#and it takes a good minute and a half before he flies to the conclusion they were a Thing the whole fucking time and he had no idea

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Hey you know what kind of moment Meteors needs? Eddie (Cassie's dad) taking a very long moment to process something before being like, "wait... oh my god the robots are dating?!"

[comehomeducklings]

Present [Part 4] (Obsession)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

“What would be the purpose of a wizard or witch to prepare a Polyjuice potion?” Slughorn asks. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?”

Tom drops his hand from the air, “The potion grants the drinker to take the form of another.”

“Yes! And what would happen if said drinker tried to transform into an animal?”

I know this one so I lift my hand.

“Go ahead.”

I clear my throat, “When the human drinker tries to transform into an animal they would not take its complete form. Only sections of said animal.”

Slughorn nods his head, “Can they reverse after a bit of time like normally?”

“No,” I answered. “It takes an extremely long time to wear off, and you might even have to go to the hospital wing.”

He grins and continues to write on the chalkboard. Even though he can enchant the writer's tool to note down itself, I’m guessing he prefers the old-fashioned way.

Tom and I are even on points. When he answers correctly, I also do right after him. I can see him noting down both our points on the corner of his parchment. The black tally marks standing out. Our points are on my paper as well, just in case he decides to cheat. No chances are being taken today, or tomorrow.

“How long does the potion wear off if made correctly?”

Riddle and I both shoot our hands up. His demeanor is calm and collected while I'm sitting on my feet to have my arm raised higher than his. It’s not very fair that his arms are the length of mine to the third power.

“Mr. Nott, what do you know?”

“A single dose could last from 10 minutes to 12 hours.”

Another question wasted by not getting called on. I don’t mind that much since it doesn't keep me behind. Riddle seems to care a little bit too much. His competitive side is showing and I guess his pal is ruining the race.

Professor stole our textbooks for this pop quiz. The rapid-fire questions should “already be memorized and known,” down to the molecular detail. My knowledge only goes so far.

I trust myself, to a point. There’s definitely going to be a question I get wrong and I’m already dreading it. Every answer that falls out of my mouth is examined and thought over ten times before the action of answering arises.

“For something a little different, Mr. Riddle come to the front of the classroom and write four ingredients that are needed for the potion.”

He stands up and pushes his chair in. His eyes as cold as The Black Lake. While he makes his way toward the board I cross my fingers, hoping he forgets one. I know that’s not the kindest, but nothing with him is necessarily “kind.”

There he goes, writing all four ingredients with ease. His handwriting is beautiful. How does he honestly do that? Does he practice every single day to get it that precise?

Maybe I should practice to improve as well. Honestly embarrassing how bad my handwriting seems next to his. We compared essays once, never again. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life. He just laughed at me and kept pointing out how weird my f’s looked.

I swear my letters weren’t that bad. It’s just that he overachieves everything. Now I rewrite every “f” letter that appears on my homework. Thank you for the new insecurity, Riddle.

“Very good! Very good, your turn,” he points towards me. “Three more ingredients this time.”

While I stand in front of the board, I check out what he has already put down. Lacewig flies, leeches, okay not bad. Knotgrass and the hair of the person the drinker will transform into.

He numbered them so I continued on from that.

5) Boomslang skin

6) Fluxweed

Last one, let's see. We already put Lacewig flies, Knotgrass, hair, the skin, and Fluxweed. I hesitate for a little bit, my brain working at high speed. Anxiety levels are higher than Mount Everest.

7) Powdered Bicorn Horn

There we go, I smile to myself proudly. When I turn back around my eyes meet his. He smirks and nods while he writes down a point for both of us. I’m not sure that it counts for four points, just one.

The questions go on for quite a bit. Our tally marks are piling higher and higher. Each of our count's neck and neck for the top spot.

“What is the brewing time?”

“About a month.”

“How does the potion look before the addition of the final ingredient?”

“Thick like the mud after it pours.”

“It also is bubbling.”

“How does it look after adding the final ingredient?”

“Depends on who the witch or wizard made the potion to look like.”

“Varies in taste and color.”

He seems to be done with questions so Tom and I start counting the marks. On my paper, I seem to be .5 points ahead of him. I quickly look his way to see him come to the same conclusion. He takes a deep breath and casts his eyes to the side. Tom then tilts his quill my way signaling that I did indeed win.

I’m about to squeal quite highly but then I recollect I’m in a classroom. Full of people who are terrified to be anywhere in this castle. That would be quite inappropriate of me so I keep my excitement to myself.

Professor Slughorn wipes the whole board away. Clearing all the information we were learning and reviewing about.

“When I pair you up, each of you will grab the right ingredients for this potion and lay it near the front of your desk,” he says. “It should be laid in the order you would normally use when making the concoction.”

“First up, Miss Horn and Miss Yellowbo.”

The classroom starts to move with life as students pair with one another. Some cheerful noises and annoyed ones from who they ended up with. Most of us here know each other. I don’t think I would mind having anyone in this room as my partner.

“Mr. Riddle and-”

Of course, it’s me. Starting to think the pairings’ on purpose. His face shines too brightly for it not to be well planned out. I make my way to the shelves to start out picking the ingredients.

There’s always a moment where my mind decides to give up on me. Most of the elements are obtained. A few are missing.

I’m going over the variety of bottles containing different substances when I feel a looming pressure on my back. An arm slightly grazes past my ear and picks up Fluxweed.

“How do you manage to forget the very ingredient you wrote down on the board?” Toms whispers right by my ear.

I shift my eyesight to the side to see him already looking at me, “Sorry, I blanked out a little.”

He starts seizing half of the ingredients into his hold. I don’t really mind carrying a couple, but I’m just left with one bottle after he takes most of my possessions.

“Taking all the credit now I see,” I tilt my head as I raise my chin to meet his tall build.

“You were about to spill everything. I’m saving you from embarrassment,” he responds cockily.

I started to argue but he already made his way back to the desk, “Everything was perfectly stable in my arms.”

He continues to ignore me and sets down everything. Including the one bottled ingredient in my hand that he snatched just a few moments ago.

“Nothing is ever perfectly stable with you.”

I’m about to whisper a word no children should hear before Slughorn makes his way to our table. Saving Riddle from my rising annoyance.

“Wonderful! You too got all of them perfectly,” he starts. “I would expect no less from my star students.”

All I do is smile brightly in respect. Trying not to drive any more attention to the outburst of pride he has for us.

“Thank you, professor,” Tom says. He starts picking the ingredients off of the table, still barely letting me take any.

Riddle just walks off while our proffesor continues around the room. When he comes back I just about finish wiping the desk of any accidental spills.

“I won our little game this time,” I nudged his shoulder with my own.

Tom slightly rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I see that you have. Just this one though.”

“And many more to come,” I exclaim.

Our attention seeks back to our teacher, “You’ll all be writing an essay about an imaginary way this potion could go wrong. I expect it to be turned in before class tomorrow.”

I hurry to get my textbook off of my area and head towards the back of the classroom near the doorway.

“Everyone split into two groups. This half will go with Riddle while the other is with me.”

I turn my head once more to look at Tom, he’s reassuring one of the students that they are going to be okay.

I only look for a couple of seconds before leading my half of the group out first. A few stops along the way to make sure perfects are keeping order. Most of my group of students have been dropped off. A couple still lures behind me, I picked them up as I worked my way through the castle halls.

They were also dropped off and now I scatter along the hallway to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. Like every other period, the routine stays the same mostly.

My robes have a few wet spots on them still from the tears of younger students attending this school. I fully believe it won’t be too long until the headmaster and the ministry deal with whoever is making our lives miserable here. The murders will surely not go unjustly.

As I am turning a new hallway I happen to meet up with Riddle.

“All good?”

“Of course,” he responds. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He seems to look around quite a bit. Like he’s searching for something.

“Head back to your class, I will look around once more.”

That’s the last thing he says before moving around me with his hand on my shoulder. Quickly slipping past me.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“No, no no,” I whisper to myself as I crumple yet another paper in my hand. I throw it on the ground next to me and huff out a breath.

Writing this bloody essay is taking more time than I predicted. It usually comes naturally to me but I can’t seem to write correctly. Every time I make a mistake I have to start over again. My handwriting failing to write neatly for once.

My whole structure and information is already figured out. Writing is what’s taking me the longest. No matter how hard I try, the letters never seem to come out correctly from my quill.

Especially the f’s.

F

f

Infuriating really. I only have an hour left until the library closes. It already technically shut down but the librarian gave me an extra three hours as long as I lock up.

Perks of being Head Girl I suppose.

My head is in my hands as I compose myself. It’s late and I’m tired, it’s not even safe to be out at this time. At least if I happen to die I wouldn’t have to write this essay.

“How long have you been trying at this-” a low voice asks behind me.

I jump in my seat, “Oh it’s just you. Well, it’s been-”

“And failing?” Tom finishes as he takes the seat next to me. The chair turned slightly to me.

I roll my eyes and fall further back into my seat. My head turned upwards, admiring the flying books in the ceiling. Finding their place, their way home.

“Probably an hour and a half,” I sigh. “You’re completely right about how bad my calligraphy is.”

He just nods his head and takes a fresh new sheet from the middle of the table. His quill magically appears from inside his robe. All the papers that have the plans for my essay start to float around his head and workspace. Occasionally glancing up at them from time to time and then going back to writing.

His lips are pursed in concentration, “I write my F’s like this. It’s easier that way and extremely easy to practice and write quickly.”

My head peers over his shoulder as I watch him effortlessly indite.

“You try,” he opens up my fingers that were closing my hand and places a quill in them.

I furrow my eyebrows and start to practice my letters on a separate piece of paper that I originally scrapped. I don’t want to waste paper and there’s no reason to get a fresh new one.

We both work quietly in the night until the last few minutes of opening time. Before I left the room I saw him quickly go far back into the library. I never got to ask him why he arrived here so late.

Never saw the need to.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~ Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 26

The sun had set long ago and they were all crowded around a card table in Louise Brooks apartment, the radio playing “Side by Side” by the Paul Whiteman Orchestra. Sipping a glass of bourbon, Louise was humming merrily along, but Nelly’s lips were set in concentration. She wasn’t a good bridge player by any measure, but the important thing was that she was getting better. They were in no danger of hitting a grand slam, but Buster thought they might be able to get a small slam out of the game. Keeping his eyes on their cards, he tilted his whiskey glass to his lips, emptying it. 

“Top you off?” said Louise.

Buster looked at Nelly, who raised an eyebrow. “Not tonight,” he said, and saw Nelly’s shoulders relax. He kissed her behind the ear and saw her cheeks redden in the lamplight.

George laid down a seven of clubs, Buster threw in a five of clubs, Louise put in a four of diamonds, and Nelly swept the trick for them with a six of diamonds. George had a good poker face. Louise’s was skilled simply by virtue of the fact that she was usually in a good humor whether her hand was bad or good. Nelly needed to work on hers. She straightened her expression as if hearing his thoughts. 

He’d been living a double life for years now, but with Nelly in the picture, it had lately become a triple life. Buster One was the gay host always ready for sport, drink, and good company. The quiet man left in the gay fellow’s wake was Buster Two, who never forgot that Lady Luck would decide someday to be done with him, and maybe soon. Buster Three was content to spend afternoons and evenings with his girl in her small apartment where she watched him work out gags for Snap Shots and sat patiently as he gave her bridge lessons. She found him pleasing in bed, and never complained that the only dance floor he led her across was her living-room carpet and their only orchestra the tabletop phonograph he’d bought her. As February gave way to March, his routine of visiting her apartment two or three days a week for a couple hours at a time seldom changed. Twice he’d taken her for a drive into the Valley, although that was always risky in case someone recognized his car as he left town and got to wondering about the girl in the passenger seat. Last weekend they’d had their first bridge game with George and Louise, the first time anyone else had seen them together. Nelly had had the time of her life. 

Buster Three couldn’t help wanting more, though. He longed to take her to a picture or have her on his arm during a premiere or benefit, dressed to the nines. He imagined her warming his bed at night, swimming laps in his pool in the morning, and playing bridge games in the billiards room on weekday afternoons. He was finding out that a mistress was a funny thing that way. The more you got of her, the more you wanted.

He stroked her back as she looked over at his hand, deciding which card to play next. They could take at least five more tricks by his count, which would put them at eight. Whether Nelly would spot them was the question. They were playing for a nickel a point. He’d wanted to do quarters, but Nelly had complained about how bad she was and insisted on a lower bet, so he let her have her way. 

