#and a few days later i have Another group project due with the exact same people

[miodiodavinci]

oughgh

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu​ 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates. 

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens. 

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class. 

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him. 

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all. 

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly. 

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months. 

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got. 

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career. 

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course. 

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.” 

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you. 

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen. 

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.) 

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side. 

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly. 

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester. 

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness. 

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you. 

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face. 

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!” 

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things. 

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone. 

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought. 

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you. 

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news. 

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward. 

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason. 

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away. 

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom. 

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same. 

Apparently not. 

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed. 

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile. 

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.” 

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck. 

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot. 

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi. 

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.” 

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.  

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face. 

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments. 

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.” 

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.” 

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character. 

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester. 

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right. 

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile.  He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.” 

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?” 

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh. 

This man was dangerous for your heart. 

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.” 

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you. 

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well. 

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook. 

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[karanna1]

AU - Lena Luthor Saves Krypton

Lena is somehow sent back in time and finds herself on Krypton 30 years before the planet explodes. Kara doesn’t exist yet. Krypton has no idea what’s about to happen to them.

Lena realizes that with her knowledge of what’s to come and intellect to devise a solution, she can do two things. One, she can save an entire species from near extinction. Two, she can save Kara from ever having to experience the pain of losing her family, her home, and being abandoned. Kara could live a happy life and never know the burden of Supergirl or being the last daughter of Krypton.

So instead of trying to find a way back to Earth, back to her own time, she settles into life on Krypton, becomes fluent in Kryptonese, and sets about with a spectacularly single-minded focus of changing the future - to save this dying world (and Kara).

She succeeds...mostly. They can’t fix the damage that’s already been done to the planet. Their sun will die and destroy Krypton still, but with Lena’s help they’re able to locate a barren planet in another system that has a white star. It’s brand new, strong, and will live for untold trillions of years (provided Kryptonians didn’t try to harness its power again).

They terraform the planet and create “New Krypton” using the dome concept that Zor-El invented fused with Coluan bottling technology. All Kryptonians are instantly transported to their new home that’s identical to the old one save for one difference - the white sun grants them god-like powers that are beyond what Lena ever saw Kara and Clark capable of on Earth. Kryptonians are overwhelmed en masse by these powers. Some go power mad and attempt coups and form radical sects. Others realize the gift they’ve been given and, with Lena’s guidance, Kryptonian society develops under a new mission - to travel the galaxy and offer help to all those in need. Not just offering knowledge and technology this time, but themselves with their newfound powers.

Lena keeps her distance from the House of El as much as she can. It’s nearly impossible considering their standing with the Kryptonian High Council. Lena has to work very closely with the Council. Jor-El and his brother, Zor-El, are brilliant scientists and statesmen. Alura In-Ze is a rising star in the judicial system. Her marriage to Zor-El, second born son of the House of El, caused quite a few waves, but when Lara Lor-Van, a brilliant biologist and prominent noble of the House of Van, agrees to marry Jor-El, it’s all anyone can talk about. All 4 of them live very public lives due to their professions, their positions on the High Council, and their nobility.

They’re ever so fascinated by Lena Luthor, the human from Earth that appeared one day to save their entire planet. Their savior. The one their people have named “The New Dawn”. Lena wants nothing to do with the House of El. It’s too much. She can’t bear to be so close to Kara’s family without Kara. It feels wrong. Unfortunately, with how much Lena tries to avoid them, the 4 nobles think they’ve done something to offend her, and constantly attempt ways to make amends. It only makes Lena’s life that much more difficult.

But she still knows the exact date and time that Kara Zor-El steps into existence. Later, she will know the moment Kal-El is born (mostly because Lara’s natural birth is all anyone can talk about).

Lena meets Kara on New Krypton entirely by accident one day when Zor-El brings his brilliant young daughter, a prodigy in the Science Guild, to see Krypton’s finest laboratory entirely unannounced. The same laboratory that Lena founded and runs. She’s stricken, having tried to avoid this moment for as long as she could, knowing that eventually she’d have to see Kara as child, which would spell the end of every fanciful dream or slightest hope she had of a chance that someday she would find Kara, her best friend, again. Seeing the reality both warms her heart and breaks it all the same. This bouncing bundle of joy and inquisitiveness has the same blinding smile, in all its purity, with that same head of golden hair.

“You’re THE Lena Luthor?”

She kneels before her so they’re at eye level. “I suppose I am. And you’re THE Kara Zor-El?”

The ten year old gasps. “You know who I am?”

“Of course. I know all the important people. And you are a very important person, Kara.”

“I am?”

Zor-El interjects. “I’ve told Lena all about you, my dear. I’m sure she’s grown tired of my endless babbling about my wonderful daughter and her keen scientific mind.”

“Not at all,” Lena replies a bit flatly and tries to tune him out as she focuses on the young girl who will one day be a most extraordinary woman. “Do you enjoy the Science Guild, Kara?”

“Yes! I love to learn new things. As many things as I can! Sometimes father asks me to work with him in his laboratory at home and I help him with his projects!”

“That does sound like fun. I enjoy creating things as well.”

“You’re the most brilliant bio-engineer on Krypton! I’ve read all about you! You saved us.”

Lena shies away from the praise and instead fumbles her way forward, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Zor-El, whom she’d never given the time of day until he walked in with his daughter.

“Tell me, Kara, do you like other subjects besides science?”

Kara fidgets, a little confused. “Well, I don’t...they don’t give you much time for other subjects. I-I do try to read about other things like art and history when I have free time, but I’m not really allowed—“

“She’s a hard worker and a wonderful student,” Zor-El interrupts again.

Lena ignores him. “Do you enjoy writing, Kara?”

“Writing?”

“Creation comes in many forms. I enjoy being able to create things with my hands. Machines. Technology. Things to help people. Science is my passion, but there are many other ways to help people. Ways that I’m not very good at, but others are. Writing takes a curious mind, creativity, and a way with words. I believe you might have a gift for that.”

“A gift for words?” Her little brow crinkles as she considers it.

Lena nods. “A writer can do a great many things that a scientist cannot. They are equally as powerful and important. What matters is doing what you love most, what inspires you most. You’re going to do great things one day, Kara. Maybe with the Science Guild, maybe with something else... The future is limitless for you.”

“You really think I could be that important someday?”

“You already are.” Lena smiles and breathes deeply. “Do you know what your name means where I come from?”

She shakes her head. “I have read about Earth. It’s very far away and my Aunt Astra says their civilization is primitive and filled with savages. They have my name there too?”

“Daughter, do not speak—“

Lena waves off Zor-El’s warning without looking at him.

“That’s not an unfair assessment of Earth compared to Krypton, but I do believe humanity would surprise a great many Kryptonians, including your Aunt. In my native language, Kara means ‘beloved friend’.”

Kara beams in a way that is so achingly familiar. It’s like an echo in Lena’s memory. Not exact, not complete, but the beginning of what it will become.

“I like that. Does that mean I’m your friend?”

Lena feels it in that moment. The melting warmth simultaneous with the absolute shattering of what was left of her heart.

“I will always be your friend, darling. Always.”

Kara leaves with her father and Lena’s coworkers are concerned when she goes off planet for an impromptu holiday without notice. She returns two months later and picks up as if she never left.

It’s around that time that one of the people she’s befriended in her years on Krypton remarks at how ageless she seems for a human that supposedly has a short life span. It sparks Lena’s curiosity. Indeed, it’s been nearly 30 years since she traveled back in time and found herself on a new planet. Yet you’d be hard pressed to find a single physical difference. Kryptonians aged slowly under a red star, and even slower still under the white star, but Lena was human. Her body wasn’t designed to accommodate solar radiation the way Kryptonians did. She was over 50 years old now, yet she still didn’t look a day over 28.

More years pass and New Krypton thrives. The galaxy is brought together through New Krypton’s diplomacy and thousands of planets and species are united under a banner of peace. There are always dissenters, but happiness and prosperity is widespread. Lena finds joy in friendships and attempts romantic relationships, but nothing ever really takes. Still, she’s content. She misses Earth, of course, and hopes to return one day before she dies, whenever that will be, but she’s found peace in knowing that she is able to be the one thing she’s always wanted - a force for good.

She’s at dinner with coworkers one night when Lara and Jor-El spot her. She sighs and straightens, preparing for their next attempt to get in her good graces.

“Do they never desist?” One of them mutters next to her ear. “Surely they’re intelligent enough to know when they’re not wanted?”

“Don’t be unkind, but help me keep it short if it goes on too long.”

“Lena! It’s wonderful to see you,” Lara says.

“You as well. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

Lena’s table has gone conspicuously, and therefore awkwardly, silent.

Lara and Jor-El look around at the group uncomfortably.

“We were wondering...well, our niece is being inducted to the—“

“The Science Council as First Order,” Lena finishes for her. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s a great honor. I’m sure the House of El is quite proud.”

“Indeed we are,” Jor-El jumps in. “She’s a most remarkable young woman and we couldn’t be prouder of who she’s become.”

“We are holding a celebration to mark the occasion and were wondering if you might honor us by attending? It will be quite the event.” Lara does a slight eyeroll. “Jor is insisting on all the fantastical things.”

Jor-El nods enthusiastically. “My brother isn’t one for celebrations so I’ve taken up the mantle. Kara deserves all the praise she’s earned with her hard work and dedication.”

“You’ll have to forgive my mate’s enthusiasm. He’s quite invested in Kara since she can share his passion for his life’s work while our son is—“

“Disgustingly hopeless,” Jor-El grumbles.

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “A great disappointment he’s been then?”

“Goodness no!” Lara shakes her head and shoots a warning look at her husband. “Kal is a fine boy. Just...a little lost.”

“Perhaps he is simply in need of a different path than the one his father has in mind,” Lena finds the words tumbling out of her mouth without thinking twice. The couple stares at her agape, but she continues without care. “I can certainly sympathize with the need to step out of the shadow of a family’s overbearing legacy.” She sighs. “While I thank you for considering me, it’s simply not possible with my days usually booked from dawn to dusk. Besides, parties have never been altogether pleasant endeavors for me.”

The disappointment on their faces isn’t what changes her mind. It’s that as soon as she says the words, she regrets it. She’s, of course, kept up with Kara’s doings and was concerned when she heard about the recent move in the Science Guild. Was journalism just a secondary passion since she couldn’t truly use her mind on Earth the way she could on Krypton? Or was this a woman just following in her family’s footsteps because she believed it was the right thing to do? Lena hadn’t seen or spoken to Kara in 16 years. Not since the day Zor-El brought her to the lab.

In the end, it’s Lena’s concern and curiosity for Kara’s well being that wins out. Though she very well knows that the woman that existed in another life, on another planet, is not the woman who lives here now on New Krypton. Even if she shared the same name and the same face...maybe even the same bright eyes and sunny smile. Even then.

“Send me the invitation. I’ll see what I can do,” Lena says, to the surprise of everyone at her table, including the two standing next to it.

They nod, stunned but pleased, and say their goodbyes quickly, walking away.

Lena’s coworkers all turn to her in surprise, but she refuses to answer their questions and excuses herself early for the evening.

She doesn’t show for the celebration. She torments herself for a week coming up to it and can’t bring herself to go. The fear of the past and her memories being trod upon are too strong. But somehow she finds herself in the Starling Grove anyway, just as it comes to an end. The evening is late and guests slowly make their exit after the long day of partying. Lena practically sneaks in, staying in shadows, not knowing what she hopes to find or what she could see that would make all her fears come true.

Is it any wonder that fate would intervene? That there would be no circumstance in which Lena could fly so close to the sun and not be touched?

“If avoiding people is your specialty, you’re very skilled at it.”

It’s almost terrifying to hear her voice again. It’s a different language being spoken, but the voice is the same. As if it’d been snatched from the deepest recesses of Lena’s memories, of a different life and a different world, and brought to the present in flesh and blood with a bolt of lightning.

She turns and it’s Kara smiling at her. Not the sunny smile. The soft, tender, reassuring one. The one that she used to share with Lena when she had one of her harder days. Kara was no longer the small and precocious child she met all those years ago, the one that she could almost convince herself was a complete stranger and that there was no connection between the child and the woman she knew. But that was gone now. The Kara standing before her was the same one she’d left behind on Earth. The one she’d given up in order to save her. The one who walked into her office so many years ago, trailing behind her cousin, and Lena knew she was done for. 

Her eyes were so blue as she looked at her...bluer than Lena remembered and it seemed so impossible. Perhaps it wasn’t real. Perhaps she was dreaming. But she wasn’t...was she?

“My skills must be rusty since you were able to catch me.”

Kara put a finger to her smiling lips. “Shh. Finding people is one of my untold gifts.”

“I imagine you have a lot of those.”

Kara looks pleasantly flustered and she stammers over her words in a way that Lena knows so well that the sound of it squeezes her heart in a vise like grip.

She’s not the same person. She’s not your Kara. Your Kara doesn’t exist anymore. Over and over she repeats this in her head.

“Wait...” Kara finally collects herself and peers at Lena more closely. “You’re-you’re Lena Luthor! My Uncle said you might be here, but I never thought...”

“On my home world, they like to say it’s fashionable to be late. However, tonight was just a tad bit too far. I...I simply wanted to stop by and wish you well. A-and to congratulate you on your achievement.”

Did she manage to say that with any passing conviction?

“Thank you. That means a great deal coming from someone like you.”

“Are you happy?” She blurts before her good sense can kick in. “This life...does it make you happy?”

Kara looks at her oddly for a long moment, clearly thrown, but not put off. Lena doesn’t know what else to say that could fix her blunder. 

“Yes,” she says, a serene smile creeps across her face. “I’m very happy. I love my family and my friends. I enjoy my work. I hope to have a family of my own one day, but I don’t mind waiting for the right person. Everyone always wants to rush me into something, telling me that I shouldn’t be alone, but I don’t mind it. When it’s right, I know that it will be worth the wait.”

Lena’s heart stutters and freezes. “I-I’m glad to hear that. Truly. I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time though. I’m sure you have somewhere to be and it’s late so I really should be going anyway.”

“Oh! Um. Yes, of course.” She looks disappointed, but Lena can’t think about that. “Thank you for being here.”

Her legs feel as though they’re weighted with cement as she walks away. Her mind screams at her to run, but her body doesn’t seem to get the message. She doesn’t want to leave Kara’s side. Not like this. Not after she’s found her again.

But it’s not her. Not really.

“My Lady?”

She turns around at once. Kara stands there, fiddling with her hands, her head tilted to the side.

“Apologies. I-I remember reading that you never liked that title. You prefer...what was it...” She closes her eyes as she searches for it. “Oh!” Her eyes fly open again. “Miss Luthor. I should have addressed you as ‘Miss Luthor’, yes?”

The ‘Miss’ was heavily accented and sounded nothing like how she used to say it, but it still tore Lena apart.

“I never forgot what you said.”

The voice in Lena’s head screams again for her to run, but instead she draws closer. She needs to hear it. 

Her Kara.

No, it’s not her.

“What did I say?”

“I was a little girl. My father brought me to your lab to show me around.”

“I remember.”

Don’t let her do this. Don’t let her pull you in again. You can’t. For both of your sakes, you can’t.

“You talked about different ways of creating. Of passion. It’s silly, I know, and I’m sure you say it to all the children who read about you in school and have a serious case of hero worship, but...you told me I was important.”

“You are.” 

It’s a reflex. She can’t help it.

“And you said that I had a gift for words. I never understood why you would say that. How you could know...”

Lena chuckles awkwardly. “Looks like I was off the mark since you’ve just joined the Science Council.”

“But you weren’t.”

Lena’s breath hitches.

“I’ve never told anyone else this...” 

Kara steps closer, sharing a secret that Lena doesn’t know she deserves to hear. She wonders if she still knows how to breathe with Kara being this close after so long...so many years gone... 

“I started writing that day. That very night I went home and I tried it. I never stopped. I’ve never been happier than when I’m writing. Imagining stories or just writing my thoughts, putting memories into words, keeping a record of each day and what I’ve done, who I’ve seen, what my first thought is in the morning and my last thought at night. All of it.”

Kara was so close. She could smell her. Nothing like what she remembered. It was something altogether new and still...still... Lena’s heart beat so loudly, she was sure every Kryptonian within miles was wondering what that raucous drumming noise was. What must Kara think? Surely she could hear it. Lena was embarrassing herself.

“You inspired me.”

Lena doesn’t know how she manages it, but she somehow strings together coherent words. 

“But you continued to pursue...”

“The Science Guild, yes. I’m very good there. It comes easily. It makes my family proud.”

“It’s not your passion though.”

Kara shakes her head gently.

“What stops you?”

“Well, what if I’m not really good at writing after all? I’ve never told anyone about it. I’ve never let them read anything... What if I make a terrible mistake and humiliate myself and my family?”

“Following your heart isn’t a mistake.”

“That’s not a very Kryptonian sentiment.”

“No, but it is a human one.” Lena sighs. “I tried so hard, for so long, not to listen to mine. But it won out every time. Despite all the pain it brought me...I remind myself that it’s what brought me here. To this planet. To this time. To do good. To be good. Following your heart is the most terrifying notion, but in my experience, it has also led me to the greatest moments of joy and love that I’ve ever known.”

Kara stares at her in wonderment. Her long blonde locks flow over her shoulders. Her dress is white and flowing, almost luminescent under the glow of the evening flowers blooming in the garden. It became quickly apparent how very alone they were, the last guests and servers from the party were gone. The torches were still lit, but it was their own world.

Wasn’t it always?

It’s not her.

“I don’t think I could be as brave as you.”

“You have always been brave and I know that you are capable of the most extraordinary amount of courage...courage and boundless hope. You are the one who inspires me, Kara. You always have.”

“Me?” She replies in the softest utterance. “But I haven’t done anything nearly as incredible as you.”

“The kind of person you are is far more important than any sum of career achievements. Don’t let fear make you hide in the shadows, Kara. Step into the sun. You’ve always belonged there.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“When will you step out of the shadows, Miss Luthor?”

A voice calls for Kara in the distance. It’s jarring and breaks the spell that seemed to lock them together in time suspended.

They step away, now acutely aware of how close they’d been this whole time.

Kara blushes and opens her mouth to say something, but Lena can’t bear to hear it.

“Goodnight, Kara Zor-El. I hope you enjoyed your party.”

Another voice joins the first. Two people are calling for her now. Kara seems frustrated and turns back, yelling to them that she’d be there soon.

She turns back. “I—“

But Lena’s gone.

She leaves New Krypton again. Journeys to other planets under the guise of a holiday and scientific exploration. She wonders if now is the time to return to Earth. She can’t even call it home anymore, but it’s home...isn’t it? 45 years could be enough to make New Krypton home and maybe it was. Maybe it was more of a home than Earth. But New Krypton had spectres walking among the living. Lena’s past had caught up to her here as well. She was no longer alone. Would Earth be any better with a reminder at every street corner? A certain smell. A park bench. A pair of glasses. Food. All of the food on Earth. She would never truly escape there either. It has to be a different planet. Not New Krypton, not Earth, something else entirely. 

