's organized. Not all willy-nilly. So, do you think chairs first, or tables? Oh, there's a whole section for lamps." He turned to flick his tongue at Alastor's cheek.

Alastor

He tilted his head closer to let Telly flick his cheek, and traced his finger along the map's recommended route through the store. "Looks like if we take the scenic route, we'll pass by the shelves and bookcases before we reach the chairs and tables. I'm going to need bookcases too, what do you think? Go the long way?" He fluttered his eyelashes adoringly. "Take a lovely midnight stroll together?"

Telly

"Mm! Yes, I'd be more than happy to take a lovely midnight stroll with my hart through the Hellkea." He batted his eyes back at him, before kissing his cheek.

"Oh!" He snapped at one of the Eggs-- #14-- and held out his hand. 14 put a little wallet in his hand and he popped it open. He pulled out a rifle bullet and smiled at Alastor. "I brought the tracking bullets! So that if we find something you like, but aren't sure about it, we can mark it with one of these and then circle back!"

Alastor

"Well, aren't you smart!" As if Alastor didn't already know that. "How many do we have to play with?"

Telly

Telly did a quick count. "Twenty five! I made quite a number of these, they're easy. To activate them you just--" He held one upright and then twisted the tip of the bullet. Alastor would be able to sense the signal, but it made no other indication that it was active.

Alastor

He could feel it the moment it came out, like a very near very weak radio station, signal on but broadcasting dead air. "Brilliant!" He slid an arm around Telly to squeeze him affectionately. "And I can't wait to see the wonderful toy you're making me to go with these."

Telly

"I think you'll like it." He smirked, winking at him. He turned the bullet off and put it back into the wallet, handing it to #14 again.

"Just let 14 know when you'd like to mark something, he'll take care of it. Won't you, 14?" He looked down at the Egg.

"Yessir, Mr. Bossman!" 14 saluted and then gave a thumbs up.

Telly looped an arm around Alastor's waist, kissing his cheek again. "Shall we, my love?"

Alastor

For a second, he'd almost been able to forget the eggs were there at all. He nearly pulled back from Telly on instinct, but tightened his hold again. Being witnessed was... still new.

"Let's." A returned kiss, and he led the way into the furniture labyrinth.

Telly

First on the tour of Hellkea, it was the living room section. Look at all those fancy couches, and shelves, and other things that belong in living rooms! Telly grinned, turning to look at Alastor.

"Well, I know what _I_ like but this is for you, so, anything look good to you?"

Alastor

Look at all of those couches. Each one was thousands upon thousands of dollars—hand carved wood and brocade and leather... And he could take his pick of them, couldn't he?

"I don't know if I'm going to need a couch, really. It's not going to be that kind of room." So he said, but he immediately settled himself down on one of the couches to see how it felt. "You know, I don't know if I've ever been in a furniture store like this! I've never really needed to... to furnish a place before."

Telly

Telly nodded, slithering over to sit next to him-- as well as he could. It took a lot of manuvering to get it done but he did it.

"Yes, it can be overwhelming! Do you want me to help any? I've furnished many a place before. I know we need a desk and a work table, perhaps some nice comfy chairs for reading? Or a couch like this, if you prefer. We could also get a couch for a sitting room, I plan on adding one eventually. Once I have others for holding supplies and whatnot."

Alastor

"Maybe, maybe. I don't know if I need help *now,* just... Well, I've only ever seen the inside of a big furniture store like this in picture shows! It's... exciting, I suppose!" Exciting and weirdly emotional, this transition back into a world he'd cut himself off from—a world with things like welcome mats and hand towels and spaces that were used by *residents* rather than *customers* and furniture for the exclusive use of one person.

"A sitting room. Yes, a couch would be nice, if we happen to find one we like." He looked around at the available couches. "We could keep it on the bridge until we have the room set up for it."

Telly

"I was thinking just the same. Somewhere for you to sit while I play." He grinned, leaning over to kiss Alastor's cheek again.

"Maybe one a little more snake friendly than this one, my tail's already complaining at this position." Telly chuckled. He stood and slithered over to a couch with a back but only one arm-- like a lounge seat but with added bits.

"I like this..." He draped himself over it and purred.

Alastor

"I kind of like standing two inches behind you while you play." Alastor stood to follow Telly.

Seeing Telly draped over a chaise lounge was such a natural sight—and such a familiar one, even if not familiar due to *this* snake—that it almost hurt his heart to see.

"You look good on it." He bent over to kiss Telly's forehead. "How about this: I'll check out the bookcases while you try out the sofas to see which ones are comfortable enough for you, and then I'll try out your picks to see what we both like?"

Telly

Telly smiled at the forehead kiss, then nodded. "Alright, that works. Take a couple of the Eggs with you, just in case you find something perfect so they can disassemble it."

He looked over at the Eggs, stroking his chin. "NINE, FOURTEEN, AND SIXTY-NINE, GO WITH ALASTOR. DO WHATEVER HE SAYS, TREAT HIS WORD AS MINE."

The Eggs didn't look exactly happy about it, but they saluted and went to gather by Alastor. Telly, meanwhile, got up to slither over to another chaise.

Alastor

"I was just about to kidnap fourteen to get those bullets." He squeezed Telly's shoulder, checked his map, and gestured to the eggs to follow him. "All right, boys—let's march!"

As he walked, he got himself ready for the furniture hunt ahead: pulling his grimoire out of his travel trunk dimension, sliding out a few papers he'd tucked into the grimoire, and stowing the grimoire again so he had room to flap the papers and let them unfold themselves into a paper model of his room-to-be. Only walls and floors, with the door and window drawn on with pencil, but having a scale model helped him figure out what he was doing.

With that set up, he beamed down at the eggs following him. "Well, isn't this a fun little excursion!" It was pretty clear that they were not, in fact, having fun at all.

Telly

No they weren't. Or, well, two of them weren't. Sixty-nine  at least kept a more neutral Eggpression, but Nine was outright glaring. It seemed he expected, as the favored Egg, to stay with Sir Pentious. But then there was Fourteen, who was positively beaming.

"Where to first, Mr. Radioman?" Fourteen asked, little hands wrapped around the wallet of tracker bullets. It seemed that having a job, even if it was just holding the bullets, made him happy to do anything else.

Alastor

Well, at least one of the Eggs was in a good mood! Alastor favored the other two with an extra wide smile. He knew he should be trying to get along with them, but he couldn't resist the urge to irritate them a little.

"'Shelving units'!" He put finger quotes around the term, leaving his model of the room to hover by itself, then glanced around. "Which so far seems to mean 'stands for oversized TVs,' doesn't it?" He tutted. But what a wide variety of styles they came in! Most of the TV stands looked boringly "sleek" and modern, but just getting this far had led them past example living rooms that would have been fit for anyone from a rococo duchess who'd bought up half the silk in Europe to a corrupt oil baron with a leather fetish. Hopefully the bookcases would be similarly diverse.

"We're going to want a large matching set of bookcases! I'm lining both walls! The sophisticated study look! Ebony would be ideal, but any wood that's good for protection and deflection will do!" Alastor they're not gonna know what woods those are, they're eggs.

Telly

Sixty-nine and Nine shared a look-- a look that said they didn't know what woods those were, and they were rather irritated at having to do what Alastor said. Sixty-nine, however, still saluted and ran off to start looking over the bookshelves. Nine split off to go in the other direction, spreading out to cover more ground. No salute from him.

Fourteen stayed by Alastor, smiling back up at him. "I should stay by you, Mr. Radioman, in case you need to mark something with these!" He held the wallet of bullets over his head, like he was presenting them.

Alastor

He caught that look. Ah, right. "Just let me know if you find any large bookcase sets, I'll worry about the wood!" Who knew how thorough a job they'd do, though. Alastor might have to go through after them to double-check.

Now came the hard part of the trip: attempting to bond with the eggs.

"A fine idea!" Fourteen got a pat for that. "At least *you're* not waiting to bolt off at the first opportunity, are you?"

Telly

Fourteen blinked at the pat, momentarily confused-- what was that? Positive attention? A little pat just for him? Oh, look at those eyes go all big, and his smile could rival Alastor's own. Seemed he got the approval of one Egg-- though, considering he'd already been pretty pleased by things, who's to say if it's more that or Alastor. Or if it'll last.

"Don't mind Nine and Sixty-nine, Mr. Radioman. They don't like you because of what the other Mr. Radioman did! They remember...." He seemed to recall something and his smile turned into a frown, though it was more sad than angry.

"I do, too..." He said, as if he really had only remembered just now.

Alastor

Alastor's smile thinned. "Yes, well. The *other* Mr. Radioman has poor taste!" He raised his voice a tad, hoping maybe the other two eggs felt like eavesdropping. "I can't undo what he did, but I'm certainly going to do everything in my power to fix it! And they don't need to take my word for it—all they have to do is watch and see."

Telly

That brightened Fourteen's disposition again and he smiled back up at Alastor. "Okie-dokie!"

He toddled after Alastor, humming tunelessly until another thought appeared in his empty shell. "I think you already make Mr. Bossman happy! He smiles a lot more when you're around!"

Alastor

"Does he!" Don't mind the sappy-happy background music that spontaneously turned itself on. "Good! There's nothing I like more than to see him smiling!"

Telly

"Yeah! I like to see him smile, he has such a handsome smile." Fourteen sighed wistfully, giving a pretty dopey smile himself.

"What else do you like about Mr. Bossman, Mr. Radioman?"

Alastor

"Doesn't he just!" Aside from the fangs, Alastor's smile didn't look very much less dopey. Typically, mooning over Sir Pentious in a conversation on the same intellectual level as *an Egg Boi* would be humiliating—but Alastor's whole goal was to get on their level, wasn't it? He was trying to wiggle his way into their good graces. So he gave himself permission to not feel self-conscious as he gushed freely. "Why, what *don't* I like about him! The way he slithers... the way he laughs... his ruthless, devious schemes... his utterly awe-inspiring engineering mind... his stunning sense of style... I could go on!" (He might have remotely activated his phone to start recording his gushing for Telly.)

Telly

"Oh! Yes, I like all those things too! He's very smart and talented and handsome! He's the best!" Fourteen beamed as he did a little dance while he walked-- just bouncing from foot to foot.

"He's so very handsome!! And his style, yes! It makes me happy to be able to wear clothes kind of like his!!"

Alastor

"Smart, talented, handsome—*and* he has his minions wearing matching pinstripe suits! The attention to detail! How many other overlords have that kind of consistency in their workforce's style? Not very many!" He sighed wistfully, "I suppose I'll eventually be wearing a gold and grey suit too, won't I? Someday when the alliance is public!"

Telly

"I think you'd look handsome in it, too!" Fourteen tapped his shell where regular people had a chin.

"Your eyes would stand out, but with your hair like that it'll work!!" He smiled again. Fourteen fell quiet, plodding along with Alastor.

"Do you have a favorite part of Mr. Bossman, Mr. Radioman? I like Mr. Bossman's tail! It's so shiny and smooth! Me and the other four here tonight, we're the ones who get to help Mr. Bossman scrub off all the grease! We're special." Fourteen laughed.

"We get to touch him, it's such an honor!"

Alastor

"Maybe that will help keep people's eyes up where they belong! All gray except for the eyes and the lips."

Alastor had, by this point, so successfully gotten un-self-conscious that he'd essentially completely forgotten he was talking to an egg. He hadn't realized how desperate he was for somebody to gush to. "Oh, goodness, favorite part!" He stopped walking, distracted from checking tags to see what wood each bookcase was made from to close his eyes, summon up a shadow in vaguely the same shape as Sir Pentious, and see where his hands went. "His tail *is* lovely—where the contrast in his scale colors is the sharpest, and those stripes, and watching how he *moves*... And I'm incredibly fond of his mouth, of course, fangs and tongue alike... But, I think..."

When his hands finally stopped moving across the shadow—over hips, waist, chest, shoulders, ribs—he was rested holding the shadow in a loose embrace, hands on its back, cheek to its shoulder, lips hovering over its collarbone as he spoke. "His back." He slightly turned his face and his lips into the shade's throat. "Or perhaps his neck. I always seem to end up here." Yeah he's definitely forgotten who he's talking to.

Telly

Fourteen watched this whole display with a sort of awe only and Egg Boi could display.

"Oh, golly, you're right, Mr. Radioman! Mr. Bossman has so many wonderful parts! I like the way his hood flares all big when he's proud of something! Oh, and his cackle! And the way all his eyes follow you when you move around his tail!"

Good job, Alastor, you got the Egg gushing too. Fourteen sighed dreamily, hugging the wallet of bullets to himself.

"You kiss him, don't you, Mr. Radioman? What's it like?"

Alastor

Alarms went off in Alastor's head as he IMMEDIATELY REMEMBERED WHO HE WAS TALKING TO OH NO—no wait this was the plan. That was what Telly said: the Eggs would respect Alastor if they knew he was physical with the boss. (Which was *ridiculous*, but that was par for the course with the Eggs.) Everything was going according to plan. Anyway, Alastor and Telly were getting a lot freer with the nuzzles and light smooches in front of the Eggs, it wasn't like they *wouldn't* notice.

The shadow poofed away now that its job was done; it didn't feel like Telly, anyway. "Yes! Yes. I do kiss him. It's like..." He was all prepared to talk about how it was like what he imagined Heaven must feel, it was like tearing into the tenderest raw meat and feeling the blood spill down his chin, it was like those rare bright beautiful moments as a child when he'd had the communion wafer placed on his tongue and been sure he could feel himself swallowing God...

And then he remembered who he was talking to. So he said, with great solemnity and importance, "It's like the most delicious thing you've ever tasted, but a hundred times better."

Telly

Fourteen nearly swooned at that, clutching the wallet tighter against him, for the support. An emotional support wallet.

"Oh, golly gosh, it sounds wonderful." Was the Egg blushing? The Egg was blushing. Oh, and then he lifted the wallet to cover his little Egg face, that was kind of cute.

"You're very lucky to be able to kiss Mr. Bossman!"

At that moment, Nine came trotting back over. He glanced between Fourteen's euphoria and Alastor, squinting.

"Mr. Radioman, I think I found a set of shelves for you."

Alastor

"Oh, I certainly am! The luckiest man in Hell!"

Ah, back to business. Hopefully that gossip would spread like wildfire among the Egg Bois. (... And hopefully no further.) Alastor stopped his phone's recording and texted it to Telly—he deserved to hear his partner-in-crime make an utter fool of himself flattering Telly. "Lead the way, my good Egg!"

Telly

Nine turned to trot back the way he'd come, pointing out the shelves. "I couldn't find ebony, but these ones are red."

They were mahogany to be precise, and it was quite a set, about ten full sized bookshelves.

Meanwhile, Telly lounged, hard at work trying sofas. He saw the audio file and turned his phone down low to listen. He snickered at it, but another part of him was flattered.

He handed off his phone to Thirty-six to take a picture of him dramatically sprawled over the couch he was trying.

He inspected the picture-- it was a good one. He captioned it with 'kiss deprived' and sent it off to Alastor.

Alastor

"Oho! Aren't these handsome!" He examined the bookcases critically. "Nice little decorative flourishes... Mahogany isn't the strongest shield, but it's sturdy; I can put some wards on the back panels and line any shelves I put something volatile on... and I *do* like the color..." He pulled a tailor's measuring tape from his pocket, handed it to a shadow to measure the dimensions of one of the bookcases, and glowing red projections of the bookcases appeared inside Alastor's paper room. "They're a few inches shorter than the ceiling, good... A little wide to fit all ten on the walls... I could take eight, *or* put the other two on either side of the door..." He beamed at the eggs. "I'd call these solid contenders! One bullet, please!" He wasn't going to be done until he'd finished examining all the available options, but these were well worth marking for later.

He couldn't sneak a look at his phone until after he'd checked out the bookcases. His grin widened. That poor man, all alone and suffering! "You two keep browsing, I'll catch up with you in a minute. The boss has requested I report in." He vanished into a shadow.

And reappeared in the sofa section. Now, where was Telly sprawled?

Telly

Fourteen handed him a bullet to mark the bookcase and saluted when he went. Right before Alastor transported, he could see Fourteen start whispering to Nine immediately. Seemed like the plane was working.

Telly, meanwhile, had unsprawled and was commanding the two Eggs with him to deconstruct a couple chaise lounges and a couch. But when he spotted Alastor he immediately threw himself back onto the chaise he'd been on, properly dramatic.

Alastor

Three seats? They were getting ready to entertain a whole party, weren't they?

Alastor smirked as he caught sight of Telly flopping back down, and then got properly dramatic himself. "Oh, look at you! You poor, deprived thing!" He clutched his chest as he walked up to Telly's chaise, monologuing the whole way. "How it pains my heart to see you suffering like this! What a fool I was to leave you behind!" He stopped in front of Telly, bent down over him... and caught himself with his hand on the armrest, pressing his other hand to the back of his forehead. "Oh, if only there was *something* I could do to help you! Anything at all to ease your torment!"

Telly

Telly had kept his eyes closed for the speech, but cracked one open at that last line.

"Kisses...." He said, voice purposefully soft. "Only kisses can save me..."

Alastor

He dropped to his knee and clutched Telly's hand in both his own, as if he was at a loved one's deathbed. "Then you can still be saved? Oh, but will *my* kisses be enough? After I so callously abandoned you, darling, how could I possibly be the one to save you?" The heaviest of broken-hearted sighs. "But! I'll do my best." He kissed Telly's knuckles. "For you, *mon roi,* I must." Then the back of his hand, then his wrist.

Telly

Telly was smiling by the kiss to the back of his hand, and almost giggling at the wrist kiss. His eyes fully opened and he purred, looking down at Alastor with all the love that could fit into the face of a snake man.

Alastor

He continued to trail kisses up Telly's arm, every few pecks stopping to add to his laments: "To think! It's all my fault you're in this condition! I'll never forgive myself! At the vary least—dare I dream?—I might yet earn your forgiveness, my darling..." He trailed off as his kisses crossed from Telly's collar to his throat.

Telly

He'd been restraining giggles the whole way-- until Alastor reached his throat. That earned a soft gasp, and a tilting of his head to invite more.

"I think I can be presssuaded to forgive you, sshould you continue like that...."

Alastor

"*Anything* to redeem myself in your beautiful eyes." He was hamming it up like nobody's business. He was gonna earn a Tony for this performance. He still hadn't let go of Telly's hand, instead now holding it up to his own face, gently encouraging Telly to wrap around him. And his kisses trailed up, up, up Telly's throat, to his jaw, to the corner of his mouth, to... his cheek, to his temple, to his forehead...

Telly

Telly didn't need any encouragement to cup Alastor's cheek, nor to wrap his hand around and hold his head. The giggles almost returned at the kisses all over his face, but he did pout a bit at Alastor teasing so close to his mouth.

"I think I need mouth to mouth, it's the only thing that can save me now." He grinned.

Alastor

"Are you *sure?*" Alastor asked, teeth grazing the edge of Telly's hood. "Well. I suppose you're the expert..." Back down to press the lightest, most chaste kiss to Telly's lips.

Telly

The hood shivered under the kiss-- Oh that felt interesting. Alastor had never kissed his hood before. But then there were lips on his lips and he chased the kiss with more of his own. The hand around Alastor's head kept him close-- no getting away now!

Alastor

"More?" Alastor murmured. "Are you sure? In your condition, I'd hate to overwhelm you with too much too fast." But he was losing the battle to act aloof, nipping at Telly's lips between words.

Telly

Telly didn't respond, except to kiss him more, his free hand gripping Alastor's coat to make his hold even more secure. He pulled Alastor closer, mouth opening for him, tongue flicking to invite him.

Alastor

Alastor lost the battle to keep acting goofy. He pressed into the kiss, half standing to slide a knee onto the chaise, holding himself up with one arm and wrapping the other under Telly's shoulders.

Telly

Telly whined softly into his mouth, the hand clutching his coat releasing to slide underneath. His claws dug into Alastor's side, squeezing briefly before moving to the small of his back, pressing there to push him closer. His other hand tangled into Alastor's hair, his fangs dragging against his lip.

Alastor

He shuddered at the claws digging into him, and automatically slung his leg over Telly's tail so that he could lay fully atop him. What he wouldn't give to stay right here, doing exactly this, for the next, oh... twelve hours or so...

... And hope the employees coming in decided not to say anything about it, right? Yeah, *that* was likely. He eventually broke the kiss with a sigh, nuzzled Telly's cheek, and murmured, "We should get this sofa. I like this sofa."

Telly

"Mm, I like it, too." Telly purred, nuzzling back, his tongue flicking against Alastor's cheek. "We should definitely get it. Everyone needs a good kissing couch."

He snickered and turned his head-- and his eyes widened. There were five Eggs just staring at them. Telly had forgotten he'd even brought Eggs Bois, so wrapped up in kissing.

"Uh....Alastor...."

Alastor

Alastor's head whipped around to face whatever threat Telly had just spotted—*oh.* He stared at them.

They stared at him.

He said, extremely casually, "Well hi, boys!"

Telly

"Hi, Mr. Radioman," They said in unison. Telly covered his mouth with his hand, lest he start laughing-- and failed step one, he started laughing just the MOST loudly.

Alastor

Okay. Well. Could be worse. Thank goodness they'd already decided to tell the Eggs.

Alastor very carefully climbed off of Telly and started straightening out his clothes. "So! I take it you finished with the shelving section!"

Telly

Fourteen perked up. "Yes! We found a couple more sets that we thought you might like and I put the trackers on them for you!"

Telly also sat up and straightened his suit, getting Hattie from where he'd fallen in Telly's haste to be dramatic. He plopped him back on and crossed his arms.

"GOOD! NOW ALL FIVE OF YOU CAN GET TO DECONSTRUCTING THIS COUCH!" He stood and pointed at the one he'd been sitting on. He turned to Alastor then and his voice softened.

"Darling, would it be better to transport things in one big batch, or in smaller loads?"

Alastor

"Oh! Stupendous." He *could* sense the trackers. He should have been able to earlier, if he hadn't been ridiculously distracted. "I'll check them out in a moment."

He surveyed the disassembled furniture. "Smaller loads, I think. We can go section by section."

Telly

"Alright, then, I think once they have this one disassembled, then that should be good for couches. You can do that and then we can both go look at the other shelves Fourteen marked, yes?" He grinned, putting his hand on Alastor's shoulder.