It was now getting close to ten o’clock. He knew they’d have to wrap the game up in the next half hour if he wanted to be home by midnight. It was the first time he’d stayed out so late with Nelly and not told Natalie where he was going.

“Just Molly and me,” Louise sang in a soft, idle voice, examining her cards. “And baby makes three. We’re happy in my blue heaven.”

Nelly yawned and he rubbed her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you home soon, sweetheart,” he said in her ear. 

Nelly responded with a smile and he was gratified to watch her discard a three of diamonds in the next moment. He was pretty sure he could take the trick with a Jack of diamonds if neither George nor Louise played the Queen.

They left the apartment at a quarter to eleven, many nickels richer. Louise kissed Nelly goodbye on both cheeks. It made Buster happy to see the girls get along so well.

“How’d I do tonight?” said Nelly, as they walked through the darkness toward his Lincoln town car, holding hands. 

“You’ll be able to play pro soon at the rate you’re going.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t tease.”

“Well okay, but we can start playing for quarters any day now.”

“Maybe dimes,” she said, laughing. “Maybe.” Another big yawn hit her. 

“Don't fall asleep yet, you hear? I have things in mind for you.”

“What kind of things?” she said. From her flirtatious tone, he had a pretty good idea that she already knew.

“Let me take you home and I’ll show you.”

Though she was falling asleep on her feet by the time he parked on Genesee Avenue, she allowed him to walk her inside, persuade her onto the couch, and lift up her skirts. That gave her a second wind and she joined in the excursion with enthusiasm. When they were done and he’d buttoned his trousers back up, he watched her wander around the apartment in nothing but her garter belt and stockings, getting ready for bed. Apart from the nudie show, which he enjoyed tremendously, he found he’d missed watching her take down her hair and return from the washroom wearing it in braids, her cheeks shining from scrubbing her face. Tonight the routine was the same except that she was in the buff. He grinned, looking forward to having something to think about on Monday morning when the tedious conversations about Snap Shots resumed with the M-G-M brass and his surplus writers.

After Nelly had brushed her teeth, he followed her into her bedroom and watched her get into underthings and a pink sleeveless nightgown with ivory lace at the bodice. 

“Sticking around to tell me a bedtime story?” she said, giving him an impudent smile. 

He swatted her derrière in rebuke as she climbed into bed and drew the covers over her. “Sure. What’ll it be?” He sat on the side of the bed. 

“I don’t care. Surprise me.”

“Once upon a time Charles Lindbergh flew over the Atlantic to find the prettiest girl in the world.”

Nelly giggled. “Oh, is that what his flights are about?”

“He gets to England. Nothing worth seeing. Same story in France and Italy and Indonesia.”

“Indonesia’s not in Europe.” Nelly was laughing, but her eyes had also closed. 

“Who’s telling this story?” he said, tapping her shoulder. “So he gets back in the airplane, flies all the way across the Atlantic again. Gets to New York. All the dames he sees look like dogs practically. Well, he gets back into the airplane again and he commences to visit every state he can, Pennsylvania, Florida, Mississippi, Tennessee. You name it, he visits it. It’s no good. He never saw such ugly girls. Any how, he’s running low on fuel for his airplane and he decides to make a stop in Chicago.”

“Mmm,” said Nelly. Her lids were beginning to twitch. 

“While he’s there he goes and sees the sights. He takes an elevator up to the very top of the Tribune Tower. Guess who he meets on the top, top floor?”

Nelly sighed. 

“Miss Nelly Foster, that’s who. That’s how he found the prettiest girl in the world.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She gave a vague smile at the caress, but otherwise was out like a light. “G’night, sweetheart.”

He collected his jacket and locked her front door with the key she’d given him, which was in his pocket more often than not these days. It was half past midnight by the time he made it home. He half-expected Nate to be waiting in the sitting room or at the foot of the stone staircase demanding to know where he’d been, but the house was silent and dimly lit; he stubbed his toe on his way to the kitchen to see what Caruthers had left in the refrigerator.

Standing in the kitchen eating cold roast and cold cooked carrots from a priceless bone china plate a few minutes later, he was back to being Buster Two, bewildered that this could be his life. Buster wasn’t half bad at Shakespeare. The problem was that Nelly could barely recite her lines without laughing over his sober-faced version of Olivia, who spoke in a high, breathy voice. “Stay,” he would say, “I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me,” and clutch his hands in front of his heart so earnestly she would be in stitches. 

“That you do think you are not what you are,” she’d answer, giggling. 

She had a feeling he was trying to cut her up on purpose, but the straight face never faltered. After a half hour of practicing, Nelly called it a day. She would just have to learn the lines on her own. Buster seemed content to set aside the little green Arden Shakespeare edition of Twelfth Night. He drew his legs onto the sofa and put his head in her lap. She ran her hand through his thick dark hair as he closed his eyes. “You’re burning the candle again, Olivia.”

“Hmmph,” he said.

“Auditions are next Monday night. If I get the part, you’ll have plenty of time to help me rehearse my lines, I guess. The play doesn’t open ‘til the second week of June.”

Buster opened his eyes. “About that.” His brows were pinched.

“What?” she said.

“I’m leaving for New York on the seventh,” he said with a grim expression. 

“Oh.” She’d known in an abstract way that Snap Shots took place in New York, but somehow she’d failed to imagine that Buster might shoot on location. Knowing now how he had traveled in order to film Our Hospitality, The General, and Steamboat, it was a conclusion she should have come to. “How long will you be gone?”

Buster sighed. “July. If I’m lucky.”

“How long have you known?” she said, wondering why he had waited to bring it up to her. 

“Awhile. Before we started going together. Guess I just thought the day’d never get here.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said frankly, as she combed her fingers through his hair. 

“I know,” said Buster. “I’ve been thinking about how to get around it. Maybe I’ll send for you at the halfway point or something. You ever been to New York?”

“Not once,” she said. She briefly considered the practicalities of traveling all the way across the country while trying to keep her job at United Artists and, if her tryout with the Los Angeles Players Company was successful, star in a play at the same time. She was also thinking of his wife, who would doubtless accompany him. Buster, always so honest and hopeful when he built castles in the air, plainly had not thought of this.

“Well, I got some good news, anyway. That was the bad news. Wanna hear it?” He looked up at her so earnestly that she couldn’t resist bending her head to kiss his mouth. 

“Of course.

“I just rented a place just outside the M-G-M lot. A bungalow. Figured it’d save me some time going home every day. Plus you could stay the night. I got it all worked out.”

“Oh?” It sounded risky, but her stomach fluttered at the idea. 

“Sure. I’ll pick you up and take you there after dark. We get up before the sun comes up and no one’s the wiser. I can get you over to United Artists in the  morning.”

The scheme was more than a little hairbrained, but to Buster’s credit it worked. For two weeks before he left for New York, Nelly spent Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings at the bungalow. It was actually a double bungalow with separate entrances, the other half belonging to Edward Sedgwick, Buster’s new director, who used it as an office during business hours. Sedgwick’s half was always dark by the time Buster ushered Nelly through the door after nightfall, though. Buster’s side of the bungalow was a combination dressing room and gymnasium. The dressing room occupied the first room and contained a stove, refrigerator, and worktop so Caruthers could whip up meals. Like Sedgwick, he too was always gone by early evening, but left a hot dinner for two ready, never asking (or so Buster said) why he was cooking for two. The second room held weight equipment, a rowing machine, a punching bag, and other exercise equipment. Nelly had learned a few weeks back that Buster’s splendid physique was not the result of pratfalls, but of dedicated training. Off the gymnasium there was a small washroom, and at the back of the house a little bedroom with a double bed, a nightstand, and a chair. It was here that Nelly would fall asleep next to Buster, waking up more often than not in his arms.

The alarm clock would ring at a rude five a.m. and Buster would reach over her to silence it. Sometimes they would make love. Other times, Buster would fall back asleep and Nelly would watch him, letting him seize a few extra minutes before reluctantly shaking him awake again. Although he had every outward appearance of boundless energy when he was around her, she could tell in the droop of his eyes and the redness that occasionally invaded them that he was always tired. It was no wonder. There were bridge games with Louise and George Marshall, often stretching until midnight, and when there weren’t bridge games, he was practicing songs on the ukulele while she studied her lines, having recently gotten the part of Maria in Twelfth Night. In spare minutes, he’d tell her about baseball games, meetings with the M-G-M bigwigs, and lunches with other stars. He didn’t seem to have a second of his day that wasn’t filled. 

One subject he didn’t discuss was his wife and children. It was as if that part of his life didn’t exist, though Nelly knew that he must spend time with them. At first, she hadn’t wanted to know about Natalie because it would have curdled her with guilt to think that she was monopolizing another woman’s husband. Now she didn’t want to know because her feelings for Buster had strengthened. She could almost convince herself that if she didn’t acknowledge that other part of his life, the fairytale that was their time together could stay in place forever.

And it was like a fairytale, even the ordinary parts, like Buster stumbling out of bed so he could go into the front room and make coffee. She loved his sleep-mussed hair and bare feet, the bleary way he groped for his pack of cigarettes and lit the first one of the day, how he would shrug on a dressing gown over his underthings—if he was even wearing underthings, which was never a guarantee when they were sharing a bed. While he was thus occupied, she would get dressed for the day and throw on a dab of lipstick and a quick brush of mascara. As the coffee percolated and Buster dressed, she’d make breakfast, either wheat cakes with eggs or steak and eggs. They always kept the curtains drawn, and if any early-morning peddler knocked on the door to attempt to sell Buster vegetables, soap, and any other number of commodities, she would creep to the back door and leave Buster to turn them down.

Despite their precautions, spending the night at the bungalow still felt dangerous. Nelly knew it would take only one pair of unfriendly eyes to spot them and the jig would be up. Buster, she thought, was much too casual on this point and she always made him double-check that none of his neighbors were peeping out of their homes as she hurried into his car between six and six-fifteen-a.m., depending on how long she’d let him sleep or whether carnal matters had preoccupied them for an extra ten minutes. Even so, it was hard to stay nervous with his cheery attitude. He had only to throw her one of his beautiful smiles, upper teeth straight and gleaming, and she would be set at her ease again.

Notes: Is this chapter too sentimental? Be honest. 

I should warn you that because life is hectic right now for me, I’ll probably go down to an every-other-week update. I was away this weekend and got to working on Chapter 26 when I returned, only to discover I needed to add just two sentences to it. -_- Sorry for the delay.  There are some anachronisms here and there will be in the future. Louise Brooks wasn’t in the States at this time. I think I did get the timing on the bungalow right, though. The opening part of the second part of this chapter takes place around March 24th.

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - IV

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 4781

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Some violent nightmares, nothing too bad.

Chapter I  Chapter II  Chapter III - Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Jungkook was ready to fight.

After eating cake and tons of meat, taste coke for the first time and fall in love with it, you showed him another thing to love about his new life. Something exciting, entertaining and beautiful... He wasn't good at it at first, but seeing you doing it so well just motivated him to do better. Video games of course. All the sounds and colors made his eyes sparkle. The characters were so amazing too. You let him choose what game he wanted to try first, without much reference he didn't know where to start, using as a criterion the cover that most caught his attention and the little you said about each one. In the end he tested so many games that the order wasn't even important. 

You noticed that he avoided violent themes, like fight games, and he preferred the sports, adventure, or cute-looking ones. You came to that conclusion when you decided to show one of your favorites, Dead By Daylight, and before you could start a match he wanted to change to Plant vs. Zombie. At some point you both stopped by Mario Kart and that was the thing. One hour later Jungkook was better than you, throwing all the bananas on you, like losing wasn't an option to him. The bastard is competitive.

"AAaaaaah! nonononon noooooo!" You lose the control of your kart just before finish line as he passes you, crossing the line and winning for the sixth time in a row.

"Yeah!" He jumped from his spot on the floor, running circles arond the couch and you, who was also on the floor.

"That's not fair, half of an hour ago you didn't even know how the controls work..."

"Let's play again!" He seated beside you again, and then his ears perked up. "Can I eat more cake?"

He already ate almost half of the cake, and was clearly in a sugar rush. "Of course. The cake is yours."