She searches across galaxies for it. Finally, one appeals to her. She can see herself settling down there. She can make a new life for herself...again. She returns to Krypton with determination. She resigns from her position, ignores the High Council’s pleas, ignores their more pointed demands, and even their attempted orders when it appeared that nothing else was working. She packs her things and bids farewell to her friends. They’ll visit now and again, but soon she won’t be seeing them at all. It doesn’t bother her all that much. She’d find replacements eventually. No one had ever been like... Well, she’d never let anyone get close enough to try.

She was walking out of her building for the last time, her luggage already sent ahead, and was headed to the transport when she heard her voice again on the wind, calling her name. Of course she would hear her now. This was exactly why she needed to leave this place. The sooner the better to end this torment.

The transport doors were nearly closed when a hand shot between them. The metal alloys were crushed in a powerful grip and the doors were jerkily pried open again.

Kara stood in front of her. Her hair windswept, almost what it used to look like when she would fly to Lena at breaking speed to rescue her. Did she fly here? Was she really here?

“Kara?”

“Lena, don’t go.”

“What are y—?”

“That’s government property!” someone shouts at Kara from further away. 

A Kelex zooms in beside her. “And you were flying within city limits which is strictly prohibited. Unfortunately, Lady Kara, this means we must place you under arrest.”

A patrolman, the one who shouted, walks up behind Kara, nodding his head in agreement.

“Arrest?” She rolls her eyes at the Kelex and turns to the patrolman. “The doors were an accident and sorry about the flying thing. I’ll pay the fines. I doubt Alura In-Ze will take kindly to you dragging someone in for petty infarctions, let alone that someone being her daughter.”

Lena finds herself walking out of the transport, entirely of her own volition, and watches it leave without her. Kara is arguing with the patrolman over what her fines should be, but suddenly Lena feels someone take her hand. She looks down and sees that indeed there is another hand holding hers. She drags her gaze up to find those blue eyes again. A ghost. A spectre. Everything she was trying to escape.

“I’m sorry to just...burst in on you like this. But you’ve been gone for months and I only just heard that you’d come back, planning to leave New Krypton for good. I didn’t...”

“You didn’t what?”

“I don’t know.” Her brow furrows in frustration. “I didn’t plan this. I just...when I heard, I felt like I had to stop you.”

Lena pulls her hand away and crosses her arms. She needs to get ahold of herself. This was all so out of control.

“Why?”

Kara is just as bewildered as she is. “Well, I...I’m not sure. But we’ve only just started.”

“What?”

“Don’t you feel it? I know you must.”

She swallows thickly. “Kara, I...”

“I think there’s a lot you haven’t told me. A lot that I hope you will tell me. You promised me once that you would always be my friend. Please, Lena. We both know that this...it’s not supposed to end here.”

“When is it supposed to end?”

“I hope not for very long time.”

“I’ve lived a lifetime already.”

Kara grins. “Then what’s one more? Should be easy if you’ve already done it.”

Lena shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Somehow I do...and I don’t. I know it’s strange. I know what I sound like. But I think you understand. Don’t you?”

“Kara...”

“Are you hungry?” She interrupts. “I’m famished. The flying thing is really fun, but I always get so hungry after. How about it?”

“I’m supposed to be boarding a ship in 20 minutes.”

“We can eat fast!”

“I know you can eat fast, that’s not the point,” she mutters. “I have to go.”

“But you see? You say things like that. Like it’s normal to just know these things about me, but it’s not. How do you know? We’ve only met twice and both times it feels as though you know everything about me.”

“Everything?” She scoffs. “No. Never.”

“Well, the important things anyway.”

Lena falters.

“Please? Just...for a little while? There’s always another ship if you really must go.”

No.

No, I’ve been through this before. I saved you. I saved your people. You’re happy. I don’t belong here. I’ve never belonged. This is your world. I don’t belong anywhere. I did what was right. I helped people. I still help people. But I won’t do this again.

“I’m pretty sure you know that a Kryptonian can tell when you’re lying. The white star brought us untold abilities. And the longer I’ve lived here, under this new sun, I’ve discovered more abilities. Would you like to know about them?”

Lena can only stare.

“If I’m close enough...and I concentrate hard enough...I can feel what you’re feeling. It’s not mind reading exactly, but something deeper. I can feel you right now.” She swallows hard. “What have I done to cause you such pain, Lena? I never thought that... If you have to go, I won’t stop you. I just thought...” She sighs defeatedly. “I don’t know what I thought. But it wasn’t this. It wasn’t pain. Or anger. Or betrayal.”

Lena’s eyes widen at the same time as Kara’s. She seemed to realize it only as she spoke the word aloud.

“Betrayal?” Kara whispers, half to herself. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand.”

“You’re lying.”

“Stop it.”

“I can’t! Tell me what’s happening. How can you be so angry with me, but also feel...like this...when we don’t even know each other?”

“But we do.” 

At last she admits it. 

In the quietest whisper. 

“We did. Once. In another life.”

Kara nods slowly. “Where?”

“On Earth.”

“I’ve never been to Earth.”

“Not in this time. But in another...you were Earth’s Champion. Our Protector. The Paragon of Hope.”

“As you are the Protector of Krypton? Our Salvation. The New Dawn.”

Lena shrinks uncomfortably under the titles.

“Will you tell me more?”

“You believe me?”

“Of course I do. You’re Lena Luthor. Also, with my powers I can sense you’re telling the truth, so...” She shrugs lightly at that, a sheepish smile.

“Right. Well, I admit I’m still a bit resentful that after everything I’ve been through, I still didn’t get even a hint of those powers.”

Kara takes her hand again, tentatively this time. She probably thinks Lena will pull away.

She doesn’t.

“There’s been a rumor for ages that you’re immortal. Are you saying that’s not true? From what I’ve read, humans have a shorter life span than us. Your species only live about 85 years or so.”

“I’ve heard the rumor and, yes, the average human lifespan is shorter than a Kryptonian’s.”

“You look pretty darn good for your age if you’re preparing to join Rao in a few cycles.”

Lena has to laugh. She lets Kara lead her away from the platform and down to the street. They walk hand in hand.

“So you’re not immortal?”

“It remains to be seen.”

“Then maybe our white sun did give you a hint of something after all.”

“Maybe. I have yet to ascertain the cause.”

“I could help you with your study, should you choose to explore it further.”

“You want to study me?”

Kara blushes. “I...I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant—“

“I know what you meant.”

Silence falls between them.

“You’re still holding my hand.”

“You’re still letting me.”

“It’s strange.” She stares. “You’re different. You’re so different than you were before, a completely different person, but somehow...when I look at you, you’re exactly who you’ve always been.”

“Are you different now too?”

“Yes.” She shrugs. “I think so anyway.”

“But we’ve still found each other. That means something.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this? You might be angry with me. I...I made choices that changed your life. A great number of lives.”

“I want to hear everything. But even if I do get angry, I won’t leave. I promise.”

Lena starts at that. How could she know exactly—? The realization hits her. 

“My fears...you feel them right now, don’t you?”

Kara nods. “I won’t betray you, Lena. Whatever mistakes I’ve made before...in that other life...I won’t make them again.”

“You’ll make other mistakes.”

“Of course!” She laughs. “I’m gifted, but hardly perfect. You’ll make mistakes too, even if you are the Great New Dawn.”

“Two prodigies...” Lena raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know how people stand us. We must be insufferable to be around.”

“I can’t be held accountable for the jealousy of others.”

Lena chuckles. “Good to know you’re as competitive as ever.”

“And you? Are you competitive as well?”

“On occasion...when it comes to the right things.”

Kara grins. “Tell me more about Earth.”

“Earth or...you on Earth?”

“Both. Or just one. Whatever you like. We have all the time we need. We’ll get to it eventually.”

“Kara?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Of losing you? Yes, I’m afraid. I thought I did when you left me in the Grove that night.”

“It’s different this time though.”

“Different how?”

“You were afraid before. O-on Earth. So you lied to me. Hid things from me. You were afraid I’d reject you.”

“So I lost you anyway?”

“For a while.”

“I know who I am and I want to share all of that with you. I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I don’t. Do you think that means I learned my lesson with a second chance?”

“Even though you don’t remember the first?”

Kara tilts her head thoughtfully.  “Are you familiar with the theological concept of reincarnation?”

Lena nods.

“Many species and cultures detail it differently, but the belief that a soul does not reside in an afterlife fascinates me. The idea that one could instead be reborn and is destined to learn new lessons with each life that it failed to learn in the last. Maybe we found a way to do that without needing to die at all.”

“Are you sure you’re the First Order of the Science Council? Because that sounds an awful lot like preaching I’ve heard from the Religious Guild. You’re in the wrong profession.”

Kara rolls her eyes. “If anything, I should have joined the Artisans. But it’s too late for that.”

Lena’s quiet for a moment. They’re walking along streets she’s never seen before and doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.

“I think I’m learning...” she says softly, “that it’s never too late. If you want something enough, it’s never too late.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Lena looks around. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“No, I thought you did.”

“No. I guess we’re lost then.”

Kara shrugs with a charming, sunny smile that lights her whole face. It’s the one that Lena hasn’t seen in over 40 years and it takes her breath away.

“Oh well.” Kara squeezes Lena’s hand happily. “I suppose we’ll find our way together.”

[momsopposed2theoccult]

It’s come to my attention that a good majority of people on this website have a really poor understanding of the conflict between Toph and Katara in “The Chase.” As somebody who loves both characters and their friendship, this irritates me. Without further ado, let’s unpack that in what is in theory supposed to be a meta but turned out more like a rant. 

“Katara was hostile towards Toph because the fact that she’s a gender non-conforming girl made Katara uncomfortable because Katara is obsessed with gender roles.”

Alright, so right off the bat this is just... completely idiotic and clearly fuelled by an agenda (and likely also a lot of projection). First of all, how is Katara of “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!” fame “obsessed with gender roles?” There’s an entire episode in Book One dedicated to Katara refusing to conform to societal norms for women in the Northern Water Tribe! Katara routinely calls Sokka out on his misogynistic bullshit! (Mind you I adore Sokka but he could be a little twerp at times and Katara was 100% right to challenge him on it) Katara is the feminist icon of ATLA! The fact that people act like Katara is some sort of conservative tradwife who loves gender roles instead of the outspoken feminist and political activist she is makes me incredibly angry.

Second of all, Katara was extremely kind and welcoming towards Toph at first. She gently encouraged her to join in with the group as they all set up camp together as opposed to setting up her own private camp. It’s only when Toph refuses to comply with her that Katara begins to get irritated. Mind you, Toph has her reasons for this, something I’ll get to in a minute, but from Katara’s perspective (key word here is perspective) she’s just being an annoying little stubborn, selfish, lazy, anti-social, entitled brat. Of course we the audience find out later that this isn’t the case at all (or at least in theory we should find out later but apparently some people on here skipped that part), but for all her many talents Katara is not a mind reader and has no way of knowing what’s going on inside Toph’s head, nor does she know her well enough yet to fully grasp the context behind why Toph acts the way she does. Katara is somebody who greatly values community and believes in teamwork, so Toph turning down her warm welcome in favour of “carrying her own weight” likely felt like a slap in the face. Not to mention that she’s already emotionally exhausted from having to constantly mother Aang and Sokka. If I were Katara, I likely would have reacted the same way. 

Oh and I agree that the “the stars look beautiful tonight, too bad you can’t see them, Toph” comment was out of line, but it doesn’t make her a horrible person. It makes her a 14 year old, and 14 year olds can be nasty, especially sleep deprived 14 year olds. Katara is otherwise a very kind and compassionate person. Other characters have said worse than that. Hell, Toph herself has said worse than that. That being said, it was a deeply hurtful comment and I do like to imagine that she apologized for it off-screen. 

“Toph is a lazy, entitled, and classist spoiled rich brat who just didn’t want to do chores and expected other people to wait on her.” 

This is another one that makes me roll my eyes and ask if they even watched the show. First of all, the presumption that Toph is a lazy or entitled person is just... laughable. I feel like people forget that Toph isn’t actually an earthbending prodigy in the way that Azula is a firebending prodigy (I could say more about Azula and how her belief that she was the unshakeable prodigal daughter ultimately caused her downfall and how by the end of the series Zuko is arguably a better firebender than her but this isn’t a meta about Azula and Zuko, now is it?). Nah. Toph was a sheltered kid who discovered she had the ability to earthbend, was told that she could never become great at it because she was blind, and in response said FUCK THAT and decided to work her ass off until she was not only great but the very greatest all thanks to her crazy, stupid, off-the-charts nerve, drive, grit, ambition, and desire to prove people wrong about her. Does that sound like a lazy person to you? Believe me when I say that you do not achieve that kind of skill level by sitting around on your ass and expecting to have things handed to you. And entitled? Don’t make me laugh. Toph hates having things handed to her, that’s one of her defining characteristics. 

As for the implication that she’s classist and enjoys basking in her family’s wealth and being waited on...... are you stupid? Did you even watch the show? Toph absolutely despises everything about her parents’ lifestyle. Growing up like that was traumatizing and restrictive for her. We’re talking about a girl who likes to play around in the mud for fuck’s sake. Toph does not care how much money you have. She never wanted any to begin with. She even says it herself; “I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. They gave me everything I could have wanted. But they never gave me what I actually needed - their love.” Not to mention that she easily could have continued to freeload off her parents wealth but instead chose to sneak out of the house and make her own money doing what she did best; disproving people’s assumptions about her earthbending. Oh and I’ve seen someone point this out before but WWE is generally considered a “low brow” activity that “proper” people frown upon and shouldn’t associate themselves with. Toph fucking loved it. I don’t know how seriously people take the comics, as they often miss the mark when it comes to characterization (Toph’s, however, was generally pretty accurate), but there’s a part in The Rift where Sokka asks her when she’s going to start charging people to learn metalbending and she gets all serious and flat out tells him that she will never do such a thing, because money doesn’t matter to her. Sharing her one true passion with the world is what matters to her. Oh and the part where she basically tells a bunch of rich and sleazy businessmen to fuck off and “stop thinking about money and start thinking about people’s lives” is just... *chef’s kiss* Sorry my thoughts here are so incoherent but this take is so piss poor and makes me so angry that I don’t even know where to start. As for “Toph enjoys being waited on” I just- *sigh* Toph has such a visceral and defensive reaction to any implication that she is unable to take care of herself. Like I said earlier, that’s one of her defining characteristics as well as the reason for her behaviour in “The Chase.” Where are people getting these takes?

You wanna know why Toph acted the way she did in The Chase? Well, first let’s recap her life up to this point. Toph was born the blind daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Kingdom. From day one her parents treated her like glass due to her disability. She was not allowed to leave her house unsupervised, and even then she was only permitted to walk around the gardens of her home. Every day of her life she was pitied, gaslit, babied, ignored, emotionally neglected, and made to feel ashamed of herself. She was not allowed to make any decisions for herself. She was not allowed to do anything for herself. She was not allowed to talk to other children. She had no friends. Other people didn’t even know she existed on account that her parents kept her locked up in her own home and didn’t tell anybody about her because they were so ashamed to have a blind daughter. Flash forward to “The Chase.” Toph begins to set up her own camp separate from the rest of the Gaang. Considering that she flat out was not socialized as a child and hadn’t even interacted with anybody her own age prior to a few days ago, this is understandable. So then Katara comes up to her and asks her why she isn’t setting up camp with the others as if she’s somehow incapable of taking care of herself (again, this is just what happened from her perspective) like she’s her mom or something and it just angers her because she thought she joined this group to get away from all that and she doesn’t understand how friends work because she’s never had one, all she knows is that apparently this girl thinks she isn’t capable of taking care of herself, and that infuriates her because it’s the exact same bullshit she thought she was running away from.

There’s a lot more I could say about this but I’m sick of typing so yeah in conclusion both of these takes are piss poor and I’m sick of having to read them. Stan Toph, Katara, and their friendship. 

[nugnthopkns]

hold me like that

word count: 1.6k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, soft wedding vibes

recommended listening: it's all coming back to me now | celine dion

a/n: guess i go here now. got inspired by that video where the avs sing their go-to karaoke songs and tbarrie does not disappoint

Tyson has always had this magnetism about him.

You felt it the first time you met him. It was a sleepy Thursday night in Denver, and your friends had convinced you to join them for a few drinks to celebrate the long weekend you’d all found yourself faced with. You weren’t huge on going out on weekdays, but you did have Friday off because the building that held your office was undergoing construction. Instead of forcing everyone to work from home the company decided to create a long weekend, and you were incredibly grateful. It had been a hard couple of weeks with project deadline after deadline, but that was behind you now and you could kick back and relax. Plus, your friends offered to foot your bill, so how could you say no?

The dive bar you had found yourself crowded into was hosting a karaoke night. It seemed like every patron was scrambling to get a turn at the mic, but you sat at a table off to the side and just cheered them on. Your friends did their best to convince you to do a rendition of ‘Wannabe’ with them but you refused, staying in your seat while they made fools of themselves in front of hundreds of people. Somehow, Sarah had gotten the crowd to join in, and it turned into a giant sing-along. Laughter tumbled from your lips as you watched, and once they finished you whistled loudly, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. The four of them took dramatic bows before they exited stage left. They tumbled back to the table as the emcee called for the next participant.

“Tyson? You’re up next!”

Chants of his name erupted from a group of men across the bar, and one of them peeled off to hop onto the stage. He smiled brightly at the crowd and gave a timid wave before turning to his friends and flipping them off. Their laughter echoed off the walls and you joined in. However, your laughter was less in good spirit and more of the awestruck variety. The man in front of you had kind eyes and gently tousled waves that just suited him. His smile made you want to get to know him better, and you found yourself drawn to him. The opening piano notes of a ballad fluttered through the speakers as you watched intently.

“There were nights when the wind was so cold,” he crooned, and the pitch of his voice surprised you. It took a few more lines for you to realize he was imitating Céline Dion, though rather poorly. Everyone in the bar was enthralled by the performance he was giving, and you spotted more than a few girls near the stage who were trying desperately to get his attention.

The group he came with continued to shout their support, but it was hard to understand them due to just how much they laughed. Prepared to go all out for the chorus, Tyson ripped the microphone from its stand and walked to the edge of the stage. “When you touch me like this, and you hold me like that,” he sang, and turned in the direction of your table. Boldly, the stranger pointed directly at you as he continued in the ridiculous accent. “I just have to admit that it’s all coming back to me.” At the end of the sentence, with his arm still extended, Tyson winked at you.

He continued to sing and the rest of the crowd joined him, but you were too shocked to form the words. You sat there dumbfounded until the end of the song, when you came to your wits just enough to join the applause. Tyson took it all in stride and gave the same wave he offered at the beginning of the performance before he shuffled off the stage. Instead of rejoining the festivities at his friends’ table, the brunette made his way through the crowd towards you. He stuck out at hand once he stopped in front of you, and spoke with the softest demeanour you had ever encountered.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from up there. I’m Tyson.”

Your insides melted at the sound of his voice, and you choked out a reply as you tried to figure out a way to stay close to him forever.

☼☼☼☼

He’s the same way now, a handful of years later. No matter what room you're in or how many people are between the two of you, one soft smile from Tyson has you slinking across the space and into his side. Friends and family laugh at how you’re always found close to one another, but they truly don’t mind because the love between you is palpable. It took you both an incredibly long time to find the happiness each other brings and no one is going to try and take it away from you.