The Eggs got to work, with a few pointed looks and whispers, but otherwise quietly.

Alastor

"Yes, right! Very good idea!" A nod. Look at him, the *most* dignified and serious.

After a moment, he asked, "Why so many couches?"

Telly

"Well, I wanted a chaise lounge in your room so that I could just....hang out and watch you work sometimes. And then I wanted at least two for the future sitting room. And then the kissing couch, for kissing, of course." He smirked.

"The ones for the sitting room will go into storage until we need them, and then the kissing couch can go on the bridge along with the one I picked for your room, until we get everything else settled in there."

Alastor

"Well! Let me see the one you picked for my room—I'll have to make sure it doesn't, you know, throw things off." Although he rather liked the idea of Telly lounging around watching him work. "What kind of wood is it?"

Telly

"Mahagony! And it's got a lovely red velvet. Come see, I told the Eggs not to break that one down until you saw it." He slithered over to a very fancy looking red velvet chaise, the wood carved intricately.

Alastor

"Oh, well, that'll work out if I go with the mahogany bookcases." He flopped on it to try it out; he'd probably be using it more often than Telly, after all. "It's comfortable enough."

Telly

Telly coiled near it, his hands running over the velvet as he purred. "It's so soft....I like that. Feels nice against my scales."

Alastor

"I'm not much for velvet, but if I can't stand it, I can toss a decorative hide over it that you can move when you visit." He rolled over, crossing his arms on the armrest and kicking his feet in the air. "Looks like the kind of thing you'd find in a vampire's manor, doesn't it?" He winked. "*Very* dramatic."

Telly

He grinned and winked back, and then moved Hattie off his head. "Well, I _do_ have the widow's peak for it!" He snickered.

"I have to go for the most dramatic pieces, you know this." Telly leaned up to kiss him. "If you'd rather, though, there's a similar piece that's leather instead? The wood is rosewood stain on oak, too, so still red!"

Alastor

"No no, if it's for *you* to sit on, you can pick the one you like the feel of!" Alastor smiled crookedly. "Anyway, at the low price of *free,* what does it hurt to get the velvet one?"

Telly

"You're sweet." Telly took Alastor's face in his hands and kissed him softly.

"After the couches and shelves, what about a reading chair for you?"

Alastor

"You read my mind." He beamed at Telly. "And *that* one's going to be leather."

Telly

"Yes! Absolutely. A nice, soft leather, I'm sure they have many of them." He nodded. The Eggs rushed over and stood there, waiting for Alastor to get up from the couch.

Alastor

He stood and offered his elbow to Telly. "So! Back to the bookcases?"

Telly

"Back to bookcases!" He took Alastor's arm and then turned back to the Eggs.

"MEET US THERE AFTER YOU'RE DONE HERE!" He paused. "Wait, Alastsor, we need to transport these first."

Alastor

"Oh! Right." He snapped his fingers and opened a portal in the middle of the couch section. "Just holler when you're ready for me to close it." He nodded to Telly. Ready.

Telly

"Mr. Radioman? It won't hurt us, will it?" Fourteen asked, looking warily at the portal.

Alastor

"No, no, nothing to worry about! It's completely harmless. You won't even have to pass through any other dimensions! It's just bending space a little!" This was probably meant to be reassuring.

Telly

"So, we don't get hurt if one of us accidentally falls in?" Nine asked as he leaned over to look into it.

Alastor

Eggs. "There's nowhere to fall in! You can step right over from one floor to the other, no breaks! It just looks a little fuzzy from this side. Think of it like walking through a curtain!"

Telly

"Oh, ok!" Twenty-two said. The Eggs all picked up pieces and started to haul them through the portal.

"MAKE SURE YOU DON'T MIX THEM UP. KEEP THE PILES SEPERATED!" Telly called after them.

"Don't worry about them, they're just wary of portals after the hotel incident."

Alastor

Alastor's smile wilted slightly. "Right." That. And how was Alastor's own Sir Pentious doing? He didn't have anyone to help him rebuild like Telly did.

Don't worry about it. "Bookcases!" he said firmly. "And keep your eyes peeled for any reading chairs on the way!"

Telly

"Bookcases!" Telly slithered along, but he _had_ noticed that small wilting. No need to dwell on it, though, they just needed to keep going.

"Oh, look!" Telly pointed, spying a display of highbacked chairs.

Alastor

Glad for the distraction, Alastor looked them over thoughtfully. "Nnno, not quite like that. These chairs are built like Laurel, and I'm after Hardy. What we're after is a chair so comfortable, a child could fall asleep in its seat—and slowly sink into the cushion like quicksand, never to be seen again."

Telly

Telly nodded, but still paused there, looking longingly at the chairs. "Those aren't very comfortable for me as I am now, but I used to love sitting in chairs like those when I read, when I was alive."

He sighed and started to move away. "Let's find something more comfortable for you, then."

Alastor

"I'm afraid they're too dignified for me," Alastor said. "Sure, in public I'll sit with poise and elegance, but that's for the benefit of an audience! *This* is going to be *my* room, and I intend to read as disgracefully as possible."

Telly

"Oh, disgraceful reading? How avant garde!" Telly snickered. He looked around and spotted some other chairs that looked large and plush.

"What about those?"

Alastor

"It'll be the new hot thing," Alastor said, winking. "My mother used to see me curled up with ghost stories and say, 'Ally, are you a contortionist or a cat?' Ha!"

He stopped to survey this new crop of armchairs. "Now, that's what I'm talking about!" He let go of Telly so he could dart between them, squishing the cushions with his hands to see how soft they were.

Telly

Telly laughed, looking at his partner-in-crime darting about like a child in a candy store. He slithered over to one that was red leather and looked at its plaque, humming.

"This one's genuine cow leather from up above."

Alastor

"Is it!" Alastor immediately darted over to look. "That looks like the kind of chair a rich man with a drug addiction would own in the eighties. He'd sit here drinking a highball and staring out his window at the Miami skyline while his wife leaves with the kids." This wasn't an insult. He tested the cushion, then plopped down in the chair. Then tugged his feet up into the chair with him and turned sideways. After a moment of contemplation, he summoned up his grimoire, flipped it open to a random page, and tested out how easily it fit on his lap in this position. "It's a strong contender!"

Telly

Aww, look at how cute Alastor looked getting into his reading position! Telly couldn't help but lean down to kiss his cheek. He slithered over to continue looking and hummed. He spotted one and tilted his head as he moved over to it.

"Hm, this one is nice. More my style than yours, though, I think." It was black leather and wood with gold accenting. And the leather.... Telly checked the plague and almost started laughing.

"_Alastor, this one's crocodile leather!_"

Alastor

"Is it!" Alastor scrambled out of his seat to come see. "Well, I'll be! Usually it's cow leather textured like crocodile skin, but I think that's the real deal! This here is a million dollar chair." He checked the plaque to see what it actually cost, and his eyes shot wide. "Close enough. Woof."

Telly

"Well, good thing we're not _paying_ for anything, hm?" He grinned and winked at Alastor. "I think we ought to take it just on principle, don't you?"

Alastor

"We should absolutely take it on principle." He looked around. "Where are our bullets?" The store PA system briefly crackled to life. "Number fourteen to the armchairs, if you please."

Telly

It only took about a minute for Fourteen to find them. He saluted Alastor and smiled. "Reporting for duty, Mr. Radioman, sir!"

Telly chuckled as Fourteen dug a bullet out of his wallet of them and held it out. Telly plucked it from his hand and twisted it, activating the tracker before setting it on the chair.

"Did you want to mark the other one too?"

Alastor

"Yes! I was just going to ask." He took another and set it on the chair he'd found, then dove back into exploring the other chairs.

Telly

Telly smiled again, and then looked down at Fourteen. "Are the others done loading things?"

"Almost, Mr. Bossman!"

"Good, go back and tell them to come meet us here or at the bookshelves if we're not here any longer."

Fourteen saluted again and toddled off.

"Find anything else, love?" Telly called.

Alastor

"Maybe!" He'd plopped himself in a chair shaped vaguely like a baseball glove. He crawled out of it and directly into a squishy circular chair without touching the ground. Absolutely zero dignity, only glee.

Telly

"Good, good. Fourteen and the rest will be back soon." Telly slithered over to another circular chair. He inspected it before slithering in and coiling up. It fit him well, and gave him room to grow, even. He started to purr as he got comfortable.

"I think I found a good one for me."

Alastor

"Round is the new square, apparently!" Okay, test done. He hopped up. "I'm going to check out the other bookcases the niners found, can you make sure those other two get bullets on them when the eggs catch up?" He'd already been excited when they arrived, but now he was practically buzzing with eagerness and antsy to hurry on to his next destination.

Telly

"Of course, I'll catch up with them." Telly smiled, giving a little wave as he settled back into the seat. It wasn't but a few minutes later that the Eggs arrived. Telly set them to marking the ones that Alastor had tested, before vacating his own to mark as well.

The group of one snake and five eggs arrived at the bookshelves, and Telly looked around. "Alastor?" He called.

Alastor

"Here!" He waved between a couple of rows. "I found a couple of bookcases with some *gorgeous...* Oh, what do you call it, the decorative whats-it with the wood." He gestured, summoning up illustrative swirls of red light to form floral flourishes and stylized animals. "But they're clearly designed to be stand-alone pieces, they've got legs on them, they don't match anything here—but don't let me forget! When we're filthy rich and all of Hell answers our every beck and call, I'm hiring a woodworker to decorate my bookcases!"

Telly

Telly slithered over, Eggs trotting behind and raised a brow. "You mean embellishments? Yes, of course. You know, I think your alternate from here carves things. I'm not sure if he does wood, but...."

Alastor

He snapped his fingers, embellishments! "Oh, I don't want to imagine how that conversation would go. 'Hello, alternate mine, into whose universe I moved and whose enemy I seduced and whose Hell I've been helping to steadily conquer! So sorry about flattening all your favorite hangouts last week, but would you mind decorating my private magical sanctum on your enemy's airship? Promise not to work any hexes into the designs?'" He shook his head, grimacing. "I don't think so." He darted down another row. "Anyway! I went with the first mahogany shelves, but I also found a set of wall shelves that I think would look perfect on either side of the window!"

Telly

"Oh, mahogany? Sounds lovely!" Telly slithered after him, moving fast to keep up. "Show me these wall shelves, let's see."

The Eggs followed after on their short little legs.

Alastor

They were a set of wall-mounted curio cabinets stained nearly black, and they were almost nothing *but* embellishment—curling, twisting organic shapes carved into every surface. "Aren't they just gorgeous?" Alastor asked, delighted.

They totally were, assuming the viewer is into scenes of sinners writhing in infernal flames and thrashing in tempestuous waves.

"It's very gothic revival," Alastor said cheerily. "I think they look a little like cathedrals!" And they totally did. Aside from all the suffering sinners.

Telly

Telly's eyes widened and he nodded. "Oh yes, those are very lovely. And how intricate! What detail! I'd be jealous of whoever else got these if we weren't taking them!" He cackled.

Alastor

"I wonder how long it took to make these!" Alastor admired them a moment longer. "Well! Now that they've made these once, it'll take 'em less time the second time around, right?" He opened one's door to plop in a bullet, and turned to go. They were the eggs' responsibility now.

As he walked, he lifted his paper model again and added little glowing copies of the cabinets into his room. "And I think they'd look *great* framing a little altar, if I decide to put one in..." He turned to Telly. "I don't know if I've ever asked what you are... belief-wise. You know—religiously, spiritually."

Telly

Religion? Hm, that was something he hadn't thought of in a while. "I was brought up protestant-- the Church of England, naturally-- but I never had any real faith myself. I never believed-- perhaps I should've, considering..." He gestured around them.

"After I landed here, I just continued on like that. I didn't see the point in having any sort of religion since I'm already in Hell."

Alastor

Alastor nodded. "You know, I think most people think there's no point to religion in Hell!" He made a noncommittal gesture. "I suppose it depends on what you think the point of religion is. And what you think religion itself is. Ooh, kitchen cabinets!"

This is definitely a very normal conversation to be having in a really expensive Hell Ikea.

Telly

"It does seem to be a common thing, yes." Alastor was distracted once more and Telly smiled fondly.

"Yes, we should start in on kitchen things." He shooed the Eggs off to go collect the other furniture they'd picked out already.

"Which cabinets look good for you? We'll need plenty for the expanded counter and to replace the old ones."

Alastor

Alastor looked at the cabinets longingly, but then sighed. "I didn't bring a model of the kitchen. I don't even have measurements for it."

He looked around the kitchen section; unlike the bookcases, all standing alone and free to take, the kitchens seemed to primarily be example kitchens all set up with cabinets and counters fully installed. "I bet we can't just grab the cabinets off the wall," he muttered. "They probably have to be custom-made for your particular kitchen. That's how kitchens usually are, it's not stand-alone furniture." But that wasn't going to stop him from looking around.

Telly

"Yes, this might be something we have to actually order. Or that I'll have to make. We do have the funds to get whatever kind of wood and countertop you'd like. Maybe pick out a style and I can try to replicate it?" He moved closer to Alastor, hand moving to rub his back.

Alastor

"I like that plan!" He leaned into the touch. "If we find any we *really* like, though—let's steal the cabinet doors to make sure they all match."

And then he took off again, exploring all the example kitchens. "What was I just—? Right! Religion. No offense, but the Church of England has always sounded to me like the most boring religion on the planet."

Telly

"I think I'd have to agree-- considering it was made by Henry the Eighth just to be able to screw Anne Boleyn, it makes sense!" He laughed, once again watching his dear deer prance around.

"What wood were you thinking for the cabinets? And what material for the countertops?"

Alastor

"And that's the only interesting fact about the Church of England I know."

He considered the question. "For cabinets? The wood isn't as important as it is in more dedicated magic work, but we'll still want to get a wood that plays well with healing and herbs. Ideally a feminine wood—call me old-fashioned, but I've always found more feminine energy in cooking." Alastor that does absolutely nothing to answer the question. "And I don't know about you, but I like stone counters! Marble, granite... What would be fantastic is if we could find a large enough piece to cut both the kitchen counter and my work table from it. I'd love to tie those spaces together. But we'll see!"

Telly

"I'm sure we can find that much stone to cut from the same place. But as for wood, I mean for the color, love." He smirked, leaning closer to kiss his cheek.

"I'm thinking design, what it'll look like. Maybe we can get a nice black marble-- Oh, I think I've seen some marble that's black and gold, that would work well."

Alastor

"Oh! Of course, color. I feel like a kitchen should be bright! We don't necessarily need the cabinets to be light, but if not, we'll have to compensate somewhere else. I don't want it to be *plain* white, though—I've never liked plain white, have you? I've worked in enough kitchens where everything's white and stainless steel, no thank you! Primarily black counters, though, that could look nice, yes."

Telly

"I tend towards darker colors, generally-- well, you know, you've seen the airship!" He laughed. "All blacks of various shades with splashes of gold and red."

Telly hummed. "You know, what if we got yellow cabinets? Or at least, made them from a wood that had that sort of tan-yellowish look?"

Alastor

"Oh! Yellow! Sunny! Yes, I think I like that idea." He turned toward the nearest example kitchen with white cabinets, waved a hand, and they were briefly overlaid with a fluorescent yellow. "... Maybe not that exact hue, but in concept YES!"

Telly

"Yes, unfortunately not everything can make bright yellow look dashing!" He adjusted his bowtie and smirked, winking at Alastor.

"A softer shade would probably work better-- or maybe a bit more golden instead!"

Alastor

He tried a less fluorescent yellow. "Well—I'm no good at mixing colors, but that's what they've got those paint chips at the hardware store for! But I like the idea of it, it sounds stupendous! We can find just the right hue later!"

Telly

"Yes, we can! But shall we get back to finding pieces for our home? What else do we need? We have chairs and couches and shelves...." He ticked them off on his fingers, rubbing his chin and humming.

Alastor

"Right! I need a desk and a chair for it! I guess I'll get my work table later, when we find counters; and doodads, I need doodads. I'll know them when I see them." He put a hand on Telly's shoulder, "We were going to redecorate the bedroom some! I almost forgot. That's an 'if we see anything we like' thing, isn't it?"

Telly

"Yes, it is. I'd say we should go try out the beds, but we decided not to replace that." He snickered. "But yes, anything we like. Maybe new nightstands? A dresser for you?"

Alastor

"But I enjoy stealing out of your dresser so much!" He laughed. "But I guess I can't steal socks from you, can I? I didn't take measurements in your room, either, you'll have to tell me what size dresser you think will fit! But I can probably do with one of those tall, skinny ones."

Telly

"If you just want a drawer in mine, that's fine too. It depends on what all you want to put in it. I do think nightstands would be good, though." Telly leaned down to flick his tongue at Alastor's cheek.

Alastor

Tilt into the flick. "I don't need to store much! Socks, boxers, garters, a couple of belts." He fished around in his pocket. "It would be nice to not have to carry these around everywhere, too." It's a bunch of bow ties. He's carrying half a dozen different bow ties in one of his pockets. They've been there for like... half a year.

Telly

"We could get you a box for those, love. Put it on top of the dresser next to the one I have." He smiled, squishing his cheek against Alastor's.

"I'm excited, my hart, for this."

Alastor

"So am I!" For a couple of seconds, he wasn't a grown-ass man, but an excited child, torn between bouncing on the balls of his feet and keeping his cheek squished to Telly's; he split the difference by hugging him hard and sort of vibrating in place. "I can't *begin* to tell you how excited! I'm going to have a *home!* For the first time since I died! A home with *you!*"

Telly

Telly returned the hug, squeezing Alastor tightly. He pressed his face into his shoulder and smiled into it.

"A home with me. And I'm so, so happy to give it to you, my hart." Another squeeze and a soft hitch of his breath. "I can't explain how happy it makes me to see you this excited about it, too."

Alastor

Alastor patted Telly's back when he heard his breath hitch. "Careful—if you start I'm going to start." He huffed. "... Thank you. I can't even tell you how grateful I am."

Telly

Telly pulled back, and decided to stop himself from crying by kissing Alastor about it. The perfect way to stop oneself from crying, yes? Yes, absolutely.

Alastor

Sounded like a solid strategy to Alastor! He kissed back. He couldn't wait to be up in the air and really, finally home.

Telly

Telly held Alastor's face in his hands, deepening the kiss-- when he heard a rather loud and pointed clearing of a throat. Which was funny, because the Egg Bois didn't have throats. He pulled back and turned to look at the group of five Eggs, raising a brow.

"WELL?" He asked. They saluted and reported that all the marked items had been disassembled and transported.

"Alright, my hart...where were we? Your desk, yes?"

Alastor

Alastor nearly jumped out of his skin. These eggs were going to be the double death of him.

"Right! Right. Yes, uh..." He checked the store map. "We'll pass through the dining area to get to the desks, so, keep an eye out for tables and chairs we like, but... Yes! Desks."

Telly

Telly clapped excitedly. "Oh, yes! Tables and chairs! I'm excited to get a new set of those! Maybe some dishes too, if they have them."

Alastor

"I think they've got dishes on the far side of the store—but maybe they'll have some set out on display here, who knows." He offered his arm again.

Telly

Telly took the arm immediately, and started slithering again. "If not, well, then, we'll get to the dishes eventually, anyway!"

He turned to the Eggs. "COME ALONG NOW."

Alastor

"Yes! Sooner or later! We've got enough plates to eat on for now, anyway!" And off to the dining tables. "We'll probably want a table that matches the rest of the kitchen, right? Someday it would be nice to have a separate dining room, but for now..." It wasn't like they could conveniently build an annex onto the airship.

Telly

"Yes, we should. A simple black one would work fine. Or maybe one in red, since that's the motif we're going for. Red, yellow, and black." They moved into the kitchen table area and Telly started looking over them.

"Maybe mahogany to go with the bookcases? I do like mahogany."

Alastor

"The bookcases will be in another room, though, so we don't *need* to match them. Although I do like mahogany too, I wouldn't complain about mahogany." He looked around and snorted. "Goodness, half of these look fit for a castle, don't they?" That's what you get at the fancy Hellkea.

Telly

"They do! I love them." Telly beamed. "Oh! We should think about the walls-- I was thinking paint them black but then stenciling on a design in yellow and red? Does that sound good to you?"

Alastor

A thoughtful pause. "I'll have to see it first. We can do a mockup of the kitchen in the colors. If the floor's already black, and then the counters—I don't know if black walls would make it too dark." Apparently, Mr. Aren't These Gothic Revival Eternal Damnation Torture Cabinets Cute is all about bright cheery kitchens. "But stencils should be fine, whatever color it's on! What were you thinking?" A nudge. "More scales like the bridge?"

Telly

"Hm, no-- the kitchen is going to be your space, I want a stencil that you think represents you!" He smiled, nudging back.

Alastor

"Oh, I'll have to think about it! Hah, maybe I should just stencil up a big chart of meat cuts. Like they have at butcher shops—one shaped like an animal and one shaped like a human." A wink. "No, I'll think of something pretty."

Telly

Telly giggled. "That would be funny, but yes, I'd rather something pretty."

Telly turned, seeing a nice round oak table. "Oh, that's nice!"

Alastor

"Oh, that'll do!" He leaned on it, sturdy. "Will a round table fit in the kitchen? You said it was going to be long and narrow." This poor man who can't just visualize the table in the space. He was mentally kicking himself for not bringing the kitchen's measurements. "But I like it, it's a nice color. I bet it'd look good with yellow cabinets."

He suddenly laughed, "Listen to me, talking about matching tables to cabinets! If somebody a month ago had told me looking at furniture would be the most exciting thing I'd do in the next few weeks, I'd tell 'em either they're the worst fortune teller I've ever met or I'm in for a boring month!"

Telly

"Things like this can be exciting if you have someone to do it with." Telly smiled.

"And yes, the table will fit. We'd just need to put it near where the plants will be growing, since I don't plan to have cabinets there."

Alastor

"And if it's your own kitchen you're decorating, I'd bet." He smacked the tabletop. "All right! I'm fine with it if you are."

Telly

"Yes there is that too." He chuckled.

"I like this one. A little brown to mix things up."

Alastor

"Little bit of both!" A wink.