With a happy squick he ran to the kitchen, sliding the new pair of white socks over the apartment's wooden floor. As you waited for hi to come back you once again searched your games, looking for any more he might like, and came to the conclusion that you have a very violent taste to games - you are a fervent Outlast fan, for example. You have never dealt with a hybrid so full of trauma so directly, let alone inside your home, so involved in your life, and despite having some sense of Jungkook's past, you don't know everything that torments him or how much, so making him one hundred percent comfortable in this new life is your plan. What you need is to pay more attention to the small details. And maybe you can start by letting him choose some lighter games himself in the online store.

Jungkook emerged from the kitchen, now walking slower, balancing two plates of cake in one hand, and a huge glass of coke, full to the top, in the other, taking care not to make a mess. Carefully he sat next to you again.

"I brought cake for you too." He gave you one plate and got ready for another round.

"Oh, that's sweet of you. Thanks." You played for another hour or so, Jungkook's victories proving that it was not beginner's luck but that he is indeed a fast learner. You were already more asleep than awake, as a result of bad nights and unregulated sleep in the last week, when he got tired of running and decided to change the game. "What is this about?" Jungkook asked, showing you another one. "Ah, is a remake of one of my childhood favorites. It's about a bandicoot who lives on an island in the south pacific, and a magic mask that flies around him, and has a big-headed villain. It's pretty fun." You yawned. "Let's play this one then." He excitedly stated. "Sorry, Jungkook. I'm really tired, and even if I'll work from home, I need to get up early tomorow... I'm going to bed now." You saw the disappointment in his eyes, his ears and tail falling, and added. "But you can keep playing without me." Jungkook looked around, clearly not so happy as before. "Ok. I will play another one that is not your favorite then. See you tomorrow?" He was pouting again, and you thought to yourself if you're going to be able to get used to it. Despite being upset, you could see that he didn't want to have a tantrum asking you to stay. "You are so cute." You said before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the hands for a hug. You rested you head on his chest and reasurely passed your hands on his back. You couldn't see right now, but the brightest smile settled in Jungkook's face. "See you in the morning. Sleep well, JK." "Sleep well, Y/N." _____________________________________________________________________________________ You took a fast shower, put yourself in comfy pijamas and dropped your tired body in the bed. In less than five minutes you were fast asleep. You are the type that has a heavy sleep, that doesn't wake up with anything, and if it happens it is not fully awake, easily coming back into slumber. Normally a lightning storm would not be enough to get you out of dreamland, quite the opposite, the thick rain hitting the window glass has always been like a lullaby. But for some reason, by two in the morning your sleep-pumping eyes were open and alert. Something was off.

You sit, checking your surroundings, listening. Everything seemed ordinary. You got up, looking for your phone, trying to remember where you left it last. You found it lying on the floor beside the bed, between your slippers, some social media notifications and messages that you didn't see before stamping the screen.

Opening one of the messages, a smile formed at the corners of your mouth, as you rubbed your swollen eyes. Still half asleep you played the audio massage, a male voice sounding low. "Hey sweetheart, I'm coming back already. If my flight doesn't delay, I'll be home in the late afternoon... Then I will see you before anything else ok! I'm missing you so fucking much it feels like dying... So..." Before you could finish hearing the message something else caught your attention. You were silent trying to hear again. A soft sound from the floor below. A cry. It brought you from the brink of slumber, zombie mode of yours, to full alert awake mode.

"Jungkook" You went to the door and, knowing the way even in the dark, did not even bother to turn on the lights in the corridor, or the stairs, to run to the hybrid who now lives with you. The closer you got, the more certain you were that the crying came from Jungkook's room, a tightness in your chest leaving you worried at every step without knowing what was happening.

You entered as quietly as you could, stepping inside on the tip of your feet, the room was lighter than the corridor you came from, because of the headlamp on. Jungkook was lying in the shape of a ball, his back to you, wearing silk pajamas that you bought him earlier, the cover lying on the floor indicating he was having restless sleep. He was crying, but still asleep, clutching the pillow as hard as if his life depended on it, his body shivering, from cold or stress, or both, you couldn't say. Regardless, the nightmare he was having must have been horrible. Sitting next to him on the bed next to him, you put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Jungkook, wake up." As if your touch had burned him, Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his body reacting defensively before you could do anything. In a second his hand was around your wrist, holding tightly at a sore angle, making you gasp in pain. For a moment it seemed that even looking directly at you, he didn't recognize you.

"Jungkook, it's me. Y/N. You were having a nightmare, but is everything ok. You are ok." You softly said, ignoring the pain in your wrist he was still holding, and reaching your other hand to his face, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You are ok, Jungkook." "Y/N..." His lips quivered, small voice barelly reached your ears. Jungkook is a pile of muscles, much taller than you, bigger in every way, but at that moment, with scared eyes full of tears... you never thought he was so small. "It's, ok." You whispered, afraid that if you spoke a little louder it might scare him. "I don't know where you were, or what was happening... But now you are home, safe."   

He blinked a couple times, looking around, recognizing his own new room, his things, the smell of the surroundings. His tense, ready to fight body, relaxed as his breathing was soothing. He finally noticed his tight hold hurting you, released you and more quickly he sat against the headboard, moving away from you and your touch. The boy's pale face acquired a feeling beyond fear... guilt.

"So- sorry..." He weakly apologized.

It is not the first time he has had this nightmare. It is always the same, sometimes with small differences, but in short it is a ring, metal screens closing all sides and the ceiling, with electric barriers and poles, that if he tries to escape or fall out by accident the injuries will be terrible, that if he doesn’t die by it. There’s a white light on him, as if it were a show and he was the star, but it’s a show of horrors, the fans screaming loudly, from the dark, asking for blood, dozens of men without face wanting someone to die in front of them. Jungkook experienced this so many times in real life, that in a dream it shouldn't be so scary, but here comes the worst part... He's losing, this time he's the one going to die today. While the other guy is sitting on top of him, giving blow after blow he can't defend himself, he looks back, looking for his owner. Jungkook's owner is sitting in a deck chair in the middle of the audience, watching the fight with his eyes without emotion, he is not happy, and Jungkook knows why: he has not been a good boy, he is no longer valuable, and doesn't bring tons of money anymore... So the owner won't help him, he won't find a way to stop the fight to save Jungkook, because it's not worth it. When Jungkook looks up again and faces his opponent it is his own face what he sees, like a mirror, violent and empty... He sees himself as the scariest hybrid in the world.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry." He started to sob, bringing his knees close to his chest, turning into a ball again, to look smaller and not threatening.

Carefully you risked approaching him again, placing your hand on his knee in an attempt to make some comforting contact, without being too invasive.

"Shhhh... No need to apologize now." Seeing that he didn't withdraw from you again, you finally took his face in your cold little hands. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" A tear ran down his cheekbone, wetting your hand.

"I want to know if you are ok, JK." You smiled softly. He hurting you it's not ok, even if by accident, but that's a subject for another moment, now the focus is on him only. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax at your touch, feeling the soft tips of your fingers drying his tears. He took a deep breath once, twice, three times before nodding.

"I'm. I just need to go to bathroom."

"Ok." You let him get up, his well-built body looking so fragile as he walked out of the room, disappearing into the dark corridor. You got up yourself, to fix the bedding, get it ready for when he returned.

Jungkook washed his face several times, trying to get the bad impression he could still see when looking in the mirror. "When you're scared, laugh in the face of fear, he won't take you seriously and then he'll leave you alone." The child's voice rang in Jungkook's mind, making him give a weak little smile when he thought that this silly psychology has kept his sanity for years. He wiped his face with a soft towel, and then looking at himself in the mirror he made a funny face. And then another ... And one more. One funny face after another until he feels like smiling for real.

Your happy bathroom, with a nice scent of soap and cute plants, also helped a lot. The urge to cry went away much easier than at any time in Jungkook's old life.

Not really in the mood of trying to sleep again, he dragged himself back to the room, feeling the weight of the world on his legs, considering returning to playing video games and staying up all night... He saw you still on his bed, waiting for him, and stopped by the door, surprised.

"You still here..." You were zoning out, due to his delay in returning. His voice - now more peaceful - put a smile of relief in your distracted face.

"Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep again?" You suggested. Jungkook felt something in his chest, almost like a heartache, warm, when he heard that question.

"You don't need to..." He spoke before he could stop himself, regretting immediately, because it wasn't what he wanted to answer.

You left a warm laugh scape your lips.

"That's not what I asked, JK. Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." You caring for him like this is like a dream to him, so, afraid of making a mistake that would make this moment end, he camly walked to you, lying on the spot you were invitingly tapping beside you, almost with his head on your lap. Almost... You covered him, taking care to wrap every inch of him with the blanket, to keep him warm, as you would do to a child, or at least, how you like to sleep when it's cold, like a comfy burrito. He felt loved. A few minutes went by, you patiently petting his hair. When you thought he would have fallen asleep, Jungkook opened his eyes to look at you thoughtfully.

"Y/N..." His voice was already sleepy.

"Hum?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" It's not like you're not expecting such conversation to happen sometime in the future, but at that moment the question took you by surprise.

"What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Jungkook had a hard time finding the right words. He didn't expect you to respond with another question, he wanted you to answer more objectively. A line of frustration formed between the boy's eyebrows as he thought hard on it. You just kept petting him, waiting for him to elaborate his thoughts. "I don't... know. Everybody does... I'm a pitbull and I was a fight dog... I've done so many bad and scary things, so everybody is afraid of me. The people that didn't want to adopt me, the employees of the shelter who beat me, even the doctor who saw me... She was so sweet to me, but she always saw me with a security guard in the room. Even my former owner was always armed when he came to talk to me..." He was frustrated and agitated when speaking. "He always told me that being a fighter is the only thing I good at... That I'm good at being violent. So why aren't you afraid?"

He could sense you getting dark feelings as he spoke. You were pissed, just thinking about what they did to his head made you want to punch someone. Making Jungkook think he deserves to be feared instead of being loved, pampered and adored every day of his life is unforgivable.

"First of all... Get ready because I'm going to give a speech here. Second: it is a protocol, standard procedure, to have support staff when treating new hybrids, especially when they have a history of abuse. It's not because the doctor was afraid of you, it's because she wanted to take good care of you." You paused for a breath, taking care not to be too harsh when speaking and it looked like you were scolding him, which was nowhere near your intention. You sighed and pulled a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Jungkook, you can't believe in any word your former owner told you. If he was always armed when he came to talk to you, it wasn't because he was afraid of you, it was because he wanted you to be afraid of him. He is very bad person. And he's in jail for all the evil he's done, for you and many other people ... And he's a liar. Nothing he has ever said or done to you can define your future or who you are. Can you believe me?"

"Yes." He said with a soft and vulnerable voice.   

He was crying again, with a little smile forming in the corner of his mouth, but still crying. And your heart can't take it.

"And the reason I'm not afraid of you...?" You raised an eyebrow and looked deep into his eyes, as if you were going to tell an incredible secret. "I recognize a cinnamonroll when I see one."   

At this, one laugh left Jungkook mouth, and you couln't think he is any cuter. "Seriously... Look at this doe eyes and sweet smile! You are a cutie pie, JK! The most precious one..." He let you squish his check with a blush taking over his whole face, but then he noticed the bruise forming in your wrist and his smile fell.

"But I did hurt you." He sadly took your hand in his. "Yes, but it can be fixed. It will heal, and it can heal even faster if I treat it right. And you can never do that again." You said logically. "How?" You pointed your index finger to the middle of Jungkook's forehead, and then to the middle of his chest.

"Healing yourself too. I know you're messed up, and that's ok. I'm here to help. We can start with therapy, you know..." Jungkook didn't like the idea of therapy at all, but for now he won't discuss it. You were probably right. "Ok." He said, snuggling closer to your leg. A very loud thunder burst outside, coming very close to the lightning, startling Jungkook, who reflexively grabbed the hem of your cotton shorts. You didn't refrain yourself from hugging him with your whole body, planting a heavy kiss on his cheek.

"Saw what i mean? You are too precious."

With his heat beating frantically he answered in a timid way.

"I don't like loud sounds... That's all."

"Is just loud, it can't hurt you." You said looking into his eyes, your nose almost touching his nose. "As long I'm here no one can hurt you." And there it is again. The smell of truth. The idea of someone as small as you protecting Jungkook from anything or anyone may seem absurd, but for no second he doubt your words, because each one of it smell like sincerity. Your eyes too, so intense as you said it, that made him want to protect you too.