It’s late in the evening, the sun having dipped behind the mountains hours ago, but somehow you’re still stuck repeating the same thank you spiel to wedding guests as you walk around. Tyson is nowhere in sight, but you’re sure he’s doing the same thing. No one informed you how much time you’d actually spend separated from your newly minted husband on your wedding night – if you had known you would have cut the guest list down dramatically.

You slip from the conversation you found yourself in with Tyson’s aunt and grandmother and head to the balcony of the rustic ski lodge you rented for the ceremony and reception. The fresh air greets you like a welcome friend, but it’s chillier than you expected. Wordlessly you pull your husband’s suit jacket tighter around your shoulders and stare at the idyllic landscape in front of you. Though you no longer live in Colorado, Tyson’s job landing you in Edmonton via a short stint in Toronto, you knew you had to get married here. It was your home for so long and your closest friends still reside in the state. Besides, it has that low-key feeling that is an exact replica of your relationship. Everything is easy in Colorado, just like it’s easy with Tyson.

There’s a rustling behind you that signals someone else has appeared on the balcony, and you don’t have to turn around to know it’s Tyson. The air around you has warmed up significantly and there’s a prickle of electricity at the base of your neck that flickers whenever he’s around. A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you lean back into the body they belong to.

“Hey there stranger,” Tyson says softly, tilting your head gently to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“Long time no see,” you hum in response. “I didn’t know I’d never get to see you once we were married.”

He throws his head back in laughter at your grovelling, and you swear you’d be content if that was the only sound you heard for the rest of your life. “We have a lifetime ahead of us baby, I think we can let your nieces have a few dances with me.”

You know he’s right, but you’ll never admit it. Time doesn’t feel quite as fulfilling when it’s spent apart from Tyson. A comfortable silence engulfs the little bubble you’ve found yourself in, and Tyson says pressed to you as you point out the various constellations littering the night sky. Astronomy was a hobby you picked up one season to keep the loneliness at bay while Tyson was away, but it stuck and he listens to you ramble about the stars as often as he can. The silence is so peaceful, filled with so much love, that you think about never returning to the reception area.

“Do you remember the first night we met?” you whisper, nervous about disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.

“How could I forget? You were the most beautiful girl in the room.” It’s your turn to laugh, but Tyson insists. “I’m serious babe. Gabe had pointed you out when we walked in, but I was too much of a chicken to do anything. I kept waiting, hoping you’d go up and sing a song so I’d have a reason to come talk to you, but you never did. The guys gauded me into doing that ridiculous Céline Dion impression, and I only did it to catch your attention.”

Surprise laces your features. “Why have I never heard this version of events?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

You turn in his grip as gently as possible, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t think anything you do could be considered stupid Tys.”

“Even that one time at Worlds where I cut myself wrestling with Simmer?”

The sparkle in your eyes only intensifies as you giggle. “Maybe that,” you sigh, “But nothing else.”

Out of things to say, probably because he knows that was an incredibly stupid moment, Tyson leans down to close the distance between your lips. The kiss isn’t unlike the ones you’ve shared all day – sweet and full of so much love the grinch would snuff up his nose. However, it’s also different. It manages to convey a thousand words Tyson would never be able to vocalize about how thankful he is for you, and you revel in the feeling. You’ve never loved someone as much as you love him and it’s clear he’s in the same boat.

Eventually you pull away, a bright smile taking up much of your face as you rest your head on Tyson’s shoulder. When Tyson came out to find you he didn’t shut the sliding door properly, and the piano melody that started it all makes its way to your ears. Tyson’s laugh rumbles in his chest and you feel it against like a sunshine beam on your cheek. Wordlessly he begins to sway in time with the music, and you follow his lead.

“I love you,” he says with the same amount of conviction a judge does when giving a sentence.

Your response is automatic, and the easiest thing you’ve ever done. “Forever and ever.”

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

a sound like goodbye

ao3

It begins rather innocently.

Beckett and her three best friends are one of the teams chosen for the initial away mission-which apparently, according to the briefing that she skipped and Boimler had relayed to her later with no small amount of annoyance, entailed scooping out a deserted starship for survivors while the Cerritos solved the mystery behind the situation.

Turns out, there wasn’t much mystery behind it besides some cloning project gone wrong.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Tendi mutters, frowning at her tricorder. “There’s a reason cloning isn’t exactly sanctioned by Starfleet.”

“So, what, the clones turned on everyone and-”

“Started eating them?” Rutherford wrinkles his nose at the weird puddle of suspicious goo his shoe is stuck in. “Seems pretty standard for a Cerritos mission.”

Boimler snorts from where he’s peering over Tendi’s shoulder at her tricorder. “Clones eating people? Isn’t that just... people eating people?”

“Oh it gets worse,” Tendi says cheerfully. “Whatever’s in the air here-”

“Ion cloud-”

“Ion cloud,” Tendi corrects, rolling her eyes, “whatever’s going on here, it seems to be destabilizing the clones' molecular makeup.”

“Which made them go crazy?” Rutherford suggests.

“No, which made them start eating people to absorb the electrons that would otherwise make them...people.”

Beckett and Boimler exchanged a grossed out expression.

“Usually I would think that’s cool-” she begins.

“Wait, how do we know we’re not the clones!” Rutherford interrupts, panicked. “I mean, how would you even know , you would have the same memories, the same-”

“You wouldn’t have your implant,” Beckett cuts in, before he can work himself into too much of a panic. “Or, at least, you would have that exact one that’s programmed to your specific brainwaves.”

“The rest of us could be clones though,” Tendi adds.

Boimler twitches.

Beckett frowns. “Can’t you just run a scan on us and-”

Tendi points her tricorder at Beckett. It makes a little blipping noise. “Yep. One hundred percent Beckett Mariner.”

“Unless you’re also a clone and that’s what your clone brain wants you to think-”

Boimler slaps a hand over his eyes. “That’s not how clones work, Rutherford!”

Tendi turns her tricorder to him, raising an eyebrow when it makes another blipping noise, this time twice in a row.

“Oh, and you’re the clone expert?”

“He did get cloned like three months ago,” Tendi says, distractedly frowning at her tricorder. “Huh.”

Boimler gives her a sharp look .

“Well, good thing the clone isn’t here, or we’d be in trouble,” Beckett mutters, already turning toward the terminal showcasing their location. They’re not too far from the engineering decks of the starship, which is fortunate since that’s where they need to go. It seems to be the starting point of today’s misadventure.

“Actually, no,” Tendi says, ignoring Boimler’s glaring. “While Boimler’s clone would likely destabilize due to the air pressure, he’d be less likely to be inclined toward-”

“Cannibalism?” Rutherford grimances.

Tendi shrugs. “Clone’s been around for three months. He’s had time to adjust.”

“Unlike the fuckheads here,” Beckett sighs, as she steps in a puddle of... god knows what . “I don’t like this mission anymore, I want to go home.”

On cue, something rams against the steel-locked turbolift doors. Loudly.

All four of them exchange uneasy glances.

“Engineering deck, right?” Rutherford offers.

Beckett sighs.

____

Engineering’s a bust.

Whatever chemical compound was making the clones has long since been eradicated, leaving the four with an ominous empathy engineering deck. What’s worse, they get a call about five minutes later from the other away team, who are being picked off, one by one, by the remaining living clones.

“How did anyone think this is a good idea?” Tendi groans.

Rutherford and Boimler exchange grimances.

“I think our best bet is to head back to the shuttlebay,” Boimler offers hesitantly.

Beckett’s not sure how she planned on responding to that, because just as the words are out of his mouth, the red alert system goes off.

“I thought no one was left on the ship?” Tendi shouts, over the noise.

“Unless one of our crewmembers turned it on, in which case-”

“We need to get out of here,” Beckett finishes Boimler’s sentence.

A sound splits through the air. Metal clashing against metal. Like the center of the ship is falling apart.

“You don’t think…” Tendi’s eyes widen.

“Yeeaah, who wants to be the clones are taking a kamikaze approach to their limited lifespan?” Rutherford says.

“They’re attacking the Cerritos ,” Beckett groans, because of fucking course they are. She starts herding her friends toward the turbolift. “We need to get out of here before the Cerritos is forced to fire on us.”

____

They get split up, because of course they do. The place is still, apparently, crawling with dying, mutated clones and there hadn’t been a way to keep their group together without someone falling behind.

Beckett supposes she can count herself lucky that they get paired off in usual formation--Tendi and Rutherford and then Brad and herself. It’s usually a successful team up whenever that happens. Tendi and Rutherford are both geniuses so they’ll most likely find a nonviolent way to get through the ship.

Meanwhile she and Boimler can take their usual approach of Beckett doing dangerous shit while he freaks out in the background.

“Is this really necessary?” he shrieks from somewhere behind her, as she sets off another explosion. “Where did you even get -”

“No time for stupid questions,” she replies airily, grabbing him by the upperarm and dragging him down a couple of halls.

“What’s going on with you anyway?” she asks, when they have a moment to catch their breath. She tries to inject enough casualness into her voice that he can’t detect her worry. “You’ve been-” she gestures vaguely with one hand. “Spacey.”

He shrugs, avoiding her gaze. “I mean...clones, you know?”

“Mutant clones,” she counters. “Which is barely any weirder than anything else we’ve dealt with.”

He sighs. “It’s nothing, Mariner. I just don’t like being trapped on a deathship full of things that want to kill us.”

“That’s literally what happens to us every day .”

Something crashing into a nearby door makes them both jump.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Boimler grits out, eyes darting wildly around them. “Can we just get out of here?”

____

They do eventually collide with Tendi and Rutherford, both of which have already implemented 80% of a plan to get them safely back to the Cerritos , all limbs intact, and with a counterplan to take out the rest of the mutant clones.

Tendi grabs Boimler by the arm and drags him a few feet away to rapidly explain her technobabble infused idea that Beckett can barely track, while Rutherford and her work on barricading the medbay door.

“This is gonna work, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, I mean, we should be able to make our way to our shuttle after Tendi uploads the code to the network.” Rutherford’s voice is nervous.

The door suddenly splits in two, a clawed grey hand peeking through the destroyed metal.

“ Shit ! Okay, new plan,” Tendi shrieks, “let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

“But what about-”

“No time, we’ll come up with a new plan!”

The trek through the hallways has Beckett somewhere between elated and terrified. The clones are mutating at a frequency that is, frankly, scary and they nearly get Rutherford at least twice. The guy just can’t seem to catch a break between one of the clone’s nabbing him in the shoulder and another one getting a good few swipes in on his face.

It’s just his luck that he suddenly gets grabbed by one of them and yanked into one of the deserted conference rooms, much to everyone else’s horror.

“ Fu -” Tendi’s shout is bitten off as another clone makes a wild dash for her that she narrowly avoids.

Beckett turns to shout something to Boimler and-

He’s not there.

She comes to a stop so quickly that Tendi slams into her back, almost toppling her over.

“Wha-”

“Where’s Boimler?” She attempts to sound calm, but can hear the thread of panic in her voice.

Tendi spins around. “Oh- oh fuck .” A look of realization dawns across her face as her eyes widen. “He didn’t,” she breathes.

Beckett pushes her down the hall. “Get Rutherford, I’ll-”

“Mariner, he might not-”

“He’s fine , at least until I get my hands on him,” she snaps. “I’ll meet you in the shuttlebay.”

____

She does not, in fact, meet Tendi in the shuttlebay.

No, about five minutes after she splits up with the perky orion, she comes across her--the Orion having beaten her to finding Boimler, who she’s loudly arguing with. Rutherford, surprisingly, is there too, covered in scrapes and bruises and watching worriedly.

Beckett can’t for the life of her figure out how they managed to fight off a pack of deranged mutated clones, double back to find Boimler and start a fight with him in the time that Beckett had come across them, but she supposes it makes sense. Rutherford and Tendi are just built that way.

“You can’t just-” Tendi is sputtering, fists clenched.

“There isn’t time and besides-”

“Mariner is going to kill you -”

“Damn straight I am!” Beckett cuts in, voice raised over the noise of the starship literally being destroyed. “We’re on a timecrunch here, guys, what the fuck are you three doing ?”

Boimler sighs. “Marin-”

“We think we may have found a way to neutralize the clones,” Tendi blurts out. “I synthesized a noxious gas that’ll run through the airvents and take them out before they destroy the Cerritos -”

“Good! Great! So go ahead and release it so we can-”

The lights turn off.

“Someone has to upload the program that will release it shipwide to the network-” Boimler begins.

Beckett glares at him in the dim light. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are-” She grabs her best friend by the shoulder, attempting to drag him away from the console. With surprising strength, he brushes her off.

“Mariner I-” His face twists into something pained--a usual expression on him, but certainly unwanted at the present moment. “The Cerritos is already on red alert and we have less than ten minutes to-”

Beckett growls, making to grab at him again.

“Right, we have less than five minutes to get to the escape shuttle-”

“Yeaaah, that's kinda the problem?” Tendi cuts in, wilting back at Beckett’s furious glare. “We can’t do it from the shuttle. Someone has to stay behind and manually do it.”

Beckett stops.

“Oh fuck no,” she snarls, glaring at each of her friends. “No one is staying behind-- no , not even you, “she adds, pointing to Boimler, who’d opened his mouth to protest.

“Look-”

“No.”

“Just hear me out! The Cerritos doesn’t stand a chance against--”

“We’ll find a different way--a way that doesn’t include any of my best friends serving themselves up to be eaten by mutants!”

“This is the only way!” Boimler throws his hands up in frustration. “We don’t have time to come up with a new idea and I can upload Tendi’s code to the-!”

“Wha-no, why does it have to be you that stays behin-”

“Because the real Boimler is on the Titan !” he bursts out.

Beckett freezes.

She hears Rutherford exhale and can feel Tendi go still. All eyes snap to Boimler in an instant, who wilts under the combined force of their surprise.

“It took me a while to realize it,” Boimler-- Brad admits, “but when Tendi ran that test and I-”

“Boimler,” Tendi whispers. “You don’t have to-I should’ve told you-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rutherford interrupts, shifting nervously. His eyes cut to the ceiling as another squeal of the haul cracking splits through the air. “-clone or no clone, you’re still our friend and we-”

“And someone needs to stay behind and take out the clones or-”

“Which is why I’m going to do it,” Beckett snaps.

“Wha-how is that any different -”

“Mariner, you can’t just-”

“Why do you two have to make killing yourselves a competition?” Rutherford slaps a hand over his eyes and winces when his implant glitches. “How about we all leave and-”

Brad groans. “Someone has to detonate the-”

“We’re not just leaving you-” Beckett all but shrieks.

“You don’t have a choice-”

“Like hell I don’t, if you think I’m just gonna leave you here-”

“There’s another me out there!” Brad shouts, above the noise of the starship being blown apart. His eyes narrow in on Beckett’s, completely ignoring the protests and annoyed mutterings of their two friends.

“Look,” he says, voice quieting so only she can hear him. “I’m a Boimler, but not. Not yours.”

Beckett’s breath catches in her chest. She lets her gaze flick over him--from his meticulously pressed uniform, to the dirt smudges on the side of his face, to the dumb anime hair that surprisingly works for him. His eyes--a light hazel that tricks you into thinking they’re green in the sunlight or brown in the darkness--stare back into hers helplessly.

“You need someone to stay behind and detonate the gas,” he says, after a moment of quiet--save for the countdown being droned out by the AI. “So just please-”

“And you’re a better candidate for staying behind because-because there’s another you? That’s bullshit, Bradward,” she snarls, grabbing his collar and hauling him close.

“There’s two of me and only one of you!” he shouts back, throwing his hands up in the air, but losing the effect the gesture would usually have by slumping in her grip. “And as it stands I’m not even the real-”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” She lets go of him, throwing her own hands up in the air in a mirror image of him. “Of course you’re the real you! Just because you weren’t here first doesn’t make you not a person-”

“I’m not your me, though,” he cuts in, “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because other me would be doing this whether or not he was the clone so-” He turns back to the terminal, brow furrowed. “Just-just get in the stupid shuttle and-”

“Not without you!”

“Then you’ll die here!”

“ So ?”

Brad types in a series of commands and then shuts the screen down. He turns on his heel and grabs Beckett’s wrist. “Fine,” he grits out, “let’s go.”

____

Surprised at the sudden change in whatever-the-fuck that was, Beckett allows herself to be tugged through the shattering starship--Tendi and Rutherford on their heels. Tendi exchanges a couple of glances with Brad, something passing between them that Beckett-much to her annoyance-can’t read.

The dash to the shuttle bay is hectic, but Beckett barely notices. Her attention keeps being stolen by the furtive glances Brad gives her when he thinks she isn’t looking. Or the warmth of his hand around her wrist that releases whenever she has to do some badass shit to get them out of there, but always comes back when they’re in the clear.

Finally, they’re in the shuttle bay.

“Uh, I’ll get it up and running,” Rutherford says, ducking inside the beaten up shuttle that they’d come in on.

Tendi and Brad look at each other for a moment.

Then, she tosses him her datapadd.

“I also synthesized a memory saver for the clones, because I’m a genius. It might not work,” she says, carefully, ignoring Beckett’s confused sputtering.“None of them deserve to die, so I did my best to give us an option where they don’t... completely . There’s a possibility that your consciousness will upload to the network, but it’s not guaranteed.”

Brad smiles at her, shaky but grateful.

Tendi goes on. “So if it doesn’t, I just want you to know-”

“Yeah,” his grin is more of a grimace now. “I know.”

She nods once, eyes quickly darting over him, before turning and disappearing into the shuttle.

Just Beckett and Brad left.

“Brad-”

“Mari- Beckett -”

“If you think for one second -”

“Someone has to stay!”

“But why you?” she says, crossing her arms and trying to ignore the tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. “All you’ve ever wanted to do is-is explore deep space and nerd out over dumb shit. Not die in the middle of a fucking warzone.”

Brad grabs one of her wrists, pulling her out of her defensive position and sliding his hand into hers. Both of his hands into hers.

His palms are warm and surprisingly soft. She wonders for a second if he moisturizes and then immediately knows the answer is yes because she’s seen the amount of lotion he carries in that dumb manpurse of his on shoreleave.

“I didn’t stabilize right,” he says, voice pitched soft. “That’s why when Tendi ran the tests she-well. I wouldn’t have lasted anyway so-” he sighs, shoulders drooping. “Just let me do this one thing for you guys. Let me make it all count.”

Beckett doesn’t realize she’s full on-crying until a sob heaves out of her. “I can’t leave you.” She shakes her head, trying to get control of herself. Something in her chest is twisting tightly, cutting off her airway. “I can’t.”

Something in Brad's face shifts. He lets go of her hands, much to her dismay, and she’s reaching out, reaching to grab some part of him to keep him from running off, from doing something stupid, something permanent , something that will take this version of him away from her forever-

One hand suddenly cups her neck, thumb tilting her chin upward.

Everything in her world comes to a standstill.

The sound of the base coming down around them, Rutherford and Tendi tersely barking orders to each other and across their comms to the Cerritos , the red alert blaring above them. Even the sparks shooting off around them from broken wiring and the lights wildly flicking on and off seem to slow.

Brad barely leans in before she grabs him by the collar with both hands and drags him down.