"You know, if the table's back near the plants, we could stick potted plants on the table from time to time. Add a little extra color!" Oh he was getting *hella* cutesy-domestic. In another ten minutes he'll be making a cottagecore blog.

Telly

"That would be wonderful," Telly said, smiling. He nodded to the eggs who started to disassemble the table.

"Now, the chairs-- do we want the whole set of four, or should we just take two for practicality's sake?"

Alastor

"Oh, let's grab all four! In case we entertain someday. We can keep the other two stowed away somewhere." He stepped back to give the Eggs more room to work. "Maybe we should grab something easier for you to sit on, too. A footrest or something."

Telly

"There should be short stools nearby for sinners like myself. Any high class store would be sure to have those options." He turned and slithered around a bit, looking.

"Ah-ha! Here's some in oak. Let me try them out and see which ones is most comfortable."

Alastor

Alastor leaned on a nearby table to watch as Telly tried the stools out.

"You realize that with everything going into this airship, there's no way we can let it get shot down again, right?" Think of the dishes. The hypothetical dishes they haven't picked out yet.

Telly

"Oh, yes, absolutely. I have plans for that. A lot of new defenses that I hope to have ready before we launch." He nodded, curling around on of the stools to sit. This one said it was specifically made with snake sinners in mind, so it should be good...

"Also more normal reinforcements like a thicker hull, stronger glass for the windows, more weapons to fire upon anyone who dares attack. Oh! I've also been developing stealth shielding, to cloak it."

Alastor

"We're going to be *invisible?!*" Oh he's excited now. "Isn't that something! Like a ship right out of an alien invasion movie!"

Telly

"Yes! As much as I like Pentagram City seeing me flying above and quaking with fear, I'd rather not get shot down again, so stealth shielding is definitely something. But if we're going full alien ship vibes, then I should mention that I'm working on a forcefield too!" He grinned wide.

Alastor

"Hot damn! By the time that thing's ready to fly, it'll be well-armored enough to storm the gates of Heaven!" Alastor laughed.

Telly

"If I have my way, our home will never fall from the sky again. It _may_ land, though." Telly laughed, too.

"Hm, I think this stool will do, I like coiling around it." He stood and gestured for the Eggs to take the stool.

Alastor

"Want to grab a couple, in case an alternate visits?" Can't hurt. They're free.

"I was wondering if you'd let me add some defenses, too? I think you'll have this thing well-armored enough that you could drop a tank on it without doing damage, but not everyone is fighting with bombs and bullets. It helps to fight magic with magic."

Telly

"I was actually thinking about that! Your magic would be good to use on the forcefield. To deflect magical attacks!"

He looked at the other stools like his and nodded to the Eggs. "You're right, we should." At the mention of alternates, his face soured a bit.

"Did you notice...at the barbecue Valera threw, how Ruddy avoided us? Well...me specifically, but he seemed to be avoiding you, too."

Alastor

Alastor's face lit up. "You'll have to show me how it works! I'm sure I can think of some way to work it into the technology! I'd still like to put wards on the ship itself that will be active if the forcefield is turned off, but... yes, I'd *love* to put something in the forcefield!" Wouldn't that be fantastic, an invention that they could work on together! A joint project! As much as he enjoyed providing inspiration and ideas and watching Telly churn them out, this was a chance to finally contribute something more concrete to the design process.

His excitement wilted a bit at the mention of Ruddy. "I noticed. More him avoiding *me* than avoiding you, but yes. I gave him some information I'd promised him, and he all but completely brushed me off." He sighed. "I typically befriend your alternates by chucking out favors and flattery until it sticks. It's worked so far, but... I wonder if he thinks I'm coming on too strong. Or if he thinks I have ulterior motives."

Telly

"...Maybe he was avoiding the both of us because of well...." Telly gestured at the two of them. "Our relationship? Consider we both snapped at him when he was unkind about the other...." His face scrunched.

"Anyway, yes! I'd love to see what wards and whatnot you're planning on putting on the ship. Oh! And that reminds me, I wanted to learn more about magic in general. That got put on my back burner while the airship was still being repaired, but now that it's almost done, we could start that again!"

Alastor

"I don't think I snapped at him," he said uncertainly, trying to remember. "I *disagreed* with him over you, sure. I *wanted* to snap. But that was our first meeting, I was trying to be on my best behavior. I thought I was diplomatic."

He sighed again. "Maybe just *knowing* is going to put him off. I hate that he figured it out before I ever had a proper conversation with him. That's all he's going to see now."

Telly

"Well, maybe less 'snapped' and more 'got a bit puffed up'. I tried not to snap either-- it was _also_ my first meeting with him." He pulled his hood over his shoulder and stroked it.

"It's my fault he figured it out-- I was trying to help and he just....pegged it right away. I'm sorry..."

Alastor

Alastor let out a loud, melodramatic sigh. "Oh, how unlucky I am, to have a partner-in-crime who *adores and admires* me so much that he just *can't* help but show it whenever he thinks of me!" He slid an arm around Telly's waist and pecked his cheek. "What's done is done. If he can't see past his first impression of us, then, well... that's one less person to try to impress."

Telly

Telly cracked a smile at the melodrama, and kissed Alastor's cheek in return. "Well, how could I not, when I have the best partner-in-crime a snake like me could ask for?"

He purred and nuzzled against him, briefly. "That's true, what's done is done. We can't make another first impression, but if the impression he got was 'these two are thick as thieves and defensive of each other' there are worse impressions to give." He snickered.

Alastor

"Like I've got the best partner-in-snake a radio could ask for! And if he has a problem with it, that says more about him than us, doesn't it?" All the same... Well, whatever. No changing it now.

That was the table and chairs dealt with. He closed the portal; on to the desks. "So! Magic, huh! Considering a career change from machinist to magician?"

Telly

"Not particularly, but I have been thinking about what you mentioned-- magic mixed with machinery! There's so many possibilities, but I won't be able to do figure out what they are until I know what all magic could do-- specifics and the like." He reached and took Alastor's hand, twinning their fingers. It had been too long since they held hands.

Alastor

"Oh! I love mixing magic and machines!" He squeezed Telly's hand. "Now, fair warning: there's a lot I won't be able to teach you. Some because it's forbidden—and impossible—if you don't have the right ancestry and the right initiation; and some because I'm just not able to teach it. And a lot is going to be disappointing; you'd be surprised how much of what I do can be explained with 'I call someone else up to do it for me.' But I'll teach you what I can, and what I can't teach, I'll tell you about as much as I can. Sound fair?"

Telly

"That sounds perfect-- really what I'm interested in is mostly things that can be applied to my inventions to either improve them or change the function. A sort of synergy. I doubt I'll be out there being a world class magician like you are." He squeezed Alastor's hand back.

"Hm....Where were we headed again?" He asked, pausing in his slithering.

Alastor

"World class magician! Eat your heart out, Houdini!" He laughed. "For magic you can stick in inventions, there's three... categories of knowledge, I suppose, that I could give you. It's equivalent to teaching you how to build a crystal radio, how to work a radio tower, and how to build a radio tower. The first one shows you the science behind how the technology works but isn't very useful, the second one lets you immediately use powerful technology but you'll only get a fuzzy glimpse of the science, and the third one lets you understand both how to work the technology and the underlying science, but takes a damn long time before you've finally learned enough to build something of your own. I can teach you any way, but it's up to you which avenues you want to pursue first."

He checked his map again. "Desks!" And looked up. He'd gotten so enthralled talking about magic he'd walked them straight past half the desks, thinking they were more dining tables. He sheepishly turned around and backtracked.

Telly

Telly nodded along, humming, his free hand coming up to stoke his chin. "I think I'd want option three, I want to know what goes on behind how it works, and then how to work it, too. It's how I learned how to engineer my machines, I think that would work best."

He turned back with Alastor, laughing. "Oh, yes, desks! Probably look for something to match the bookcases, so probably something in mahogany?"

Alastor

"It'll take longer that way for you to start working magic into your machines—but, you'll know more when you do! In the meantime I can put the complex things on and explain what I'm doing."

He looked around thoughtfully at the nearest desks. "Mahogany would be fine," he said slowly. "Or ebony, ebony would be great." Alastor you're not getting an ebony desk unless you steal it out of a Gilded Age tycoon's office. "Or yew, or cedar, or iroko, ash, redwood... Maybe not cedar, it's a little too benevolent." Alastor those aren't even all furniture woods.

Telly

"Ebony?" Telly hummed, as he slithered around the desks, looking at each one. Something white caught his eye and he moved to one covered in a sheet. Wonder what that was about? He pulled off the sheet and blinked.

"Alastor. I think I found an ebony desk." And not only that, but it was the most intricate and extravagant desk he'd ever seen. And if Alastor didn't want it, then _Telly did._

Alastor

Apparently he was only getting an ebony desk if it was stolen out of a Gilded Age tycoon's office, or if Hellkea stole it out of the office of a nineteenth century Italian noble.

"Well! Would you look at *that!*" Alastor put his hands on it, then lay his torso atop it. Flop. "Oh, now *that's* a powerful wood. You can *feel* the energy pouring off of it. And I like the little shelf up here." He drummed his fingers on the shelf that raised the back third of the desk's top. "Ebony's one of the most powerful woods a sinner can get their hands on—*this* kind of ebony, anyway. There's a couple of different kinds. It..." he gestured vaguely without lifting his face, "... resonates well with the dead, you could say."

He reluctantly peeled his face off the desk, but he didn't lift his arms. "Ebony helps the living communicate with the dead. I wonder if the connection goes both ways, or if it just helps the dead talk to each other better?" A moment of thought; and then he said, "If you see anything else made from ebony that seems utterly worthless to us, let me know. Yew, too. I just thought of a little project I'd like to try out and I could use the raw materials."

Telly

"I'll keep an eye out for ebony, but I'm afraid I don't know yew on sight, darling." He chuckled, rubbing a hand on the desk. He couldn't feel whatever power Alastor had been talking about, but it was still a fine desk.

"This one, I don't think can be disassembled. Let's make sure the Eggs are careful with it." Telly's head titled. "What sort of project were you thinking of, with those woods?"

Alastor

"You don't know me on sight?" Alastor put a hand on his chest. "I'm hurt! Scandalized! Utterly betrayed! I'll never get over this heartbreak." He saw the pun and went for it.

He stepped back from the desk for the eggs, and finally surveyed it at a distance—he hadn't actually properly looked at it yet. Yeah, it was extravagant—little white inlaid designs of foliage and angels. "I'm not sure about the narrow opening between the drawers; I feel like I'll try to cross my legs and bang my knees," he muttered. "If it's a problem, though, I can give it to you!" A win-win all around.

"I've got a little spell from an associate I've been meaning to play with that involves making a sort of connection to the mortal realm. Both ebony and yew help connect the mortal realm to the afterlife; if the connection goes both ways, it might help make the connection more easily. Like—choosing a wire with high electrical conductivity to build a machine." Specifically, he was thinking of his alternate's triple-sigil spell to contact radios in the living realm, and wondered whether the right material could serve as a compass pointing the signal toward the living realm and cut out the need for one of the signals.

Telly

And that pun earned a face scrunch like no others-- A very Pentious scrunch. Then Telly shook his head.

"Yes, if it doesn't end up working out, I'd love it. But I have a good feeling about it." He smiled and slithered closer, brushing some of Alastor's hair off his forehead.

"Oh? Sounds interesting! If _you_ spot any yew, be sure to show me, so that then _I_ can spot yew, too." He winked.

Alastor

He (briefly) held still to let himself be fussed over.

"Sure, I'll let you know!" And then a pause. "Actually, I don't know what yew wood looks like either." A sheepish smile. "Well, if we see any labeled 'yew,' we'll know then! I know this: it's planted in cemeteries." This information was completely useless for identifying yew wood by sight.

Telly

Telly snorted, and then laughed. "I think you've seen my wood enough to know it by sight." His grin turned downright devious. If Alastor got to make dumb jokes, then so did he!

Alastor

Alastor looked at Telly. He took a slow breath in. He let a slow breath out. The studio audience was laughing at him. Him, a laughingstock on his own show. "You know, I was trying to specifically avoid letting you turn the tables on me. And yet, here we are! Tables turned!" The nearby desks lifted themselves up, neatly turned themselves ninety degrees, and set themselves back down.

Telly

And Telly's laughter was just as raucous as Alastor's audience. He wheezed as he bent double, holding his stomach.

"Oh, your reaction! Priceless! Exquisite! I out joked the joke-man!"

Alastor

"Yes, you got me. I'll admit it! I'm gracious in defeat." If Telly was bending double then Alastor was crossing his arms on Telly's back and leaning on him for support. Telly was holding Alastor up now. This was Alastor's revenge. "Although you're less yew wood and more snakewood."

Telly

Oh no, that's got him laughing even more! What have you done, Alastor, he's sinking down to the floor now. Down he went, taking Alastor with him, enjoy being on a pile of laughing snake.

Alastor

He sprawled most dramatically on Telly. Don't mind him, just laying down atop a snake shaking with laughter, acting all cool and casual. "... Someone stuck gum on the underside of this desk." He tapped the leg of a nearby oak desk. "Some people have no class."

Telly

He'd just been starting to calm down when Alastor spoke, and the laughter started again. High, reedy, and wheezing, he could barely take a breath with how hard he was laughing.

Alastor

Alastor grinned from ear to ear. Listen to that. Sheer music. He didn't plan on moving until Telly stopped laughing.

Telly

Finally, finally, after what felt like forever, Telly started to calm, wheezing softer until his breathing evened. And then his voice, muffled underneath.

"Darling, can you get off, please."

Alastor

THIS WAS HIS MOMENT. VENGEANCE WAS NIGH. He nearly cracked up on the spot. Sweetly, he said, "What, right here, in public? How obscene!"

Telly

And there he went, laughing again. And flattening down more, untill-- he suddenly straightened up (gently) tossing Alastor off of him. With a hyperquick movement, he was coiling around Alastor, and grinning down at him with his hood flared.

"No, the only one of us to get off in public would be me, wouldn't it, my hart?" He purred, flicking his tongue at Alastor, his claws hovering dangerously on either side of Alastor's face.

Alastor

That time, Alastor laughed along as well. Triumphant!

Which completely distracted him from what Telly was doing until Alastor found himself softly flung off. What—?

Genuine panic seized him for a split second as he found himself abruptly bound up; he took a deep breath, subduing it. *Oh.* Hello there. That was a nice view, he thought he'd just focus on Telly's face for a moment.

"You know, that's true! It *would* be you, wouldn't it?" Despite his restricted position, he leaned forward to kiss Telly's cheek and whisper to him, "And I suppose you'd like me to help you get off, wouldn't you?"

Telly

Telly's fearsome display was betrayed by the purr that started up in his chest. His clawed hands came in to gently hold Alastor's face and he returned the kiss with one on the lips.

"Yes, I would. Always." He snickered and started to loosen his coils, giving Alastor another kiss in the process. "After all, I _did_ suggest we try out the beds..."

There was another clearing of throats, this time five in unison and Telly's head turned slowly to stare at the interrupting Eggs.

"Can I help you?" He asked, voice low and dangerous.

"We're done moving the desk, Mr. Bossman..." Nine said, looking appropriately contrite.

"Go find anything marked as 'yew wood' and anything marked as 'ebony' that looks like it would make for good repurposing."

The Eggs saluted and toddled off, as Telly turned back to Alastor.

"I swear, half the time I forget that we brought them with us..."

Alastor

Alastor flinched, then slowly closed his eyes. These Eggs. These damn Eggs.

He waited until they were gone—waited several more seconds—then gave Telly his best sultry smile and reached up to cup his face in return. "Well. Now that we're alone again..." A light kiss. "If that's what you want, let me help you get off properly..."

The faint lighting turned electric blue as shadows stretched out across the floor to caress Telly... and slide beneath his coils, and hold him securely... and lift him gently off of Alastor... and set him back on the floor several feet away.

Grinning like a loon, Alastor got to his feet, smoothed out his clothes, and winked at Telly. "You're welcome!"

Telly

Telly had been ready-- for sultry make outs, and when the neon came on, maybe a dance. And then the shadows moved him....away from Alastor. He blinked, confused for a moment, before his face scrunched in understanding.

Telly crossed his arms and leveled a glare at Alastor. "VERY FUNNY!" He announced, turning to start slithering away.

"I SEE HOW IT IS, JOKES JOKES JOKES!" He gestured as he moved, noseless face turned up. "HERE I AM BEING DRAMATICALLY SEXY AND ALLURING AND YOU JAPE!"

Oh, he was starting to slip-- he fought the smirk that threatened to crack the facade.

Alastor

Oh—was that serious? Had Alastor gone too far? He hesitated a moment, until he was sure that Telly was joking; and then he pranced back up to his side and flung an arm around his shoulders. "So sorry, darling, I *couldn't* resist! The opportunity was there and I was helpless, simply helpless!" He leaned his head sideways on Telly's shoulder. "It's my greatest weakness. Nothing is more alluring to me than a truly awful pun."

Telly

Telly couldn't help his smile now-- it cracked the scrunch and he flicked his tongue at Alastor.

"Well, I suppose I can forgive you your puns." He chuckled. "At least this once. So long as you give me a proper, dramatic kiss, that is."

Alastor

"A dramatic kiss, huh? Something a little like this?" Alastor used his hold around Telly's shoulders (and a little shadow assistance) to yank Telly down into a dramatic dip and kiss him deeply.

Telly

His eyes flew open a moment, before sliding shut as he melted into the kiss. His hand cradled the back of Alastor's head until he needed to pull away to breath.

"Yes.... something like that." Telly gave him a dopey, lovestruck grin.

Alastor

Alastor was getting good at this. "I thought so." And it was well worth it, if it kept earning him grins like that. It made him want to dive right back in.

But the clock was ticking and they still had "shopping" to do. Alastor pecked Telly's lips one last time, then eased them both back upright. "To be continued."

Telly

Still a little lovedrunk from the kisses, Telly allowed himself to be righted, but his hand took Alastor's, holding it again. He squeezed it as he started to hum a love song-- one of the many Alastor had sent him.

"Yes, to be continued....What else do we have to find?"

Alastor

Oh... That was one of the songs Alastor had sent Telly. Never mind. Gotta kiss again.

Telly

Telly didn't mind that in the slightest, his hand cupping Alastor's cheek as he returned it. Kissing time once more.

Alastor

Okay, okay *this time* he was stopping. This time for real. Really. "... What was the question?"

Telly

Telly giggled, lingering there, a breath away from Alastor. "What else do we need?"

Alastor

"Right! Right... a desk chair, dishes... We didn't need a dresser right now, I'm going to use one of your drawers... Night stands... Was that all for now?"

Telly

"I think for now, yes, that was it. Maybe when we get to looking at the dishes we can find silverware and perhaps some new cooking knives for you."

Alastor

"Oh, we could use more!" A full set of knives for him! How lovely. "Well, let's!" On to the chairs.

Telly

On to the chairs! Luckily they were right there next to the desks. "Probably something in black to match the desk..."

Alastor

"Right." He probably wasn't going to find something special, though. As far as he was concerned, there really wasn't much to make desk chairs special. They weren't for getting cozy in. They were whatever.

"I'll also need to get supplies for a shrine, too," Alastor muttered to himself, still thinking about their shopping list, "although I doubt I'm going to find them here." He plopped down in a black-painted chair to see how it felt. "That's what I wanted to ask you earlier. I know you're not religious, but I *am*, and... would it bother you if I kept a shrine in my room? Considering that it would mean inviting a deity onto your airship."

Telly

"I trust you." He said. "If you think it's safe to do in our home, then of course you can."

Alastor

His face lit up. "As safe as anything I do is, hah!" Eh, this chair didn't do anything for him. He plopped down in another one.

Telly

Telly watched him move to another chair. "Well, considering I trust you to use Hentai to move the airship and whatnot, it's not a problem."

Alastor

"Fair enough!" Ooh, this chair spun. Don't mind him as he slowly twirls around. "Not that Hentai is the sort to go for shrines, but."

Telly

"Yes, I thought as much." He chuckled. "Having fun darling?"

Alastor

"Yes, but I could be having more!" He stopped spinning. "I don't like how this one feels, though." On to another chair, apparently. He tilted his head noncommittally. "It's fine."

Telly

Telly glance around, slithering over to a black wood chair. It had a red cushion. "What about this one?"

Alastor

He plopped down. He considered it. He shrugged. "It's fine, too." He stood. "Sure, let's go with it. It matches."

Telly

"Alright," He said, whistling for the Eggs. One came trotting out, and then headed over. Telly pointed to the chair, and the Egg-- #22-- took it.

"What next?"

Alastor

Back to the map! "The bedroom section. They'll probably have nightstands there."

Telly

"Oh yes! Nightstands. We'll probably want something in black for obvious reasons." He puffed his chest out a bit.

Alastor

"Obviously!" He beamed.

He kept glancing at the few remaining desk chairs as they passed into the bedroom section. Nothing appealing. Eh, well. Desk chairs didn't need to be super exciting, he supposed.

Telly

Telly wrapped his arm around Alastor's waist, pulling him against his side as he slithered.

"What do you plan on keeping in yours?"

Alastor

"I don't know! I hadn't gotten that far! I more or less figured they were there for decoration," he said. "What do people usually use nightstands for? Lamps? I don't really need a lamp. I could put my monocle on it? What are *you* using yours for?"

Telly

"I keep some things in the drawer-- just things that I might need whilst in bed. I do have a lamp on mine, in case I want to read in bed or need to work there."

Alastor

"Hm! I could keep a book on it. Although what if I want the book later and it's on the nightstand instead of with me?" He was so used to carrying everything he could ever possibly want around with him at all times. "I suppose it wouldn't be *that* hard to retrieve—" A pause. "Oh, I'm a fool. Obviously I'm going to keep a radio on it!"

Telly

"It would be nice to have a radio in our room, yes." He smiled and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"One of your nice ones!"

Alastor

"I'd be planning to keep Ally in my room, but I could move him back and forth until I get another tabletop radio," he mused. "Phil's big enough to be a nightstand herself! Maybe I could use her if we don't find a matching set..."

Telly

"You could put....Phil? On the bridge if you'd like. Send Ally back and forth, and then sometime we could go find some more!" He smiled. "I would like more radios of varying types."