"And what if you are not around when I need you?" He tested playfully. "Then you scream my name as loud as you can and I'll be there in no time!"

"Seriously?"

You seated straight, handson your hips.  

"Of course! I was on the athletics team at college. I'm super fast!" He was laughing, your work was done. "Sorry I woke you up... And thank you for saving me." Jungkook said it with so much affection it made you heart skip a beat.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I woke up to the thunder." You simply said, but he knew this one was a lie. _________________________________________________________________________ After the incredible conversation he had with you in the middle of the night, and the rest of the night well slept, Jungkook started the day very willing and happy. He could barely walk, instead it was as if his legs were jumping around the apartment by itselves. You were up hours before him, but waited to eat breakfast with him - you already had a liter of coffee by yourself anyway. Despite not being what you like to do with your life, and and having another job - running a chain of stores for your family - you have been working as a lawyer for a member office for a few months. Even working from home, you have soooo much paperwork to fill out and study, reports with deadline to deliver, to be a suuuuuper efficient employee. So after you finished eating your cereal bowl, you left Jungkook to play video games alone and locked yourself in your personal upstairs office to work.

He can hear you walking around as you talk on the phone, your voice sounding serious and professional. He was having fun by himself, such a good time with snaks and left over cake, but at the same time he was struggling on not gonna check you out. You strictly asked him to not interrupt you till lunch time. Jungkook spent an hour in this internal fight to go or not to see if you didn't need something or want a glass of juice, to maybe get scratch behind his ear and a smile from you as reward. Like... You were just upstairs and he miss you too much. He was so focused on the game and his own thoughts that he didn't even notice his steps down the stairs and into the living room.

"Jungkook. I need to sign some papers in the office. If anything I'm downstairs."

"Ok." Then you left the apartment. You were too serious. Too cold. Too focused on serious and adult things. A world-sized pout formed in Jungkook's cute face. It is only the third day with you in his life, but he already feels very used to it - your presence of light and warm hugs was able to erase all the years of loneliness that in which he learned to be alone and be satisfied with his own company. Thinking about it he decided to change his plans. He turned off the video game, stretched out and went on an adventure ... He was going to inspect every corner of the house. Field recognition.

He started in the kitchen. He found out where everything, utensils, different types of pots, foods, is kept, and with that he learned a little bit about your personality too... Everything is so methodically organized by category and size that it became very clear that you are a tidy freaky. No problem, learning to respect your habits and quirks, being clean, shouldn't be that difficult. The same style of organization also in the hall closet, and in the bathroom, and on the bookcase for games and movies. He did not enter your room or private office - although the door was open, and he could see a very large bookcase and a table full of papers and an open notebook - because he thought it would be too much intrusion. So the only place on the top floor that went through Jungkook's inspection was the terrace, where your plants are also very well cared for and categorized by type and alphabetical order - including name and scientific name signs. In the tool cabinet, he found gardening tools - as expected - and some useless things  or at least he hadn't imagined you'd have ... Like a neon pink pilates ball and an inflatable Santa Claus.

Jungkook lay on the deck chair on the terrace to sunbathe - few times in his life he had this luxury - and took the opportunity to take a nap. He woke up just before lunchtime.

"Y/N?" He checked on your office, and then in the living room. You weren't back yet, but since it was time for lunch he could finally go after you. Without hesitating he ran downstairs when he saw what time it was, escaping some steps to go faster, and without thinking, or rather remembering, that you probably wouldn't be alone in the office, Jungkook knocked twice on the door and went in before hearing an answer. So he froze by the door when he saw the two men from the other day with you in the room.

You were sharing the office chair with that hybrid - in fact he was practically sitting on your lap while you typed something on the computer, arms around him, both focused on the screen. The other guy, the human, had his back to Jungkook, hunched over the table, also looking at the same thing as you. It must be something important, because none of them noticed Jungkook's presence at first. Once again he felt that he was interrupting something he shouldn't be getting into - the little line forming between your eyebrows, while you read something on the screen in deep concentration saying it. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he also felt that he should be interrupting for sure. No other hybrid should be on your lap while he is home alone. He was about to cough to get your attention, ready to make it very clear how unhappy he was with the scene, to let you know that your attitude was not cool, but the hybrid looked up from the computer, making eye contact with him. All of Jungkook's feelings are gone all of a sudden, leaving only the need to hide in a hole on the ground.

"Hi." The hybrid smiled at him, eyes turning into two crescent moons. This made you and the other guy see Jungkook too. The man, who today was dressed as a very stylish grandpa, turned around, sitting on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. JUngkook felt his face getting hot with all eyes on him.

"Oh, JK. I didn't see it's lunchtime already. Sorry." You said, checking your wristwatch.   

Jungkook couldn't answer, his voice stuck in his throat.

"We ran into each other in the hall yesterday, right?" The human calmly asked Jungkook, not really waiting for an answer. His eyes were so intimidating, a whole dominating vibe coming from him. "He's the one living with you?"

"Yes! This is Jungkook." You pridely said, giving a light pat on the hybrid knee, so he could let you get up. "And this is Taehyung, my friend who rents the studio across the hall. And this little cutie here Jimin he works for me as a counter."

"I like numbers!" Jimin said, cat ears excitedly pointed up. "Nice to meet you." Jungkook finally put some word out, still avoiding eye contact. You closed some folders, saved some docs... Finding it super cute that Jungkook was so shy.

"Let's eat." You stated. "Finally..." Teahyung and Jimin whined in unison. Taehyung out of nowhere lost his frightening posture, practically becoming a child right in front of Jungkook. A very excited child.

"Can we get hamburgers today? Last time Jimin chose, and before him was you..." He picked his shoulder bag and went to the door, stopping right next to Jungkook, who practically froze in place.

You followed suit, stopping on the other side of Jungkook, pressing a reassuring hand against the boy's back.

"I actually want to put Jungkook on a healthier diet. A regular meal would be better." You softly but certainly said with a smile, no room for debate. You wouldn't say that out loud, because it would be exposing Jungkook unnecessarily, and you don't know if he would like it, but his blood tests, done at the shelter, showed anemia, among other consequences of a poor diet, even though he is strong his health was not very good, and your plan is to take care of it.

" I think Jungkook could choose, since he is new." Jimin practically put everyone out to lock the door.

The silence that followed made Jungkook look up from the floor to see that the three were looking at him expecting him to say something he wanted to eat.

"Me..meat?" It was the first thing that came to his mind.

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Tag List:  @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich @namjoonies-dimple @givebuckysomelove @imluckybitches @hoseokslefteyebrow  @yzkyzkuniverse @flaring-vibes @justpeachyjoon​

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If you want me to tag you, pls tell me. 

AND PLEASE GIVE LOVE TO THIS WORK OF MINE: Clumsy

[crispyjenkins]

Skysolo prompt: Han wont stop bragging about how brilliant, talent, gorgeous, etc. his boyfriend is. Luke wont stop blushing and Leia is absolutely fed up.

(thank you for the prompt!! i put this in the nebulous time between a new hope and empire strikes back, so sometime pre-hoth. i hope you like it! now with a part 2 here!)

  It doesn't get any easier when one of them gets captured, no matter how many times the Empire manages to get their claws on them. Most of the Resistance agrees that it's always worst when it's Luke, because Darth Vader has a strange obsession with him and they never know if a rescue mission means trying to sneak around the Emperor's right hand. 

  With Leia, they mostly have to worry about the body count when they finally reach her, because Force knows she doesn't go, or stay, quietly. 

  Han, though, they worry because they don't know if Jabba is somehow behind the hit, if they'll even find him alive when they track him down. Luke worries enough for the whole Resistance, of course, because Han might think he can talk his way out of anything, but Luke knows better, and knows his man is one misplaced eye roll from a Spacer's Funeral. 

  So when Han misses a second check-in on what was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance on a planet they’re considering for a Resistance base, Luke groans and sets himself up to be unable to sleep for the next few days.

  On the way to the unnamed moon Han’s signal had gone dark on, Leia tries to tell him that Han had probably just forgotten to check in, and that they’re probably worrying for nothing.

  “Chewie wouldn’t forget,” he reminds her softly and flicks a few switches to get the Falcon ready for descent.

  Leia purses her lips and says nothing else until they’re planetside.

  It takes all of ten minutes to find the Imperial outpost, the black building standing out rather dramatically against the light blue sand covering the surface of the moon, and it takes even less to slip into the base. Through the Force, Luke senses five signatures and several droids, and —thank Keplar and Ghomrassen— Han, who doesn’t feel hurt so much as confused. Leia nods in agreement with his silent question, and they head quickly deeper into the tiny outpost.

  They hear Han before they see him.

  “And he flies the Falcon better’n even Chewie, y’know?” Han’s voice drawls from the only open doorway in the rather short hallway. “Well, not better, but prettier. Kark, have you even seen how pretty his hands are?”

  There’s a long-suffering sigh from the room, and one from Leia as she aims her blaster at the ground. “Well, it’s certainly Han, alright,” she mutters, as if Luke hadn’t frozen against the wall in absolute embarrassment. 

  Because Han isn’t shy about his affection, he’ll tell just about anyone who’ll listen that he’d somehow managed to snag “The Saviour of the Known Universe”, but he usually keeps it under wraps around anyone not in the Resistance; what if someone used them against each other? Against Leia? This is the first time Luke has heard him slip-up around an Imperial.

  “Just tell me where your base is so I can kill you,” a new voice pleads, one of two Force signatures in the room that aren’t Han, and even to Luke, it sounds like an empty threat. 

  “Base... Base...” Han slurs, and oh kark, had they drugged him? 

  Luke looks wildly back at Leia, who has come to the same conclusion and swears under her breath. “Can you take them?” She jerks her head towards the open door. 

  Nodding, Luke unhooks his ‘saber from his belt and leads the way down the hall, hoping against hope that Han hasn't said anything the Empire can use.

  “‘Don’t know anything about a base,” Han says slowly, “but the last time me’n the kid went to ground– it was this desert planet out in Wild Space, and he grew up in a desert, y’know, so he knew how to keep us alive, and he made this soup-stuff out of this lizard and some sort of bush, I think it was scrag I don’t know, and kark, it tasted awful but it kept us alive, and how smart is that? And he built a fire like it was nothing, and knew how to read the dunes before a sandstorm, and have you seen how blue his eyes are? Probably not the best for bein’ in the sun all the time, but kark, are they pretty.”

  If nothing else than to save himself from the mortification, Luke ignites his ‘saber and steps into the room quickly.

  Han is strapped to a table with one end raised, and Corellia knows where his vest has gone. Two Imperial officers sit behind a desk on the other side of him, the younger one halfway to his feet at Luke’s sudden entrance, but the older officer looks up tiredly from where his chin leans into his fingers.

  He looks Luke up and down before sighing. “You must be the boyfriend, then.”

  Luke would honestly rather face Vader right now, especially when Han rolls his head towards the door and notices him. “Kid!” 

  “I’ll be taking him off your hands,” Luke tells the Imperials, the older one sighing again as the younger looks like he wants to argue, but thinks better of it. 

  “It was just a truth serum,” the younger grumbles, dropping stiffly back into his seat as Leia pushes in behind Luke and heads straight for the terminal against the wall. “But he won’t shut the kark up.”

  “Sound like Han,” Leia says with mock cheer, slicing into the terminal to release the cuffs around Han’s wrists and ankles. Han gets himself upright just fine, grinning loopily, but the moment he tries to take a step, he tips forward and Luke has to move quickly to catch him. He turns off his ‘saber so he doesn’t accidentally stab either of them: he trusts Leia and her blaster. 

  “Hey, beautiful,” Han slurs as Luke slings one of his arms around his shoulder and gets a grip on his belt.

  Despite the situation, Luke finds himself fond, and sighs even as he offers Han a small smile. “Leia’s still going to have your dick for getting captured again.”

  “Damn straight,” she agrees, snapping binders around the Imperial officers’ wrists before shooting the terminal so they can’t send out any communications. “C’mon, ‘beautiful’, we need to get Chewie.”

  They head back towards the stairs to the surface together, but Luke doesn’t follow her when she turns sharply down another hall purposefully; she’s more than capable of sensing and rescuing Chewie on her own, and with Luke supporting more than half of Han’s weight, it’s not like he’d be of any use anyway. 

  “You look good in black,” Han says apropos of nothing, head flopping against Luke’s shoulder before he seems to remember how to hold it upright. 