It’s desperate. Almost uncomfortably so. For the first few seconds their teeth click against each other and Beckett’s nose is smooshed against his cheek, but then she pulls back a centimeter, breathes in the space between them and dives back in, tilting her head to get the angle right this time.

It’s awful. His lips drag against hers and one hand moves to the small of her back and suddenly he’s pressed up against her, warm and real . One of her own hands makes its way into his stupidly coiffed hair, devastatingly delighted at the fact that he doesn’t upset at her messing it for once.

It’s all consuming and it’s burning and it’s searing and it’s awful , not because it isn’t good. No, it’s awful because Beckett knows what it means.

She knows it’s goodbye.

When she finally lets him pull away, they’re both panting. He rests his forehead on hers for a moment, eyes half lidded.

“You have to tell him,” he finally rasps. “Because he won’t-he’ll never, if you don’t first.”

Beckett squeezes her eyes shut tightly and then quickly opens them again, not wanting to miss a moment of their stolen time. “Brad-”

He shakes his head, pulling away from her. “Tell him.”

“It’s not too late,” she says. “You can still come with us.”

Brad gives her a lopsided grin. “What, one of me isn’t enough for you?”

The AI blaring the countdown hits the last minute. Brad’s face sets. Resigned.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, as he gently--but swiftly--begins herding her toward the shuttle, “I- he -is sorry. About everything. So, when you see him next, just give him a chance, okay?”

She’s inside the shuttle, one hand braced on the side of the door, trying to keep him from shutting it. He puts a hand on her shoulder to keep her from jumping out.

“Brad-” her voice is shaking.

“I know.” He looks over her shoulder, probably at Rutherford or Tendi. Nods to them once. “Just make sure he knows too.”

He pushes her.

She stumbles onto the shuttle floor as the door slams shut with a hiss.

____

Carol gets the report before she hears it from her kid.

The situation hadn’t been ideal from the start. When they’d originally intercepted the distress call, Ransom had muttered something about requesting backup that Carol had strongly considered. Ultimately, they would’ve been unprepared either way.

Either way, two thirds of the teams she sent onto that ship would have died, including her daughter’s best friend.

“Where is she?” she snaps at the ensign that seems to hang around Beckett and her friend group. He’s in medbay, nursing a broken collar bone, but snaps to attention the minute she enters.

“Uh…”

“Storage closet on Deck C,” an Orion, a few beds down, offers tentatively. Carol thinks she recognizes the girl as one of Beckett’s friends, but can’t be sure.

“Tendi!” the other ensign hisses.

“What, it’s her mom !” the Orion--Ensign Tendi--shoots back, but Carol isn’t listening. She’s already halfway out the door, despite the fact that a storage closet on Deck C didn’t narrow her search down by much.

It takes her almost an hour to find her.

The storage closet she’s camping out in is small--mostly likely used for medical supplies, judging by the sharp smell of antestic and alcohol that’s coming from-

Beckett has one hand tightly gripped around a bottle of vodka. She blinks up at her for a moment, comm lying open in her hand.

“Hey kid,” Carol says, trying to go gentle, but it comes across as tentative.

Beckett scowls. “What do you want?” she mumbles, fingers gripping her comm tightly. There are tear tracks staining her cheeks that make Carol’s heart ache.

Carol glances around the storage closet, grimacing at the empty bottles laying scattered around Beckett and the strong smell emitting from them. “Just to talk. Think you come out of here for a minute?”

Beckett raises her comm to her mouth again, muttering something indistinct into it before snapping it closed. She makes to stand up, but can’t quite make it. She seems off-balanced, teetering off the edge of sobriety.

Carol gently grabs Beckett’s wrist and pulls her to her feet. She sways slightly, still very obviously under the influence. With a sigh, Carol tugs her forward.

“Oh kiddo,” she says, when Beckett buries her face in her shoulder and begins crying in earnest.

____

Brad collapsed on his bed, equal parts weary and riding an adrenaline high.

The mission--now completed and never to be brought up again except in his n̸̜͘ḯ̷̹g̸̥̎h̵̬͛ẗ̷̬m̴̦͗a̸͈͂r̶̡͝e̶̢͘s̸̤̒ --was barely notable compared to the previous twelve he’s been dragged on, but he still is riding the high of almost dying . It’s, tragically, becoming his new normal.

And not in a fun Mariner did something cool that almost got us all killed but it’s totally cool because she looked hot while doing it kind of way. It was more of a holy shit I just almost died I didn’t join Starfleet for this what the hell am I doing existential crisis sort of way that has him regretting a lot of things.

Mostly Mariner related things, if he’s being honest.

(He doesn’t regret leaving. He doesn’t)

(He absolutely does.)

So here he is, a few months older, but certainly not wiser, lying in his lonely room, wondering what Mariner’s getting up to these days.

Almost on cue, his padd pings him a voicemail.

3 missed calls from Beckett Mariner.

Brad frowns. It’s been a while--a very very long while--since he’s heard from Mariner. Not that he’s blaming her, because he knows, he knows that he pulled a dick move transferring without telling her and then ghosting her calls.

He just doesn’t know what to say to her.

“Hey dumbass,” the voicemail opens with. It’s what most of them have, but this one has Brad pausing. There’s something monotone--something deadened about the inflection of her voice. It has his breath catching in his chest.

This voicemail is going to be different.

“Just calling to check in, I guess,'' her voice continues.

There’s a pause. So long that Brad wonders if Mariner had forgotten she’d called him. Then, “I don’t know if Tendi or Rutherford have called you yet, but I...look, can you just-”

Static, like she’s pressing her comm against her shoulder. There’s some indistinct murmuring, a deeper voice filtering through that he hesitantly assigns as Captain Freeman’s.

“I gotta go, but.” A shaky breath. “Call me.”

Brad swallows.

“Please.”

The voicemail ends with a click, leaving Brad in the silence of his empty room.

____

It’s been three weeks.

Three weeks since every emotion Beckett was capable of feeling had been shattered into a thousand pieces and dropped into a flaming dumpster fire. Her mom, after dragging her to her ready room and spending the entire day plying her with hot chocolate and hugs--which was weird coming from the woman who once told Beckett to walk a compound fracture off--seemingly decides to give her some space.

Which apparently includes giving her an undetermined amount of leave to deal with her shit.

Beckett doesn’t know what to do with that. What’s she supposed to do, take a vacation right now? Have fun ?

She spends the entire time either holed up in her bunk or exploring whatever dumb planets their missions take them too.

It all comes to a head far too soon.

And by head, Beckett, of course, means that her mom decides to interfere--like she always does--and drag Beckett kicking and screaming into a situation that she 100% would have avoided otherwise.

“Captain wants you in her ready room,” Tendi says, voice tentative in a way that is pissing Beckett off.

She doesn’t need to be tiptoed around goddammit.

The walk to her mom’s ready room is brisk and uninterrupted. Everyone’s giving her a wide berth these days. She’s not sure if it’s because they know or if she just looks unusually scary these days.

Her eyes are red rimmed and her uniform is beyond wrinkled and her hair is unwashed, falling around her shoulders in messy tangles. It’s probably not the latter.

She storms into her mom’s ready room, prepared to pick a fight just to feel something when-

Beckett stops breathing.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Carol says, giving Brad a pat on the shoulder as she passes him.

He’s in the stupid Titan uniform, which look unfairly good on him, Beckett distantly--begrudgingly--thinks. His hair is still in that stupid anime upsweep and his back is ramrod straight as always.

His eyes though are pinched in worry. Lips pulled into a frown.

“Hey.”

Beckett can barely look at him, but taking her eyes off him means she can’t see him and that’s an unacceptable option. She takes a step forward. And then another one. And then another one, until she has to look up every so slightly--because he has that goddam half inch on her--to maintain eye contact.

When she presses a hand to his chest, slightly to the left, just over his heart, he feels warm .

His pulse drums under her fingers, beat picking up rapidly the longer she keeps them there.

“Hey,” she says back. Her voice is cracked to all hell, rubbed raw from equal parts disuse and shouting whenever she’s in a particular mood.

The worried look on his face increases tenfold at the sound of her voice.

One hand reaches up to encircle her wrist. It squeezes tightly for a second before he lets go and takes a step back, putting space between them.

He’ll never, if you don’t first , Brad’s own voice sounds in her mind.

Beckett takes a breath and steps forward, closing the distance once again. She smiles faintly at how his eyes widen, pupils dilating slightly at their close proximity.

“Can we talk?”

____

[jinnie-forthe-winnie]

Partners

Taehyun fluff

Word count: 1.9k

Sana had taken her seat at the front of the class beside her best friends, Hyuna and May. Her friends handed her a snack they had been raving about all week from the vending machine.

Popping one of the cookie balls in her mouth she looks at the schedule on the board. It seemed as per usual, except there was a long work period in the part of the day.

“They are good,” Sana says, pleasing her friends with her answer.

“Well I guess this could be a new weekly treat for us!” May says stealing the snack bag from Sana, taking half the contents of the bag in her hand. Sana rolls her eyes and turns to her friend Hyuna who was doodling in her own world.

“Hey Earth To Hyuna!” Sana says, tapping her pen down near her page. She successfully gets her friends' attention.

“What project are we working on today?” Sana asks, worried she forgot one.

“Probably a new one, and looks like it is in pairs.” She says pointing to the numbers going down the chalkboard, 13, the exact split of the class.

“Damn it, I’m the one left out this time aren’t I?” Sana asks exasperated.

“Yes you are, sucks to suck doesn’t it Sana” May happily calls from her other side.

“Hey don’t use my sayings against me!” She cries back with a pouty face. May brings her hand up and pats her chin.

“I’m sorry my baby.” She says bringing a pout to her own face. Rolling her eyes she then slouches in her chair, upset over having to find a new partner.

It normally meant she would have to work with one of the dumb kids, or the super shy kids, which never made a good duo for her since she already was shy.

The only other people she would be willing to work with are Huening Kai and Taehyun. Although Taehyun is pushing it, due to her big fat crush on him. Huening Kai would definitely be the better of the two. But that wasn’t going to happen, the two were always a pair. The two are seen together all the time, probably due to them both being in a boy group.

The first half of the day goes by without any hitches. But now it is the the fourth quarter of the day Sana is getting nervous about her partner. She never normally liked working with other people, but she knew that it wasn’t an option in this class since the teacher was very strict about it.

Her friends trade places so Sana is on the far right, and May is in the middle. This allows the two to be first to pick. The teacher had always done the same picking process, starting from the first desk she moves like a snake asking for your partner. This is probably why most of the shy people sat in the very back left corner. If it weren’t for her friends Sana would be sitting with them too.

“Well students, I will explain the new project and then you will get all paired up.” The teacher says gaining the attention of the class. “You are to make a presentation about a pop culture icon, and explain the effects they had on their industry, their culture, and any ideas or causes they believe in. A full description and outline will be found online. This will be due next week on Friday.” She ends her speech and moves to the chalkboard, calling out the first student's name.

The project seems easy enough, there are plenty of options, and plenty that you knew a lot about. You had no idea who would be your partner so you planned on passing once it got to you.

“Hyuna and I are a pair,” May calls out after her name is called. The teacher writes their names and moves on to Huening Kai who sits directly behind you all along with Taehyun.

“Huening Kai?” The teacher yells out.

“Han and I are a pair,” he calls out to the teacher. Sana’s head spins around in confusion to Huening Kai, not taking the chance to look at Taehyun.

From beside Sana the two girls giggle trying not to look at her. “What’s so funny?” Sana asks, laying her down on her desk looking at her friends' faces.

“Nothing, just thank us later, and thank Huening as well.” Hyuna says winking at Sana.

“What are you talking about?” She asks, confused.

“Taehyun?” The teacher calls out. His face is red as he gets ready to reply.

“Ah I’m pairing up with Sana” he says, Sana head turns around this time going to Taehyun. His face was tomato red, which is the colour Sana’s would soon be.

“Your welcome” Hyuna and May say as Sana turns back and sets her head on the desk.

“I hate both of you” she says annoyed, yet almost thankful, not that she’d let her friends know that.

“You won’t be saying that when you start snogging next week” Hyuna replies quietly.

“Two things, I won’t be snogging him, and you need to stop reading Harry Potter, who says snogging!” Sana whisper yells over to her.

“Oh shove off” Hyuna says successfully making them all laugh.

Not even ten minutes later Sana is standing beside Taehyun in the hallway off to the library. Both silent as they walk together. As they enter the library Taehyun makes for the computers, but stops as he feels an arm grab his upper arm.

He softly turns to loon at her, her hand is pointing to a part of the library he’d never ventured. “It quiet back there and I have a laptop we can use instead” she says pulling his arm lightly towards the direction where she wants to go.

Normally that spot was occupied by the trio, but the other two had gone to another part of the library letting Sana know that it’s all for her and Tae. As they pass through shelves of books, he noticed they are in the historical fiction section. The one section that hardly ever gets used, except for history projects, but only when you have to have a book reference.

No one is in the aisles, Sana finds the back corner and let’s go of Taehyun. She sets her bag down, she grabs the shelf that is on wheels and moves it up. She moves her arm in a way that tells him to go inside. Behind the last tall book shelf there is a rather larger gap. There were cushions and some supplies obviously left by the trio from other projects.

“We found this spot two years ago, be glad you’re the fourth person in here.” She says sitting down on the cushion, pulling out her laptop.

“It’s nice back here” he says following along and sitting on a cushion.

“We’ve slowly been bringing things back here to make it better, we’re just trying not to get caught and have it cleared out.” Sana says looking at him.

“They should make this an actual book nook, it’s comforting” he says sliding the cushion over to beside her.

“Yeah that can happen after we graduate, for now this is our spot” she says to him, he smiles at her and holds her gaze. The two hold eye contact for a moment before they both realize what they are doing.

“Ah who would you like to the project on?” He asks her leaning back against the wall.

“Maybe Bangtan, most people will do Western Artists so maybe we can have a project no one else is doing” she says fiddling with her keyboard. “If that is alright with you” she asks meeting his gaze once again.

“Yeah, I could always see if I could ask them a few questions” he says.

“Oh yeah I forgot your from the same company” she says smiling. “How is your group doing right now any way?”

“We’re doing good, We are writing for our bee comeback for next year.” He says with a smile on his face. “I’ll give you a hint on one song, you know new rules?” She nods her head eagerly, “ well I suppose I wrote a sequel to it.” He smiles when he sees her clap her hands in excitement.

“So it’s either, old rules, more rules, broken rules or maybe no rules!” She says happily, “you know new rules is by far my favourite song of yours right?” He nods, though he doesn’t tell her he wanted to make the song for her, since he had always heard her singing it around the school.

By the start of the week they were both done the project, they were just waiting on Bts to send them a blurb for their presentation. Now that they were done they spent the work periods in the nook alone. Often times talking about his group and your dreams.

He couldn’t help his feelings for Sana as she told him about why she wanted to be a teacher. She looked so happy talking about it, which made the smile grow on his face. Their moods seems to be based solely on the others mood.

As Sana finished her story she noticed his genuine smile on his face looking at her. This made her blush and turn away looking at the bookshelf in front of them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asks him without looking at him.

It is now his turn to blush, “i think its sweet how passionate you are about it, it makes me smile” he says putting his hand on her knee.

This makes her turn back to him, her eyes meet his. They both slowly start leaning in without thinking. As they close in her eyes flutter closed as she waits for impact. He takes this as a chance to move his body to get a better angle, his right arm is holding him against the wall, his left hand going to the back of her head.

Their lips hardly touch, for a couple seconds they hover over each others lips. Gaining confidence Taehyun moves his face forward enough for your lips to be fully planted against each other.

Slowly their lips move together into a kiss, an awkward one since both of them have a big smile on their face. Once their smiles tame down they continue softly kissing in the back of the library.

Breaking apart they look each other in the eyes, Sana breaks into a fit giggles seeing his silly smile on his face.

“I know I should take you out dates before I ask you this, but would you like to be my girlfriend?” He asks moving his hand from the back of her head and down to her cheek.

She nods and moves in to peck his lips, holding it for a moment before moving back. “Yes, I’d like to be your girlfriend Tae” she says putting her head onto his shoulder. His head moves and rests on hers.

“Oh my god they were snogging May!” Hyuna’s voice comes from the other side of the bookshelf. Huening Kai, Hyuna, and May, all pop up from the ground and move to the moveable shelf, peering over to see the two. The couple blushes, she hides her face in his chest as he puts his face into her hair.

“They’re so cute!” They all say high fiving each other.

[amythecinnabunny]

Space AU and Time Travel for Juke 👀 <33

Holy shit holy shit holy shit ok ok ok ok first of all AKDBJSJSJJEJE YES

Okay okay so let me try to iron out the mess in my head skxbjsjjd I hereby apologize if things get out of order or whatever but I am literally vibrating with excitement someone please write this I'll love you forever

Ok so I'm thinking also an aged up au for ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* reasons *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ sjsnnsn

Also, I've done this before and I'm gonna do it again, but Bobby and Trevor are two different people for the sake of the timeline here.

Time frame for this would be WAY into the future. Humanity has gone galactic. We also had our asses handed to us by several alien planets but we probably deserved it. Anyway, after we got rid of Elon Musk, we eventually made peace with the aliens and now roam the galaxy freely. 20-30yo generally try to get into a different fleet, just to learn about other races. Think all those alien ships adopts a human posts.

Julie, Carrie and Flynn are my three girl geniuses. They're like,,, the smartest people in every room. They've been like this since freshman year of college. Julie, Carrie and Flynn also all want to get into the student exchange program, which is exactly what you think it is. Alien races (and this now includes humanity) swaps out older students with each other so they get a feel of what the other race is like. It's fun, educational, and! You get to make super long distance pen pals!

I'd also have so much fun making up new memes???? It would be so fucking stupid tho but I love it.

Anyway, so after a few years of jumping through the exchange programme, hoping from planet to planet, unfortunately, without their bestfriends :<, the three of them qualify to board research ships!!!

So at like 23-25, my girls come back together on the same ship!! Its a massive thing and so they've hired so many interns from so many different races. It's like a landing hub for several smaller ships. They have like 10 interns per species and that's only because there are laws against having too many of one kind after they put 50 humans on a space station and the humans tried to take over. Also, humans multiply faster than the others. This terrifies some races.

Anyway, the ship's really just a bunch of college kids from different planets trying to avoid exam season by submitting research papers from their ship. They all bond over deadlines, breakups and coffee (or the alien equivalent thereof)

Flynn dated an alien girl for a while. They were cute. Flynn: as a lesbian, it's my duty to date all the women in space

This is also where they run into Willie!!! Yay, Willie!!!

Nick Danforth-Evans and Kayla Evans-McKessie are around ... somewhere ... in bunk beds like the little toddlers they wish they were, crying about the 15 page essay on why Xjsbsjdjd is a very intelligent race that we could learn a lot from (yes, that is a keysmash I'm too buzzed to be creating alien species names sjdjjdjd)

Carrie and Nick do date for a while but then Carrie hooked up with Kayla. Bisexual queen who?

Julie met Willie that time she didn't sleep for over 48 hours because she had a research paper due within a week and she hadn't started yet and it was 10 000 words on her experiences with the Psjxjjdkeiwj race. Luckily for her, the kid she bumped into and spilled an energy drink all over had the same paper and helped her finish it. Willie sometimes goes by the nickname Lifesaver, thanks to Julie. This confuses the metaphor-less people because Willie's never saved anyone's life?? So why is he a lifesaver??