Alastor

"Oh, I don't know about the *bridge.* With all the Eggs running around? But maybe—we *could* use a radio in there—"

He abruptly stopped walking at the sight of a bedroom all done up in exaggerated Art Deco decor—black and gold wallpaper with repeating scalloped patterns, wall sconces made of thick geometric frames, even a headboard on the bed that was oddly reminiscent of the Chrysler building.

But what pulled Alastor into the room was a pair of waterfall nightstands on either side of the bed, made from a dark, highly-polished wood, with the wood grain arranged to form sharp chevrons down the front and sides and bright gold-colored trim and knobs. Very fancy-looking, assuming one doesn't know that waterfall furniture is cheap-ass Great Depression plywood furniture. But to Alastor they just looked familiar.

"What do you think of these?" He tapped his finger on one.  "A little narrow for a nightstand, but..."

Telly

Telly's eyes widened at the sight of the model room. He let out a low whistle, his face breaking into a grin. Then he focused on the nightstands.

"Oh those are lovely! We'll have to redesign some things in the bedroom to match, but we were planning on that anyway." He pulled out his phone to snap a picture of the headboard and the wallpaper.

Alastor

Oh, right. Phones can take pictures these days. Alastor probably should have been doing that with the kitchen. And with the other bookcases he liked but that didn't have matching sets. And with the armchairs he was deciding between. And—

"The wallpaper kind of makes me think of the scale pattern you've got in the bridge." Alastor gestured at it. "This one's a little more shell shaped, but it's similar."

Telly

"Yes I thought so too! It should be a simple thing to replicate but with alterations. We could paint it instead of using wallpaper." He smiled and nodded to the Eggs.

"The nightstands, bois."

Alastor

"Maybe there's a stencil for this." They could find out whenever they went looking for a stencil to paint the kitchen. Whatever they were going to paint it with.

He flopped on the bed and looked at the headboard. "Have you ever seen the Chrysler building? I only saw pictures of it in the papers, but I was still around when it went up."

Telly

"That was after my time, so no." He said, shrugging. Telly came over and slithered up onto the bed, curling near Alastor.

"Is it nice?"

Alastor

"*I* think it's handsome. But my mother thought it was the ugliest building ever built." He laughed. "Sometime I'll find a mortal realm movie that was filmed in New York. They'll probably have it in the background."

He thought about that a moment longer; then abruptly sat up. "Or—!" He stopped to make sure no eggs were nearby to eavesdrop and then lowered his volume. "Or I could take you sometime!"

Telly

His brow furrowed and tilted his head. "Take me? To....the living world?"

His eyes unfocused and he took a slow breath. "It's been so long..."

Alastor

"I just recently learned how!" Voice still hushed, but he was Excited. "Back in December. I'm still working out the kinks—the math is atrocious—but it works. I've gone there under my own power."

Telly

Telly's eyes widened. "Really? Oh, how exciting. I'd love to visit--" He glanced down at himself.

"Well.... we'd have to find something to do about my tail, obviously."

Alastor

"Disguises are easy! Hell—I could probably teach you to disguise *yourself* pretty fast. This is the default shape your soul wants to take, but it takes very little magic for the dead to change their shape, as long as the shape they're changing into is some form of themself. So there's a small chance you might not be able to change your tail—most people have something they can't control, me, I can't change my hair—but nine out of ten odds I bet you can! And if you can't, I could do it for you!"

Telly

"Perhaps that should be the first thing we do, then? Try and teach me that and figure out good disguises for visiting up about." He smiled. "Oh, that's exciting. I hope I can have legs again, even for a short time. It would be nice to walk again."

Alastor

"The first thing you're going to be able to learn is how to look like *you.* So, however you recall yourself looking as a mortal, that'll be it. The only disguising you'll get beyond that is clothing. More advanced shapeshifting is... well, advanced."

He got to his feet and offered his arm to Telly. "Legs we can definitely do—walking, I'll give that sixty percent odds. Valera's given Penny legs for trips, and *he* can't walk; but he's also not doing the magic himself, so I imagine he's not as... as integrated with the shape. On the other hand, I recommended Ruddygore some texts on magic, and he figured out how to make a set of legs he can walk on; *but,* he's still got that entire tail hanging behind him. And it looks a little ridiculous. So."

Telly

"Hm, interesting! I'm curious to see how mine function when I've got them." He chuckled, taking Alastor's hand and 'standing'. Telly leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"I'm excited to learn! A whole new avenue of invention will be open to us!"

Alastor

"It certainly will! And I can't *wait* to see what you do with it!" Holding hands again? Holding hands again! And onward they went, hands held.

Telly

"I think all we have left is the dishes and silverware, yes?" Telly smiled brightly. "This has been QUITE the shopping trip!"

Alastor

"All that's left on the list, anyway!" Again with the map. "Although we pass through the restaurant on the way there. We could steal some food on our way through. Why does a furniture store have a restaurant?"

Telly

"Not sure! But I'm feeling peckish, and I bet you are as well, after all the portal opening. Let's rummage and find out what they have." He grinned.

Alastor

"Oh, I was just going to grab a bag of frozen meatballs and keep going." But he *was* feeling peckish. He should probably refuel if they were going to be making a couple more trips. "But, sure! Let's see if we can have a quick meal without spending an hour digging through the kitchen."

Telly

"Meatballs sound good! I wonder what else they have, though." Telly pointed ahead. "There it is!"

Alastor

"I keep seeing little ads for meatballs. What if that's all they have?" He laughed.

On one side of the path through the store was the restaurant; on the other side was a collection of shopping carts sitting near the entrance to the section of home goods. Alastor veered for the side with the carts, stole one, and immediately started riding it with one foot on the back axle and the other foot propelling him, just every child who'd ever used a shopping cart as a scooter. He breezed past Telly into the dark restaurant section—"So, what are our options!"—and a gate magically opened in front of him to let him roll on back behind the serving counters.

Telly

Telly laughed as he watched, slithering after Alastor. "Let's see indeed!"

He was glad, however, that the Eggs didn't see Alastor do that-- he didn't want them immitating it and crashing. Telly looked around for a good place to coil while Alastor searched, and decided that just right there in the middle of the floor was fine.

Alastor

The kitchen doors swung open for him just as easily, and Alastor vanished. He was back in a couple of minutes. "All of it's prepackaged," he said, sneering. "At least the meat looks like it's made out of actual meat, but it's not going to be any fun to prepare. The recipes they're set up for back there are salad, salmon, salmon salad, meatballs, chicken meatballs, and non-meatballs. What's your preference?"

Telly

"I'm feeling like salmon and meatballs-- because it sounds like an odd combination!" He laughed and flicked his tongue at Alastor. "I'm craving meat!"

Alastor

"Two entrees! You know, I like the sound of that myself!" He hopped off his cart, and his shadow vanished with it into the back. He was serious when he said this wasn't going to be any fun to prepare; it looked so dull he'd delegated the whole task to his shadows.

He circled to the customers' side of the counter to grab a table. "It'll only take them a few minutes, let's sit. I haven't gotten to stare adoringly into your eyes *nearly* enough tonight!"

Telly

"Alright!" He slithered over and plopped himself into a chair, trying to get comfortable in a seat obviously not meant for him. He smiled, though, turning to grin at Alastor.

"So, just going to stare adoringly into my eyes the whole time it takes them to cook?"

Alastor

"Maybe." He tilted his head, batted his eyelashes, and played a sweet romantic melody.

Then laughed. "All right, I've met my quota." He pulled out his paper model of his room, and realized he hadn't measured the desk or chair so he couldn't place projections of them in the room. Tsk. Oh well. He left it on the table. "So, how are you doing so far?"

Telly

"How am I doing? In what way?" He looked at the paper model, turning his head this way and that as he looked at the projected bookcases.

Alastor

"Oh... energy-wise, focus-wise. Emotionally, spiritually, whateverly..." Alastor offered him a slightly tired smile. "I think I felt my trance break sometime in the middle of the desk chair section."

Telly

"Oh." He took a second to think. "I'm alright. Getting a little tired, but we're almost done, so that's good. Think once we're done here, I'd like a nice bubble bath to relax." His tongue flicked. "What about you?"

Alastor

"A bubble bath, that sounds nice. If I fall asleep in the bath, just clothespin my nose shut so I don't drown."

He offered his hand across the table to Telly. "Could I ask you something?"

Telly

Telly took his hand, squeezing briefly. "Of course, darling. What is it?"

Alastor

"Earlier when you coiled me up earlier all of the sudden... Well, I—I'm not fond of being... taken by surprise like that. With a little warning... or if we'd been wrestling..." Oh, this was embarrassing.

Telly

Telly's jaw went a little slack and his eyes grew wide. "Oh. I'm sorry, darling, it won't happen again." He reached over with his free hand to stroke Alastor's cheek with his knuckles. "I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I'll reserve coiling for cuddling-- or if, as you said, we're wrestling."

Alastor

He caught Telly's hand and held it against his cheek. The stroking made him feel like he was something weak, something to be pitied and coddled; but he didn't want Telly to pull back. "It's fine! It's fine, I just—well, you know me, darting back and forth all over the place if I can get away with it! Being pinned in one place goes against my nature!" He laughed feebly.

Telly

"Yes, I understand. I like how you flit about-- reminds me a bit of a hummingbird. I _do_ like seeing you so excited." He winked and leaned close to press a kiss against his cheek.

Alastor

Good, that had been nearly painless. "Thank you!" And then again, a bit more subdued, a bit more meaningfully: "Thank you."

Telly

"You're most welcome, my hart." He smiled. "Is our food done?"

Alastor

"It should be just about, hold on." He whistled toward the kitchen. "Hey, what kind of service is this? Hurry up!"

His shadow slid out, pushing the shopping cart with several plates in the bottom: two of salmon, two of Swedish meatballs, each fully loaded with the expected sides. As his shadow unloaded the plates and bottled drinks, Alastor said, "If all you want is the meat, I can have your vegetables. I'm—"

He paused as the shadow put down another plate of pasta with pesto sauce. "What's this?" He squinted at it; and then his face lit up. "They've got deer-shaped pasta here!"

The shadow passed over the bag.

"Elk-shaped! Close enough! It's decorative macaroni, it's not like you can tell the difference!"

Telly

Telly's face lit up at the sight of the pasta. "Well! Look at that! How adorable." He purred, using his fork to take one single piece of the pasta to inspect closer.

"I wonder if we could make this ourselves, with a pasta maker..."

Alastor

"You know, sometime last year—I forget when, I think it was a couple of months before we met—I was looking all over for deer-shaped pasta. I finally found some, but I had to search half of Hell for it! And here's... well, not quite the same thing, but close enough! I can finally stop hoarding my stock!" He started cutting up his salmon with his fork and mixing it into the pesto pasta.

"I don't know. I've only ever seen pasta makers making normal shapes. It's worth looking into. Maybe we could make our own shapes! Deer, radios, snakes..." A wink. "But maybe snake pasta is just spaghetti."

Telly

He chuckled. "That or we use the emojis as a template and make them look like that."

Telly skewered a meatball and popped it into his mouth who-- and then his face went on a journey before he finally swallowed it down. "Mm, I think you've spoiled me with fresh cooked meals so much that this prepackaged fare isn't nearly as good as I probably would've once thought."

Alastor

"What do the emojis look like?" He pulled out his phone to check. Oh. Yeah, those were cute.

He cut one meatball in half and scooped it up with the sides. "It tastes better mixed with the mashed potatoes, gravy, and jam. You can still tell it's *prepackaged*—" SNEER "—but it's a respectable flavor combination."

Telly

He tried it the way Alastor said and hummed. "Yes, that is better."

Telly smiled and then tried the salmon with some of the pasta, rumbling in pleasure. "That's tasty together, too."

Alastor

"It is! Seems wrong to put salmon in the deer pasta, but it came with pesto." He'd already decided he was going to completely ignore the fact that the pasta was technically meant to be elk-shaped. It was deer now.

Telly

"We'll have to have it with venison at some point." Telly smirked.

Alastor

"I have a wonderful venison meat sauce recipe I could make! Remind me some time."

Telly

"Oh, I shall." He grinned as he continued to eat.

Alastor

It turned out Alastor could, in fact, finish two entire meals and a side of pasta in the middle of the night. Who's surprised? No one's surprised. His shadow had returned with the cart by then—loaded down with bags of pasta, yes he did plan to steal all of them.

He got to his feet, stretched, and asked, "Ready to go?"

Telly

Telly had finished all of his food too-- he'd learned to eat when he could, but he wasn't starving anymore. Still, big meals were good for a snake.

"Yes! Let's find some dishes and silverware and then we can go home and sink into a bath." He winked.

Alastor

"That sounds wonderful." He wheeled his cart into position, then paused, and reached into the cart to pat the top of the pasta bags. "Care for a ride~?"

Telly

Telly looked at Alastor, patting the pasta and he grinned. His tail lifted him higher and he plopped right down onto it. He pulled his tail up after, coiling in his nest of pasta.

"Onward!" He commanded.

Alastor

He pushed the cart. Nothing happened.

He pushed the cart with *magic.* That was more like it.

"Onward!" And off they went, into the home goods section, to search who-knew-how-long through byzantine rooms for the dishes and utensils—

Oh it was the very first section. That was easy.

Telly

Telly didn't move from the cart when they arrived-- he was far too comfortable now.

"Bring them to me to judge," He said airily.

Alastor

"As you command, *mon roi.*" Alastor bowed theatrically, and wandered off into an aisle of plates. "So what are we looking for, any specific colors? Patterns?" He snapped his fingers, "We wanted a little red in the kitchen, didn't we?"

Telly

"Yes, red. Perhaps red and black or red and yellow, to match things. Oh! Oh we could get gold plated silverware and then have red dishes!"

Alastor

"Sure, why not! We probably don't want *solid* red, in case we're eating something red... don't want it to blend in..." A pause as Alastor picked up and examined a plate covered in tiny flowers. "Telly. I know what I want to do with the wall stencils."

Telly

"Oh? What's that, darling?" He turned craning his neck to try and see Alastor.

Alastor

"Flowers." He glanced at the plate he was holding. "Not these flowers." He put it back and hurried back to Telly. "My mother kept flowers called angel's trumpets." Magic light in the shape of flowers appeared around Alastor's head, like trumpets dangling down; for once, they appeared in glowing gold instead of red. "They'd grow in this enormous tree, ten feet tall, and at the end of summer every year the whole thing would be completely covered in flowers! It grew right outside the kitchen window. Half the year, if you tried to look outside, that was all you could see of the garden: angel's trumpets. And, well—any kitchen of mine would feel that much more like home with those things all over it."

Telly

Telly looked at the flowers floating around Alastor, magically. He smiled.

"Oh, those look lovely. I'm sure we could make a stencil of those and paint them in yellow on the walls..."

Alastor

Alastor's smile widened. "You're a peacharino, Pentious." He smooched Telly's forehead and vanished again into the rows of dishes.

Telly

"Peacharino?" He asked, even as Alastor already bounded off. He chuckled, relaxing in his nest of pasta.

"Don't forget to look for a good knife set for you!"

Alastor

"Like a peach, but even more so! Like the difference between *forte* and *fortissimo.*" Somewhere over near Alastor, the lights went dark as he switched into black light, and then back. "Hey, they've got genuine uranium plates over here! They glow and everything! I haven't seen those in decades! Wonder why they stopped making them." He moved on.

Telly

"Probably because uranium is highly radioactive!" Telly called back, laughing. "Grab some of those, I have things I can use them for."

Alastor

He doubled back. "Sure, how many do you want?"

Telly

Telly thought a moment. "Five!"

Alastor

"Five plates..." He returned to drop them off with Telly. "... And one teacup." He daintily set it atop the plates. Isn't it adorable and mildly hazardous.

Telly

Very adorable. Telly inspected them and hummed. "Excellent."

Alastor

"While I'm here, how do you feel about—for example—glass plates?" He summoned up a translucent ruby red saucer, cut with facets on the underside to make it look like crystal, to show Telly. "I saw some I think look very nice, but I'm worried if we hit turbulence or need to make a sharp turn, they're going to be the first things to go."

Telly

"We could prevent anything from happening to them, just would take a little engineering...maybe a little magic." He grinned. "I like them, they'd look good with gold plated silverware."

Alastor

"Do you? In that case, you're going to like *these* even better!" He spun the saucer on the tip of a claw, and when he caught it again it had been switched out for another: similar translucent red, but with the rim painted gold. "As long as you think we can get them all fastened in safely!"

Telly

"I'm certain! My other china survived the warehouse falling on the airship, and those didn't have nearly as much protection as these will have!" Telly winked.

"Get the whole set!"

Alastor

"As you wish!" He poofed away, leaving the plate floating in the air.

He poofed back a moment later, carrying a wooden crate full of similar plates and glasses, and carefully set it on Telly's coils next to the uranium plates. He plucked the floating plate out of the air to add to the crate. "Think we're set for tableware?"

Telly

"Plates and the like, yes, but now you need to find us some gold plated silverware." Telly settled again, after adjusting to make room for the crate.

Alastor

"Isn't it goldware, then?" He pushed the shopping cart up a bit, and then wandered down another aisle. "I mean, it's called silverware because it's usually made out of silver, isn't it?"

Telly

"Yes, but that's why I said gold plated. If it was made just of gold, it would be far too soft to use."

Alastor

"Hm... Fair enough!"

He returned to the cart grinning mischievously, and added a human skull. The skull had salt and pepper shakers in its eye sockets. The shakers said "Ashes to Ashes" and "Dust to Dust". He wandered into the aisle again.

Telly

Telly laughed at the skull and smiled fondly at Alastor. "Clever and funny," He said.

"Oh! Look!" He pointed to a whole display of just gold plated things-- dishes, utensils, even an ice bucket.

Alastor

Alastor ducked back out—already holding a *different* set of gold plated utensils he'd just found—to look at the display. "Now *that's* just obnoxious." Was he saying that because he'd already formed an attachment to the set of cutlery he'd been holding for all of ten seconds? Maybe.

All the same, he looked the display over, grabbed up a second box of utensils, and stuck both boxes in the cart. "I want anyone eating at our place to know that we're pretentious enough to have genuine gold on our silverware, but just tacky enough that the silverware doesn't match." Did he make that up to justify keeping both sets? Maybe.

Telly

Telly snorted, but his smile grew extra wide at the mention of 'our place'. It made his heart flutter. Reaching for Alastor, he snagged his arm and pulled him closer to kiss, soft and meaningful. He pulled away, thumb rubbing against Alastor's arm where he grabbed.

"Sounds wonderful, love. Anything else?"

Alastor

Apparently Telly approved of his plans to make their kitchenware as insufferable as possible! "Well, let's see..." Back to the map! "Rugs, sheets and blankets, bathroom, organization—didn't we already have shelves?—lighting, decoration, plants... Anything you want to see, or are we finished here?" He tapped Telly's tail, "Oh, I need to pick one of those armchairs I marked."

Telly

"I don't think we need anything from those, unless you want to look at the plants? Otherwise, let's circle back to the armchairs, grab those, and go. I'm ready for our bath." He purred.

Alastor

"I wouldn't trust any plants from a furniture store! No no, I'll stock up from someone I trust." He got back up on his cart like a scooter, rolled it backwards, and through a portal into the armchair section.

"Say, where did we leave the eggs?" He didn't remember seeing them for a while.

Telly

"I think searching for yew and ebony for scraping." Telly sat up and put two fingers in his mouth-- but then paused, turning to look at Alastor.

"I'd cover your ears, love, this will be loud."

He put the fingers back in his mouth and gave a loud, shrill whistle. "EGGS! FORM UP!" He shouted. The sound of five pairs of scurrying feet echoed and the Eggs appeared moments later.

"There they are."

Alastor

"Oh, that's right." Alastor tilted his ears down but didn't quite cover them—he could handle loud sounds, no problem—and he didn't quite regret not covering up, but he almost did.

"And here's our hunting team!" He left the cart and flopped down onto the nearest of the chairs he'd marked, time for round two of testing. "How did your quest go?"

Telly

Fourteen saluted. "We found and marked a bunch of yew and ebony stuff! How much did you want, Mr. Bossman, Mr. Radioman?"

Telly hummed, and looked at Alastor. "Well?"

Alastor

Alastor rubbed his chin. He shouldn't need a lot for the final product, but he didn't know how much he'd need to experiment with. "How much is a bunch?" He waved off his own question. "You know what, some of the ebony won't be useful anyway. If it's all marked..." He paused for a moment, searching for the signals—yes, there they were. "Before we take it to the ship, I'll have to hop around and check them all first."

Telly

"Alright. Pick out your chair first, and then we can go check those out, and THEN go home." Telly smiled.

"Oh! You know what? You don't need to check them yourself!" He turned to the Eggs. "EGGS. GO COLLECT WHAT YOU MARKED AND BRING IT BACK HERE, POSTHASTE!"

The Eggs saluted and ran off.

"That should do it."

Alastor

"Oh, they don't need to do that, I could just hop to..." But they'd run off already. Hm. He latched onto the PA system again. "**Anything you need to disassemble to haul to me, leave where it is. It will be faster for me to teleport to check them out.**" On to try another chair. He added to Telly, "Once I've got a chair picked, you can head back to the ship. I'll let the Eggs know if any of their finds need to be disassembled and moved."

Telly

"Alright. I'll get started on the bath then, and you can join me when you've finished up." He smirked and purred. "Sound like a plan?"

Alastor

"Sounds fine to me!" On to another chair. "... I don't know if I like the first one or the third one."

Telly

"So, the second one, then?" His head tilted. "_I_ definitely want the one I coiled on earlier." He pointed. "That one was very, very comfy."

Alastor

"No, I wasn't a fan of the second one. It's only comfortable until you get used to it."

He looked at the one Telly had coiled on. "That looks like my option number three." He relocated himself to flop on it. "And it *feels* like my option three. Say, let me steal this one from time to time and I can get option one!"

Telly

"It's a deal." He grinned and flicked his tongue. The Eggs trotted back, each carrying something. Two seemed to hold ebony items and the other three what one would presume to be yew.

"We left another five things that were too big to move without disassembling! But we brought these!" Nine said, holding what appeared to be a yew rocking chair with....was that a deer hide on the back? It was certainly spotted like one...

Telly blinked, looking at that rocking chair and the Alastor.