  “It’d be so much easier if you were gross about it,” Luke grumbles, hauling him up the stairs and thanking Old Ben’s ghost that he can supplement his strength with the Force.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Han scrunches his face cutely, an expression he would never have allowed had he been sober. 

  “I could hate you if you were gross about it,” he says, though he isn’t sure what he hopes to accomplish with Han drugged to Corellian Hells and back. “And that won’t work on Leia.”

  “Mm,” Han grunts in agreement, going slightly cross-eyed in an attempt to focus on the steps underneath his feet. “S’fine, she’s not as pretty as you.”

  Luke has to close his eyes and beg the Force for patience, because nobody calls Luke Skywalker, a farmboy from Tatooine pretty, or beautiful, or talented, or at least they hadn’t before Han Solo. He’s almost grateful Han had latched onto Leia first, because it means that by the time that ship had flown, Han already knew Luke almost as well as he knew himself. 

  “You’re the worst,” he sighs, shouldering open the last door out into the desert night, and drags Han towards the Falcon.

-

    “He’s finally asleep,” Leia says as she drops into the copilot’s seat, settling in to help get them out of atmo. “Chewie’s fine, only needed a little bacta.”

  Luke shoots her a smile, and hopes she knows how dead they’d all be without her. “Has Han begged for forgiveness yet?”

  She snorts, inputting the coordinates for their first hyperspace jump. “The Imp was right: he wouldn’t shut the fuck up, at least not until I knocked him out. If I have to hear him wax poetic about your flying skills even one more time, I’m throwing him out the airlock.”

  Wincing, Luke fiddles with a few settings to avoid looking at her. “He didn’t used to do this with you?”

  “Kark no,” she grumbles. “We were too busy arguing to get soft for each other. Luckily he didn’t spill anything more important while with the Imps, and Admiral Ackbar is sending a nearby team to finish taking down the outpost.”

  Luke nods slowly, just thankful they hadn’t had to kill anybody in their rescue attempt. Leia seems disappointed for just that reason, and that’s definitely something they’ll have to talk about someday, but for now, Luke lets himself slump into the pilot’s seat and tiredly guide them all back home. 

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (10/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (50k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

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Chapter 10: Killian Jones, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

Killian only holds back because Emma does; if she gave him any indication, he'd be really reaching into the kiss. She pulls back gently, her cheeks having gone slightly red.

He directs his eyes back into hers to distract himself from the fact that she either enjoyed the kiss a lot, or didn't enjoy it at all. He's about to smile at her when he sees Eloise from the corner of his eye and turns to her. She's looking at them with her typical cold expression that hides a ton of judgement underneath.

He swallows his sigh for Emma's sake; he's so tired of Eloise and her everything. He shrugs at her casually. Did she actually expect something from him?

And if she did, does he care anymore?

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says, hoping Eloise's appearance didn't dampen the mood, and a thought jumps into words before he has the time to stop it. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested...” To do what? Find something to tell her, find something! “We can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts, amused. "Like we're in high school?"

He doesn't have the best memories from high school, but he remembers enough about that awkwardness to know he feels similarly now. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

His stomach nearly does a flip when Emma smirks at him. She reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says. When she picks it up, they both can see that the screen cracked a bit. "Shit!"

"Oh. I feel as if I've caused that." As if he hasn't made things awkward enough.

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

His chest feels warm at the sound of his full name in her voice. He should stop her; even in the slightest chance that she's actually interested, he's not the best person for any kind of connection.

But Emma is quick with her phone and says, "Friend request sent,” and he nearly leans down to kiss her again. “So we can chat about hot, new releases," she adds, still sounding amused.

He's about to ask for her last name. His battery is dying and he probably won't have the time to open the app before his phone turns off, and now that she did add him, his curiosity is skyrocketing.

"Hey," an older woman calls at Emma from the side. The woman looks at him with a slightly cautious glare, and looks a bit alike with Emma.

"Coming," Emma tells her. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, actually pointing at him with her phone.

He just smiles in response, giving her a slight wave goodbye.

Watching them leave, his eye catches Eloise pouting, keeping her arms folded and staring at him from afar. He snorts and takes out his phone, impatient to accept Emma's request and find out her full name.

Instead of the Facebook app, he accidentally opens the camera, just as Klaus Meine walks right by him. He sees Killian, phone in hand, stops walking, and smiles.

"S-Selfie?" is all Killian can say, shocked.

He doesn't even see Eloise walk furiously towards him, his eyes fixed on the perfect selfie he got with the lead singer of the group they just watched perform.

"What was all that about?" Eloise says upon reaching him.

Killian looks at her, retort ready. "That was me taking a selfie with Klaus Fucking Meine."

Eloise scoffs. "You were kissing that bitch."

"Oh, come on,” he taunts her. “You're just jealous you didn't get a selfie."

"I'm serious," she says, her 's' whistling through her teeth.

"Serious? About what? We're just fucking, and you know that. You treat me like a piece of meat and you expect full commitment on my side? Maybe you're thinking of the wrong woman as a 'bitch'."

Eloise is speechless. And he is suddenly feeling powerful.

"You know what? Fuck that. We're done. You drive back to Brighton, I'm not gonna put up with a return trip if you're involved."

"And what are you gonna do?" she spits back at him.

"We're right in the center of town. I can afford to stay in a hotel for one night." He starts leaving.

"It's late! You'll get charged double!" She hasn't even taken a step towards him – she's waiting for him to go back to her.

She can wait all she wants.

He turns towards her, walking backwards. "I don't give a bloody damn," he tells her, then turns forward and leaves.

He leaves her.

How did he forget how calmer his nights are without her? The receptionist doesn't even charge him double – they'd just prepared a room that got cancelled last minute, and providing Killian leaves on time the next morning, it's just the standard price.

The room is nice, yet his mind is still going back to Eloise.

Damn, he left her. He made it.

And all because Emma was bold enough to kiss a damn perfect stranger.

He picks up his phone, now connected to a charger the hotel offered. Emma's friend request is right at the top of his notifications.

He smiles as he accepts.

His first day away from Eloise brings to the forefront how their relationship was way, way more than sex, only in a bad way. How he'd go to sleep some nights, nearly shaking with despair to go buy a bottle and with fear that Eloise wouldn't react well to him doing that. How that bled through to other parts about his life, how he had let her control it, and how she jumped at the chance to do so. He has a full day on his own to reflect on his thoughts and worries with a clear mind.  

It ends on one conclusion; reconciling with family.

Nemo greets him back with open arms, and though Shakespeare keeps a collected face, he embraces Killian warmly too.

He spends the night there, falling asleep at the sight of his old drawings on the wall of his old bedroom. He hasn't picked up a pencil in some time...

Nemo doesn't ask anything the next morning. He's just happy Killian is back and willing to connect, and gets him to try playing chess with him, his new hobby. Killian doesn't even have the nerve to joke about Nemo's apparent mid-life crisis.

Once again, he's being more than Killian deserves. But maybe, once again, Killian can work towards being a man deserving of that love.

Before lunch, he's found himself with a picture of a forest landscape open on his phone, sketching from reference, when he receives a video call from Emma.

His heart speeds up. His hand is shaking slightly as he picks up the phone and looks at the screen, itching to tap “Accept”. He runs to the bathroom, making sure he's presentable, then back at his room, settles on his chair and accepts the call.

Her face fills the screen, and he gives her a cocky smile. She looks fresh from sleep; a different sight from the one in the concert, but what a sight still.

“Good morning,” he says. Is it? “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling wide, “I arrived last night.”

“How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Emma explains about her extended family in Norway, her visits there a few times a year, and being used to long flights.

He finds himself feeling a little jealous. The only two times he travelled abroad brought years of bad fortune on him.

Emma definitely seems to hold something back, but he pays no mind; his closet has no fewer skeletons. They start chatting about music and end up talking about their plans for the holidays.

Time flies by and it's only when he hears Nemo call for lunch that he realizes they've been talking for an hour.

Bloody hell, he thinks, why do they have to eat so early?

He excuses himself, telling her he'll see her soon, and he can't help noticing how she seems to be holding back something again. He hopes he didn't disappoint her, and ends the call.

He looks at her name on his screen and he nearly taps it to call her again.

He locks his phone and puts it down. Wait a few days, give her time, he thinks.

He goes back to his apartment that same evening, and there's a box of the stuff he kept at Eloise's place. He checks the drawers he kept for her, and they're empty as well. Eloise's spare key is inside the box, with a note for him to not bother with his spare key of her place, as she'll be changing the locks.

He actually feels surprised. That's really mature of her, and he doesn't have to see her again.

Maybe that's what she wants too. Better for both of them.

Before he goes to sleep he starts looking for therapists, and though he doesn't contact anyone yet, he considers it a step towards the right direction. He'll get there.

He calls Emma three days later, and before he's even noticed it, they develop a schedule, chatting two times a week. He wishes to talk to her more often, but he still sees the reserved expression he knows too well on her face, and he knows she needs time. Of course, half the time it's her calling him, and she participates in conversation as much as he does.

She wants it, he knows. She's just taking it slow, and if he's honest, he needs slow too. What he had with Eloise may have led to him meeting Emma, but it still had an impact on him – and not that long after he lost the woman he loved, too.

The same afternoon he makes an appointment with a new therapist – and dreading it, considering the pile of information he'd have to give them – he gets a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Killian Jones?”

“Who is it?”

“My name is George Rogers, I'm a private detective. Could you confirm your name, please?”

The detective is looking into Milah's murder. He's – lawfully – found suspicious contacts between Gold, his false witnesses and two now convicted criminals in the States, and he's opening her case. Killian's case too, considering he was assaulted as well.

Killian can barely speak. He'd lost all hope that Gold would receive any judgement from anyone but Killian himself. He thought he'd just have to live with the burden that Milah's murderer walks the streets free until he would grow desperate enough to get a gun and kill him himself.

He agrees to meet with the detective at his office and he looks at his phone when he hangs up, catching his shocked expression on the reflection, unable to even close his mouth.

When Killian opens the door to Rogers' office, he freezes as he sees the man.

Rogers just gives him a warm smile. “Mr. Jones.” Then he nods at Killian's stunned silence. “I know.”

The resemblance is uncanny; Rogers has a few grey streaks and more wrinkles, so Killian feels as if he's looking into what he'll look like about ten years from now. Physically, at least.

Rogers has acquired the testimony Killian gave when he was still at the hospital, and is trying to piece the crime together and prove the two convicted criminals are the two bodyguards Gold had hired that fateful day. With a bit of luck and skill, he can lead them to a confession. They're already in prison and it seems that Gold's finances haven't been going well lately. If he hasn't been keeping his false witnesses content, they may not be hard to persuade.

Rogers excuses himself for a moment, and Killian looks dumbfounded at the chessboard Rogers has set on his desk. Nemo didn't pick the habit up, but Killian did. He starts playing on his own, trying to distract himself from the pile of questions for Rogers and the anxiety that is building up. He doesn't want to let himself hope for Gold's arrest; he won't be able to deal with the result of the case going cold again.

“Do you play?” Rogers asks, nodding at the board.

Killian shrugs. “I started a few weeks ago. I play a bit online to...” He looks up at him, still a bit shocked at their physical resemblance. “You said you opened this case. Why?”

Rogers sits down at his desk. “It's my job. I was hired to look into it.”

“By whom?”

“Confidentiality, mate. I was looking Gold up, and after some digging I found out you had accused him for murder and assault.”

“I tried.”

Rogers shakes his head. “That bastard's a few million pounds away from starting a bloody mob. Hiring a few false witnesses is a piece of cake for him. Unfortunately for him, he can't cover all his sources and expenses. Questions start piling; where did he get all that money, and where are they going to? Especially now that his businesses are supposed to be failing.”

Rogers can't promise anything, but he looks determined to do his best. Killian doesn't allow himself any hope. He focuses on his life; going back to work with Shakespeare, finding a new AA group, starting therapy again, and talking to Emma.

He doesn't realize how much he's changing his own life until Emma points out that he told her once he's an early bird, yet there he is at two in the morning his time, chatting with her. And indeed, Shakespeare was willing to give him a late shift, but Killian didn't mind it that much either. He shifts the conversation to her choice of snack, making a sour face at the pop-tart in her hand.

“How can you eat that thing? It's like sugar-coated sugar,” he teases her.