ANYWAY ON TO THE TIME TRAVEL BIT

On their own, Julie, Carrie and Flynn are professional smart people who know what they're saying and are clever enough not to do things with too many risks. In the same room, however, they turn into dumb geniuses who can and possibly may blow up the entire ship. It's a good thing they have Willie, Nick and Kayla to babysit them, right? WRONG. Willie Kayla and Nick egg them on.

They decide there going to gather all the information there is on time travel and they're going to decipher it and make it work! Yay!

When they find stuff in alien languages they start calling up their alien pen pals "hello what's this word mean in this context? What, haha oh no, it's a research paper on why time travel projects were abandoned before completion. Okay, thank you!"

Before long, they have a working time machine. I mean,, they hope so. And so they enter a random date from the past and prepare to pop their heads through just to see what the world looked like approximately 200ish years ago

2020s, post covid because that exists for joke reasons later, Sunset Curve is performing live for one of their biggest audiences yet when mid-song, the floor just opens them up and swallows them whole before vanishing. The crowd things it's a stunt but Sunset Curve's managers are flipping their shit

Back on the ship, the machine starts sparking and with a soft boom and a hiss, the power in that quadrant goes out -- not before Willie's is pelted in the face with a pair of drumsticks and then a whole person.

It's a miracle the drums survived the trip, pet alone everything else.

So now these sleep deprived geniuses and co. have to hide three people and several musical artifacts, plus the smoking remains of a time machine, from their Supervising Officer, who is regrettably, a human too.

And none of them are very good at lying.

Luke and Bobby are though, and after piecing together bits and pieces from the frenzied rambling around them, Luke and Bobby save the group.

Shenanigans ensue as they try to rebuild the time machine under the watchful eye of the SO, while trying to mantainbfake credentials for the boys and trying to explain their very dated clothing. (Yes, Sunset Curve STILL rocks the 90s vibe. In the 2020s. It's their thing.)

Willex happens in the background -- and I mean that very literally. (Jukebox having a tension moment, Willex making out in the background.)

Honestly I'm not sure yet how theyd solve the problems, whether they'd send the boys back or not or what, but I do know that they will all cause a BUNCH of problems in between.

Sometimes they play music just because they still can. Sunset Curve becomes a house band for the ship. They get broadcasted to neighbouring or passing ships like "hey, losers, we have live music, SUCK IT!"

Focusing on the jukebox aspect of this whole fic, that's gonna be a fucking hilarious slow burn.

It will definitely contain the lines "Oh my god, I have a crush on Julie." "Congratulations, you're officially the last to know." "What? Even [SO's Name] knows??" "Dude. The ship's navigation crew knows." "Does ... Julie know?" "No, you're both morons."

Julie is having the exact same conversation four hallways away.

They'd talk a lot about sending the boys back home and it'd be really quiet conversations when everyone else is asleep.

Julie and Luke write music together and after a while, Julie performs a few of them too. Thanks to the concerts, they meet the other human interns that were on the other end of the ship and Carrie and Kayla form Dirty Candy.

The ship becomes known as the party bus.

A thing that will happen: Luke helps Julie write one of her history papers that she gets an A+ for and a comment about how dedicated she was to have delved so far back in the history records to get authentic insight.

Julie and Luke speak in memes but they don't speak the same memes and it drives them both up the wall.

Luke says yeet one day and Julie's soul leaves her body because she hasn't heard anyone say yeet since she was a toddler back on Earth.

Julie: odd display, but acceptable.

Luke, physically experiencing a record scratch: what the fuck did you just say

That is all I have to offer because I'm afraid of plotting further and causing angst somehow.

oh one more thing, someone gets to bang an alien and it's probably Flynn.

Oh oh oh another one more thing. Reggie says "this is just like in Star Wars" for literally anything. The band goes along with it for shits and giggles. The rest of them are very interested in this ancient tale called Star Wars. Reggie sees a picture of Flynn and her green gf and says "hey, you dated photoshopped Yoda" and Bobby just loses his shit.

[haikyuu-philia]

Dancing in a Dirty Puddle | Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

A typical case of 'It sounded much better in my head', but I wanted to share it with you anyways!

Words: 1755

Summary: Going with the headcanon about Sakusa being germaphobic, my head came up with this scenario :P

-----

There were many things that Sakusa wouldn't do. Simply shaking someone else's hand could make him reach his limits, if he wasn't wearing gloves or didn't have sanitizer on him. But this never stopped him from doing what he certainly wanted to do.

And this list happened to be a lot longer than the one with the situations he was struggling with.

As his teacher went on to explain the next math problem that the boy had already solved quite a while ago, he watched the raindrops on the window to his left. This morning had been unexpectedly perfect until the grey clouds had appeared at the horizon.

Nearly silent thuds echoed in his ears while his eyes followed the line of one of the new droplets.

A sigh slipped out of his mouth to be caught by his facial mask. Today would be rather exhausting for him since human interaction couldn't be avoided. First school, then practice and later a meet-up at the local library with some classmates to finish a group project.

At least the rain would wash off all the bacteria of the people he would run into on his way to the unusual location. Many considered it only a detour, for him it was the opportunity to catch a terminal disease.

Before the thoughts could take over, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now was not the time to have a panic attack in the classroom.

Some things just had to be done, like that biology project.

By the time practice had come to an end, some rays of sunshine broke through the gloomy blanket above his head. But the blue sky was still nowhere to be seen.

Carefully he made his way to the concreted paths of the school ground to not step into a puddle or - worse - faceplank into one. A shiver ran down his spine as he cleaned his hands with a sanitized wipe. Who knew in whose mouths the air had been earlier.

"Sakusa! Mind if we walk together again?" You, one of many classmates and member of his assigned group, waved from the school gate.

There you were, his personal ray of sunshine to save him from the boringness. Maybe the assignment had been of use for him anyways.

He shrugged his shoulders in response, though that seemed to be enough to get a smile from you. Everytime this happened, he stared at you for a second and looked away the next. Whatever it was, he couldn't tell whether you were the weird one in this scenario for causong such a reaction or him for acting this way.

Like the past two Fridays that your group had met up at the library to work on the project, he walked next to you with a safety distance of two imaginary people in between.

On your way to the meeting you asked him about his day and he responded with a short reply, mostly telling you the exact same thing as the other days. His hands in his pockets he watched you from the corner of his eyes whenever you spoke.

So he immediately noticed as soon as you had stopped in your tracks.

"Woah, how beautiful! Don't you agree, Sakusa?", you awed at the sight ahead of you.

The street on your right, Sakusa and a brick wall to your left a big cherry tree was looming over the side walk. In front of you the grey stones were covered in pink cherry blossoms that the wind had carried away.

Nevertheless the tree shone in the most beautiful colors from white to nearly red while some leaves still dripped a bit due to the heavy rain earlier.

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and went a few steps ahead. The device in your hand you stretched towards the sky as much as you could to capture the natural beauty that you were witnessing right there.

"Damnit, I'm not tall enough to get the wall out of the picture", you hissed between your breaths.

Sakusa watched your efforts from afar. How you were balancing on your tiptoes, arms high into the air to get the perfect angle and how you were failing in your opinion. In this position he would only have to place his hands around your waist to rise you up a tiny bit more.

Inside his pockets his fingers tingled while his feet nearly took action before his brain stepped in. The thoughts of where your jacket had been today, when it had been washed the last time and the amount of bacteria that might be attached to it took over.

Even though you were only a call away, he froze next to you. With his eyes fixated on your blazer, his chest tightened when he tried to suppress the urge to sanitize his hands.

"This will do", you finally exclaimed. "Thanks for the wait!"

Yet again with this big grin on your face, that looked so much happier than on anyone else's, you turned towards him.

The remaining minutes of the walk went by without another incident. Sometimes he would nod to agree with your statement, then a time would follow where you just continued to walk in silence.

While more and more rays of sunshine won the battle against the seemingly undefeatable dark, Sakusa found himself lost in the recaps of what had happened back there.

Sure, he had experienced moments of paralysis before. But in contrast to those he couldn't stop thinking about it now.

About how his actions could have changed the events for the better and how he could have been the one to make you smile even more.

The work on the presentation for school brought him some surprisingly welcomed distraction. It still didn't manage to make him forget about the wave of thoughts sweeping away his sanity.

For the first time in forever he actively noticed that he only touched his own things. The pens, the ruler, the scissors.

If someone else accidentally grabbed them, he would have to clean them or never get in contact with them again.

Nobody of the group made a comment about his reflex to use a baby wipe once he had touched someone else's belongings. Additionally, he didn't take off his mask in a secure place like a library as thousands of people had been there before.

To get a book from the shelves he grabbed a tissue first to protect his hand from direct contact. Everything else raised his blood pressure on the spot.

So he busied himself with writing note cards for his group in a neat handwriting.

When he stepped outside the building after finishing the project, he felt like being able to properly breath for the first time in hours. During the stay it had rained some more, leaving the air freshly cleaned from pollution.

 "Let's head for the station. It's late already", he announced to you.

Meanwhile you stretched to make the exhaustion vanish from your limbs. At home you planned to simply eat dinner before collapsing on the bed.

Pretty much aware of the tired look in your eyes, Sakusa didn't say a word. As you didn't either, silence ruled again.

Thanks to that it wasn't hard to hear a speeding car approaching you two from behind.

Before it passed you in the blink of an eye, Sakusa noticed the puddle on the side of the street, which instantly splashed into all directions once the wheels had hit it. The boy felt the urge to throw up as soon as single drops of water reached his face.

With an unsteady breath and shaking hands he pulled the baby wipes out of his backpack to clean his forehead. Next was the mask that he switched for a completely new one.

Only when he had discarded the used supplies into a zipper bag especially for that purpose, he checked the rest of his body.

"I'm sorry, Sakusa", you mumbled with a breaking giggle. "I didn't manage to shield you from all of it."

Then it hit him what had happened.

You were standing in front of him, the back of your clothes and parts of your hair soaking wet. Nevertheless you tried to smile at him while checking the damage the water had done to your appearance.

"Are you okay? Most of the water hit me, I guess. So I'm sure that you will only need to wash your uniform once and take a shower later."

"Why?", he replied without breaking eye contact with you.

At the same time you wiped your face with your bare hands, making him shiver at the mere look of it. You even tried to squish some water out of your wet hair.

"I've noticed that you don't get along with dirt, physical contact and everything of that sort", you explained calmly. "The bullet of discomfort was shot and I took it for you."

Offering you his help by throwing single baby wipes at you to finally make you stop touching your dirty face with your even dirtier hands, he didn't know what to answer.

Instead he grabbed a tissue for himself and opened the zipper of his sports bag with it. He would certainly not take the risk of touching potentially stained metal.

"Here. Take this."

Sakusa was holding his yellow-green trainings jacket towards you. Thanks to the face mask his expression seemed the same as always, though it did hide the uneasy snarl of his lips.

"Thanks", you welcomed the offer wholeheartedly "I will wash it and return it on Monday!"

It was this moment when the boy had made you smile simply because of him for the first time. The way your face lightened up once you had put on the jacket was directed towards him and only him at this very moment.

Sure to say that his lips formed a small smile as he found the neatly wrapped jacket in his shoe locker on Monday.

Immediately after opening the little package, a nice scent of flowers reached his nose through the face mask. You were nowhere to be seen, but your image popped up in his head as well as the memory of you standing underneath the cherry tree a few days prior.

Surprisingly, it didn't occur to him that you most likely hadn't worn gloves while wrapping his jacket.

His mind had other priorities to think about. Including the issue about the comforting warmth inside of his chest whenever you were around.

-----

Posted: April 8th 2020 | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Wandering around the Raindrop Park

Lately I've been feeling kinda off - I can't quite put it into words. The weird thing is, the events that happened over the past few days don't affect me directly - as in it's directly related to stuff happening to friends that have little or nothing to do with me. It's basically me being somewhat emotionally invested in someone or something even though I barely know the person. Kinda like the whole how do you miss someone you never even knew sorta thing.

Maybe part of it has to do with a lot of changes happening around the same time in the span of roughly a year or two. By that, I'm talking about a specific group of people - Jamie's entourage, to be exact. Since the entourage disbanded, everyone has still been keeping in touch for the most part. And since then, a lot of members have moved on, pursuing bigger things, working on new projects, coming a long way since the entourage days. A lot of them were just starting out back then and now here they are.

A couple weeks ago, Roselle passed away. It wasn't a surprise since she told us about her prognosis last year, but still sad nonetheless. She was a former teen idol actress and singer turned director with her own production company that she co-founded with a friend. I became a fan of her during her Amanda Savannah days, a role that shot her to stardom as a kid. Like many in her position, she had a sort of love-hate relationship with the character who made her famous.

After Amanda Savannah ended, Roselle wanted to take a break from acting to focus on college. During that hiatus, Roselle was going through a lot of changes, including being diagnosed with stage four cancer. Nearly a decade after Amanda Savannah, Roselle reemerged from the public, starting from the ground up as a director. As for acting and singing, she was willing to keep that open, but realistically, the chances of her going back to either one were slim to none.

I remember when I last hung out with Roselle, about a year ago, when we visited Windcrest Wolf, not too long after the beginning of the end. Roselle has been keeping us updated with her video diary, Business as Usual, which is basically about her final year. The end was quick for her, which is what she had hoped for, so she was able to carry on for as long as she could. In her final entry she said that she was at peace with her life and that she was ready to go, ready to see her mom again after all these years. A few days later she was gone.

That's why I'm here with Jamie and Nedra at the Raindrop Park. Well, part of the reason - there's another thing too. Another death unfortunately, one of someone who I never got to meet.

Two former entourage members, actress Nedra Aylen and stuntman Allan Townshend crossed paths due to a tragedy. Allan's cousin Stef was one of Nedra's close friends at Starling who was gravely injured in a motorcycle accident. The crash left Stef in a coma for years before passing away weeks ago, a few days after Roselle's death.

According to Nedra, Stef and Allan didn't have a good relationship as Stef was abused by his parents. I don't know Allan as well as Nedra, but he comes across as someone who's making an effort to right his wrongs. It still doesn't make up for his past actions, which he is aware of. The two visit Stef at the care center but other than that, they don't interact with each other much.

Given how different Nedra and Allan are in terms of their social circles/personality/upbringing, and such, it's unexpected that they ended up crossing paths through Jamie. Nedra's a classical actress, preferring the stage over the screen while being prolific in both. Allan does stunt work, which I don't know too much about, but basically it means he and Nedra, although they were in the same entourage, had absolutely nothing in common other than Stef.

People always talk about how important it is to form connections, especially through tragedy. You'd think that Nedra and Allan would at least be able to bond over that, but in reality, you can't always share your burdens with someone. In the case of Nedra and Allan - at least the way I see it through Nedra - them being friends won't do much with that burden they carry. That's not to say they're dealing with their problems alone - in fact, they're quite well adjusted despite the circumstances - it's just that they don't need to seek each other to help cope.

It's not that they dislike each other, it's just the fact that they're so different in such a way that forming a connection would feel forced. Nedra says they do keep in touch but other than that, they don't feel the need to keep up with each other. It's good to form connections, but sometimes there's people you just don't feel the need for a strong bond with, and that's okay.

I have a feeling that's the case with Nedra and Allan - they share a struggle but don't need to rely on each other to pull through. Sometimes it just works out like that.

Nedra believes that Allan wants to make peace with Stef, which is why he visits her regularly. Although he and Stef were never friends, they were close to coming to some sort of a truce, with Allan more likely to side with Stef than against her. After all, why would Stef decide to intervene on that fateful day when Allan backed himself into a corner? I imagine the guilt of surviving the accident as well as being the reason why it happened is what pushed Allan over the edge. Nedra says it's not up to her to forgive him for how he treated Stef, but she's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt as what he's going through is punishment enough.

Like with Roselle, Stef's death wasn't unexpected either. By then, Nedra knew that she was already long gone. She says it feels like a weight off her shoulders, the relief of knowing that Stef can finally rest in peace instead of being stuck in limbo. I can't imagine being in Stef's position, stuck to machines keeping me alive even though it's futile. I don't think I'd want to be kept alive on life support if it won't do anything except prolong the inevitable.

When I'm gone, let me go. I don't want to die a slow death where I become nothing but a husk of who I was.

Nedra stuck with her to the very end. Allan was there too but he kept his distance. The end came quickly and quietly, her heart stopped beating and that was it. She says it's been rough, but not as difficult as she thought it would be. Then again, she said she already made her peace with losing Stef so I think that helped a bit.

I can't imagine losing two friends in a short time like what Nedra's going through right now. That's why Jamie invited her along her travels so she can take some much needed time off, leading to us crossing paths at the Raindrop Park. Before coming here, Jamie and Nedra spent the weekend at the Sparkling Spa Resort, which they said they enjoyed a lot.

After the Raindrop Park they weren't sure where they were gonna go next before deciding on the camp. The timing happens to be perfect as another entourage member's gonna drop by later on along with some other friends for a fun event. It'll be good for Nedra and Jamie to see Jean again as we were talking about how she's one of the busier members.

Maybe one day I'll get Marlo to meet Jean and Nedra as she's big fans of them. She and Don are planning to come back, likely during a camp event, so maybe I can finally make her dreams come true. I told Nedra about Marlo and she's totally down for a get together with her and knowing Jean, she'll be all for it too. Now, if only we can find a date and time when all three are available...

The Raindrop Park is one of those places where it's easy to get lost in. Watching the raindrops fall is strangely mesmerizing, I can't take my eyes off them. In a way, I think it's a good thing, probably because I've had so much on my mind regarding the stuff I just mentioned, so maybe I needed to take the time to process the information. That, and of course, writing my thoughts out once I finally found the words.

Along with the mesmerizing raindrops, another thing that sticks out to me is the decor, like the benches. I really like the leafy designs of the benches and lampposts - a lot of art inspiration around here. The foliage is lovely too and the raindrops really add to the aesthetic. I'm partial to rainy days so of course I'd be drawn to something like this. The cloudy, somewhat gloomy sky seems fitting enough as well. Even though it's gray, there's still some sunlight poking through, so it's not completely dark.

The fog in my mind's clearing up a bit, even more so now that I've put my thoughts on paper. I also think being with Jamie and Nedra also helped, especially knowing that Nedra's gonna be all right. It's rough, but as she said, she's made peace with it. And as for Roselle, she was able to make the most out of the time she had left so she was able to leave with no regrets.

I hope that when the end comes for me, I can leave the world the same way Roselle did. Is that asking for too much?

[haosvteen]

Betcha | lee chan

a/n: i drew a little bit of inspiration for this from ‘betcha’ by baekhyun, so that explains the title!! this is one of my favorite things i’ve written in a long time :) i hope you like it!! <3

college!chan x female!reader

~ - fluff

word count: 2.8k

masterlist

A warm burst of air greets you as you swing open the door of the stone building, looking down at your watch to see how much time was left before your class started. Since there were five minutes until your professor would begin rambling on about motifs in classic literature, you decided to walk down the hall a bit to grab a drink from the vending machine. Your shoes squeaked on the glossy tile floor due to the freshly melting snow you obtained on your walk from your apartment, causing a few students leaning against the walls waiting for their classes to look up at you. Ignoring their looks, you approach the vending machine and swipe your card. Prepared to make a selection, you hear loud laughter coming down the hall on your right. 