Alastor

"Well, look at that!" He lifted the deer hide. "Now, is this bit yew or ebony?" He laughed, let it fall back down, and stepped back. "Huh! I thought yew wood would be lighter." Learn something new every day. "Well, keep all the yew. And the hide, too!" It wasn't a whole lot of wood, all together—safer to keep it all in case he needed it.

He went through the wood, touching each piece to see whether it reacted, kept the ones that did, and then opened a portal to let the Eggs and Telly return to the ship with the last of their haul. As soon as he'd finished checking the last few items, he could join them and finally relax for the night.

Telly

Through the portal they went, the Eggs to put things away, and Telly to draw a bath.

Overall, a very lucrative venture-- but a tiring one. He'd be glad to soak for a while, thinking about all the things they got and all they were planning to do. It would be marvelous.

Alastor

Two items too extravagantly large for his needs, one the wrong kind of ebony, but he directed the Egg Bois to break down and bring in one yew table and one ebony wardrobe—while trying to ignore the entirely new looks and whispers they were directing at him. He and Telly had meant to give the Eggs a reason to distrust Alastor less, but he thought they'd overdone it a bit. Better get back to kissing behind closed doors.

And he elected to start on that as soon as he returned to the ship, in the bathroom, in the tub.

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 04

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of emotional baggage at 23.

Or

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,067

Note: Admit it, we’ve all panicked over grades.

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 

You were never this anxious over a grade before but that essay had to have been some of your worst work yet. You were distracted - so much so that you forgot to fill out a misadventure form - by not only the traumatic events of that solemn Saturday night but also a specific officer that rudely invaded your thoughts and a best friend who wanted nothing to do with them. So yes, you were completely and undeniably panicking.

Unfortunately, there were still 7 hours before you’d get your grade back and you had no idea how you were going to kill the time. You dwelled for a bit, which was a pretty great distraction for the 8 blissful minutes that it lasted, but to no avail. You had nothing to do. Your morning class was cancelled, you had no students to tutor and you’d just finished the only Netflix series that you’d actually enjoyed and with it left your hope.

Sure, you were a little dramatic but there was absolutely no way you were going to get through the day without crying if you didn’t find a distraction and fast. Your mind went to a lot of weird places like taking a walk, or cooking, all very normal everyday activities that you would frankly rather die than do voluntarily.

However, the worst place your mind went to was when it hovered over Jungkook’s contact for a moment too long. Your finger slipped. No, it literally slipped and you didn’t even realise you were calling until you heard his distant voice from your phone. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” “Hello, who’s this?” You panicked and your hands began to fumble with your phone like it was some foreign object. Eventually you grew the courage to just greet the poor confused man on the phone.

“Hi.” The line went silent and you looked to check if he’d just hung up but he was still there, you could hear his breathing. “Who’s this?” Right. He didn’t save your number, and therefore gave you a chance to hang up and pretend this entire ordeal never happened but you didn’t think that far and before you knew it you were telling him your name. “It’s Y/N…” You heard a sigh of relief and then a sound of realisation before Jungkook started using coherent words. “So, Y/N, what’s up?"

“Did you try your best?” You groaned in frustration at his very general and unhelpful comment. “Of course I tried my best but this isn’t kindergarten. I’m not being graded on effort.” You angrily poked at your burrito and Jungkook just blinked in astonishment. Comforting you was a challenge and now he was fighting it first hand. “When I invited you to lunch, I’d assumed you’d be eating it.” You stopped poking the poor burrito and looked at him with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.” He waved you off, mouth full with his now devoured burrito.

After he finished his mouthful, he was staring at your food obviously. “Are you gonna e-” “Just take it.” He smiled before taking a giant bite of your rather untouched burrito. “Chief has us working double shifts, spring break is approaching, kid’s are getting reckless, you know the drill.” You nervously laughed though in your current state everything you did was nervous.

“Jeon!” A man dressed in a similar uniform approached the desk you were both seated at. You gave him a small smile once you noticed the badge that read ‘CHIEF’. “I’m sorry to cut your break short but that stolen car you’ve been looking for has been traced. You should go check it out before it’s moved again.” Jungkook nodded and gave you an apologetic smile that you immediately waved off. “Go save a life or something.” Although your comment was entirely sarcastic, Jungkook gave you a playful salute in response with a smile that made your heart swell. “I’m sorry, let me know how that grade goes.” You nodded absentmindedly, you’d momentarily forgotten about the grade and the fleeting feeling made you sad in its absence.

You walked slowly back to your dormitory from the police station and allowed yourself to be distracted by anything and everything. You even followed a pigeon for hell of it but just like you, the pigeon was going in elongated circles. You needed to return to your dormitory eventually and face the sad truth that was your grade.

Eventually, the time for the results to be uploaded had come and you were patiently waiting for your grade. You needed a 90 to maintain your GPA but you braced yourself for the outcome. All you needed was to pass and yet even that seemed so out of reach.

89.9%. You tried to laugh but it lacked emotion. Your professor had to be kidding. He seriously couldn’t just round that 0.1% to the 90% that you were sure he knew you needed. “Asshole.” You muttered under your breath but you smiled nonetheless. You did a lot better than you expected and this incredibly frustrating score was still a miracle.

Before you could get a chance to scream into the void, your phone lit up and the quiet buzz caught your attention. You were just expecting a message from your classmates wondering what your grade was so you certainly didn’t approach your phone with enough preparation for what you were going to face.

Jungkook 👮‍♂️ Hey, how are your results? Read 7:28pm

You stared at the phone for far longer than normal trying to formulate a reply but it was like all the brain cells in your head had collectively decided to combust without prior notice.

You Not my best but way better than I expected!!! Delivered 7:31pm

There was no time to dwell over your excessive use of explanation marks because within 2 minutes he was already reading your message. When the typing bubble began to show up you nervously gnawed at your lips to distract yourself from the anxiety. You were just talking about a grade and yet your fear was almost tangible.

Jungkook 👮‍♂️ That’s great! We should celebrate. Cafe at 3 tmr? Read 7:36pm

You were definitely not expecting that. In fact you were so unsuspecting that you almost replied with a thumbs up emoji. You typed and deleted at least 10 times before you replied with, ‘yeah sure :)’. Unfortunately, you couldn’t throw your phone into the depths of the pacific ocean from shame so instead you turned it off and prayed the horrible, tacky smiley face would erase itself.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

[killianmesmalls]

FINALLY!!! My con recap is... long. And I’m wordy. And it’s long. BUT IT’S HERE! Below the cut for anyone who is crazy enough to read it all. 

Friday:

By the time the weekend really got started, I had already had the chance to meet up with @lillpon Wednesday evening for a last-day-at-work happy hour and then again when she, @justmilah, and @fraddit came over to my place to hang out, watch Once, and put the totally last minute touches on my Tilly cosplay. (Also, BTW, yes I am using nicknames because 1) I figure it’s easier for people to follow along and 2) I don’t know how much some people want their real names to be attached to fellow crazies and sent into the ether.) We ended up venturing down to pick up the car from my father-in-law, and on the way found a meeting place for @queen-mabs-revenge to gather with us. Now, we couldn’t find her, kept checking to see where she might be, when LO, HERE COMETH A TINY ITALIAN IN A BIG MCFRIGGIN HAT. Yes, she was indeed sauntering down 8th Avenue in her Lt. Jones hat, which was probably the 18th weird thing most passing New Yorkers had seen in the two hours since they had woken up.

We then all tackle each other and me, @fraddit, @justmilah, and @queen-mabs-revenge continue on to meet my FIL for the car, where Mabs was super on board with helping him trek stuff from the trunk back to his apartment after seconds of meeting him. Such a polite. Without much ado, we make our way to the middle of friggin nowhere New Jersey, aided by the very comforting fact that Mabs navigates the way I need to be navigated to. Much thanks. Many appreciate. Wow.

Our first stop once we go around in circles a few times since driving in Whippany itself is a damn adventure was to meet up with @thesschesthair. While Mabs is confusing the front desk dude with her hat, Chesty over there gives us a call and I sneak out, lock eyes across the dingy parking lot of the Red Carpet Inn, by its derelict diner, and leap into her arms. She then comes over to attack Milah and Fraddit before properly grabbing Mabs so hard they were close to osmosis.

I’m not going to lie, it’s at this point through to Monday evening where things sort of blur. Mabs and Chesty requested rooms beside each other and GUESS WHAT. Yep, you guessed it, they had rooms that actually were connected by a door that was hidden behind Mabs’s oversized fridge. Oh! And there was a random toilet just hanging out outside their rooms. Because, why not? When Puh Pah has to go, he has to go. Also, it’s here that Mabs gives us all Alice-themed totes from Poundland (YES, LAUGH, IT’S GREAT) and then we do roundabouts again to get to the Marriott where the rest of us are staying.

Registration was a breeze, and then we collapse into the lounge area where we meet up with @theonceoverthinker and an already-registered Chesty, where she and I are off to the side making inappropriate jokes and then deciding it’s time to wine o’clock this con. Guys? The pub in the Marriott got some play by the Pirate Crew (thank you, @freifraufischer for dubbing us all as pirates), we tried their Poisoned Apple sangria, shot the shit, and then went about checking in and getting ourselves settled while at various points meeting up with @captregina, @lillpon, and @freifraufischer.

At some point (again because all is a blur) we went to Chris’s Q&A where I asked him a couple of questions and honestly blanked on most of the experience because OMFGITALKEDTOSMEE. Then Jared came on, was very much however you’d imagine Jared being, and I was still very much focused on Chris saying how much Smee would love Alice and knowing that Colin and Rose day was tomorrow.

Afterwards, we got autographs, where Mabs’s delightful totes came in handy and I had Gil, Chris, and Jared sign the back of the Alice tote. Gil was nice and I complimented Jared on how much him being open about anxiety meant to people, but it was Chris that, to me, was the MVP. He was incredibly personable, funny, and a total teddy bear. I asked him about the blooper he was in where it seemed like Smee was trying to convince Hook to not duel with Ahab (the one where Colin spat in his face) and Chris said he honestly forgot what was happening in that scene, but he would ask Colin. Still, the one thing he did remember was when he knelt down in front of Colin in the post-duel “Congratulations, Captain, you won!” scene, he split his pants. The camera was to his back, but his treasures were on full display in front of Colin.

I also asked Chris for a hug because, I mean, YOLO, and he obliged! Honestly, he’s a damn pumpkin and I adore him.

Now, there was karaoke night after this, but some of us were bad idea bears and decided to say “f--- this” and went into the pool with some sea salt gin Mabs had brought over. We’re super classy, guys.

...What happens at the pool, stays in the pool. :P

Saturday:

OMG COLIN AND ROSE DAY! COLIN AND ROSE DAY! COLIN AND ROSE DAY!

I was legit saying this and hopping up and down I don’t know how many times. I focused most of the morning trying to make sure I had myself together, getting my tights ripped just right, getting my hair done, venturing to @captregina’s room so I could do her hair (where I met @brave-lassie), doing her eyeliner, doing my makeup, meeting up with everyone, and trying to contain my feelings about COLIN AND ROSE DAY!!!

I missed most of the Wild Bunch Q&A in my efforts to get ready and in waiting for Rose’s photo ops. I lined up with Capt just by where the actors enter into the room they do the photo ops in and got my very first in-person look at Rose.

Guys.

GUYS.

That precious angel GLOWS. I cannot say enough how adorable and lovely she looks and is in person, but I will try my best. She’s insanely precious. Honestly, I was probably a walking hearteyes emoji. I try to keep my cool as I wait for her in line, where I’m set to get a picture with her than a shared picture with her and Capt, and the moment she sees me in my Tilly cosplay she exclaims, “NAILED IT!” Then, like a spastic idiot, I told her I couldn’t help myself since she’s my favorite, and she said, “You’re my favorite!” Bless her. She’s insanely personable and tilts her head to you, and is a personified cupcake.

After that, I brought Capt in for a shared picture with her, where we handed her my bunny mask and Rubik’s cube I had made with the help of Lill as we (plus Milah and Fraddit) had lounged on my couch Thursday night. She geeked out a bit over them, I asked her which one she wanted to hold, and she chose the Rubik’s cube, I held the mask, and Capt and I held a pillowcase she had gotten a while back that said, “We’re all mad here.”

Rapid fire they then did Colin and Chris photos followed by Colin and Rose, where all of us collectively lost our minds throughout. There are some pretty stellar ones people got with Colin and Chris, and then OMFG KNIGHTROOK.

Not going to lie, I kind of blanked on it a bit. I just remember saying “hi” to them both, taking a photo in the middle of them, and then ushering in PERFECT TACO HAT LT. JONES MCMABS in for the second photo, where I pulled a crazy face and she pulled that cheesy salute in that pic of him and Bernard.

Then was Rose’s Q&A, and as you can tell she’s still the embodiment of sunshine with a dash of silliness. I must have had a massive smile on my face the entire time in between bouts of laughter.

Before her panel ended, they called for Colin photos, which I needed to get to early because I had Rose’s meet and greet, but HELL NO WAS I MISSING ANY OF ROSE. Nope. So I stayed, then dashed out, and totally thought I’d be fine because…hey, I had already met and touched the man, how hard could this be?

BEING A NORMAL HUMAN AROUND HIM IS IMPOSSIBLE. I just hope I didn’t sound too much like an idiot when I said another hello and asked, “Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

Tired panda just opened his arms and we took a quick picture, and his face was SUPER CLOSE TO MINE and I didn’t know what to do with myself and suddenly that scruff was AGAINST MAH FACE. I think I entered a new plane of existence at some point but remembered I had feed and managed to use them to walk out and not completely venture to a new reality.

It was probably a good thing I didn’t have time to transcend to nirvana because ROSE’S MEET AND GREET WAS NEXT. It got off to a late start since Emilie was still in the room when we got up there, but I’d wait howmstever long for her.

SHE IS AN ANGEL. I mean, absolute, 100%, grade-A, undiluted angel. She makes an effort to engage with everyone and really make eye contact with you, speak to you for as much as she can, and is just naturally her sweet and funny self. She then took selfies with everyone, where I told her my name was “Carrie, like the movie” which is my default at Starbucks because then people know how to spell it. She fake scared and pretended like she was ducking her head and going to walk out, which we shared a laugh at before our picture.

I missed most of Karen David’s panel, but right afterward was COLIN!!! Tired panda did his best to wake up and be his silly, smartass self, bless his heart. I’m so glad he said he wished there were more to the KnightRook story because he feels like there’s more to explore with that and HARD AGREE, COL! Also massive, MASSIVE shoutout to Overthinker for her crazy awesome questions!!! You are indeed worthy of being his favorite!!! Also, props to @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt for her original question about craft services. Dudes, the things we don’t think about!!! I need to try a grilled cheese with pickles now, that sounds AMAZING. OH! OH!!! AND HE DID THE WORM! AND SANG! How were we this #blessed?!?!

We then had a hot minute (or roughly 30) before KNIGHTROOK PANEL!!! Guys, those two and their dynamic will never not kill me. THOSE TWOOOOOOO!!!! HOW PERFECT ARE THEY?!?! I think their humor together is priceless and she’s like a damn coffee bean to him. It’s a good thing I like odd things because I CAN’T EVEN WITH THEM. (:smirk:) AS IF THAT WEREN’T ENOUGH he goes and kills us with his Millian answer and I see Mabs and Milah vibrating into the ether.

After that is almost immediately autographs, where they had us line up for Colin then head over to Rose. They tucked tired panda behind this black curtain, and Mabs, Capt, and I coordinated getting various things signed for us and others. When I told him something was for someone who had contributed to the Whitecaps charity, he replied, “Oh! Very good.” Then he got my spyglass and went all childishly curious, peeked inside the box, then raised his eyebrow and gave me a smirk.

Then it was off to see Rose, who was taking more time to talk to fans, which is understandable given the fact that Colin had a longer line and Rose also can’t seem to help herself. Chesty gave me her badge so I could get a second autograph, like a friggin champ, and I had Rose sign the spyglass and also had the title page of the manuscript I’ve written (I NEED TO FINISH EDITING IT) and told her it was a 1920s Alice in Wonderland retelling, and I thought having her sign it would be a good luck charm. She sounded super enthusiastic about it and wrote a long note for me on it, which I will for sure cherish forever!!!

OH! And on my way to get into the Rose line, I hear someone say my name and LO AND BEHOLD, IT’S @leiandcharles!!! HUZZAH!!! I probably sounded like a spaz because I was on a Colin and Rose high and was all over the place but she pretended to not be terrified of the insanity that was me… ANYWAY!

It was then time for dinner. With the pub PACKED TO THE GILLS, especially after there was a bomb scare at a nearby hotel so the people there had to come over to ours for a bit, a group of us went up to Capt’s room to hang out and get pizza. I’m probably going to blank on everyone that was in that room, but I do remember dragging Leia there, meeting @coaldustcanary, Overthinker kicking over my drink and being roasted about it by Chesty (still makes me giggle!), and generally being a nuisance with Capt, Mabs, and Milah while Fraddit, and Lill went off to introduce Chesty to Chipotle. It has since changed her life.

At some point we declare we should hang out at the pub again, and a group of us went to go shoot the shit until Mabs passed out right there in the booth (CALLIN’ YOU OUT, POPS!) and everyone was sufficiently either toasted or tired. Some of us then venture up to my room, and shenanigans ensued. THUS ENDETH COLIN AND ROSE DAY!

Sunday:

While I was sad this seemed like a less crazy day for us, I was also a bit relieved because hot DAMN was I tired after the day before. Still, we didn’t have much time to really collect ourselves because the Mills fam gold panel started at 10, so a group of us wandered down to breakfast.

We then get in to see Andrew, Lana, and Bex, where Lana and Bex were of course hysterical together, Andy looked cute, and you could feel the collective vibrating of all Regina and Zelena fans which was adorable. I mean, I love Regina, but there was some LOVE in that room from her Evil Regals. I do wish Andy had gotten a bit more attention or had been a bit more vocal, but it’s got to be hard to not just let Lana and Bex own the stage.

There was then a decent break before Bex’s panel. That woman, as you all likely know, is HYSTERICAL. She kept the room laughing through most of her panel, and you can see she has nothing but love for her fans and her costars.

After her panel, I don’t have anything I’m too fussed about until 2 (MILAH WAS ROBBED IN THAT VID CONTEST, BTW, JUST SAYING) and so some of us gather together for lunch in, you guessed it, the hotel pub! Dudes, our options were limited and it looked like a library and had loaded potato soup. What more do you want?

It’s then time to MEET LANA, where me, Mabs, and Capt try to strategically settle ourselves somewhere out of the way but close enough to the side door to get a good look at the queen as she walks in. And, DAMN, that woman is gorgeous! Me and Capt then leap into the line where she proceeds to get two very adorable photos done and then I get pulled in to get hugged by Lana (!!!!!!!!!) while Capt hugs her from the back. She was super sweet and patient the whole time with everyone, and you could really see how much she loves spending time with her fans.

We then decide some of us need shots because some of us (*cough* Capt *cough*) are about to pass out from being so near Her Majesty’s presence, and then we wander into the ballroom for Henry Squared’s panel. Andy was adorable, Jared was typical Jared. I’ll be honest, I don’t have anything from that panel that seems to stick out to me as a solid memory, though maybe that was the whiskey shot’s fault.

Then comes Lana’s panel and, once again, you can feel the energy of the Evil Regals in the room. For however silly Colin, Rose, and KnightRook panels are, HOLY DAMN Lana panels are just filled with all sorts of emotions! It was like a damn rollercoaster! I laughed, I teared up, I was generally all over the place. SO MANY FEELINGS, GUYS. It was delightful but also made me just desperately need to laugh about fart jokes with my fellow Colin heathens. WE DON’T KNOW EMOTIONS.

Sadly during the following break, it is time to say farewell to the spun sugar that is Lillpon. I console myself knowing I’ll see her again, but it’s depressingly others’ last time with her, but ONLY FOR NOW. Yes? Yes.

Next up is autos with Andrew and then Lana. Andrew was a sweetheart. I was standing next to Capt and Mabs, where we proceeded to tell him how great we thought he was in season 7 and how much that season and his performance in it meant to us and brought back some love for the show. He seemed genuinely touched and said it meant a lot to him to hear that. Bless that boy.

We then wait a bit for me, Capt, Mabs, and Milah to venture up for Lana’s autos. By the time we got to her, we had this whole strategic thing planned out where I’d bring up S7 Hooked Queen, Capt gets her Hooked Queen picture signed, and Mabs gets the word for Capt’s tattoo. Lana says she did expect when they started that she thought Hook and Regina were going to be a thing but alas. Oh! And Mabs tells her that they’ve got family from the same area of Sicily, where Lana proceeds to say they do kinda look alike, and it is now confirmed #fam.

With everything over, we head once again to, YOU GUESSED IT AGAIN, the hotel pub. Chesty and Fraddit have already settled in and eaten, and me, Mabs, Capt, Overthinker, and Milah get ourselves all ordered up where we both mourn the end of the weekend and still buzz from the high the last three days had given us. A series of more shenanigans ensues, and none of us are ready for the weekend to be over. I’m pretty sure we collectively tried to drag it out for as long as possible.

For one last hurrah, we then venture to the pool again and meet up with @reginamotherfuckingmills and @agntreginaskywalker, where we all debrief and collectively laugh about the weekend, in addition to getting all into our feels about how Swan Queen fans and Hook fans are being all chill and friendly with each other. WHO KNEW PEOPLE COULD HUMAN?!

It was a fantastic end to the weekend, and there were more days ahead that involved ridiculous conversations in the car (Thicc Lady and Pointy Boi! Is this Central Park?! etc), meeting Mabs’s ENTIRE FAMILY, hearing Chesty lose her mind several times, enjoying super Long Island experiences with them, Milah, Overthinker, and Fraddit, and so on. Some of us also went sailing on a tall boat later, where we hoisted the main sail and felt like proper pirates! Then there was just general hanging out, but I won’t bore you further with that.

Instead, I’ll bore you with shoutouts!

@lillpon DESCUSTANG!!! You’re such a damn delight. Both sharing a bed and hoisting the main sail with you was brilliant and I love you forever. YOU MET COLIN!!!

@queen-mabs-revenge What are words? I have none. And if I started I’d probably turn into a mess so FARTS BELLY PT CRUISER POINTY BOI FARTS! I’ll probably emotion at some point and send it to you in private and then go run off to watch bloopers or something to get back to some sort of state of normal.