Emma laughs, saying it's European candies that need a good dose of sugar instead.

With Christmas approaching, Rogers takes time off officially but keeps doing some work from home, and he calls Killian one evening to discuss some details about his testimony.

Killian finds a taxi fast, which manages to avoid all traffic and red lights and he arrives early at Rogers'. He's in a bathrobe and his hair is wet when he opens his door.

“You're early,” he says. “Come in.”

Killian steps in, immediately noticing the girl sitting cross-legged in front of a coffee table, playing chess.

“That's my daughter, Alice. Perhaps she can teach you a couple tricks,” Rogers says, smiling. “I'll be back in a minute.” He disappears behind a door.

“Wow,” Alice says, looking at him. “You do look like papa. He told me so but I didn't believe him.” She turns innocently to her chessboard.

A lump forms in Killian's throat; neither he nor Rogers commented much on their resemblance, but with another person so close to Rogers pointing it out, he can't help the possibilities that fill his thoughts. His deadbeat father had already left two children; what would one more before them change anything?

Could it really be?

“Can I ask you something?” Killian asks when Rogers is done with his questions. “How old are you?”

Rogers looks a bit taken aback. “Forty-five. Why?”

Thirteen years older than him. Which means his father would've been fourteen when Rogers was born. Unlikely, but still...

“Were you born here?”

Rogers sits back in his chair, his eyebrow raised. “Actually, I was born in Seattle, but my folks moved us back to Plymouth when I was five.” He pauses. “Are you curious...” he points between their faces.

Killian shrugs, but relaxes. The possibility of his father, at thirteen years old, travelling to Seattle and impregnating a woman are downright impossible.

“I was also curious, when I found your file and saw your picture. But I see a lot of people in my line of work, and trust me, there is a notable number of almost twins out there.”

Feeling comforted, but still vulnerable, Killian confesses. “It's just... my father was not much of a parent. I wouldn't put it past him to have another child he never mentioned to us.”

“I understand. I can assure you, though, it's just a coincidence.”

“It's also that... my mother's name was Alice.” He smiles at that, though.

“Oh. That is peculiar. But I simply liked the name for my daughter, and it's not like it's a super rare name.” He then turns to look at the clock as a thunder rumbles somewhere not too far. “I'll be making some dinner, would you like to stay?”

“No, it's alright.”

“You can either help, if you want, or keep Alice company as she teaches you tricks.” Rogers rubs at Alice's back, who has come to stand next to her father.

“How long has she been playing?”

“Since before I could read,” she says, proudly crossing her arms.

Killian smiles at her.

“For real,” Rogers says. “She was still in preschool when I started teaching her. That's more than six years of experience.”

“Which is why I always beat you,” Alice tells him.

Killian stands up. “Then I have no hope against you. Thanks for the offer, but you've already done enough.”

“Come on, mate, it's pouring rain outside.”

Killian smiles a little wider. “I have a good feeling about it.”

Indeed, the rain slows to a drizzle and the taxi he calls arrives quickly.

Most of his nights for the past four years have been plagued by the thought that he'd never see Gold pay for his crimes. He had a few nights of blissful calm, either brought by alcohol or the occasional good time the last couple months, but this is the first night that he feels at least relieved. Not confident or hopeful, yet; he knows better than that.

Emma confesses to him that she won't be spending Christmas with her extended family and that she lied to her friends so that they wouldn't cancel their plans for her sake.

He sneakily looks into flights for Boston while he's still on chat with Emma; a cold dread spreads in him when he's reminded of what both his trips to the States caused him.

He goes to bed very late that night, hating himself. Emma needs someone to spend the holidays with, she wants someone, and he's too afraid of his own superstitions to be that someone for her. And the worst part is, he used to be lucky. He knows what's it like to throw caution to the wind and still everything coming out fine. It's the first time in four years that he's started to feel that things have started going well. He's too afraid to push his luck.

He resorts to sending her a collection of his favourite seashells that he's gathered over the years as a gift. He's happy to hear it arrives in time, and he has a celebratory video chat with Emma on Christmas day, going along with her and her pop-tarts.

He regrets not going to Boston, or at least offering to help pay her tickets so she could come visit him, when it's New Years Eve and he has to show a happy face for his family while he knows Emma is all alone.

Just two hours before midnight his time, he takes Nemo's car and manages to find an open toy store. The owner says Killian is the luckiest bastard of the year, as he was about to close for the night. Killian buys a confetti cannon, thanks him, and wishes him a happy new year.

He allows himself exactly two hours of celebrating with his family before he goes to bed. He wakes up at half past four and sets everything up for a surprise celebration for Emma, checking at least three times that he's got his timezones right and it's still before midnight in Boston.

He starts calling her at quarter to five, but she's not online. Then again at ten to five. When she doesn't answer at five to five, he sends her an SMS to turn her WiFi on. As he waits for her to become active, he prepares to tease her for falling asleep on the one night most people want to stay up. He sets into a smug face and calls her immediately after her dot turns green.

His face falls when she accepts his call and he sees her tear-stained face, broken by a sorrowful expression.

“Oh, Swan,” he says.

Emma bursts into sobs. He waits for her, he doesn't give a damn if they miss the countdown, they can do one of their own. As long as Emma is alright.

As her sobs slow down, he feels tears in his own eyes. How he wishes he could reach over and hold her.

What a coward he was. When she wipes away her tears, he gives a silent promise to never let her experience anything like that again.

“Thank you,” Emma says.

Killian looks at the clock he's set up. “It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He sees the smile on his preview turn more cheerful.

Emma looks at him, her smile widening as the seconds go down, contrasting her red and puffy eyes.

Killian pops the confetti cannon, but his eyes never leave her reflection. “Happy New Year!” he says.

“You stayed up,” she says.

“I... woke up,” he admits. “I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

Her face is so vulnerable, and the wish to hold her overwhelms him.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she says.

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone.” Nor if I let it happen again. “Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

He has a whole array of snacks prepared for his late night with her, but he sets it aside when she says that all she has is the few pop-tarts left from Christmas.

She seems to love them so much. “Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me all kinds and I'll taste them all.”

He almost says 'when' instead of 'if'. But he has to be rational; financially he cannot yet support a trip, and he owes Emma an honest promise only when it's possible.

There's not much he's wanted from life; and by now he's learned to not push for more than he has. But is it too much to think that he's in love with her? That he's reminded what it feels like, to feel his heart full of love and not thirsty for revenge?

Is it too much to hope he can have something with her?

He makes himself some coffee, determined to stay with her until she falls asleep. Her eyes are drooping closed when he takes the phone to the window, to show her the lighter blue streak of the early sunrise. Her eyes are already closed when he sits back and sings Auld Lang Syne to her. When the song ends, he lets a few seconds go by before he calls her name once.

When there's no response, he ends the call and sends her “Happy new year, love,” in text.

The new year arrives promising. Only three days in, Rogers calls him to tell him one of Gold's fake witnesses confessed.

Killian needs to attend two sets of trials; one for Milah's murder, and one for the assault against him. Both are draining, but Nemo is beside him, and Killian bursts into tears when Gold gets life sentence.

He thinks about Milah's boy, Jack; he's barely fifteen years old, and he's dealing with what Killian had hoped he never would; seeing one – or in his case, probably both – of his parents as a monster. Gold had remarried; right after divorcing him, Belle, his now second ex-wife, was the one who had hired Rogers to look into Gold. She attested against Gold in the trial, but she seemed to care a lot for the boy.

Three weeks later he hears that Belle took custody of Jack. Killian is sure the boy hates him already; all he can do is hope his stepmother will care and provide for him.

His heart had stopped aching for revenge, but that doesn't mean it's not relieved that a murderer who chose to ruin him is now behind bars.

And with Emma, it soars. Through those emotionally taxing months, talking to her is his one constant.

Before either he or Emma realize it, their chats become a daily habit, even when there's little to say. Sometimes they just synchronize their Netflix to watch something together. Sometimes just each other's presence there on the phone screen is enough while doing housework.

Killian has completely switched to late shift at Shakespeare's boat rental, so that he can stay up late and talk with Emma after she's done with her shift.

For years, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge. His consciousness felt lighter, but his heart still felt empty after Gold was convicted. With Emma, he remembers how it feels like to care for someone that way, the way he did before Gold took that away from him.

Emma is in no way a replacement for Milah; but he knows it's time he moved on, and he can see in her someone he can do that with. Someone he can be happy with. Milah would want him to be happy, as he would want that for her.

Killian shares the story of his family slowly coming apart; his mother dying, his father leaving, and the final straw when his brother died. He tells her how he was nearly lost himself, how he has no idea where he'd be if Nemo hadn't, quite literally, saved him.

Emma shares her story of growing up an orphan, of being adopted and finally feeling she belonged, until her adopted mother was deported and she had to fend for herself, resorting to trusting the wrong person.

It's yet another time that Killian wishes he could reach into the screen and hold her. It could've been him, the one who trusted the wrong person and lost everything. And Emma is still standing on her feet.

He tells her about Eloise, she tells him about having done time – which makes her current standing even more admirable. Where would he be if his lawyer hadn't managed to get him on probation for breaking and entering on that stupid, desperate night?

He tells her about staying off of alcohol. How he'd thought he'd never stay clean for good. What he doesn't tell her is that it happened to be that he got the strength to keep up his sobriety just after he met her.

He loves her, he knows that. And he doesn't think lightly of their kiss at the concert, but he's not sure she's ready to hear she's had such a positive impact in his life.

And all because he was cheerful enough to hum a song and Emma happened to hear it.

With his emotions muddled by the trial, the stress, the anticipation for the results, and eventually the worry for Milah's son, he is surprised to realize it's late April and he can afford much, much more than a trip to Boston, thanks to the eighty thousand pounds he got from Gold as compensation for losing his hand.

He chooses to not wait too long for Emma. He wants her, and he wants to be good enough for her. Even though he'll need time for that, and he feels she's not ready for anything too quick either, he feels excited to meet her again.

When he tells her he's thinking of visiting her in May, she immediately offers her place for him to stay at.

His heart soars, he smiles widely – and Emma's connection cuts off.

When she comes back in, her smile reflects his. It's a relieving conversation that night, to tell each other that they want something more, but that they both need to take things slow. And one first visit can clear the path, so to speak.

He's still slightly nervous to get on the plane; he treated himself to a first class seat, however – not provoking karma by sneaking into someone else's unclaimed seats this time – and he's surprised to be awaken by a flight attendant when they've already landed at Logan Airport. There were apparently disturbances that delayed landing for an hour, and he slept peacefully through it all.

He turns on his phone and he feels a little relieved seeing Emma's message that she would have to be late. At least she wasn't left to wait for him.

He spots her as soon as the automatic doors leading out of arrivals open. She smiles and waves at him.

When they embrace, his chest feels lighter than it's felt in years. He pulls back and looks at her calm, happy face, then his gaze drops to her lips.

She closes her eyes when she pulls up to give him a peck.

~

(A/N: Finally, things start happening! And not just with them getting together at last!)

[groundzero-jpg]

instagram famous™

While drunk, you upload a selfie taken with a sleeping Bakugou on Instagram. You wake up to uncontrollable pings from your phone the next morning. The photo has gone viral. U.A. wants to turn this into a publicity stunt. Bakugou wants to kill you.

Over the course of your studies at U.A, you’d come to the conclusion that accidentally getting sucked into the bakusquad would eventually, probably, become the bane of your existence. From jumping over fences after class instead of using the goddamn open gate, to smuggling stray kittens through the broken lock on Mina’s window “just because”, you’d been dragged through it all.

As usual, your “Again? Where the hell did you guys even-” went unheard as you watched your friends excitedly dig bottle after bottle of alcohol out from Kirishima’s tiny backpack like it was a clown car.

There’s suddenly a cup in your hands.

“To saturday night with the squad!” Mina announces quickly as she thrusts her cup forward, meeting four identical ones in the center as the alcohol flies. Kirishima starts hollering loudly like quiet hours don’t exist, Sero snickering at Kaminari’s imitation of him a moment later. You roll your eyes fondly but resign yourself to your fate as you clink your cup with theirs.

“To saturday night!” you repeat, followed by four cheers.

“Tch,” Bakugou says from beside you. His arms are crossed, no cup in sight.

“C’mon,” You nudge playfully as Bakugou sends you an annoyed look.