Turning your head, you’re met with the image of a group of rambunctious boys joking down the hallway towards you. They were laughing and shouting so loudly that everyone in the building probably heard them. In the center of it all was Lee Chan. Gosh, the way all of his friends were doting over him and hanging onto his every word was enough to make you scoff and shift your focus back onto what drink you’d be choosing from the vending machine. 

You heard several girls whispering to each other saying things like “What I’d do for Lee Chan to just look at me” and “One time he held the door for me at the library, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since”. Hearing them talk like that made you physically ill. He’s just a person, a human being...and he isn’t that special anyway. You’ll admit that he’s attractive, you’d be lying if you said anything other than that. He also is quite intelligent, always earning A’s on his essays in the class you share.  But his personality is just...yuck. The way he never pays attention in class, constantly on his phone texting whatever girl he is baiting that week with no reprimand from the professor. The constant offers from all girls on campus to perform every task and errand for him. The general lack of care for anyone, but himself...he’s not really your favorite individual on campus to say the least. 

Not to mention the way he always tries to one-up you in class. You’ll proudly own up to the fact that you’re a good student, amazing even. You pay attention, never miss a class, and raise your hand almost always to answer any question the professor throws your way. But every time, Chan just has to go and say the exact same answer as you, just in a better way. Of course, causing him to receive all the praise from your professor and earning an adoring gaze from the girls in the class. There are no words to describe how much this infuriates you. Especially the cocky smirk he throws your way after the professor says, “Great answer, Chan, I couldn’t have said it better myself!”. 

As the frustration due to your thoughts grew, you were ripped away as someone leaned up against the vending machine, mere inches from where you were standing. Speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Y/N, ready for class today?” Chan asks you, with that same cocky smirk on his face that you’ve, unfortunately, grown so used to seeing. As if the sight of his lips raising is a trigger for you, a fire starts deep within you, annoyance, and frustration growing every second you’re in his presence. Rolling your eyes, you ignore him and raise your hand to press the button on the machine and finally make your selection. Before you had the chance for your finger to collide with the plastic, Chan beat you to it and pressed the glowing white button for mint tea.

Speechless, you simply scoffed and looked at him with wide eyes, not believing he just did that. Who does that?! “Take it easy, babe. Don’t act so offended, you know you were going to get mint tea anyway. You get it almost every day before class,” Chan says casually, leaning his head back against the machine, chewing the gum in his mouth with a smile.

As much as you hate to admit it to yourself, he was right. You were going to get the mint tea, it’s your favorite...and it’s a little weird that he knew that. Just to spite him, you respond, “Actually, I was going to get strawberry milk today, but I guess I’ll have to settle for this instead since you took it upon yourself to decide for me”. The annoyance in your voice was evident, but if Chan noticed, he didn’t let it show on his face. He leans down and grabs the bottle of tea out of the machine, not breaking eye contact with you the whole time. The tension could be cut with a knife and you knew his group of friends standing several feet away and the group of girls gawking at you both could feel it as well.

Standing up, he extends the bottle towards you saying, “Then let me make it up to you then” with yet another cocky smirk, paired his eyes trailing your body up and down. Your face twists into a look that says ‘That was the cringiest thing I’ve ever heard, also I am incredibly grossed out’. 

“Uh, no thanks,” you say, grabbing the mint tea from his hand and walking down the hallway, hearing his friends teasing him by saying, “Oooo” and no doubt giving him joking punches on the shoulder. 

Your mind was a scrambled mess from the interaction you just had. Who does he think he is? Does he think every girl on this campus is begging for his attention?! In all honesty, you wish he would just ignore you so you wouldn’t have to deal with his antics and casual flirtation. It infuriates you to no end and quite honestly keeps you up at night thinking about how he believes he runs this campus. 

Making your way into the classroom, you quickly slide into your unassigned-assigned seat in the front row, trying to pull out your notebook and pen all while attempting to organize your thoughts and irritation about whatever that conversation was you just had. You let out a large sigh as you flip to the next open page in your notebook and the professor begins class, giving you a scolding look for the huff of air you let out to express your exasperation. As you begin to jot down some general notes about what the prof is saying, you notice he who must not be named enters the classroom.

 “Oh, Chan! I’m glad you could make it,” your professor cheerily says as Chan saunters in.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Chan responds, flashing a bright smile. This causes yet another heavy breath to leave you as you shake your head at your professor’s naivety and how simple it is for him to be charmed. You realize Chan is making his way over to pass you in order to find his own seat. Looking down at your notebook to continue taking writing and ignoring the close proximity of your least favorite person, you notice something is slid onto your desk as he walks by.

Strawberry milk.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your face. You quickly grab it, tossing it into your backpack, hoping no one saw. Confusion and shock flood your head as you simply stare at the board in front of you. What was his goal with that? Probably another one of his flirtation tactics, no doubt. Did that actually work on other girls?! The bar is so low, apparently. You turn around to hopefully catch Chan’s gaze and give him a confused and weirded out expression, but when you turn around he’s simply leaned back in his chair, listening to the professor, seemingly bored out of his mind. You know he knows you’re looking at him and is just refusing to meet your eyes. Narrowing your eyes at him, you whip your head back around to focus on the lecture. There is no way you were going to let Lee Chan of all people distract you.

As the class was drawing to a close, your professor announced, “I’m trying something new for the final this semester. Instead of taking an exam, as students have done in the past, I’m going to be placing you into groups to complete a presentation”. He was met with groans from students like you who would just prefer to study on their own and get it over with by taking a test, but there were also silent celebrations from students who think that a group project means less work for them. However, only one thought was racing through your mind:

Do not put me with Lee Chan.

“I will go ahead and read off who your partners are, then you will be dismissed. The directions for this assignment will be posted on our class website later tonight and we’ll discuss it more next time we meet. Well, I won’t keep you waiting”, he explains and begins to read off the names. It’s embarrassing to admit but you were literally hiding your hands in your sleeves and crossing your fingers that you wouldn’t be paired with Chan. It might seem dramatic and a drastic measure to take. He can’t be that bad, right? Wrong. You’d heard rumors about his poor work ethic in group projects. That combined with his overall playboy aura is not a good match for you. 

“Lee Chan and Y/N Y/L/N,” your professor says. It’s like your mind is frozen. Of course, this would happen to you. Just your luck. You didn’t even pay attention to the final words your professor had to say before wrapping up class because you were dreading having to do an entire project all by yourself.

As you closed your notebook and began to pack away your things, you felt someone standing near you. With a sigh, you look up knowing exactly who it is.

There he was, standing with his hands in his jean pockets and that cocky smirk making yet another appearance. Rolling your eyes, you sling your backpack over your shoulder and stand up, grabbing your phone.

“What’s your number?” you bluntly ask, not so much as a question and more of a demand.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Chan says with a laugh, grabbing your phone to enter his number in. His fingertips grazed your hand as he gently took it from your grasp. You’d never admit that it made your heart skip a beat or two, though.

He finishes typing in his number and as he is handing your phone back, he suggests, “Let’s get lunch or something to talk about the project”. You started walking away from him halfway through his sentence, causing him to trail off at the end. 

“No,” you call out as you walk out of the classroom. “I’ll text you.”

Not going to lie, you kind of felt like a badass. Chan deserved a taste of his own medicine and you’re just the lucky person who gets to give it to him. 

You make your way to a local coffee shop a little way down the road, mentally preparing to deal with customers and make beverages until the late hours of the night. Entering the backroom to set your things down and tie your apron on, making your way out to behind the counter to begin your workday.

The hours dragged on and on, filled with heating up pastries and making cappuccinos until it was 10:30pm and there were only thirty minutes left until close. There were a few people in the shop, working on their laptops, or having a chat with a friend. It was around this time of night, you started to clean up behind the counter and prepare everything for those who open the store the next morning.

You bent down to grab a square bucket from under the counter and a damp rag, heading over to clear off several tables from customers who had recently left. As you’re placing some plates into the bucket, you hear the doorbell jingle, signaling that someone has entered.

“One moment, I’ll be with you in-” you begin, but look up to see Chan. You suck in a sharp breath of air as he walks toward you with that damn smirk on his face. You continue to gather the dishes from the table, hoping that maybe he would just go wait by the register. Wishful thinking on your part as he comes over puts a hand on the table, leaning on it and tilting his head to get a better look at you.

“What do you want, Chan?” you monotonously say, not drifting your attention from clearing the table.

“Well, I tried texting you, but you didn’t respond,” he explains.

“Uh, yeah because I’m working,” you respond matter-of-factly. You finish wiping down the table and lift up the bucket to go over to the next table. Chan takes the bucket from your hands and you look at him with the most confused expression, but he just motions for you to go on to the next table. You shake your head in more confusion, but accept it and go on with him trailing behind you, hauling the heavy bucket of dishes.

“Yeah, that’s why I came here,” he continues the conversation as he sets the bucket down on the next table. You stop cleaning and look at him with yet another confused expression. How does he even know you work here? He must have been able to tell what you were thinking by the look on your face because he says, “I like coming here and I see you here, so”. 

No matter how weirded out or confused you were, you carried on, “Why did you even need to talk to me in the first place?”

“Oh, I already have our presentation outlined and in a PowerPoint. We just have to do some research and put it all together,” he casually says. You don’t know who said that he has a poor work ethic in group projects, but apparently, they were wrong. 

“Thanks,” you respond simply and head back behind the counter, with Chan following you yet again. 

“We’re meeting on Thursday at 4:00 to finish it,” he says as he lifts the glass cake stand and grabs a blueberry muffin, starting to dig in. 

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Thursday doesn’t work for me. I also hope you’re planning on playing for that”.

“Oh, no, I figured it was on the house,” he sarcastically teases. You give him a stern gaze and he continues, “Of course I’m going to pay for it, I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything”. You don’t know why, but that made you kind of...blush. And you hoped he didn’t see.

“Anyway, why can’t you do Thursday?” he casually says, still picking chunks off of the muffin and eating them.

“I have plans, Chan. News flash: the world doesn’t revolve around you,” you retort as you begin to clean the coffee machines.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s your world, I’m just living in it,” he says as if it didn’t mean anything. What did it mean? It’s not like people just say that casually. At least you’ve never heard people say that about people casually. You barely had any time to think more about it when you heard him say a little quieter, “Do you have a date or something on Thursday?”

Your heart began to race...and what for?? Was he...jealous? Why would he be asking if you had a date? Why would he care? “No, I don’t have a date,” you respond. At that, you see Chan’s head perk up.

“Okay, well how about Wednesday, then? I could do like...5:00?” he says.

“Yeah, that works,” you reply, looking towards him and giving him a small smile. A facial expression you never thought you’d be giving Lee Chan. There was just something about the way his eyes lit up...and that damn smirk…

“Alright, then,” he says while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bill, placing it on the counter to pay for the muffin he took. Making his way to the front of the shop to exit, he turned around to say, “It’s a date”. 

And there you are, left a blushing mess behind the counter. Waiting for Wednesday at 5:00.

[delaneytveit]

Satellites Part 16

Insomnia at its finest! wow, 3 chapters in one day, amazing! This has now turned into the How I Wish the Writers Handled Lance’s trauma. because lets be honest, we did not get that in the show, and I will mourn it until my dying breath! 

So what else will we learn about Project Leo and Lance’s time as a captive? Let’s find out! 

As always, here are my twitter handles if any of you want to follow me or yell at me or anything. 

Twitter - sfw -> @/spacemom_laney | nsfw -> @15_agentwash

and maybe buy me a coffee??

ko-fi - ko-fi.com/delaneym_15

oh, and before I forget! TW: blood, gore, death?, corpses

(part 15) (Masterpost) (part 17)

The mission had been approved an hour before they were to embark. As simple as it seemed on paper, there was nothing simple about it. They were to go to the exact facility that Lance had been held in.

Lance was to return to the place that had taken everything from him. The place that had broken him and made him into their own perfect image. It made him sick to even think about it. They thought they were helping him, making him stronger, better, faster. They thought that what they were doing was just and that their findings could be used by the very empire trying to colonize the entirety of the universe.

Lance had never believed anyone could be evil, not the pure kind in which they held absolutely no shred of humanity. He had never believed that anyone could be so deprived of morality. They had changed that.

His time in the lab, and in the prison before it, had changed that. He had been exposed to people who treated him as nothing more than an experiment, people who found enjoyment in his pain and torture. He had found people who would so easily deliver pain to anyone they deemed as below them, take power away from the already powerless.

He was going back.

But this time it was different.

This time it was on his own terms.

The argument over whether or not Lance should accompany the rest of the team on the mission was surprisingly brief. Allura had been very adamant about ensuring Lance’s dependability, regardless of his mental state. And frankly no one could really argue against her due to the fact that Lance was the only one who knew the layout of the facility.

He had been the only one able to escape after all.

The flight to the ship was brief. Allura had wormhole the castle to a neighboring gas planet that it was able to hide behind. Due to the Green Lion’s ability to remain undetected, the paladins each boarded it, and Pidge was the only one to pilot to the facility. In just under 20 dobashes, the Green Lion had made its way onto the ship.

Keith was the first out of the Green Lion, activating his bayard and plunging it into the steel outer wall of the ship. In a few ticks he had successfully cut a circular hole wide enough for the team to slip through individually.

Up until now, no one had really noticed the lack of security of the facility. No one except for Lance.

The last time he had been here, it had been hell to get out. Patrol ships were everywhere and the large ion cannon would have shot anything down within half a tick. It was weird how quiet the facility and the area around it was, and he most certainly didn’t like it.

“Keep your eyes open,” Lance called over the comms just as his feet touched the floor of a familiar hallway. “Something’s not right.”

“Lance is right.” Shiro announced, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

Once everyone had successfully boarded, Lance wasted no time in leading them down the ever winding hallways. He was honestly surprised he was able to remember the path. He had only walked it once, and it was more of a wild sprint than a walk, but the path came with ease.

He knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning. In no way should a team of five paladins be able to simply walk into a heavily guarded lab facility. They should have encountered at least a dozen sentries since they even stepped foot on the ship, and yet, nothing.

He didn’t like being back, the memories were much too overwhelming, but he needed to do this. He needed to put on a brave face for the team. He needed to get them to the people that needed them the most.

He could break down later. Until he turned down one specific hallway.

“Where are you taking me? Who are you?”

“Subject 7234, you are in distress. Please I need you to-”

“Stop calling me that! That’s not my name!”

“Subject 7234, I really must encourage you to calm down, you’ve already ripped your stitches.”

Lance looked down. He hadn’t even felt it. He should have felt it, the pain of it, filling his abdomen. It was only the thick dark blood that told him she was right.

“What are you doing to me?” he yelled, he couldn’t move his arms to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was tied to a bed again, at the mercy of Clipboard and her assistants. The squeak of the wheels was loud as they wheeled him down the hallway.

The vision evaporated almost immediately as Keith grasped Lance’s hand.

“Hey, you okay?” The red paladin scanned his face, searching for anything that could possibly give him an answer.

Lance took a second to breathe before he steeled himself. “I’m fine.” He turned and made his way to continue down the long hallway.

Not now.

It was much too quiet. It made him uneasy, and it was clear that the team was equally as confused and were likely thinking the same thing.

Where is everyone?

After a few more long hallways, a few more twists and turns, the armed paladins finally made it to the infamous lab itself.

Like the room he had been held in, the walls of the lab were made entirely out of glass, thick and at the time virtually unbreakable. And yet, shards were everywhere. The entire wall had been smashed and glass had spilt over the otherwise empty hallway.

Hunk cleared his throat, “What...happened?”

Lance had been thinking that exact same thing.

Shaking his head, Lance responded. “I-I don’t know.”

“...Mmmaybe we should head back?” Keith had placed his hand on Lance’s arm, apparently trying in some way to comfort the obviously affected paladin.

“No, we keep going.”

“Lance-”

“We owe it to them, Keith! We have to search for survivors.”

“Lance, do you really think that there is anyone still alive on this ship?” Pidge questioned. She was beyond skeptical. The destruction she could see of the room before her only fueled it.

There was a long silence before Lance moved out of Keith’s grip. With long legs, Lance stepped over the broken sill and into the destroyed lab.

“We have to try.”

As much as Shiro wanted to just turn back, there seemed no way to convince the Blue paladin of such. He was too focused, too determined. The only way to get him to leave prematurely would be to drag him out kicking and screaming. For the sake of Lance, and whoever would have to carry him out of the ship, he decided against the notion and instead turned to the remainder of his team.

“Alright guys, split up but keep you comms on. If you run into any trouble just say the word.” He announced. The group nodded and followed the suit of Lance, into the lab.

As much as Keith wanted to follow Lance, he knew that doing so could only do more harm than good. This was something Lance had to do on his own. So he made his way through the room, to the opposite side of where Lance was walking.

More glass littered the floor as it seemed that everything in the room had been completely destroyed. Test tubes and glassware were shattered. Debris was everywhere. Someone had done this on purpose. Someone had wanted to erase whatever work had been done here.

He couldn’t say he was sorry for it. All that they had done to Lance, in his mind they deserved it. He hated them for what they did to Lance.

The small amount of satisfaction had quickly dissipated once he walked closer to one of the aisles of lab tables. At the far end, staring back at him, was a corpse.

The body slouched against the wall, its chest ripped apart and blood was splattered everywhere.

“Holy shit.”

Shiro wasn’t doing any better. He had found three more bodies scattered throughout one of the storage rooms. Each with their chests ripped open, their mouths open in a silent scream.

Pidge and Hunk had set up working on one of the only non destroyed computers hopeful that they could somehow get some information out of it.

Lance had taken his own path, towards the back of the room. The place he called home for 5 months. The room stood no longer. The glass having been given the same fate as everything else. The only evidence that it had even stood was the foundation. The metal that kept the glass connected to the floor.

Without the frosted vision, he was able to make out 6 more foundations. Six more rooms. Six more patients. Five bodies discarded among the debris, now nothing more than nameless faces.

Six experiments.

Four successful trials.

Only one survivor.

It wasn’t until then that Lance noticed the archway behind the holding cells. It must have been obscured before. Or maybe he had just never chanced a look behind him. But it was there now, standing in front of a lightless hallway.

Slowly he made his way towards it. Crossing the threshold, Lance took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.

The hallway was completely new territory, one he hadn’t even known existed, though he explored it all the same. The fluorescent light at the end of it flickered from where it hung haphazardly from the ceiling, giving off the only bright light in the area.

Lance took a step, then another before he heard something.

“Did you say something guys?” he asked over the comms and various negative responses answered him.

“You good, man?” Lance heard Hunk say.

“Y-yeah, just thought I heard something.”

“We should leave soon, there’s nothing here that can help us.” Keith had never been the one to call a retreat, though Lance assumed it was for his sake. Him being back in the facility put them all on edge.

Keith was right though, the only place that could have held prisoners was completely trashed. There was no one here.

They were too late.

He debated turning back when he heard it again. A high pitch sound that could obviously just be a machine, though no machines were down this way.