@fraddit SEVEN?! WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Resting judge face or no, you’re fantastic, I love you, and you’re forever welcome in my apartment! Or basically anywhere with me.

@thesschesthair You funny asshole, I don’t know what I would have done without you to be there to say jokes as foul as mine. You were such a good sport about me being an annoying shit. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed we can celebrate your birthday with a Captain Charming shindig!!!

@justmilah You’re so sweet and so funny and just damn precious. I LOVED going to the American Girls store, traipsing around Rockefeller Center, exploring actual Central Park, getting Millian and Knightrook feels in the AMNH, and wasting time at Johnny Utah’s with you. You’re always welcome!!!

@captregina Mah darling! I’m so glad and relieved that you had a good experience! You earned it, and I’m excited to talk about it over brunch with you.

@theonceoverthinker YOU FAVORITE PHD GENIUS! Stellar questions from a stellar person. It was amazing to hang out with you and we should do it again soon!!!

@the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt You’re a precious angel and it was delightful to meet you! I’m so glad you felt welcomed into the fold. But, of course you were! You’re wonderful!

@brave-lassie From one “mom” to another, thanks! Also, you’re a sweetheart and YOU MAKE AN AMAZING RED!!!

@leiandcharles @freifraufischer @coaldustcanary @reginamotherfuckingmills and @agntreginaskywalker IT WAS LOVELY TO MEET YOU ALL! And thank you for being so patient and awesome with some of the shenanigans.

[fanficwithyn]

Bite - Alec Lightwood X Reader p.3

Request: @kittycatcarter2343 Finale of Bite

Tag: @petah-parkah-and-potahtas

A/N: Just a warning, this is quite long. 2000+ words And these words turning into emojis irritate meeee gah. It loses the moment in the scene! And yes, I know it’s been MONTHS since I posted part 2. I’m sorryyyy. I confess that I didn’t know how to end this and school with 3 research papers to do is so time demanding. 2000+ words

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“Did he tell you anything?” You asked Simon as you rush down to the stairwell. “No, no, nothing. Why?” He asked as he struggle to keep up with you “🆗, good.” You said ignoring his question. 

“Could you-Could you please slow down a bit?” he told you a bit louder than the usual, giving up on trying to keep up with your pace.

You looked back at him “I’m really sorry, Simon.” you said, walking away. You may not be as close to Simon as Clary is to him - those two have a solid relationship with one another - but you two also have your own friendship and admitting it to Simon would equally still be distressing.

Simon was left looking puzzled. He only asked you to slow down, not to abandon him in the dining room.

Once you’ve reached the entryway you recognized Bat Velasquez observing the walls and ceiling of the Institute. “Never been inside an Institute?” When he turned to see you he eyed you from heel to head which you responded by arching your left brow. 

“Nothing.” he said and shrugged.

You slowly walked near to him. “So.. uhm, Should I get going tonight?” you asked. “That’s the order I recieved.“ he said as if having no choice.

“Okay.” You said and pointed at your back. “I’ll just get my things. I hope you can wait more.” you said and turned away.

Bat has already met up with you once outside Pandemonium to tell you that a silent brother has spoken with the Praetor about your condition. The alliance is willing to accept you in their House but will free you as soon as the change don’t happen. It was good, you thought, being away from all of them especially if things get a nasty turn in a few weeks. 

“Go where?“ Simon suddenly appeared in front of you just as you were about to go upstairs “By the angel, Simon!” you said as you clutched your chest, trying to calm yourself.

”Go, where???“ he asked again with more force. “Simon,” you said looking at him. “Its nothing. We’re just going outside. For a walk. Talk. We’re friends.” You explained to him.

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you one bit, Y/L/N. What about what he said about you going with him as an order?” You frowned at him. “Were you eavesdropping?!” you asked taken a back. “So I was right.” He leaned on the railing of the stairs and fold his arms. “It’s none of your business, Simon.” You respond and started to climb up the stairs.

“So you’re leaving? Without—“ You put your hand on his mouth to shut him up. In which he continued to talk in muffled noise in his defense. “Stop talking.” You told him sternly as you pull him with you up to your bedroom where no one will hear you two talking.

Once there, you took your hand off of his mouth and suddenly his mouth began to blabber words of reason to you. You sighed and roll your eyes at him. “Fine! Okay! I’ll explain!” he paused for a second and said “Thank you!” then sat next to you on your bed.

After explaining it to Simon including the reason in going to the Praetor House, he just stared straight into the wall with his mouth hanging open, not saying anything. You knew this was going to happen. It was foolish of you to think that he would be able to handle this. Your mind racing with thoughts of regret. Deciding that the loudness of the silence is enough, you broke the ice. “You know what I hope you would do right at this moment?” “What?” he asked and looked at you. “That you would say something.”

“I’m sorry.” he said, exhaling a bit. “It is a shock,Y/N. But–” he cut his own words and embraced you tightly. You embraced him tightly in return, pouring all your bottled tears and emotions into the hug.

When he pulled away he looked at your face entirely and said, “You. don’t. have. to. worry.” as he softly point at you which made you laugh. He smiled and said “All of you loved and accepted me when I turned into a vampire. Even Jace and Alec and we didn’t even grew up together. Which is crazy.”

“Now you with Izzy, Alec and Jace, you four have grown up together. You saw each other in your first mark ceremony, celebrated birthdays, and been with them in countless missions. They would never abandon you. Love and camaraderie won’t end with you being a werewolf. And I’m not assuming, Y/N. I’m telling you this from their perspective.”

His words made you hug him again. “Thank you, Simon, really. I appreciate it.” And you broke the hug. “Just doing a friend’s responsibilty, Ma'am.” he formally replied and saluted to you. You laughed in response and hit him softly on his arm.

You stood up and walked to your closet, packing some of your clothes and other necessities. “You’re still leaving?” asked Simon. You faced him and said “Si, I have to. I can’t possibly turn here in the Institute. No one’s an expert here when it comes to newly turned werewolves.” he sighed, clearly yielding out “You’re right.”

“Oh, uhm, before I forget..” You moved to your bedside drawer and retrieved the letter you have written for Alec and handed it to Simon.

“The full moon is a night from now. Give that to Alec the day of the full moon.” He nodded slowly and said “Sure.” “Thank you, Si.” you said and kissed him on the cheek.

You picked up your bag and bid Simon goodbye.

“Good day, Ms. Y/L/N.” Praetor Scott had greeted you with a soft smile shortly just after arriving at the Praetor House. He was a middle aged man, with blonde hair streaked with grey color. 

You smiled in response. “I assume you already know the reason wh–” you normally don’t cut people in their mid sentence but you’re fed up of them reminding you of the reason why you are in this state right now. “Yeah, I know, Sr.” 

The Praetor looked a bit taken a back but kept his composure and sighed. “Bat, if you please.” Bat bowed before Praetor Scott and gripped your arm dragging you out of the Praetor’s office.

“Before you drag me completely off of this floor, kindly, please, tell me where we’re going?” Bat continued to walk briskly not even wasting a second to look back at you. And he still hasn’t replied to you. You made a small rumbling sound which, to your surprise, he replied. “Up to your room.”

You spent the night tossing and turning on your bed, with you seeing the near full moon out the window, not able to shut off your mind from thinking when suddenly, you remembered Alec’s jacket. You got up to get it from your bag and took it with you on your bed.

You inhaled the smell of the jacket, recognizing Alec’s familiar scent; the thought of him calmed the storm of thoughts in your mind and soon enough, you fell asleep with the jacket in your embrace.

Morning passed and dusk came. It was fifteen minutes past five. There is exactly forty-five minutes before the moon is out. 

Bat has appeared in the garden of the House to escort you to the basement. You figured that’s where they’ll lock you in for the night.

The basement, surprisingly, was clean. It looks as if things were all brand new, it is kept tidy for years. It also had several large rooms. Some are with bars, looking like a prisoner’s jail; some are looking like interrogation rooms with a small window on the door side. The only things that were similar between the rooms are the medium sized windows at the top right of the wall which reveals the night sky and of course, four impacted chains to the wall.

A few minutes upon entering the room, Praetor Scott had followed in and took a glance at the chains beside you then to your hands. Putting a cold facade to hide the apprehension, you asked  “I’ve surrendered to your clan. You’d protect me, wouldn’t you?” “Right.” 

“So why aren’t you binding, at the least, my wrists into the chains?” He looked straight at you for a few seconds before calling in Bat when you heard the clacking sounds above you.

The Praetor’s face had completely changed from being collected to being vigilant. He tasked Bat to go up the hall and check in on the situation. After, he took the chains on his hands and carefully secured it to both of your wrists. “Binding your ankles to the chains won’t be necessary, unless you appear to be making big rackets while turning.”

The beating of your heart had increased. Sweat trickled down the side of your face, your mouth slowly drying. You looked down at the ground.

Soon, all the noise above has come to rest and Bat returned to the room with a few members of the clan. He whispered to the Praetor and he looked at you before nodding as a sign of approval. Bat pulled the door wide open and ushered the others to come inside. 

Only then did you raise your head when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. A voice that had always sounded like home. Alec. Alec was here. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “Alec..” you whispered with such happiness but accompanied too, with longingness.

He quickly dropped down to the ground in front of you, wearing a look of relief and confusion. He scanned your body, looking for possible bruises. “It’s not yet happening, Alec.” you told him softly trying to catch his eyes.

“Look, Y/N, I don’t care, okay? I don’t care. You could turn into a vampire, a werewolf, a faerie or whatever creature, I don’t care.” He said firmly holding onto both of your cheeks, he stares at you fiercely.

“You could change, yes, but I would gladly and willingly accept that because it’s a part of you, and my love won’t stop even if there’s a cliff or threat in front of me. This is no finish line, Y/N.” His voice grew louder, making sure you hear every word he say. His face scrunching into a pained one, as if begging for you to not let him go. 

“I told you already, whatever happens, I would still and always love you. Even if I have to endure sleepless nights making sure your pain, if not completely lost, at the least make it bearable for you.” Quiet tears have flown down to your face, 

“The letter you left? It’s like Jace’s jokes. Nonsense. And not one bit funny even, Y/N. You leaving won’t ever be funny.” You laughed a bit at his words, and his lips formed a relieved smile. “You’re like blood in my veins, as long as I live, it’s never gone.”

Alec touched his forehead to yours before kissing away your tears, then finally falling on your lips. It was bittersweet. It was a mix of sorrow and love and feelings left unsaid yet understood in every movement. His hand that caressed your cheek felt like a radiant touch of sun, a sweet warmth, spreading over you.

When you both pulled away he said quietly “I would cheat death for you. That’s how far I would dare go for you.” As he stare at you as if caught in a trance.

The room was all silent until Jace’s cough echoed across the room “I’m sorry to interrupt your “moment” but I just want to tell you that MY jokes are funny, Alec. THEY are funny.” The rest of the gang had groaned and rolled their eyes. Clary just smacked her forehead, as if very disappointed.

“They are not, Jace.” You responded, feeling the atmosphere getting lighter. His face turned into a shock, looking so offended, holding on his chest. 

--------------------------------------------END---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay, so guys, this is supposed to be the end, however if you want another part to show what happens in the full moon, comment down if you want the female lead or in other words, you, to turn into a werewolf or not so that I’ll have a guide. :) AND I promise to post it after a few weeks. PROMISE. I hope you enjoyed this one <3

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Sledgehammer

Chapter Three

Previous Chapter

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader   |   Word Count: 3769 Warnings: Language

Song: The Snake by Al Wilson

“Nope, not happening!” Clint barked. “We’re swapping teams.”

Gritting your teeth together, hating yourself for what you were about to do, you sucked it up and did what Steve would. “No. We’re leaving them as they are.”

“Brat!” Clint hissed.

Glaring at Garry, his too smug face begging for a fist, you shook your head. “Gotta happen sooner or later. Let’s just get on with it.”

Low key murmurs were coming from the rest of the newbies, and, while you didn’t have Cap or Bucky’s hearing, you weren’t stupid.

Everyone here was a team. If you couldn’t play nice with the agent you most wanted to beat the living shit out of, how were you to expect them to get along with each other? You were a big girl. You could handle Garry.

Turning back to the group, you called out, “Everyone ready?” An affirmative sound ran through them. “Alrighty then. Designated rescuers, you’ll get your Intel from Clint, everyone else… brace yourselves.” With a cheeky grin, you held up your hand.

“Brace? For what?” asked Susan, paired with Maggie.

“Not what, who.” Chuckling, you pointed toward the compound.

Iron Man, War Machine, and Falcon all leapt from the roof at the same time.

“Hang on, ladies,” Tony chuckled, grabbing Susan and Faye around the waist, leaving Maggie and Grant, Faye’s partner, gaping after them.

Rhodey chuckled as he snatched Smitty up by the back of his protective vest, causing the man to squeak out in fear before he was dragged into the air, Marcus looking on in shock.

“Give me a boost, old man!” You laughed, running for Clint.

Linking his fingers together, Clint snapped, “I’m not old, just gently used!” as he tossed you up toward Sam.

“Got you, (Y/N)!”

Laughing, you wrapped an arm around his neck. “Never had a doubt, Sam!”

Glancing toward the ground, he frowned. “Do not tell me you’re paired up with Garry! Cap’s going to flip.”

“I can handle Garry.” You dismissed his concern. “What’s he going to do? Play Steve again? Not if he wants to pass this exercise.” Not if he wanted to keep his balls.

“Still, I don’t like it. He’s a shit.” Dropping to the ground, he set you down before the bunker you were being stashed at. “You want me to hang out? This place gives me the creeps.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You shook your head, heading inside. The old storage facility had been retrofitted but not upgraded. It had the latest technology and would simulate a real combat scenario, in which Garry had to get in, get you out, and not get tagged. Once you were out, then it would be up to Clint, situated on the roof of the compound, to take the two of you down before you could reach the designated extraction zone. “I brought my phone for company.”

Garry only had thirty minutes to get to you before your captors killed you, so you didn’t figure you’d have to wait too terribly long.

“Okay, but if you need anything…” Sam trailed off.

“I’m good, flyboy, thanks.” Smiling, you waved him off and wandered over to settle in the chair in the middle of the room. Once you sat down, all systems would be go, and Garry was on his own.

****

Clint went through everyone else’s Intel, sent them on their way, and turned to Garry where he dragged the little shit closer by the vest. “You mess with her again, I got a special arrow with your name on it.”

“Chill out, man,” he held up his hands defensively. “I’ve learned my lesson. No one plays with the big guy’s woman.”

Clint swatted him upside the head. “Dumbass. The big guy is Bruce, but no one fucks with this team, period! You’d be getting the same lectures, the same shit chores, and the same hassle if you’d pulled this stunt with Nat or Wanda or Scott. It was cruel, and it was stupid! You’re supposed to be becoming an Avenger. Right now, all I see is a punk. Pull your head out of your ass and grow up!” Shoving him back, Clint handed out the last package of Intel. “She’s in the bunker. Get in, get out. Don’t get caught.”

“Yes, sir!” Garry gave a mocking salute and jogged towards the woods.

Fingers twitching on his bow, Clint muttered, “An accident. I could stage an accident. No one would ever have to know. Just picked the wrong arrowhead. Oops.” Turning towards the compound where he would make his way to the roof, he was plucked from the ground by Sam. “Shit! Warn a guy!”

Dropping Clint on the roof, Sam landed beside him. “Figured you wouldn’t mind the lift,” he chuckled.

“Give me a heart attack, and I might mind,” Clint grumbled.

Sam stood beside Clint, laughing, arms crossed as he stared out at the woods. “You can really see all them? I can pick ‘em up, but only thanks to these.” He tapped his goggles.

“Yeah. But I’m keeping tabs on that one.” Clint pointed in the direction of Garry.

“Can’t believe you let her partner with him. Cap’s going to freak. Him and Bucky.” Shaking his head, Sam sighed. “You tellin’ him, or am I?”

“She said she could handle it. He’s supposed to be part of the team. Let her handle it.” Clint shrugged. “But if you want to hang out in case she loses her shit and kicks his ass again; I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Honestly? I kinda hope she does!” Sam snickered. “It’s a pleasure to watch her work.”

***

The wait was boring as hell, but the simulated agents ignored you, allowing you to wait quietly, playing Candy Crush when the text from Laura showed up.

Clint said you’re running an extraction exercise today. FYI? He’s increased his range by about 60 feet.

“What!?” You squeak loudly, sending back a furiously typed text. How!? That’s not possible!

A sheepish looking emoji appeared. I don’t know. He muttered something about paintballs and trajectories, wind somethings and resistance. Um… my bad?

You could almost see her laughing. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be ready.

Pouting a little, reworking your plan for getting past Clint and his bow, you glanced at the clock. Twenty-two minutes in.

Garry should be coming through the door at any time.

The pairings, other than this one, had worked out quite well.

Susan was a teleporter. She could jump in and out of places as long as she had pictures and was within a hundred feet. But she wasn’t able to bring people with her, only objects.

Already the team was looking at her for missions regarding gathering Intel. It would be cake for her to plant listening devices, or if the need was great, a bomb.

Her partner, Maggie, used a combination of sound and brainwaves. With a thought, she could take out agents, but with a whistle, she could blow electronics, or level a building.

The two of them worked well together as Susan could get in and out undetected, while Maggie played distraction. You liked them as a team.

Faye was different, small and delicate. Her power lay in the swiftness of her brain. It worked so quickly she was nearly clairvoyant, always multiple steps ahead of her opponent. She could put together an op and run the scenarios in her head to such pinpoint accuracy; there was a ridiculously small margin of error.

Hill and Fury had been looking at her for just that purpose. Using her to run numbers, or plan insurgencies because she often made a note of probabilities not even the computers noticed.

Grant in comparison was of average intelligence, but the man was a brutal fighter. Very little stopped him once he got throwing fists. Nat had hit him with her widow’s bite once. He’d barely even flinched.

Going a few rounds with Steve and Bucky had rung his bell, finally dropping him to his knees, but it had both super soldiers sweating by the time they finished.

Grant and Faye had partnered together before, and Faye’s cool, calculating brain kept him contained. She was very good at channelling his effort where it would do the most damage, and for his part, Grant was more than willing to put his nearly invincible self in harm’s way for her.

You figured he was a little smitten, but they weren’t letting it interfere in their training. Just because they’d made it this far didn’t necessarily mean they would become Avengers.

Then there was Smitty and Marcus who were elementals as well as brothers.

The darker of the two, Smitty - born Saturino but nickname Smitty by Tony when the Iron Man was being, well, Tony - was always laughing and joking, often in his native Portuguese so only Marcus understood him. The brothers, originally from Brazil, had grabbed the Avengers attention when working together, they had diverted a mudslide from taking out an entire village.

Smitty could channel water like it was an extension of his body, while Marcus moved air with the simplicity of breathing. The two synced perfectly, and when Marcus had pulled his brother’s name from the bag, it hadn’t surprised you at all.

The only one that perplexed you was Garry. Garry with two Rs. Who the hell spells Garry with two Rs? A self-entitled little prick, that’s who. One day soon you were going to corner Maria and ask what the hell she thought she was doing.

But even here you could see why they were so interested in him. Garry’s power was unique. The man could glamour himself, taking the face and form of anyone he wished. As long as he’d seen a picture of their face, heard their voice, and had a rough estimation of height and weight, he could wave his fingers and become them. When he had the chance to really study his target, he could mimic them with an incredible degree of accuracy.

The man was good, you’d give him that, but he was an asshat. Had been since the moment you’d met. He was sarcastic and rude, petulant and confrontational. What his problem with you was, you had no clue, but he’d been a total dick from day one.

Maybe it was because out of the entire team, you were normal. No special powers, no tragic backstory, no crazy weaponry. You were just a girl who had managed to impress the right people at the right time, ending up placed with the team when they’d needed an extra member.

Barton had been your mentor, and you thanked your lucky stars every day for it. Clint, while you wouldn’t classify him as completely normal, anyone who had that kind of aim and precision was, in your book, damn special, he wasn’t what the others were. He was an agent who’d done his own impressing at the right time and place to get where he was today.

If you’d been paired with anyone else, you might have been too intimidated to really let loose, but Clint… he was just Clint. He kicked your ass, gave you pep talks, and sat at your bedside the first time you’d taken a bullet. He was your mentor, your rock, and your friend. Eventually, he’d become family.

He was the older brother you’d never known was missing. When he’d found out about you and Steve, he’d handed the phone to Laura, who proceeded to rat him out as he’d happy danced his way around their living room.

The door handle turning knocked you from your musings, but you didn’t give up your would be rescuer’s location by looking, just casually tucked your phone away.

When the door opened further, and an agent you’d seen wandering through the halls walked in, you arched a brow. Would the simulated agents know he was faking? Apparently not, for, when Garry stopped, pulled his silenced weapon and fired, he took down the three agents milling around without any alarms going off.

“That was almost impressive,” you quipped, getting to your feet.

“Then I will almost thank you,” he said, motioning toward the door. “Buildings clear. Let’s get the damsel home to her big, strong superhero.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored him.

“What? No thank you for the rescue?”

“You’re not done yet,” you reminded him.

He snorted, following in your wake. “Barton can’t be that good. He’s got hundreds of acres to search through and eight of us to find.”

Side-eyeing him, you shrugged. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to be joking.”

“Ten bucks says he tags everyone from the other teams.”

“Twenty says he tags half of us at best.”

“Fifty, he tags everyone except me.”

“You’re on!” Garry challenged, holding out his hand.

“Put your own damn face on first. It’s weird knowing you’re not you.”

The image around him shimmered, returning him to dark hair and calculating grey eyes. “Better?”

“Much,” you grumbled heading for the exterior doors.

“What? Not going to shake on it?”

“Do I need to?”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” He almost sounded like he was pouting.

Glancing back, you smirked at him. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a gentleman.” You could practically hear his teeth grind together. Pausing before the outer door, you wiped the smirk off your face before turning to face him.

“Ladies first.” He motioned toward the door.

“Nope. That’s not how this works. I’m not an agent in this scenario. I’m a hostage. You lead.”

“So you’re saying I’m in charge?” A wicked grin spread over his face.

“As long as you don’t fuck up.” You shrugged.

He growled at you, a full-on angry snarl, causing you to burst out laughing.