“Yeah, c’mon bro!” Kirishima goads as he knocks back a shot, arm slinging over Kaminari’s shoulder. “It might be the last time we get to do this!”

You can’t help but pout. “Don’t say that, Kiri.”

“I don’t care about any of these dumbass extras, but you!” Bakugou growls as he snatches your cup away from you before you can take a sip. “Don’t you remember the last fucking time I let you get drunk?”

Last time? You frown. You try and think back to it through Mina’s snickering but it’s all fuzzy. Blank. Nada. “No?”

Kaminari grins wide and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Bakugou’s got his entire hand over Kaminari’s face, blasting him into the opposite wall.

“C’mooooon Katsuki,” you moan as you try and take your cup back, but everytime you reach for it, it gets lifted higher. “We’re graduating soon!”

“Like I give a flying fuck,” Bakugou scoffs as he throws back your entire cup himself in one shot instead.

“Hey!”

When the cup comes down, Bakugou is left panting, wiping the excess alcohol off his lips with the back of his sleeve and leaving you a flustered mess at the sight.

Sero pops up behind you. “Here!” He offers. “A cup of water instead.” The smirk he gives you when your boyfriend isn’t looking says otherwise.

You almost die trying to hold in your snicker.

You spend the rest of the night accepting ‘water’ from Mina, Sero, Kirishima and Kaminari, almost killing yourself trying not to gag at the taste after your 4th cup while simultaneously struggling to maintain your fake-ass facade that it really was just some goddamn water babe, stop hovering!

It’s nearing 2am in the morning when Bakugou finally starts nodding off on the couch, his usual 8:30pm bedtime catching up with him. He leaves the group with one last threat before he lets himself. “You fuckers better not draw on my face or some shit or I’ll fucking kill you.”

You’re fucking tipsy out of your mind but you’ve always been a good actress. “Aw babe,” You laugh, snuggling into his side and doing your best to act like you’re normal even though your vision is starting to blur. “I won’t let them.”

He looks at you for a moment through squinted eyes, almost suspiciously, before he grunts. “Wake me up if you go back to your room. I’ll walk you.”

For a moment, you almost feel bad tricking him, but then you remember what he did to your cat plushie the last time you woke up earlier than him and made him cuddle with it instead so you could get up to pee.

“Love you,” you say sweetly. He just grunts in response before closing his eyes.

Five minutes later, he’s out like a light.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” the boys mouth silently, taking turns slapping you on the back as Mina hands you a cup of straight vodka, silently hollering as you down it and finally, finally this time, openly gag.

As it progresses far into the night, everyone starts dropping off one by one like flies - Mina on the other couch, Kaminari half under the coffee table, Kirishima on the floor hugging his backpack and Sero hugging Kaminari’s foot. Somehow, you’re the last person standing.

“To my best friends,” you whisper to yourself, giggling uncontrollably as you knock back a final shot. You can’t even walk straight as you stumble over towards each of them, pressing a kiss to all of their cheeks before you finally reach your boyfriend.

He looks almost peaceful while he’s asleep, head nodding off to one side. The usual scowl on his face is nowhere to be seen as he lets out soft snores. You smile to yourself once more before you drop next to him on the couch, curling into his side and under his arm where it’s nice and toasty warm. His arm automatically tightens around you. Everything is spinning.

Before you even know what you’re doing, you’ve got your phone pulled up, front camera facing the two of you as you press your face into his neck, snuggling closer.

Snap!

How you even had the hand-eye coordination to press your thumb to the right button while intoxicated was a mystery.

When you look at the picture, your eyes start watering for no reason, heart swelling with nothing but drunken affection for the boy next to you. There’s only one thought in your mind, repeating like a mantra in your head: The press is all wrong. Katsuki’s nothing more than a grumpy kitten! The world must know!!!!

The Instagram app looks much more complicated than you remember. Too many filters. Too many buttons. Why is the upload button moving?

It takes you four tries to press it, but when you finally do, you, too, are out like a light.

💥 💥 💥

Ping! Ping! Ping! ...Ping! Pingpingpingpingpingping! Ping! Pingping! PING!

“Babe, that better not be your fucking phone!” Bakugou curses as he sits up abruptly, jostling you awake as you’re forced upwards too, having had your head on his chest just a moment ago.

“What?” You moan. There’s a sharp pain as you curl forward to clutch your head. “Owww, fuck. Don’t talk so loudly.”

There’s a groan from somewhere on the other side of the coffee table.

“What the-” Bakugou stops in the middle of trying to drown your pinging phone in a pile of blankets to turn to look at you in disbelief instead. “Are you hungover?!”

Suddenly, last night hits you like a truck.

“W-What? No, of course not!” you deny, straightening up a little too quickly. Bakugou growls as your sharp wince says otherwise.

“I told you not to fucking drink!”

“I didn’t drink!”

“Are you stupid?!”

“Guys,” Sero moans from the floor, sounding like he’s on the verge of passing into the afterlife. “Not now.”

Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Bakubro, please,” Kaminari pleads. You can’t even see his head from where it’s under the coffee table. “I don’t care whose phone that is. Burn it.”

You’re all a fucking mess. The sun outside is too bright.

“No, stop! I’ll turn it off,” you groan as you force Bakugou to hand it over. Your bleary eyes can’t even focus properly as you unlock it through sheer memory of where all the buttons are. But halfway through entering your phone password, your entire phone freezes, displaying a screenful of Instagram notifications that all say the same thing.

You almost choke on your spit.

Instagram 2m ago james0589, uabigfan, and 2,382,475 others liked your photo.

Instagram 3m ago allmight4ever commented on your post: “Is this the same guy who had to be chained down at the UA sports festival?!”

Instagram 5m ago sarahjj42 commented on your post: “wth he looks like a completely different person when he’s sleeping! so cute!”

Instagram 8m ago ultimefresh1997 commented on your post: “are they dating????”

Instagram 7m ago ground.zero.fanpage and 8,491 others followed you.

Instagram 21m ago yuptideofficial and 6,362 others followed you.

Next to each notification is a tiny version of the same damn picture over and over again. It’s so small that you can barely make it out. You don’t even remember taking the stupid picture, but it’s unmistakable.

Your wide-eyed face says it all.

“Give me that!” Bakugou snarls, finally running out of patience and snatching it out of your hand before you can even react. The moment he scans the contents of the screen, his eyes are as wide as yours. “What the hell?!”

“Oh my god,” Mina cackles from the other couch as she stares at her own phone. “Oh my god!”

“What?” Kirishima asks as he sits up sleepily. “What are you guys laughing at?”

“Guys, please. It’s not even eight yet,” Sero groans. “It’s too early, goddammit.”

“Not early enough for this!” Mina cackles as she shoves her phone into Sero’s face. The bright screen has him shielding his eyes for a moment before the words on the screen register in his brain. His jaw drops.

Your phone pings again.

Instagram 30 seconds ago official.pinky has liked your photo.

“What did you do?!” Bakugou snarls as he grabs the front of your t-shirt.

You smile sheepishly as you rub your hands together weakly to ask for forgiveness. Because god damn, you’re going to need it. “I... I kind of don’t remember?”

It’s silent for a moment before Bakugou explodes. “THIS IS WHY I TOLD YOU NOT TO DRINK!!”

💥 💥 💥

You really thought the two of you had already done everything there is to possibly do together.

You two had broken into the teacher’s lounge in the middle of the night before to make pancakes and then make out afterwards when the stove in the dorms had broken down for God’s sake.

But sitting side-by-side at the principal’s office surrounded by All Might, Present Mic, and Aizawa staring down at both of your phones opened up to your respective Instagram accounts has proven you wrong.

Your phones sit innocently on Nezu’s desk like they’re trying to shame you. You can’t believe All Might is looking at your Instagram account. You sink lower into your chair.

@ officialgroundzero | 15 posts | 2.8m followers | 7 following @ official.yn | 128 posts | 2.6m followers | 84 following

Principal Nezu looks simultaneously disappointed as fuck and highly amused at the same time.

“So according to your memory, you only had approximately 400 followers prior this morning? And this is the first photo of its kind on either of your accounts?” Nezu clarifies, rubbing his chin in deep thought as he reaches out a paw to scroll through your account once again. They’re all photos of either food, or you and your friends messing around. You just wish you’d deleted the video of you and Kaminari twerking in the classroom from last year.

Bakugou scoffs from beside you. “She has shit memory.”

“Not true!” You hiss.

Present Mic leans over your head to peer at your phone screen as Nezu scrolls through. “Well a majority of the comments seem to be positive feedback! That’s the best outcome we could have hoped for, am I right?”

Aizawa sighs and rubs his forehead. “It’s too fucking early for this.”

“But look, young Bakugou’s publicity has been positively impacted as well.” All Might adds. “Two point eight million followers is an amazing feat on its own!”

Bakugou would deny flushing red at the positive attention from his childhood idol, but it happened, okay. If only it was socially acceptable to snatch your phone out of the principal’s hand to take a picture of the rare sight.

Suddenly, Nezu slams his paws on the table, startling the both of you. There’s a scary grin on his face. “Let’s test a theory.”

Two minutes later, the five of you are huddled around Bakugou as he scrolls through his phone’s photos, scowling and grumbling in embarrassment every once in a while when a particularly domestic or cheesy photo of the two of you comes up.

“Ooh, what about this one?” Present Mic asks excitedly as he singles out a picture of the two of you that Kirishima had taken at the park a few months ago. It’s blurry, because it’s the two of you on one of those spinning wheel contraptions, except you’re screaming and holding on for dear life while Bakugou is using his quirk to make it spin at ungodly speeds.

“No, not good enough,” Nezu exclaims, hyperfocused as he continues the search. “We need better!”

“What the fuck is this even for,” Bakugou mutters under his breath as he continues to scroll at Nezu’s insistent demands.

“Your good publicity!” Nezu hisses. “Now keep looking!”

If Bakugou had cat ears, they would’ve flattened to his skull.

All Might and Aizawa end up suggesting two more photos, but apparently, a picture of a bouquet he’d gotten you for Valentine’s day last year and a picture of you decorating the classroom’s chalkboard in hearts with Bakugou’s name in them still weren’t good enough.

It’s only when Nezu slams a paw down on Bakugou’s wrist five minutes later, startling the shit out of him, does he find the perfect picture.

“This one,” Nezu says evilly.

💥 💥 💥

“This filter looks better, in my professional opinion,” Present Mic sniffs. “But go off, I guess.”

Present Mic gets shushed violently as you continue adjusting the colours and the lighting until it’s aesthetically pleasing with just the right amount of focus. You stick your tongue out as you work, ignoring the way Bakugou grumbles everytime you change something. “And... there!”

Nezu grins taking the phone from you to marvel at your work as if it was him who’d just spent the last 15 minutes perfecting the crap out of that photo. “It’s perfect!” He exclaims. “The perfect display of youthful high school romance, a budding relationship between two young adults on the verge of entering the real world! But simultaneously, the perfect amount of anonymity and mystery, opening up the opportunity to build on your individual fame as upcoming pro-heroes, not to mention U.A.’s reputation! This is the perfect first photo!”

You and Bakugou exchange scared looks.

Nezu grins. “Young Bakugou, if you would do the honours,” he says like Bakugou has an option to choose not to when in fact, he really, really doesn’t.

He sighs as he reaches out to press the upload button.

Immediately after it uploads, it’s followed by ten pings in a row before it’s finally his phone’s turn to freeze completely.

Nezu laughs maniacally.

“Babe, I’m going to kill you,” Bakugou wheezes. You manage to jump out of your chair just as he explodes it into a million pieces.

“KATSUKI!” You scream.

“Forget the chair!” Nezu yells excitedly. “Look at all these likes!”

💥 💥 💥

The walk is almost silent as the two of you shuffle across campus back to the dorms. Bakugou just wants to burn something or hurt someone or something, because what the hell had just happened?

He’s startled out of his thoughts by your hand on his bicep. Unprepared, he stumbles backwards, right into your arms. You use the momentum to press a giant kiss onto his cheek.

Snap!