“Give me a sec.” he called, before muting his comms and continuing down the hall.

He was surprised to see the metal walls turn to clear glass, shattered but mostly intact. A glass door separated the rooms from the hall, one on each side of him, though both were wide open.

The sound came again, this time a bit clearer. He turned to the right room and stepped inside.

He was greeted by rows upon rows of open topped containers. Many of them tipped over but all of them empty. They almost resembled those plastic tubs his mother used to buy for organization, though the walls of them were much higher.

The ones that were still upright sat on little rolling carts, placards adorning the carts with various numbers.

7839

9846

4562

9843

There were multiples of numbers. Some having been printed on six or seven placards.

The sound came again from the far side of the room. Lance quickly transformed his bayard from its sniper configuration to a simple handgun, and made his way towards the muffled sound. For some reason it almost sounded familiar, as if he had heard it before. Though he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Up until then, the containers had been empty. Clearly though, he was wrong. They were empty, all except for one. As he got closer he understood what the sound was. And he cursed himself for not recognizing it sooner. There was no mistaking what was making it.

He walked to the singular container, the placard reading clearly.

7234

His breath caught in his throat as he approached the cart. What he had previously seen as just a lump was instead a blanket, thick and dark grey in the glowing purple of the emergency lights.

With a shaky hand, Lance reached out to the blanket and with one swift motion pulled it away revealing the one thing he never thought he’d find on this ship.

Large blue eyes stared up at him, as the owner of the cry ceased their noise almost instantly and suddenly everything became clear.

This was how they were going to make their soldiers.

With those bright, blue eyes.

[marshmallowskz]

Crushing On You

a Seo Changbin fic, in which he's got a little crush on you.

i. / ii.

Thank god that the sound of his friends laughing at a joke Jisung made was resonating through the whole table, or not everyone would've heard how hard Changbin's heart was hammering inside his chest. His packed sandwich that he brought from home was also strangely left untouched, as he was trying his best to calm his breathing down, knowing that you were just a few seats before him.

Seungmin had managed to pull you to their table, as you were both in the middle of discussing about both of your Physics project on the way to recess. You suddenly felt self-conscious as everyone's eyes were on you, maybe because this was your first time entering the cafeteria since school started two weeks ago, or perhaps mainly because you were seated at, what the whole school has named them, the Stray Kids' spot.

You recognised most of them since they all used to go to the same middle school as you, as well as the older members, who were, and still are heart-throbs of every student in the school. From what you've heard back then, they were known to be a group full of trouble-makers; the usual truancy, picking fights and vandalising school property, but suprisingly they've grown to it and have now settled down since their senior years started. Now, instead of being intimidated and scared of them, everyone wanted to befriend the 8 rowdy (and handsome) boys.

"Alright, that's enough weird jokes from you today Jisung. Or you might scare Eunsun away," Chan said, while recovering himself from his laughter. "Nahh she's used to it already, we shared three classes back then, right Eunsun?" Jisung asked, smiling at the way your eyes crinkled as you laughed and nodded your head.

This was the hardest you've laughed this week since all this while, you were having a hard time trying to catch up with the difficult syllabus and making new friends in school. But the boys managed to make you feel welcomed at their table, and even were comfortable enough to crack a few of their stupid jokes with you.

You continued taking a bite of your homemade strawberry cake, hurriedly finishing it off since you only had 7 more minutes until recess ends.

And Changbin was still stuck in his daydream, as he quietly observed how you would scrape off some of the heavy frosting before putting the cut piece into your mouth, and how your cheeks will automatically swell up as you chewed, one hand already working on cutting another piece while another was unlocking your phone, probably checking what the time was. He moved his gaze down your face, just in time for you to dart your tongue out and lick the cream near the corner of your mouth, making Changbin even harder to resist the urge of wanting to taste your soft lips.

He snapped out of his thoughts, cursing at himself for feeling that way towards someone as pure as you, and started to work his way on devouring his sandwich.

"I'm going to wash my hands, then we can go to History," you told Seungmin. At that exact moment, Changbin was already done with his food and wanted to get up as well, making the both of you stare at each other as you stood up. Feeling slightly embarrassed at the scene, you rushed off to the sinks with him following you from behind.

'This is it, I have to start talking to her first,' Changbin thought as he cleared his throat, making you turn to him. "Uh, so.... hi?" he started, wincing at how his voice cracked a little at the end. 'Oh god, I'm already making a fool out of myself,' he mentally scolded himself.

" H-hello! Changbin right? " you greeted back, stuttering to the fact that your middle school (still current) crush was talking to you. Seo Changbin, you'd be living in a rock if you didn't know who he was. Despite being the most quiet one in the group, he was one of the most popular members, known for his cold and tough demeanour that seems to be making everyone attracted to him, including you.

But you try to push those feelings away, knowing how he was way out of your limit and lives in a completely different world from you, moreover to the fact that you've once embarassed yourself infront of him back in the library two years ago. That day was still haunting you.

'Please don't remember, please don't remember,' you quietly chanted in your head as you washed your hands beside him. "Yeah haha I'm suprised you still remember my name, eventhough we've only met once," Changbin exclaimed, drying of his hands and faced you.

God bless. God bless his beautiful face- the way his eyes were shining above you, his jaw perfectly sculpted, making you want to run your fingers along it. And he was slightly taller than you, as you'd have to look up at him due to your 5'1 figure. You didn't notice how you were taking a long time admiring him until you remembered back to what he said earlier, and gulped as you realised how he was mentioning about the library incident.

Eyes wide, you shaked your head and whined, "Oh no I thought you would forget that, I'm so sorry, again." You pouted, face red from thinking about your clumsiness that day.

Changbin chuckled and said, "Ah stop apologising, it was nothing. Fine, if it'll make you feel better, I'll erase it from my memory right now and not mention it again." Him feeling guilty and worried that he might've ruined your mood by bringing up your embarrassing moment, eventhough to him, he was grateful for that day since it brought him to you.

You huffed out a, "Promise?" and held out your pinky, making Changbin melt at your cute actions, before slowly linking his finger as well and letting out a small, "Promise." back.

Giggling at the exchange, you made your way to the table, heart still racing from the jolt of electricity you felt as both of your fingers touched earlier. "I'll see you later, then," you smiled at him and joined Seungmin to class.

"Yeah, you too," he breathed out, mentally taking a picture of your sweet smile that left him breathless, and hands still rubbing the spot where your small pinky was before. 'I can't believe I just did that,' he thought, cringing at the way someone might've seen him, the cold Changbin, making pinky promises with a girl. But again, it wasn't just any other girl. It was a girl that he knew he would do anything for, just to see her smile.

- elle ★彡

[doloreswink35-blog]

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[rikotin]

Hey, I really liked your fic with David not getting into the film school. I'm in the mood for more angst. Can you please write this one “Why are you lying to me?” with Davenzi?

hiii! thank you for the prompt and sorry for the small delay, i got a bit carried away and ended up with a bit more than i bargained for haha

but angst you ask and angst you get (with some hope and comfort we all deserve)! hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

And I Promise You This

It was bound to happen eventually, their lives getting more diverging. 

They still had their huge group of friends, but as people started studying and working, they rarely managed to meet up with everyone present these days. Now, everyone saw each other mostly one on one or in smaller groups, whenever they could.

Matteo and David had also both made some new friends along the way. After David started university, he quickly found himself part of a small, warm community of fine arts students and made a lot of friends in just a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, Matteo worked at a nearby Italian restaurant, still contemplating if being a chef or a waiter was something he’d like to do in the future as well, or if he’d rather study something completely else. Soon after starting at his new job, Matteo had hit it off with a couple of his colleagues, as they were around the same age, and they saw each other regularly outside work.

All things considered, it was only natural that they didn’t spend that much time together anymore. It wasn’t to say that they didn’t spend time together at all, no. Of course they made sure to regularly carve out some time for  each other – to play games, watch movies, explore the city, whatever they happened to come up with. They basically lived together as well, mostly sharing a bed at the flatshare, but sometimes escaped the noisy and nosy flatmates by going to David’s – well, Laura’s, at this point – apartment just to get some peace and quiet. It was nice every once in a while, Laura and Matteo connected over cooking and David connected with them both by eating and enjoying it, but they had chosen to live at the flatshare anyway, as David couldn’t really stomach the idea of living with his boyfriend under his sister’s roof. Some things should always have a healthy amount of distance from the family members, and the thin wall between their bedrooms simply didn’t provide that.

However, going from being joined at the hip all the time to having their separated lives, despite their things having morphed into one large pile that belonged to both of them, had led to some arguments and strain in their relationship. That was to be expected, though, as it was a new situation to both of them, and adjusting to it hadn’t been as easy as they had initially thought.

Things had calmed down, and mostly, it was smooth sailing. But sometimes, things got tough. That happened when they were both beyond stressed, and so busy they barely ever saw each other – David working on projects at the university from 8 to 18 while Matteo sometimes came home from work well after midnight. Most of the time, they were good at communicating their concerns and anything that might be bothering them, and it rarely caused them any troubles. But when tired and annoyed, listening got hard and patience wore thin, leading to frustration and arguments.

Usually, the tension between them lasted from several hours to a few days until one or both of them broke it by saying something funny or teasing purposefully to swipe away the odd strain, or simply by apologizing and taking away the hurt.

It had been a week now, and David was slowly losing his mind.

It all began on the evening he had promised to go to a party with his friends from the university. Matteo was supposed to work for the day, but his boss had to reschedule him for the following evening due to a big reservation, effectively ruining their plans to go out together with the boys like “the old times” as Carlos had referred to it.

David knew he could have taken the news a bit better, as it wasn’t Matteo’s fault and Matteo agreed to the change simply because he didn’t want to cause his colleagues to break under pressure while working understaffed. Matteo’s decision was, in fact, very thoughtful, now that David thought back to it. Unfortunately, when Matteo had broken the news to him, his initial reaction was to call him out on it – not because he was actually angry, like he was sure it came across, but because he was disappointed that he couldn’t make it. They all had been looking forward to the night-out for such a long time, made plans over a month ago to ensure everyone had their schedule free for the night, and now, Matteo was not going to make it.

After he had calmed down a bit, David had suggested that Matteo come with him to the student party instead. Matteo had asked him if he could cancel, if they could just curl up on the couch and enjoy a movie or something. But he couldn’t do that, as he had made a promise, and had taken part in planning the evening, and was needed to set up the place for the people. 

After a short but tense discussion, Matteo agreed to go – although a bit reluctantly. David understood where he was coming from: Matteo had only briefly met his school friends, and generally disliked being in loud places with huge crowds without knowing anyone.  And, well, wasn’t a student party just that? But he promised to go with David, and David was thrilled to have his boyfriend with him – ready to show Matteo off to everyone.

However, David felt that something was off. Something had started with their quarrel but never disappeared, even after they had made amends. 

Throughout the night, it kept bugging him. It bothered him as he watched Matteo chat and laugh with his friends; it kept nagging at the back of his head as they all danced together. He pulled Matteo close, the music booming around them, and he swayed with him for a moment – until Matteo pulled away. Later, he asked Matteo if he wanted to get something to drink, but only got a shake of a head as an answer. While they were walking back to the flatshare, David reached for Matteo’s hand, but Matteo pulled it away and slipped it into his pocket. Matteo was looking away into the distance of the sleeping city, but David couldn’t help feeling like it was intentional.

David tried to bring it up many times as the week went by. He knew he had been childish before the party, getting mad over nothing, and he had told Matteo as much. Told him he had been wrong, and that he was sorry. And Matteo had accepted his apology, shrugging like he didn’t know why David was apologizing. But there was something sad in his smile and something careful in the way he hugged David back, and it all screamed that something was still so very wrong. 

So, day after day, David asked about it, and all he kept getting back was a forced laugh, a shrug, or an eyeroll. His initial worry quickly turned back into irritation.

“Matteo, what is wrong?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past couple of days. He had gone to hug his boyfriend from behind while he was pouring some coffee for himself, only to be shrugged off as quickly as Matteo needed to realize what he was about to do; his patience was at its limits.

“Nothing,” Matteo answered immediately – too fast for it to be sincere. David sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was too early – to be awake, to be shoved off, to be having this conversation, you name it –, but it was the first morning in a month they were actually able to have breakfast together. So if he was being honest, it hurt to be brushed off without any explanation when all he wanted was some coffee and a goddamn hug from his boyfriend.

“Don’t start with that again. It’s obviously something. You’ve been acting strange all week.”

“I have not.”

The discussion was like an exact repeat from all the previous ones they’d had, leading absolutely nowhere. It took every ounce of self-control David had to remain calm and not pull his hair out strand by strand in his frustration.

“You just pushed me off from hugging you even though we haven’t been able to spend a morning together in ages. That is very strange when it comes to you.”

“Are you saying I’m clingy?” Matteo grumbled, now visibly annoyed at being forced to continue the conversation despite his efforts to escape it. Matteo grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge and poured some into his coffee, pointedly turning his back to David for the moment. David couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, it would actually help to pull out some hair, after all.

“No, I–… That’s not what I said.” David shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face. “Matteo, I need to know what’s going on. You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m right here,” Matteo stated blankly, returning the milk to the fridge. He picked up his coffee mug and turned around, but kept his eyes down, while David kept his own gaze on Matteo’s face like a hawk, desperate to get any reaction that might hint at what was going on.

“You are here, yes, but you’re still avoiding me.”

Matteo shrugged and kept quiet, taking a sip out of his mug while he leaned his back against the kitchen counter. David was running out of ideas on how to not end up in yet another fight, when all he wanted to do was the resolve the previous one they had – or whatever it was that was now putting this weight between them.

“Matteo, please,” David began, stressing his words, and let his eyes slide shut while he took a deep breath before opening them again. “You barely talk to me if I don’t talk to you first, you pull your hand away when I try to hold it, you shrug me off when I try to hug you and now you’re refusing to look me in the eye completely. Why is that? Please tell me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Matteo said, his voice so quiet David could hardly make out the words. David ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring the knots and tangles they got stuck in on the way.

“You are, though. So, what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you lying to me?” David snapped, raising his voice unintentionally, the force of it ringing through the kitchen, and regretting it as soon as he saw Matteo flinch.

“Sorry,” David said immediately, backing down a bit and heavily dropping himself on to the nearest kitchen chair. “I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry. I just–… Please, just–… I need to know what I’ve done wrong so I can fix it.”

That’s when Matteo’s gaze snapped up to meet his eyes and he looked… Confused?

“What do you mean? You haven’t done anything.”

Now, David was even more lost. He stared at Matteo, his mouth hanging open in surprise, struggling to take in the information he had just been given.

“What?”

“It’s not–… You didn’t do anything,” Matteo said again, now rubbing his hand over his eyes – with slightly too much force, David noted, like he tended to do when he was frustrated. David leaned his elbows on his knees, gnawing on his lower lip, feeling uncertain.

“What is it, then?” he asked carefully, hoping to sound encouraging. Like he was trying his hardest not to scare Matteo away now that he had finally gotten him to talk – or even react to his questions – for the first time since they fell into the odd place of tension a week ago.

“It’s stupid.”

Ah. That was a response that David knew meant that Matteo had been too lost in his own thoughts – his hidden insecurities casting long, dark shadows over his mind, making unwanted thoughts to surface. Matteo had explained it to him once, after he had gone to see a professional to talk about all the struggles he had had ever since his father left and his mother’s mental health had plummeted.

David stood up again and took a few steps closer to Matteo, leaving some space between them and carefully let his hands hang at his sides, not touching him.

“Tell me,” he then said softly, tilting his head as he tried to catch Matteo’s eyes which were once again turned downwards.

“I just–… I feel like–”

David stood his ground, staying quiet, giving Matteo space to collect his thoughts. Matteo sighed deeply and placed his coffee mug back onto the counter, his shoulders slouching.

“You don’t deserve to be disappointed all the time.”

David blinked. It wasn’t exactly the response he was waiting for, if there was any, and confusion swept over him.

“Disappointed? Because of what?”

“Because of me.”

Matteo’s words tore at his heart. He lifted his arm to take Matteo’s hand, but pulled it away quickly, and reminded himself to keep his distance to ensure Matteo had the space to say everything he wanted – even though  the need to hug him was getting painful to bear. Just as he was about to ask what Matteo had meant, the words started tumbling from Matteo’s lips, a stream of hurt and guilt flung out onto the kitchen floor in front of him. 

He told David how much it bothered him that he had to disappoint not only David but all the guys when he had to cancel their night out, and how much he would have wanted to be there with everyone. He told him how much he hated the student parties and how much he knew David worried for him while they were at one, and how he felt like he always managed to ruin the evening even if no one dared to say it out loud. He told him how much guilt he felt for the times he had told David he’d be home before he went to sleep but had to stay overtime and got back when David had already drifted off. The list went on and on, and David could see it had been building for a long time.

Finally, he closed the distance by taking the couple of steps in between them, and pulled Matteo into a tight hug in the middle of his sentence, and pressed him against himself with all the force he had in his arms. He let his eyes close as Matteo buried his face into the nape of his neck, hugging him back like his whole world depended on it. And they stood there, enveloped in each other, for a long time – finding some desperate comfort in the silence and each other. David felt Matteo shake a little between his arms as the adrenaline, and maybe fear, melted off him. It felt like his chest was burning.

After some time, David finally pulled back just enough to look into Matteo’s eyes, and took his face in between his hands. He wanted to kick himself for not noticing Matteo’s insecurities and building worries earlier. Unfortunately, he had come to learn that Matteo was worryingly good at hiding things if he felt like his feelings might be a burden to someone, so most likely, Matteo had done his very best to keep it safely tucked away from David’s sight. David was determined to do everything in his power to change that so that whatever it was, Matteo could always feel safe to tell it to him. Always.

“I am not disappointed in you,” he then said firmly, and quickly continued before Matteo could jump in, “I am disappointed in situations. I am disappointed because of plans changing suddenly, my favourite jeans ripping and the shitty weather on a summer day. But I’ve never once been disappointed in you.”

“But I have disappointed you.”

Matteo looked uncertain and guilty, and David felt a little sick when he had to nod. But that much was true.

“You have. But– No, listen, Matteo,” David gently turned his face back to him as Matteo tried to turn his eyes away, adamant to keep the connection between them. “It doesn’t mean that you are a disappointment to me.”

David brushed a thumb over Matteo’s cheek, still staring into his blue eyes, trying to muster up the most loving expression he possibly could.

“It never means that, I promise. I’ve only ever been proud of you, to be with you. It makes me so proud to have you.”

Matteo swallowed thickly and didn’t say anything. He simply stared back at David, like he was looking for something in his eyes. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, as he swallowed again and nodded, utter relief painting his expression.

“Okay.”

David nodded, daring to smile a little and squeeze Matteo’s cheeks a bit more between his hands, squishing them so his lips pointed out rather comically. Matteo pulled his face away, breaking into a small laugh. The sound was music to David’s ears, the chime of his laughter soothing David’s heart immediately. Just like that, the heavy weight between them was lifted.

David took a step closer to crowd Matteo against the counter, and loosely hooked his arms on Matteo’s shoulders when he showed no signs of escaping. Matteo seemed amused – David hadn’t even realized how much he had missed that look.