“What are you? An angry puppy?” you snickered, unable to help yourself.

“Fuck you.” Grabbing the handle, he wrenched open the door.

“Awe. Did I strike a nerve?” You pout, batting your lashes.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth until you can wrap those lips back around Cap’s cock like the good whore you are,” he sneered stalking away.

You flinch as if you’d been slapped before all you could see was red. “Alright, that hangs it! What the hell is your problem with me? You’ve been nothing but a stuck-up snot since day one!”

He turned on you sending you swiftly into a defensive stance. “And at what point did you ever give me a chance? Huh? You and your attitude have been leading the charge since the minute we arrived!”

Taken aback, you stared, horrified. “No, I haven’t!”

“Please!” he snorted, striding into the forest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Explain yourself!”

He only scoffed, continuing to walk away.

Darting forward, you grabbed him by the arm. “C’mon! I mean it, Garry! If I did something to offend you, I certainly didn’t mean to. Let me apologize.”

He peered down at you, eyes assessing before he sighed. “The minute you walked in the room it was like you picked out every flaw each of us had. This was wrong, that needed improvement. We were never going to be good enough, but you weren’t special. You’re normal! Not enhanced. Not a mutant. No special skills like Clint or Sam. Just some girl who got lucky and wound up part of the team. You didn’t even give us a chance. And when I tried to call you on it, you turned into a raging bitch.”

Gasping, you stepped back. “No… I… that’s not it at all! I called you out on your flaws because some of you seemed unaware of them. In a combat scenario, they could get you killed. Clint did the same for me. And the only reason I got up in your face that day was that I thought you could do so much better. I was trying to motivate you, not picking on you.”

“I’m not a soldier, (Y/N)! Those tactics may work on Steve and Bucky, but they didn’t with me. I resented it, and you, this whole time!” He threw up his hands in disgust.

Your hands fell to your sides as you sadly shook your head. “Garry… I… I’m sorry. I wish you would have said something sooner.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Maybe before I played that prank and you tried to kick me through reinforced glass.”

Chuckling a little, you shrugged. “You did deserve that.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, about what I did.” He looked away, a hint of red rising beneath the bruises.

“Had a slightly more pleasing outcome on my end.” You grinned smugly. “Look, I’ll get the guys to lay off. Tell them you apologized and meant it. We all need to work as a team. We’re on the same side after all.”

“Really? Bucky was going to make me wash out the hanger after this.” His eyes filled with hope.

“Sure,” you laughed. “Come on. We’ve got a ways to go before we are in range of Clint’s arrows. You can tell me your plan for getting my butt out of here unscathed.”

“That would be great!” he smiled, a genuine one that softened his features as he waved you forward.

Heading into the trees, you didn’t see the smile turn cold, nor the hardness come to his grey eyes as he watched you walk away.

***

Opening the door to the roof, Steve and Bucky walked out into the sun, heading for Clint and Sam, standing at the edge.

“So this is where everyone’s hiding out,” Steve chuckled, taking up position beside Sam and cross his arms. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Down to two,” Clint grumbled.

“Who’s left?” Bucky asked.

“Brat and the bastard,” he quipped, notching another arrow.

Steve instantly stiffened. “I beg your pardon? (Y/N)’s out with Garry?”

Clint gritted his teeth together and let fly, swearing viciously as he did. “Fuck! Yes, damn it! Shut up and let me work!”

Another arrow was between his fingers and flying through the air before either newcomer could comment.

“What the hell?” Bucky grumbled, peering at Clint.

“Our girl’s doing a hell of a job evading Barton’s arrows,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah?” Steve smirked proudly.

“Yeah. But she’s working with Garry. I don’t know what happened out there, but she said they needed to work as a team and damn if she hadn’t taught Garry a few things.”

Landing with a solid clank, Tony made his way toward the group. “Your elf eyes failing you, Legolas?”

“Fuck you, Stark.”

“Ooh. Someone’s pissy,” Tony chuckled.

“What can you see, Tony?” Steve asked.

Opening his hand, Tony played the images back from the cameras placed throughout the woods. “She’s giving Katniss there a run for his money.”

Gathered around the running images, listening as Barton cursed with each miss, the other four watched as (Y/N) and Garry, danced, dashed, and darted their way through the trees.

“Shit. Will you look at her go,” Sam chuckled.

“There’s no rhythm to their actions, no way to guess where they’ll go next.” Bucky nodded, impressed.

“She’s got you pegged, Barton,” Tony fairly cackled.

“Not yet. They’re not to the extraction point yet.”

They all watched as Clint lined up the shot, waiting, waiting, waiting before releasing the arrow with a quiet twang from the bowstring. He lowered his bow, smirk on his face, and nodded.

Watching the cameras again, the four men took a collective inhalation. The arrow zipped past camera after camera, flying toward the two running through the wood.

Steve gasped when (Y/N) bent nearly double, laying over backwards to avoid the projectile. Garry, running a few feet behind her, was not so lucky.

The explosion of vibrant yellow paint along with the force of the arrow hitting at speed, threw him backward through the air and hard onto his back where he lay, gasping and panting, trying to recover the wind Clint had knocked out of him.

“That’s it, brat,” Clint said into his com. “Rescuer is dead; hostage retaken. Mission failed.”

Everyone could hear her shouted fuck snarl through the air.

“You did good, kid. Got farther than anyone else,” he complimented.

Steve frowned as he watched (Y/N) run back to check on Garry, help him to his feet, and make sure he was steady before heading back. “Alright, is it just me, or is that weird?”

“Weird.” Bucky and Sam said together, eyeing each other.

“Let’s go see what’s up with little miss feisty,” Tony quipped, diving off the roof, Sam hot on his heels.

“I swear at times they forget we don’t fly,” Bucky groused, jogging toward the door with Clint and Steve.

By the time the three of them made it to the ground, the newbies were making their way out of the woods.

Striding quickly forward, Steve frowned when he heard his girl laugh.

“So close! Ugh! I told you, you’d picked up a rhythm!” she smirked at Garry.

“I don’t even know how!” he whined throwing up his arms.

“You stopped thinking. The body naturally wants to be in rhythm. You have to force it not to. We’ll work on it.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve muttered.

***

Looking toward the call of your name, you lit up. “Steve!” You danced forward and jumped knowing he’d catch you, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Did you see? Man! We were so close!” Glancing around at the paint splattered others, you laughed. “And Garry now owes me fifty bucks!”

“He does, does he?” Steve’s smile slowly appeared on his face.

“Yup!” you said popping the ‘P.’ “I’m the only one not covered in paint!”

“Not for lack of trying,” Clint muttered. “Damn it, woman! Did Laura warn you?”

“Maybe!” you giggled.

“Garry. Get cleaned up. You’ve got a hanger to scrub.” Bucky thrust a thumb at the compound.

“Wait, Bucky.” Looking to Steve, you motioned with your head toward the ground. “Garry and I talked. He apologized, for real. I… we,” sighing you huffed, “We’ve both made some mistakes, but we cleared up the misunderstandings. It’s fixed, guys, so lay off. Okay?”

They all gaped at you before each one glared at Garry.

You slammed your hands to your hips and stepped between them and Garry. “Enough! We’re supposed to be a team. Let’s act like one. From now on, I’ll be Garry’s mentor.”

A chorus of disbelieving voices ran through the men.

“It’s decided!” you snapped, glaring at them. “Now, I’m for the shower. Garry, I’ll see you on the gun range in an hour. Everyone else, get ready to rerun this exercise, switch partners, new locations.” You marched away, Steve hot on your heels.

Next Chapter

[potuzzz]

Reddit Comment 1

https://www.reddit.com/r/AntifascistsofReddit/comments/avgf4v/another_question_from_a_conservative/

{{Bold = Link}}

Hello! I made a Reddit account just to answer the 1st part of #2!

Woohoo! Long-ass answer!

Okay, so, one of the really difficult things about the alt-right/modern fascist movements, is that they're really sneaky about their iconography.

Obviously, most sensible Americans know that the Nazi swastika is a horrible symbol, and those who brandish it have a tendency for hatefulness, racism/sexism/homophobia/etc., violent tendencies, etc.

One of the primary goals of the alt-right/modern fascism, is they have to sell their ideology to the general public. It's a slow process. Obviously, you can't jump out the gate, screaming "LYNCH THE BLACKS! GAS THE JEWS!" or everyone will be disgusted with you/not take you seriously/act against you.

Fascist iconography goes a LOT deeper than overt symbols, because they have to keep it covert, both to appear normal to the general public, and to be able to identify each other--a secret handshake, if you will.

Other flags that are essentially synonymous with the Nazi swastika, or worthy of suspicion, include:

- Iron Cross

- Black Sun

- Identity Evropa

- Conderate Flag

- Kekistan

- Flash and Circle

- South Africa's Apartheid Flag

- Flag of Rhodesia (1968–1979)

- AWB Flag

- Celtic Cross

- Wolfsangel

- National Socialist Movement

This is just a few off the top of my head.

Some of these aren't ALWAYS used by fascists/the alt-right/Nazis. The Confederate flag could plausibly be in the ownership of someone who isn't a fascist--or at the very least, subconsciously racist. The Celtic cross has plenty non-fascist history, as does the wolfsangel. The Kekistan flag could also be used by somebody just "trolling" or who is ignorant of what it actually stands for. They also steal a lot of Nordic imagery that I, an ex-pagan, have even used.

You have to kind of play it by ear. Obviously, if I saw some young kid with a Kekistan flag, I would just assume he was ignorant. I tend to also be suspicious of people with a lot of Harley-Davidson iconography, the "biker" look, or even just the "pure southerner" look, but I'm sure there's plenty of bikers and proud southerners who don't subscribe to the ideals of the alt-right.

That being said, if I was in a public place and there were a mob of bikers with Confederate flags, wolfsangels, and Kekistan flags, I would have no doubt in my mind that they'd all be crypto-fascist/fascist sympathizing garbage.

Some other common indicators (especially when combined with racism, homophobia, antisemitism, misogyny, xenophobia, general hatefulness, etc.) of a member of the alt-right include:

- Pepe the Frog / frog-related memes, emojis, etc.

- The "ok" hand emoji

- "NPC" meme

-Non-ironically using words or phrases such as: cuck, libtard, soyboy, white-guilt, virtue-signaling, race-traitor, cultural-Marxism, White Genocide, red-pilled, based, SJW, beta, 1488 or just 88, JQ, HH, six million/six trillion/six gorillian, goy/goyim, oy vey, ((( ))) (known as "echoes," there's usually someone's name inside the parentheses), anti-white, kek, rapefugees, "We Wuz Kangz" or "dindu nuffin," (correctly) asserting that the world is run by a tiny minority of corporate elites but wrongly assuming they're all Jews (it's some sort of "Zionist plot"), Soros, the liberal elite, the Deep State Dems, talking of white oppression or the disappearance of the white race or Western culture, "Jews/Blacks/etc. will not replace us," "blood and soil," talking of an "ethnostate," saying shit like "America for Americans," etc.

-Calling yourself euphemisms such as "identitarian," "race realist," "nationalist" or "white nationalist," "ethno-nationalist," "racialist," "white nativist," or the like.

Now, it would be ridiculous if I screamed "NAZI" everytime somebody used the "ok" hand emoji, a frog emoji, posted a meme with Pepe or NPC, or said cuck or beta. Part of the gaslighting tactics used by the alt-right/fascists is to make you seem like you're on a witch-hunt, being overly analytical or intolerant.

Example:

Say I had a Twitter profile. I say lots of crypto-fascist things.

Maybe I tweet "I want jobs to be protected from immigrants" (which might secretly mean: I hate Mexicans and Muslims) Maybe I tweet, "I think Western culture should be protected" (which might secretly mean: I hate non-white foreigners, I don't want them dirtying American culture with their inferior cultures) Maybe I tweet "I hate stupid cucks always virtue-signalling on Twitter" (which might secretly meas: people defending minorities from attacks are spineless queers who do it because it's a fad)

Nobody can call me out on any of this, or risk looking like an overly-sensitive witch-hunter. If you accuse me of racism, I'll say, "What the fuck are you talking about? It's not like I said the n-word. It's not like I said "gas the Jews." You libtards call anyone to the right of Karl Marx a Nazi these days, huh?"

The idea is to erode confidence in the anti-fascist and social justice movements. Make them all look like paranoid, violent, intolerant loonies.

And maybe, just maybe, I have an "ok" hand emoji in my Twitter username--and so do a lot of guys saying similar stuff as me. But if I'm called out on it? "Pfft. Seriously? You SJWs are going after emojis now? When will the witch-hunt end?"

To cover your questions #1, part two of #2, and #3:

#1. Fascists and the alt-right have an ongoing campaign to make it look like the Christian, straight white male is under attack to lure members. This is mostly untrue.

I have absolutely nothing against Christians, but I will criticize,denounce, and resist a Christian if they're being a bigot. I myself am a straight white male, and have nothing against other straight white males, and my best friend is a straight white male. However, I will criticize, denounce, and resist a straight person, white person, or a man if they're being a bigot. Plain and simple. You'll notice that the alt-right movement is largely straight, white, and male. This is because it is a white supremacy movement, not because straight white men are oppressed, disappearing, or under systemic attack. Social justice activists who say things like "fuck all men" or "all white people are garbage" or the like, in my opinion, are just hateful individuals, not indicative of the social justice / anti-fascist movement as a whole. That being said, if a criticism is fair, it's fair.

Part two of #2: Antifa is not a centralized group, so there's technically no "rules." If a person wants to punch someone they're certain is a Nazi, that's their own decision. I personally believe that it can harm the movement, and I'm naturally a pacifist. However, if somebody is trying to spread an ideology that calls for division, racial hierarchy, hatred, anti-intellectualism, genocide, and just straight up not having human empathy, then maybe they deserved to be punched. Violent antifascist individuals are simply willing to stop the most toxic movement on the planet, by any means necessary, even force.

#3. The end goal of fascism is violence and oppression, on a massive scale, against those not on the "in-group." The in-group currently is typically seen today as any white people. How long until it's only heterosexuals? How long until women aren't equal anymore, either? How long until the Irish, the Italians, and the Slavs aren't "white enough?" The in-group in the fascism hierarchy naturally grows more and more exclusive.

When someone is pushing an ideology that has this sort of end goal, it's not a matter of whether I disagree with them or not. It's whether I want this world to be dominated by what is a force of death, hatred, and destruction.

I'm pro-choice, strongly, but I wouldn't hinder a pro-lifer in a way that I would hinder a Nazi. I wouldn't hinder someone who has a bad taste in music, or who voted Republican, or who says the Earth is flat, or who's libertarian, or conservative, or who has fundamentally different religious/spiritual beliefs than me. The alt-right / fascist movement, in my opinion, is the most dangerous thing, and cannot be handled with kid gloves. Their ideology encourages violence and oppression, so their words must be treated like violence and oppression. It sounds a little pre-emptive, but I promise, fascism is a one-way trip to hellish scenarios for 99.9% of humanity.

The alt-right / neo-fascist movements are the BIGGEST obstacles that defend the ultra-rich, the corporate hegemony, and the military-industrial-intelligence complex that sows death, destruction, and misery worldwide. They're the unwitting little brother that defends an older brother, something far more dangerous and sinister. Without these sort of movements, the peoples of the world--of ALL races, sexes, sexualities, non-destructive ideologies and creed, walks-of-life and backgrounds, nationalities, and religious beliefs--ALL would be able to band together and change the universally oppressive, unjust, unfair system that we all live under.

In summary, when asking whether someone's a Nazi or not, there's plenty of small, easy-to-miss indicators that make up a bigger picture. You have to make a judgement call. If the person seems carefully bigoted, uses a lot of the language, or uses a lot of the crpto-fascist imagery, they're probably fascist. You have to know when you're dealing with an unwitting neutral person, but you can't be afraid to call a Nazi a Nazi, even if they've never thrown a Nazi salute, flown a swastika, or yelled "HEIL HITLER!"

Not everybody who voted for Donald Trump was a fascist--Hillary Clinton is a piece of garbage, too--but a MAGA hat, or otherwise being a BIG fan of Trump, is an indicator to me as well.

I hope this has helped, any and all questions are welcome. I see you said you're not from the U.S. so I apologize for jargon, idioms, etc. Also for getting lazy with the links after a bit lol.

Compassion and reason!

[okaywhateverokayyes]

Highly Illogical, Most Likely Improbable

“Yousef?”

He turned from the sink, “Yeah.” It was resigned.

“When you’re ready to talk, please remember that I’m here for you.” That was all.

(Yousef’s POV)

Introducing Mama ACAR! I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing this!

P.S: Yousef’s POV (Post 4.08: Clip 5; 06.07.17)

He slid on his snapback, pulling the sleeves of his jacket through his hands-his left hand first, then his right. Yousef grabbed his comb from off of the dresser, avoiding the mirror as he disentangled the short strands of hair that fell on either side of his face.

His laptop’s screen had animated once more, a message alert appearing on the bottom screen. He slid the cursor and pressed onto the box.

Mutta: Yo. Dude. See you in 20.

They had-well, the other four had decided that they had enough for another video. They were more than willing to find livestreams when possible to watch the series. Cavaliers vs Warriors. At that moment, it seemed like a good portion of the people he knew were invested in a game that had no effect on their lives. Or for their country.

Which, were the point of sports, in essence. Global domination.

Yousef swiped his thumb across his phone, clicking on the message box as a red swirl hovered over it.

Adam: 30-bring a jacket, it’s cold! Opp Med HumØret ❤

Yousef pulled out his backpack from his closet, unzipping it as he slid his hands in. He fisted his flask in his hand, pulling it out before settling his bag beside the rear of his bed.

He peeked out from his room, looked in both directions. His ears were heightened in their senses as he honed in on any specific sounds. He’d settled for no one being home as he strode into the kitchen.

Yousef ran the sink water as he emptied the contents in his flask, grabbing the hatch of the fridge door with his free hand. He leaned further towards the fridge as he grabbed a slice of lemon. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot, nudging the tap shut with his elbow.

He knelt as he grabbed the kettle from the dishwasher, wiping it with an unkempt cloth wrapped around the stove railing.

He flipped the tap water with his thumb, watching as the water surfaced up and even further to the top lid. As it reached the brink, he turned off the faucet before he emptied the kettle a quarter way out.

Yousef flicked the stove on, settled the kettle on the burner as he kicked the stool from underneath the island with his foot. He nudged it in his direction as he went to take a seat.

He grabbed the handle of the knife from the counter block, easily slicing the lemon into thin wedges. He would cut half of it before reaching for the saran wrap, grabbing hold of the clingy plastic wrap to the size that seemed apt to cover the entirety of the lemon chunk before slipping it against the sharp creases that cut the film from the roll.

Yousef haphazardly wrapped those two together, reaching for the fridge’s hatch before shoving it beside the carton of milk. His mother would most likely recognize it there than if he had put it somewhere behind the pickled olives.

He slipped back on top of the stool, leaning backwards as he rested against the island frame.

His pocket reverberated through the fabric of his jeans, which caught his attention. He stared at the front door from where he sat as he pulled out his cell, swiping his thumb across the screen.

Mutta: I ripped my jacket, give me a spare.

He had his thumbs ghostly hovering over the screen.

It wasn’t as if he would refuse to let Mutta wear one of his jackets. They did in fact wear somewhat similar sizes, Mutta finding more comfort in the slight enormity of it. It wasn’t as if it was the first time either.

Yousef chuckled quietly to himself when he knew exactly which one he had a predisposition. It was a Levi’s trucker jacket-a faded denim color that had buttons that served no purpose either than being there. If anything, it was futile for the weather more than it was actually serving a purpose.

Yet, Mutta never seemed to be disdained by it. It’s as if he had forgotten his level of sheer discomfort because of how it just fit him. This past winter, he had told Yousef that the snow had nothing on him and as Yousef watched Mutta roll down the frosty hill with nothing other than gloves, a hat, his jeans, a white fleece with that trucker jacket that was unbuttoned- nothing seemed to dissuade him from rolling down the hill once more with his toothy grin.

Yousef: Trucker is in the laundry, man. ☹

(…)

Mutta: 💔

Yousef: Sorry, buddy-

(…)

Mutta: Ikke bekymre deg. Don’t worry about it. Neste gang, rett.

(…)

Yousef gazed at the kettle, a faint whistle emanating from within.

He glanced at his lap as his phone buzzed-

Mutta: How was 👶🏽👶🏼 ?

Yousef scrounged up his eyes as he focused on the varying baby emojis.

Yousef: 👍🙃 🛏️ ⌚

(…)

He had taken a quick nap after had had come back. Today, it was about learning how to write a letter within the lines and it’s only when he had to help a couple of them did he realize that maybe this wasn’t an easy task as he had imagined. Their tiny nimble hands slipped all over the page, the writing ending up more on the floor of the room rather than the paper.

It was-

Charming, to say the least.

He laughed a couple of minutes in, accepting that the amount of crayon wax that he would need to spend cleaning with a surface wipe as they took their second nap of the day. Fortunately, for him, it wasn’t as much of an endeavor rather than it was a redundant task.

Yousef wondered how they had managed to get crayon pieces stuck into a crevice on a bookshelf that had been three times their height. He wanted to say it might have had something to do with teamwork but he settled on sheer luck, as anyone could flick a wax piece in the air and have it coincidentally land somewhere.

He doesn’t question it as he collected the pieces of Crayola.

The group chat goes off-

Adam: CAVS JERSEY on and ready

Mikael: 😵 uh 3-0

Elias: Don’t listen to him. CAVS, Hele Veien!

Mikael: being real bro. ^^^

Adam: I’m being real bro! 😐😐😐😐

Mutta: The force is strong with the Warriors 🖖

Yousef rolled his eyes.

Yousef: That’s the Vulcan salute. Wrong universe, Mutta  😝 ❌❌❌

Mutta: huh? 🖖

Mikael: Star TREK is 🖖🖖🖖🖖🖖!

“Going out?”

Yousef jolted slightly in his seat as he glanced up, his eyes falling upon him mom. Pulling out a chair, his mother sat down across from him and fanned herself a few times with some newspaper that had been sitting on the table, something with Aftenposten written on top.              

“You’re not cold?” He asked instead, as he sat back on his stool and rolled a marble around an empty salad bowl.

She stopped fanning herself, glancing at him with the very intent of trying to understand where he was coming from. “I think I’m coming down with something.” She resumed ruffling the paper in her face, sliding her hand on the island for extra leverage as she leaned back in her chair.

“Oh.” He searched her face, saw the darkish hued bags under her brown eyes. She looked pale in comparison to her normal complexion, but other than that, she wore a mellow smile as she looked back at him.

“I’m fine.” She asserted.

“You sure?” He asked, reaching over to press the back of his hand against her forehead. There was no stark heat that emanated from her, so he pressed his index and middle finger against her wrist-quietly jotting down her pulse rate in his mind before pulling away.

She ran her hand over the woven fabric of his hat. “You look sick, not me.”

“I do not.” He chortled as he slowly withdrew his hand.

His mom gave him a look before setting the newspaper in front of her. “Come here.” She insisted.

He held his hands out in front of him, “I’m fine.”

His mother shook her head, as she folded her hands over her papers. “Alltid så sta. Always so stubborn.” Her voice is void of any frustration as she fixed the vase beside her.

“Me? Stubborn,” he snorted,  “I work with kids, ma.”

“So?” She pressed, “I raised both you and your brother, I know stubborn. Your father and now both of you, Insha’allah.”

Yousef stood up and walked over to the stove, fisting some lemon wedges in his hand before dropping them into the flask that he set beside the sink.

He knew stubborn. If stubbornness had a face, it would have been Sana. The way her dimples would deepen, as her brows creased inwards. She wore a resolute demeanor that spoke in volumes as she wrapped both her hands somewhat defensively across her rib cage. Stubborn was in the way she would refuse to even acknowledge the person she held disdain for. Stubborn was the way she would ask rhetorical questions and everyone had to be aware of the fact that answering her would only validate her frustrations.

It was the way her pupils were vacant and what he saw was how she felt. Emptied and maybe he could conflate it with being free but not seeing the familiar hue in her eyes felt wrong.

Yousef drew a sharp breath as he blinked away his thoughts, instead gripping onto the hydro flask between his palms, his skin turning a ghostly white from the sheer pressure.

“Yousef?”

He turned from the sink, “Yeah.” It was resigned.

“When you’re ready to talk, please remember that I’m here for you.” That was all.

Yousef rubbed his forehead. Never got tired, feeling like an asshole. He lifted the kettle from above the burner, swiping the switch off. He poured the steaming water from the spout into his flask, half way before settling the kettle back onto the burner. He clasped the lid on the flask before he walked over to the table and kissed his mother’s head. “I’ll be back, Ma.” She didn’t say anything, but he felt her eyes on his back all the way to the door.

He stepped outside, sliding his hood over his head as the breeze swept across his face and clamped onto his flesh as frosty prickles. When Yousef was outside, he stood against the railing of the steps and made himself take a few deep breaths.

The warmth from the flask seeped through the container, dispersing out and absorbed by his skin, warmth prickling the palms of his hand soon afterwards.

It had been days now and the only thing that had put Yousef in contact with Sana was these videos that they would shoot. Even then, he had a hard time stomaching the thought of having to be in the same room with her. He had a thousand and one questions and his prerogative to ask them shot to shit everytime she walked into a room.

He had to clamp his mouth shut just hearing her name, intrepid that his words would fall out of his mouth with such alacrity, she would probably think he’s more than an asshole than she had already decided him to be.

She had to-

He was-

Unfriended.

He walked into a room and she sulked as if his very presence had sucked the air out of the room. Even then, she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence.

Days was something he wasn’t underestimating.

He checked his iphone as he took large strides down the street and turned the corner to come to a stop at an intersection. Their group convo would buzz off every eight seconds or so, Mutta still confused by the very concept of what the difference was between Star Trek and Star Wars, Mikael insisting on clarifying.

Halfway up the street, his phone rang. Yousef swiped his thumb across the screen as he pressed it against his ear. “Hey.”

“Mikael is with me and we’ll meet you at your place and walk to Mutta’s.” Elias declared, a faint voice heard behind him, more of a loud snort. Could only be Mikael as he most likely continued to insist on making his point.

“No video?”

Elias clicked his tongue in verbatim, “Nah. Just changing places.”

Yousef slowed down his pacing, kicking his feet at the ground. “I’m already on my way.”

There was a shuffle on the other end. “Oh.” Another static buzz. “Uh, yeah-the girls came by a couple of minutes ago. They are doing their own russbuss planning and yeah it looks like they don’t want us here,” sarcasm so dry, it seeped through the cell, “So, we have all the space at Mutta’s to you know, just chill.”

Yousef breathed out, uncurling his fingers from around the flask.

“Unless you want to see Noora before we go to Mutta’s?” Elias drifted off.

Yousef frowned, consciously aware of the fact that Elias would not be able to see. He picked up his pace as he strolled across the street, flailing his palm out in front of him as a car approached his direction and stopped a short distance short.

“Noora?” Confusion was etched into every syllable, “Why?”

Elias scoffed. “Uh, you know why.” As if it was the most obvious answer. And maybe his perception was overestimated because at that moment, he felt as befuddled as the next person. If that next person had been Bart Simpson.

“No. Not really.” He huffed out.

There was a part of him that had been convinced that Elias wasn’t going to be able to maintain the silence, that it was going to be interrupted by a callous snort or a offhandish grunt.

“Right. So like you trying to keep this between you two still or do you want to try to you know? Maybe keep us in the loop, sometime soon.” Yousef was surprised at the flat harshness of Elias’ remark.

His feet came to a sharp halt.

“What.”

Elias was dismissive as he muttered, “It’s whatever, Yousef. It’s your life. It’s cool,” the sheer sternness of it implied otherwise. “Meet us at Birkelunden, and share your spot so we can find you when get there.” That was it. A click followed soon afterwards.

Yousef gripped his cell tighter, his knuckles cracking from the sheer force. He shifted his weight to his other leg as he extended his right leg outwards, digging the sole of his shoe into the cement pavement until his toes ached.

He dropped the hood from over his head, letting the harsh wind swipe against his face. It does nothing to soften the blazing heat that swarmed up to his cheeks, a smoldering warmth so blistering, he had to look around him to make sure it was even as cold as he had remembered.

The gust of air felt like the spines of knives pressing into every open crevice of his flesh, caving into his lower epidermis and twisting in on its own, in a repetitive and cruel manner.

“What.” He repeated to himself, shrinking as the implications dawned upon him like he finally had caught sight of a fast-paced truck sweeping in his direction.

Noora and him?

Noora and him?

There was no Noora and him.

“Oh sh-“

[itsclydebitches]

Summary:

"Good things come to those who wait... provided they know what they're waiting for."

Moments in Barry and Cisco's lives as they slowly and surely fall in love. It's simultaneously the easiest and most complicated thing they've ever done.

(Part of the "Worth the Wait" series.)

Fandom: The Flash (TV show)

Words: 3,207 

Warnings: None

Pairings: Barry/Cisco

This Section: Barry and Cisco’s first date. Picks up directly after Cisco asks Barry to coffee in "Worth the Wait."

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

Sickly Sweet 

There was monitoring Barry’s speed, hearing about it, even imagining it in his dreams... but then there was seeing it.

And holy Hannah. Jesus Christ, goddamn, let’s just get the whole family involved because it was so much more than he’d ever pictured. Cisco knew in that moment what it felt like to be visited by divinity. It was like the whole world had just opened to him, revealing more magic and possibility than he could have ever conceived.

It was awesome.

He was splayed out on his ass, the asphalt freezing his thighs and the wind—no, the kickback generated by Barry—was stinging his already cold cheeks. Cisco didn’t care though. He grinned until it felt like he was porcelain ready to crack and then he just kept on grinning. He wanted to live in this moment, bottle it and take a shot of it daily with his coffee.

“Hell yeah!” he cheered. “Hell fucking yeah!” Cisco hardly recognized his own voice. He pumped up the fist that held the speedometer, still generating numbers that kicked his heart into high gear. Cisco turned to make sure Caitlin and Dr. Wells were seeing this, understanding this, and let out another laugh at the scene splayed out behind him. Barry had massacred their stuff, papers strewn every which way and their tent drooping from a misaligned pole. Caitlin looked like someone had knocked her upside the head, complete with befuddled expression and fly-away hair. Cisco was a little afraid she was going to start drooling if she didn’t close her mouth soon. Dr. Wells, on the other hand, was cool as ever, courtesy of a great pair of sunglasses and, well, him being him. Cisco did catch his lean forward though, that same itch clearly thrumming through Dr. Wells’ body. It was the call to investigate.

“How fast?” he demanded. Yeah, Cisco could hear the thrill in his voice too.

“305. No wait, 375. He’s almost at 400!”

“And almost out of road—” Wells said, which was the exact moment the endless shhhhh of wind that had been emanating from the speakers connected to Barry’s suit cut off with a terrific crash. It suddenly occurred to Cisco, in the awful, stomach-dropping manner of someone who had Not Thought This Through, that Barry might know how to run, but he didn’t necessarily know how to stop.

He also realized that plastic barrels might not make for the most comfortable landing.

As well as what could happen to the human body when it hit a solid object at 400 miles per hour.

Cisco caught Caitlin’s eye and saw a similar horror reflected there.

“Oh shit,” he whispered.

Barry began screaming over the coms.

***

Cisco leaned heavily on the glass wall separating him from Barry, very firmly keeping his gaze on Caitlin instead. He let out a sigh he was sure she’d be able to hear.

Caitlin kept pouring over her x-rays. Cisco sighed louder.

“Did you want something?” she asked and it was only the smooth brow—she got crinkles when she was mad—that let Cisco know she was teasing. Which made sense. Who had time to be upset when they had a friend healing multiple fractures over the course of an hour to geek over?

Or who had time to pay attention to him?

Not Caitlin, apparently.

“I’m not good at this,” Cisco moaned.

“Actually you’re excellent at annoying me.”

“Ha. I mean this. Waiting.”

Caitlin finally looked up. Her gaze swept over Cisco before settling on Barry in the other room. He was still getting x-rays done, the machine personally adapted by Caitlin to take far more images than normal, separated over micro-seconds to catch minute changes in the healing process. She’d begun developing it about a month after they’d discovered Barry’s regenerative abilities. Looks like it was already coming in handy.

Her gaze shifted back to Cisco. “He’ll be out in a minute.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“...yeah, I know.” Caitlin ran a hand over her face. “I get the feeling we’re both going to have to get used to it though.”

Cisco finally turned to look at Barry. He was just lying there, too much like while he’d been in the coma, staring up at the ceiling as the x-ray moved slowly above his hand and wrist. Cisco had done his waiting then and it seemed a little unfair that he was suddenly required to do more. Worse was Barry’s scream echoing over and over in the back of his head. Cisco had heard people’s screams before. No duh. You weren’t at the heart of a goddamn particle accelerator explosion without witnessing certain shit only found in the movies: like the unholy screech of metal as it bent and collided with itself, hot flames on the back of your neck that sputtered out into noxious fumes, voices mangled into something unrecognizable, stemming from grief and pain. It had given Cisco nightmares for months, still did sometimes... but Barry’s cry was somehow worse.

Maybe it was the change: happy running sounds to sudden screams. Or maybe it was just the fact that he knew Barry.

Loved Barry.

Cisco thumped his head lightly against the glass. “You know what I am, right?”

“What are you?”

“The wife. I’m the one waiting at home while the hero runs off into danger. Sitting useless at the window, hoping for letter or a glimpse of him coming home—

something sappy like that. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Caitlin made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh. “Oh my god, just go talk to him,” and she practically shoved him out the door.

Cisco went, heels skidding the whole way.

Barry looked up and if he found it odd that Caitlin was manhandling him and then beating a hasty retreat, he didn’t mention it. Hell, not like that was odd in the grand scheme of things, yeah? Barry just sat up, carefully easing his arm out of the x-ray.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey back.”

Great one, Cisco, he heard and firmly told himself to shut the fuck up already. So Barry was easier to talk to while unconscious? Big deal. He was an intelligent, semi-responsible adult who could totally talk to cute guys okay it was easy—

“—Wells?” Barry was saying.

Cisco opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, not unlike a fish. “Wha?”

“I asked where Dr. Wells is.” The corner of Barry’s mouth twitched. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah. Fine. I mean, jeez, shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Ha! Guess a totally shattered wrist kind of puts a damper on coffee, huh?”

Aaaaand there it was. Cisco, of the genius IQ, was keenly aware that 1. Barry’s earlier acceptance of the invitation could have just been him being polite and 2. He probably didn’t feel like going out now anyway and 3. What had ever made him think he’d want to go out with him because 4. He’d just clocked in at nearly 400 MPH like that was rad as hell so 5. What were they even supposed to talk about, the weather? Like ‘Oh yeah, nice day we’re having, what’s the wind speed like when you’re going that fast?’ and 6. Cisco was so very aware that he was internally rambling but he just couldn’t stop.

Barry, miraculously, hadn’t left.

“—see why,” he was saying this time, and Cisco screamed at his brain to focus for one goddamn second. “I mean, I think I’m fine now.” To demonstrate Barry lifted his hand and very slowly rotated his wrist in a figure-eight. He did wince a little at the bend, but there were certainly no screams like before and for that, at least, Cisco was grateful.

“You’re good to go!” Caitlin called through the window, scaring the living hell out of Cisco. Barry snorted as he jumped and accidentally knocked a bottle of somethin’ or other off its tray. “Just go easy on it!”

That was all, apparently. Caitlin had already abandoned them for the new x-rays coming through to her laptop.

“Great!” Barry hopped off the bed, pausing only to grab his sweatshirt off a nearby chair. “Let’s go.”

“...right.”

They were going out. That was cool.

That was fantastic.

This time it was Barry dragging Cisco out the door and Caitlin gave him absent-minded thumbs up as he passed by.

***

If Cisco had thought that he was in control of this little outing, or that Barry in any way needed a refresher course on life after his nine-month nap, he was quickly disillusioned. They spotted Dr. Wells in a side workroom on their way out, somewhat obsessively going over the videotape of Barry’s first run. He waved them off, distracted, and with a happy cry at the freedom Barry practically bounded out of STAR Labs, dragging a starry-eyed Cisco along for the ride. He said that they should go to Jitters because the coffee there was easily the best ever. He said they should walk there because it was too nice a day not to. He said he liked Cisco’s “This is bullshit” t-shirt complete with bull and shit emojis and it took Cisco all of fifteen minutes to fall a little more in love with Barry Allen.

And by ‘a little’ he meant ‘a lot.’

“I got you, I got you,” Cisco said, flapping a bill at Barry when they finally reached Jitters. “‘Least I can do after all that is buy your drink. Besides, I don’t think Caitlin wants you carrying stuff just yet. Go sit.”

Barry saluted in thanks. “You a couch or a table person?”

Tables meant getting to stare at Barry without it being weird. Couch meant close, physical contact. Both had their merits. “You choose.”

“Couch it is,” and Barry jogged off to commandeer the spot in the corner, the one that had a 99.9% chance of being his usual haunt. Cisco smiled.

Because yeah, he might not know this joint, but it was clear that Barry felt at home here. There was an easy smile on his face and a looseness to his shoulders that Cisco hadn’t seen in STAR labs yet. He watched Barry texting on his phone with the kind of intensity he’d previously only given to circuitry.

“You feel like ordering this century?”

Cisco’s head whipped around, making eye contact with the barista and immediately wishing he hadn’t. There was nothing quite as scary as an overworked woman who needed to be done with her shift an hour ago.

Except maybe Dr. Wells without his coffee, Cisco was determined to never experience that particular horror again.

He tried for a winning smile. “Yeah, sorry. Head in the clouds there for a sec.”

Ah, and that completely cheered her! Not. Barista: 1, Cisco: 0.

Just get on with it, dude!

“Sorry,” he said again, muttering. “Right. Just—Iced mocha for me please and a—”

Cisco stopped, mouth snapping shut so fast and hard that he nearly bit his tongue in two. He could literally feel his eyes widening as he realized he’d never asked Barry his order.

“Uh...” he said, training off.

There were moments—awful, needless moments—when Cisco was all too aware of his awkwardness and the ways in which it dug him into deep, dark, and terribly dank holes. All at once he could feel the barista’s impatient glare boring into his forehead, the bodies of customers pressing against his back, and his poor brain trying to rifle through seven months worth of research... and coming up with absolutely nothing. How the hell could he know Barry’s shoe size and not his drink order?

“Sir?” she snapped.

He could stall, of course. Tell her to wait just one moment and hoof it over to Barry. That would absolutely be the smart thing to do, which was why Cisco opened his mouth and said,

“Large hot chocolate, please.”

The barista was too scary. He valued life too much.

Which was how he ended up back at Barry’s side five minutes later with a panicked expression and a kind of insulting drink.

“I don’t think you’re five,” he led with, causing Barry to blink owlishly up at him. “And you’re totally welcome to my mocha, or something else. Definitely something else. I mean I will brave that woman’s wrath for you, man, just say the word—”

At some point during his spiel Barry had snuck his hand out and snatched the second drink, taking a curious sip. His grin was the only thing that could have shut Cisco up in that moment. Which it did.

“How’d you know I like hot chocolate?”

I didn’t, I just figured literal rays of sunshine probably liked sweet things.

“Oh thank god,” is what he actually said and Barry laughed out loud.

The rest was, to Cisco’s shock, surprisingly easy. He settled in next to Barry (knees almost brushing, shoulder to shoulder as conversation got intense) and they just talked, like they hadn’t got a chance to yet, like he’d wanted to for as long as their ‘conversations’ had been one sided. Cisco blabbed everything to Barry, from the simple (“Born and raised here, dude. Never plan to leave.”) to the defining (“Star Trek kicks Star Wars’ ass!!”) Barry mostly told him things Cisco already knew... yet they became so much more coming from him. Details made all the difference, and Barry giving him parts of himself, rather than Cisco stealing them away, was the difference between a black and white film and color. Freaking vintage vs. HD.

“I just can’t believe it,” Barry was saying, lifting his hand as evidence. “I mean, the storm, the coma, waking up like—like this.” His whole body suddenly vibrated in a way that made Cisco gasp, then grab hold as if to shield him from view. No one noticed though, and he just ended up with a handful of Barry’s sweatshirt, Barry himself grinning a few inches from his face as Cisco grinned back. “Right? It’s crazy and awesome and... and I want to do something with it.”

Cisco was nodding rapidly. “You will, man. You’ll help people. I know it.”

Barry’s face had shifted into a scowl. “How though? I’m not exactly Green Arrow material, you know? I’m just a guy who got struck by lightning.”

“Oh that guy is crazy cool. Not that you’re not! You are. Only with a whole lot less of the crazy. Which is so completely the point here. You’re made for this, man. Besides, we’ll help you. I told you before: Dr. Wells is the world’s foremost genius—you know that—you’ve got Caitlin for all your patching up needs, I’m gonna supply you with the toys,” Cisco punched his arm, warm and pleased when Barry rocked with it, exaggerating a wince. “We’re the quintessential team, dude! Besides, no one knows what they’re doing at first. You’re in your freaking origin story faze. Volume one, alright? So chill and take it a day at a time. We’ve got your back.”

Barry was practically bouncing and Cisco made a mental note to never give him legit caffeine.

“We’re going to make the best team.”

“I never doubted it,” and Cisco honestly never had.

“Here.”

He went still because out of goddamn nowhere Barry’s hands were flat against his chest, pressing and kneading in a way that was both ‘hello’ and ‘oh my god.’ It took Cisco a good moment to realize that Barry was pawing for the cell in his shirt pocket, what with him imitating a deer about to be road-kill and all.

Mission accomplished (he could breathe again oh god breathing was good), Barry started entering his contact info, rambling about how he’d need to ask Singh to re-arrange his schedule a bit, and he could totally come into the lab at nights too if that was okay, because he’d been keeping track and he didn’t think he needed to sleep quite as much as he used to...

Cisco listened, but a part of him was on his knees in the back of his mind, raising hands and praising every deity he could think of. Because this never happened to him. He just wasn’t the guy who asked for coffee and got an honest ‘yes’ in response. He didn’t have gorgeous guys scrambling to give him their number. He didn’t get guys like Barry, complete with the happy ending.

“Barry!”

And of course it was his name that took it all back.

The call came from Iris, halfway across the room with a tray on her hip and an apron tossed over one shoulder. Cisco vaguely remembered her mentioning working here and he raised a hand in greeting, peripherally seeing Barry do the same. She gave a brief ‘one moment’ gesture and went into the back. Cisco went back to Barry.

He found a man sitting there, besotted.

Like his demeanor between the labs and Jitters, it was easy to spot the difference once it was there. With a feeling like plunging off a cliff Cisco catalogued the bright-eyes and dopy smile, Barry’s hands twisting around his cellphone and his teeth ever so lightly catching his bottom lip. It was the expression of someone head over heels and Cisco recognized it because he’d caught sight of his own reflection more than once lately.

Love often came down to assumptions... or perhaps more accurately faith. Cisco had accumulated a lot of both over the last seven months and now reality was knocking a sledgehammer against his carefully crafted facade. Because coffee wasn’t always coffee, was it? Not when Barry had an endless social life and was probably willing to share food, clothes, touch, and even beds with ‘best buds’—not just boyfriends. It was just the kind of guy he was. And it occurred to Cisco with a pang that his seven months was nothing to Barry’s seven days. That Barry might have rightfully viewed all this as friendship—which is was—but not the kind that needed to go anywhere. Hell, Cisco didn’t even know if he was gay, or bi, or pan, or anything. Pictures of Barry with a painted face at Pride could just be solidarity. The selfie of him kissing a guy’s cheek could be humorous, or another example of his touchy nature. Everything he’d built into a Something could be nothing at all.

He wasn’t the ‘wife’ waiting for the hero, was he? Nah. Cisco was the two-bit sidekick and they never got the romantic lead. Didn’t he know the stories by now? The gorgeous guy always got the pretty girl.

They were their happy ending and Cisco felt sick.

“You okay?” Barry asked. He laid a hand on Cisco’s shoulder, the touch burning, but at least it was entirely for him. He’d torn his gaze away from Iris to look at Cisco and really, was he entitled to ask for more?

No. Barry didn’t owe him anything…but Cisco would take what he could get. He always had.

He clapped his hand on top of Barry’s.

“Of course, dude. Never better.”