“I love you so much. So, so much. You know that, right?” he mumbled, brushing his nose against Matteo’s. His voice came out a little wobbly, the question almost like a plea. There was this need inside him, urging him to make sure Matteo heard him say it. He just had to know that despite the worries and doubts Matteo might have when he was drowned by his own thoughts, he still knew that he had David’s whole heart and soul.

He felt soft lips press against his own, the kiss tasting like assurance and promise at the same time. Matteo broke it off as gently as he started it, leaning their foreheads together and pulling David impossibly close by the waist.

“I know,” Matteo breathed out shakily, as his face broke into the warmest, brightest smile David had seen in weeks. 

“I love you, too.”

—

“And I promise you this,

no matter who enters your life

I will love you more than any of them.”

– Origin of the quote unknown

[snowyfrostshadows]

Glass Hearts in Porcelain Towers

In old movies from Earth, it's not unbelievable for a evil branch of government or corporate giant to destroy the life of some average smoe by killing a loved one. The heartbroken underdog then swears vengeance, overthrows the corrupt institution no matter the cost, and saves a million others from that pain.

Put like that, Mark Temple is a hero.

It's as the flagpole is being stained red with blood and the life fades from Biff's eyes that Temple realizes he's in love with his best friend.

Far, far too late to do anything about it, but in his defense, his love for Biff had been such a constant subtle presence in his life, that it had been far too easy to pass it off as something else.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that the love Temple had felt went beyond friendship, beyond brotherly companionship when Georgiana had entered the picture.

She'd been fine, at first. But the longer she stuck around and the closer she and Biff got, the more he'd disliked her. Only now, with Biff dead in his arms, did Temple realize he'd been jealous.

He wasn't sure if he was pleased to be here instead of Georgiana for his friend's last moments or disgusted with himself for taking any pleasure from Biff's dying breaths.

...

He was....happy.

Not that he was thrilled with the reality of his closest and longest friend dying in front of him, but, it was better that he was here for Biff's last moments and not Georgiana. Georgiana would ruin it.

Fall apart. Be no comfort at all.

But he was so much better than that. Stronger.

Temple grabbed Biff's hand and squeezed it. "I promise. I will make this right."

Biff's fingers gave a small twitch, perhaps as an affirmation of hearing his promise and then he's gone and with him, Temple's whole world.

                                                         ----

In the days, weeks, months following Biff's murder, Temple discovers that as dramatic and meaningful as 'I will make this right' are to say to a dying friend, they don't exactly lay out a guideline on how exactly to do just that.

He wastes countless hours holed up in his room drawing up plan after plan, each more outlandish and asinine than the last. It's not until a couple of years pass that a path finally opens up for him.

It starts, like all great epics, with a news cast.

At first glance, it's a puff piece. A bunch of soldiers receiving medals of great bravery. And then the details break clear like the dawning of a new sun.

The soldiers are a bunch of SIM Troopers like himself and the other residents of Desert Gulch. Unlike them though, they saw through Project Freelancer's games and joined together to bring the whole thing down.

Temple is in awe.

These men were picked up, played with, thrown aside and then fought back and won.

And now, they're pointing out the path he and the others must take.

They did the hard part. They revealed Project Freelancer to the world as the sham it was.

Temple and the others; they can do cleanup. It was the very least they could do.

For the first time in a long, long time, Temple feels alive. Finally he has a way to fulfill his promise and avenge Biff.

He assigns Gene to find and dig up everything he can about Project Freelancer. They discover how vile and twisted the whole project was. How they would set up multiple bases of SIM Troopers just so their agents could come along and toy with them for their own sick amusement.

Hundreds of brave volunteers tricked into being nothing more than glorified, living, training dummies for a small handful of fully funded sadists.

The UNSC itself isn't much better. They knew what Freelancer was doing. Funded them.

It's enough to make anyone's blood boil.

But it's fine.

He has a plan to make it all right. The UNSC can burn right alongside the ashes of Freelancer as far as he's concerned. It is the barest of what they deserve.

The only drawback to his grand plan, is that most if not all of the very top brass, the highest agents of Freelancer, are already dead. The knowage that he will never be able to personally make Biff's murderer pay is crushing.

But it's fine. It's fine.

He'll just make whose left suffer all that much more to compensate.

Loco, genius that he is, comes up with the bright idea of locking their targets in their armor to avoid a fight. Gene expands on that idea of just leaving them in the armor for a slow, painful death with the added bonus of easy transport and cleanup.

Temple can't help loving the idea.

A painful, drawn out death is the closest these monsters will ever feel to the pain they caused him.

So while Surge, Cronut, and Buckey go to recruit all the poor lost souls Freelancer broke and threw aside, and Loco and Gene develop and test their freeze tech on Lorenzo, Temple draws up plans for their new secret lair.

Barracks for their soon to be army, nicer quarters for himself and his team, a lab big enough to keep Loco happy, and, his personal favorite, a nice, big trophy room to entertain his soon to be captives.

Biff would be pleased at their progress.

And then, a year into construction of the new base, Temple receives word that the ship carrying the Reds and Blues to their final retirement has gone down with zero survivors.

It is a devastating turn of events and a disappointing end to his idols' legacy, even if Surge insists a blaze of glory like a ship crash is one of the top five ways to go.

Temple allows himself one day of mourning for their loss before speeding up work and the hunt for former freelancers begins in earnest.

And it's fun.

More fun than he's had in ages.

No matter how many times his team tracks down a former freelancer, nor how many times they insist they're retired or 'didn't know what the higher-ups were doing', he never gets tired of watching them freeze with a simple press of a button. Of hearing their tough guy talk fall into confused pleading.

It doesn't take long before he starts waiting for their target to strike the perfect pose before freezing them. It's the one mercy he gladly provides. If you had to stay in one pose for all eternity, then it better be a good one right? Something bold and action-y, as a reflection of their lives. And well, he'd hate if all his trophies looked the same. They'd be so boring to look at.

His absolute favorite encounter is Agent Illinois.

The man had to have been an absolute idiot who somehow stumbled his way into the program.

Because the first thing he does when he sees a group of angry SIM troopers is not to fight, but to get up and offer them a drink.

It's almost tragic, but the offered glass of alcohol in one hand, the easy, light pace of Illinois's walk is too beautiful for Temple to not press his button. Especially as he's likely to never get this exact position from anyone else ever again.

So he locks the former freelancer in place, laughs, and carries him onto their dropship.

The liquid in the glass quickly spills out, but Temple is quick to reassure him they'll refill it back on base. He is, after all, a very considerate host.

After the initial capture and settling in, however, Illinois loses any charm he had when they first crossed paths.

He doesn't say a word as he's brought into the trophy room. Nor does he rise to any of Temple's jabs of sharing the same fate as his former teammates.

If it wasn't for his armor broadcasting his vitals, Temple would think he was dead after the first few hours.

It's not until day three, the day that death usually sets in for the former freelancers that he even speaks at all.

"Why?"

Temple pauses in his usual idle talk of how things are going on in outside world to stare at his captive.

"Why...all...this?" Illinois rasps, voice weak from disuse and lack of water.

Temple gives him a thoughtful look before shrugging. Why not be truthful with a dying man? This agent has been kinder than the rest, not interrupting him, or swearing that any day now they'd break free and kill him. It's only fair he returns that kindness with a last request of sorts.

"Do you know the difference between you and I? It's really quite funny. One of us got to fight in the actual war and be a big hero and the other? The other got to play living test dummy for the first. And just like a test dummy, it didn't matter if I got hurt or killed if it made you better.

"I'm just cashing in my due. I had to watch my best friend die so now you and all your stupid friends can join him and apologize!"

It takes a moment for Temple to realize the weird wheezing in the room is Illinois laughing.

"I'm sorry...mate...but that's...the longest...go-around...I've heard...for someone...to say... they're a...sadist."

Temple bristles. "Call me a sadist, but I'm fixing this corrupt mess you and the other freelancers started! I'm in the right!"

Another dry, broken laugh escapes Illinois and Temple sees red. Faster than he can blink, he slams the butt of his gun against Illinois's helmet.

"If this was an attempt for me to release you, you sorely miscalculated."

"Hah...hah...haaaaah. Give me...some...respect....We...both...know...you can't...free... someone who's...already...dead...."

Temple doesn't step back from Illinois because he's unnerved by the amused tone from the man. No, that'd be stupid. He steps away because he's done here. And he runs a very tight schedule with the Blues and Reds and their small army.

And he most certainly doesn't bolt from the room as Illinois's broken ghost of a laugh fills and echoes through the room. He's just busy with a lot of other things he has to do.

An hour later, the vitals for Illinois flat line and it's not relief fluttering about his chest but satisfaction. For another monster slain, another Freelancer down, the universe just a little bit safer.

                                                            ----

A couple months pass after that. The hunt for freelancers has hit a dead wall as either the few remaining have gotten wise to something picking them off and have gone off the grid or Temple and his team have killed them all.

Sad, but probably for the best in the long run. There is another, bigger target that he really should be focusing on.

It is on one of the days he's going through blueprints with Loco that Buckey pulls them out of the lab and to a tv. All of Temple's protests die in his throat as he catches sight of a familiar group on the screen.

The Reds and Blues are alive.

Somehow, against all odds, they'd survived the ship crash. And then proceeded to take apart another corrupt organization-this time Charon Industries.

For one, glorious moment, Temple felt that same wave of awe and admiration for his heroes as he did all those years ago when he first came across their story.

And then he sees a very familiar sickening shade of cyan armor among their ranks and the world is turned on its' head.

The Reds and Blues, his idols, his heroes, his very inspiration for everything are friends with Biff's murderer.

'Maybe they don't know what she did' a hopeful part of him thinks. 'But they revealed Freelancer for what is was. How could they not know?'

Eyes still on the screen, Temple turns slightly towards Buckey and growls "Tell Gene to get me everything on the Reds and Blues. There's been a slight change of plans.''

                                                         ----

They're idiots.

A fact that becomes abundantly clear after listening to hours of audio and pouring over page after page of requests, reports, and even notes on the Reds and Blues. And that's not even the worst thing about them.

No, the worst thing is that not only were they favored by Project Freelancer, they were hand-picked to be copies of his team.

Every single one of them has a counterpart similar enough in personality it's creepy.

Even Biff.

All to keep a digital copy of the very head of the whole project entertained.

Temple stews and locks himself in his room for a full week to think over how best to deal with this disappointing setback.

For a long time, he considers just killing them outright.

Theoretically, it shouldn't be hard.

A bullet to the back of the head, replacing one of their own and then slipping a knife through each of their ribs. Hell, he could probably even get all of their food poisoned.

But somehow, somehow, they survived a crash from fifty thousand feet in the air.

A feat no one else on board managed to match.

So chances were, a bullet or knife or poison may not be able to do the trick.

....armor locking might.

They could live forever and still not be able to move a muscle.

It's a brilliant plan and he's so so close to incorporating it into their plans already in motion when a small shred of doubt wiggles itself into his conscience.

These men tore down Freelancer. Started him on his path. Gave him purpose. And he wants to return that goodwill with venom?

...

Everything points to them being idiots, so it's likely they don't even know their 'friend' is a freelancer who kills and ruins lives for fun. And it's because the Reds and Blues are so trusting, that she's alive and practically gift wrapped for Temple to kill her himself.

Ultimately, he decides to offer them an olive branch.

They've done so much for him, it's only fair he offers them something back in return.

                                                        ----

More intel is gathered on the Reds and Blues. If he wants them to accept his offer, join his team, then he is going to stack his hand with every card in his favor.

-He learns they've killed at least four freelancers themselves while still keeping two alive and within their ranks.

-They cared deeply for the Director's digital copy, going so far as to 'save' it multiple times.

-The copy is currently 'dead'; moreso from being an outdated faulty piece of tech than ever actually being 'alive'.

The lack of the digital copy turns out to be their ticket to reeling the Reds and Blues in. With just a little prodding, Loco is able to cut up audio files of 'Church' and formats them into a distress call and then broadcasts it throughout space.

The others doubt the broadcast will work without set coordinates but Temple knows it will. Somehow, the audio will find them and they'll come running and he'll welcome them with open arms and a smile.

                                                        ----

It ends up taking a few months longer than Temple thinks it would. By the time they set foot at his front door, he's nearly done putting the finishing touches on his greatest achievement. A few more days and they would have missed it.

And while he easily wins their trust with a little air show and some theatrics he can't help being... disappointed by who all shows up.

The Freelancers are easily taken care of. And best of all, the Reds and Blues don't even notice they're gone. Proving to Temple they were merely saving them for him and absolutely will join his vendetta.

However, they brought a reporter with them and she won't stop poking her nose in every little thing. And their orange solider, the one he was most curious to meet, seems to have quit.

He can't even dispose of the reporter because every time he tries to, their maroon solider has pulled her aside for yet another interview to complain about the missing orange one.

If it wasn't for his two brand new captives (one of which is Her) to torment and final checks to see through, Temple is fairly sure he'd lose it.

Besides, it'll all be worth it in the end. (Until suddenly it isn't)

The truth comes out and Simmons, Tucker, Caboose, and Donut throw his generous offer in his face and decide to stand against him.

Not even an hour after that little confrontation, Surge alerts him to the presence of an intruder.

Who, on the camera feeds is walking around the base like he knows the place. And even though he knows, he knows Biff is dead, his very first thought at seeing the orange armor is thinking it's his old friend.

But it's not him.

Because Biff would never pause in his duties to scarf down a plate of fish with terrifying speed. Nor would he get the bright idea of suddenly shoving his body into too small a space for absolutely no reason.

Most damning of all, Biff would never tell him to fuck off before he even had a chance to open his mouth. But Grif does. Even after Temple and his men spent so much of their precious time pulling his fat ass out of their vent.

So he drags the Reds and Blues' orange fuckup to join the rest of them. He can't even enjoy watching his captives hope for rescue fall because Tucker's cursing Grif out and Grif is ignoring all of them in favor of trying to pull some touchy-feely crap.

It's sickening.

And he can't help it, really he can't. The betrayal and utter dismissal from his former heroes hurt. And the temptation of hurting them back, ripping their little world apart in kind is too much.

So he indulges. Reveals the message from 'Church' was a lie to trick them to meet him. Pounds it into Caboose's think skull until he gets it because he has the decency to not sugar coat the uglier side of things no matter how stupid his listeners are.

And finally the mood in the jail cells is what he wants.

Crushed. Despondent. Cursing his name because he's won and better than all of them combined.

Temple rides that high as he leaves and gets things packed up. He's not even upset when he fails to get any word from Withers confirming Sarge killed the reporter and her cameraman.

Even if Sarge had a change of heart and went crawling back to his team, it doesn't matter. Temple's done here and ready to destroy the UNSC's base on earth.

There is literally no way anyone can stop or even catch up to him in time.

Except the Reds and Blues do.

Not only do they hijack what was supposed to be a dropship full of the last of his army, they manage to outfly nearly every torpedo he throws at them. And even when they ARE hit, they walk off another crash because apparently, a thousand tons of twisted steel and fire is about as life-threatening as a buddle of wet tissue paper to them.

A part of him wants to stay behind and finish them himself, but he's so so close to finally avenging Biff. So he orders Cronut and Lorenzo to direct the men stationed outside of the base.

Over one hundred men with an abundance of tanks, jeeps, guns, and ammo against a measly seven. It should be an easy win.

Should be if everyone on this stupid fucking island but him wasn't an idiot!

Because just as Loco's finished the machine, Surge comes running in to announce the Reds and Blues have made it into the building.

It becomes a mad scramble after that.

Surge, Gene, and Buckey all head off to separate areas to try and somehow contain this clusterfuck and stop their 'guests' before they reach the very heart of the building and destroy all his hard work.

At best, the three of them with the help of their many subordinates will be successful. At worst, they'll merely be obstacles distracting the Reds and Blues just long enough for Loco's doomsday device to go off.

He doesn't want to take any chances though and heads to the heart himself. He will be the final obstacle that they simply can't get past.

And at first, it does seem to be that way.

Tucker, Caboose, Sarge, Donut, and even the reporter surround him, as if they have any sort of high ground here. As if they can actually win when victory and revenge are so close to his grasp.

But even when he's losing, Temple has a card up his sleeve which he happily plays.

With just a simple press of a button, he has them all frozen in place. Well, those who could be a threat anyway. Caboose and the reporter can still move but the reporter's smart enough not to do anything to escalate the situation and Caboose is too stupid to come up with a plan that won't end with his friends' blood on his hands.

Everything is going wonderfully.

And then, right as he's in the middle of explaining that his hands will forever remain clean because the world, nay, the universe will believe the Reds and Blues, the Heroes of Chorus were behind all of this and everything left of the UNSC will collapse in on itself, he gets interrupted by Grif the lazy, fat one of the group of all people.

He'd be more upset if the disgrace to the color orange didn't fall flat on his face trying to swing in to save the day.

Out of the goodness of his heart, Temple offers him the chance to stand with the rest of his stupid, meddling friends instead of dying by his gun right where he landed.

Only, Grif doesn't....take the easy out.

He rises, focuses a hard look at Temple, and refuses to move.

Even as Temple has his gun pointed at his face, finger tense on the trigger, the two of them standing so close, Grif would never be able to dodge a bullet in time.

It's almost.....noble. Familiar.

'What are you doing, Mark?'

Temple flinches and blinks and suddenly it's not the fat lazy knock off of his best friend looking back at him, but the real thing.

And he can just see Biff's expression behind the helmet. His mouth is turned down slightly like he's looking at a puzzle he's trying to figure out and his eyes are lidded in that way they only get when he's faced with something he doesn't understand.

'We're friends, aren't we? You wouldn't kill me, right? We have each others' backs, we always do. What is this Mark?'

Temple's hands shake and he can feel himself taking a step back when that reporter throws him back to That Day and suddenly his whole body is shaking. He looks away for one second, aiming his gun at her to shoot her first when Biff, no, Grif tackles him to the floor where he loses hold of both his gun and the only thing keeping the Reds and Blues in place.

Then Loco runs into the room calling for Caboose as if they're all friends and the last several hours never happened. And while he can't get the controls for the armor lock again, he does get his gun back just long enough to shoot Loco before he can be tricked into revealing how to shut his machine off.

Because he refuses to lose, to let everything he's worked so hard for go up in flames!

But Loco ends up being his only kill for the day as Tucker turns around and knocks the gun of his hands and kicks him back like a wannabe freelancer. Adding insult to injury is the fact that for whatever stupid reason, Loco decided to make his doomsday weapon into a time machine just so Caboose could say goodbye to an unfeeling computer program.

Any hope he had of things finally going his way die with the revelation that ~surprise~! The reporter has been carrying around an ai strong enough to dismantle a super weapon with no ill effects this whole entire time!

He can't even sneak away when it's all over as Tucker grabs hold of him, only knocking him out because Agent Carolina of all people insists they're too good to just outright murder people.

As if that wasn't a laugh and a half.

His army.

Surge.

Gene.

Loco.

All gone because of them.

It's almost a bitter enough taste to drown out the blandness of the fish the small number of them left get in prison.

Almost.

The only thing Temple really tastes anymore is the ash in his mouth after watching years of hard work and planning go up in flames before his very eyes.

It would have been kinder just to kill him. If the situations were reversed, he would have.