Wh-

“Well, that’s the next Instagram photo taken care of,” You grin cheekily before you take off, suddenly sprinting across the field to get away.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”

💥 💥 💥

A look into Bakugou’s Instagram account, 6 months later:

[love-sapphirerose]

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 24

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-24/.170860

Look, there was never even the slightest chance that Yashahime's 24th episode would end up functioning as a proper series finale. I knew that. You knew that. We all knew that. Over the last six months, Yashahime has rambled, meandered, bungled, and straight tumbled ass-over-elbows in its vain attempts at telling a coherent and engaging story, but never has it managed to establish so much plot and character motivation that anyone would mistakenly think that it would be a one-and-done. I was a fool for ever dreaming of a world where Yashahime might have the decency to end here and now. Still, you can't blame a guy for hoping right?

Except, we've also learned what happens to hope when Yashahime comes calling, haven't we?

In a certain sense, you'd think a part of me would be happy to find out that “Sesshomaru's Daughter” was never meant to function as a complete conclusion to this story, because that could only mean that this season finale has less responsibilities to juggle, in the long run. In spite of every attempt on Yashahime's part to sabotage itself, that last couple of episodes managed to lay the groundwork for something that at least kind of resembles a conflict for this final chapter of the season: Zero has been revived by Sesshomaru's Tenseiga, and now she's got some Rainbow Pearl-fueled demonic wrath to bring down on our heroines; Kirinmaru has also descended from the sky to do…something, which can only mean double trouble for the girls!

Haha, no. That would be far too reasonable a direction to take the story, so instead Yashahime decides to spit right in its audience's face with more of The Usual Yashahime Bullshit™, starting mere seconds after Sesshomaru revives Zero with the Tenseiga. For some reason, Sesshomaru reveals that he is no longer concerned about her mortal link with Rin, and vows to do…something to her that involves a thorough stabbing. The logical assumption is that he wants to kill her, but that makes a negative amount of sense given that she was literally just dead, so I'm just going to pretend that Yashahime is trying to trick us, and that Sesshomaru's plans are more complicated than that. Is there even a scrap of proof to that effect? Hell no, but we're only a couple of minutes into this thing, and our collective sanity can only withstand so much of this malarkey.

Meanwhile, in Spooky Tree World: Jaken notices that Rin is crying. Later on, he manages to hitch a ride with Totosai and his cow thing, claiming that he needs to fix Rin's sadness. How does he plan on doing this? What purpose does this mission serve? I sure as hell don't know, and it never comes up again. Next scene.

Before Zero has the chance to do a single thing with her twice-recovered Rainbow Pearls, Kirinmaru lashes out and magically poofs them out across the corners of the land. Yes, after spending an entire season building up the Rainbow Pearls as the ultimate artifacts of unlimited power or whatever, they served no purpose whatsoever before the script re-scattered them like the knockoff Shikon Jewels they've always been. The most reaction that anyone musters is when Moroha says, "Oh damn. There they go." Cool, show. Cool.

As for Zero? She disowns her brother and then magically yeets herself away by thwipping her spider-web onto the thin air. Then, Riku stabs Kirinmaru, which does absolutely nothing, before he flicks his little earring and poofs away too. Then , Sesshomaru goes after Zero and explains that Kirinmaru should fight his daughters as a “rite of courage and cowardice.” He then also just zips off into the sky. No, we never see Zero or Riku again. Their entire involvement in this scheme was – you guessed it – absolutely pointless!

Around this point in the episode is where you might be asking: “Wait a minute. Why does Kirinmaru tell the girls he would have let them run away if they asked? Why does he seem concerned over Sesshomaru abandoning his children? Why did he turn on his sister; does he still want to kill the girls because of that one prophecy about getting murdered by a half-demon? What does any of this have to do with the big evil comet that is going to strike the Earth in the future?” Oh, you sweet summer child. Yashahime doesn't give a shit about your questions! And no, before you even think about it again, the future comet and the Mr. Kirin subplot are not ever mentioned again, either.

With all of that out of the way, the only thing left is the big showdown between Kirinmaru and the three girls, all of whom decide to stay and fight the guy who has already handily kicked their asses without so much as breaking a sweat because…they think he's lying about being strong? And Setsuna doesn't want to back down from the rite of passage she only just learned about thirty seconds beforehand? Sure. Fine. Let's go with that. Who cares?

Now, I do want to say at least one nice thing about this episode. Even though most of the episode looks embarrassingly sloppy and rushed, the visuals really turn themselves around for this last fight, especially right at the beginning. Each of the three girls gets a delightfully-animated action cut to show off their moves, and kudos to the artists in charge of those sequences. If anything, the sequence might look a little too good, as it clashes mightily with the butt-ugly visuals that the show usually sports and serves as a bittersweet reminder of the series that Yashahime could have been.

There. That was technically a compliment, right? I hope so, because the pretty visuals can't save the back-half of "Sesshomaru's Daughter" from being almost awe-inspiring in its lameness. For one, fricking Moroha just gets whooshed out of the fight after landing maybe one or two hits. Again. Then, in order to deprive us of even the barest shred of dramatic tension, Kirinmaru loudly announces that he is going to threaten Setsuna's life in order to draw out Towa's latent power. Unsurprisingly, this leads to him murdering the hell out of Setsuna after she nicks his cheek with that Blood Blade of hers. Or rather, he slashes her from her heels to her head with his magic blade thingy, and then she falls down perfectly intact, and slowly slips away into her first “sleep” in years. Do you get it? Because Dream Butterfly.

One final almost-good thing happens when Moroha comes back with her Beniyasha face on, and she finally gets to help Towa land a major blow against Kirinmaru (it sure is a good thing that nobody ever pointlessly sacrificed their life to try and teach Moroha about the dangers of using her incredibly useful Beniyasha powers, right?). For her part, the raged-out Towa gets her own demony glow-up, and she ends up looking like a little silver-haired Super Saiyan 3 (Super Sesshy 3?). Two giant super-power blasts later, and…a slightly winded Kirinmaru admits his respect for Towa, and then flies away of his own volition. Then Sesshomaru comes back from wherever he was and offers his broken Tenseiga to Towa to help bring Setsuna back to life, finally winning that Father of the Year award he has been vying for all this time.

That's it. No, seriously, that's the end of the season. No mention of Kagome or Inuyasha whatsoever, no clues as to what any of the villains' true motivations are; we don't even get a proper explanation for whatever the hell an “Aruku's Pinwheel” is! Instead, Yashahime's first season ended as we all should have expected it would: As a slow-motion train wreck of gobsmackingly stupid writing, lame action, and a veritable mountain of wasted potential. So sure, maybe some of the series' gravest failings can get ironed out in another year or two. Lord knows that I would be ecstatic to learn that future iterations of this show ended up being halfway decent.

However, that would never change the fact that this first season was one of the most exhausting, frustrating, and disappointing anime that I've ever seen. So, with no small amount of relief, I bid adieu to our three half-demon princesses. I wish I could say that I'll miss you, but I most definitely will not. Except maybe for Moroha, who always has and always will deserve better than Yashahime. For the rest of the knuckleheads that have been leeching away at our time and our patience these last six months, there is only one rating they could ever deserve...

[short-story100]

WILLIAM AND FELIX short story

am William, and I woke up on a beautiful Saturday morning with a cool breeze blowing through the windows. As much as the morning was adored with beautiful sky colors, I still had mixed feelings about my new school, not about the weather. This worries me because I still love my former school, but time flies and one must skate high in levels and achievement whether I like it or not. At the same time, I'm curious about how my new school will be. The school was founded on a sole proprietorship by my mom before being handed over to the government due to a lack of funds to run it. It has also held the title of best high school in the state for the past nine years. It is, indeed, the school of every child's dreams. They go on excursions within their own country as well as to neighboring countries, national parks, and so on. And, by August of this year, they'll be visiting the National Museum to see long-standing evolution on display. Model High School is, without a doubt, every child's dream school. As much as I want to go there, I'm also wondering if I'll be chosen as one of their students. Will I be able to pass their preliminary entrance examination? Will I be able to pass the main entrance examination, let alone be admitted? These are the issues I ruminate about until Dad came for a morning prayer at my door. As usual, Mom pray to pray one at a time, in offices and in the classrooms. After the prayers, dad jokingly commented that you seem more enthusiastic about getting this admitted in his newly proposed school because of the way you are committing both living and non-living things in the school to prayers, we all laughed, then she panted my cheek and said, "I can't wait to see my boy in those elegant beautiful plaid fabric polyester viscus uniform". . When I heard this, I was tempted to ask, "Was she trying to change my school because of the uniform?" But, of course, she wasn't. Then dad came over to sit by my side on the chair and asked if I wanted to say anything, given the fact that he had an intuition skill of knowing if you had bottled words you wanted to say. Finally, I told my parents that, while I was excited about attending the best school in the state, for me, I had a second glance about whether I would be able to meet their requirements because, according to what I had heard, their cut off mark is 75% at the preliminary entrance level and 70% at the main entrance examination level. Also, if you do not meet the aggregate of 80 percent, you will be placed on probation for a period of time You will most likely be demoted to a lower class and, if your score falls below 50%, you will be withdrawn. To be honest, these figures scare me, even though I'm not your average student, but I'm skeptical. Dad, still holding my hands playfully with a more devoted affection, then said, "You remember, February 15, 6 years ago?" At this point, even Mum was curious about what happened on that day. Then she said, your teacher summoned your mother and me to a private meeting in her office, saying, ‘she didn't think you'd be able to move on to the next class, and I'm afraid if he doesn't meet the required grade, he might have to repeat his class for another year', but here you are today, best student in two different sessions at the same school, and you represented your school in the intrastate academic competition and came third while Model High School came first. Do you know that the most difficult examination or test is not the one you passed or the one you will face at entrance examinations or promotion examinations, and it is not even the American Mensa admission test, California bar exam, or chartered financial analyst examination? However, the most difficult I've encountered thus far is one of mindset. When you allow yourself to be overcome by self-defeat, it may be difficult to answer even the most basic question posed to you. You must shift your perspective and mindset from one of "I can't do it" to one of "I will definitely scale through; I will pass this examination with determination I will pass." You have to remind yourself of that from time to time,' mum added, ‘remember Gabriel your immediate senior who also changed schools to Model High School, he is now doing well and fine, at this time, I felt something bubbling inside me, lighted up and anxious to participate in the preliminary and main entrance examination. Nonetheless, my mother was always present to ensure that I was not overconfident, and that I did not abandon my studies. My Sunday night sleep was like a kilometer of stop and wake intersections. I start imagining how the school will actually look, the entrance beauty alone will be as beautiful as my former school assembly, I can't wait to meet new friends, faces, and also see Gabriel and Sophia, my old friends from my previous school. I remember dreaming of Gabriel throwing his arm over my shoulder, talking with me as we walked down the schoolyard, as if we were going to meet others in the class. I'd wake up with a smile and go back to sleep. I also had a short nightmare in which I saw the principal snarling at a student and telling me, "We can't find your papers, they're not complete," which shocked me. Not long after, he told me to step aside for the next person in line. I awoke worried and terrified, and I dashed to my cabinet to see if there was a missing document among my files. As I was checking, my mother came over and asked, "What are you doing at this time of night, why aren't you in your bed sleeping or probably studying?" I then narrated my dreams and the night mare with a serious expression on my face, only for her to burst out laughing and then stop to prevent me from feeling embarrassed or too childish, and she said it was all a result of my anxiety to get into the school and not something to take seriously, and that your father and I checked and arranged the documents and filed the necessary documents that had been updated at the school webpage. She then assists me in placing the document back in the cabinet while holding my hands back to bed, reminding me of our discussion yesterday to tell myself I will pass the exam; I will scale through, she said kissing my cheek as she walks away, telling me to have a good night's rest and a blissful dream. My alarm went off at 6 a.m., and my mother came over to see why I had allowed the alarm to continue ringing, only to discover that I had been in the bathroom before the alarm even went off. She turned it off to finish her chores. As usual, I completed my morning chores and prayed in the morning. At 6:40 a.m., a heavy downpour began, and I immediately concluded that it would not last. I ate my breakfast of tea and bread in a hurry, dressed up, and prepared for the 9 a.m. examination. Surprisingly, the rain was still falling at 7:45 a.m. I was already fussing about why this was happening today when my parents didn't have a car; mum was busy organizing her office items while dad went out to find us a ride. Fortunately, the rain stopped and began to subside around 8 a.m., leaving the road with fog, though not thick enough to obstruct visibility. Instead of the usual 20 minutes, it took about 40 minutes to get to school. I alight first from the taxi cab at the school gate, while dad waves goodbye as he continues on his way to work in the cab. Unknown to me, a black Roy Royce was approaching to park, and as I stepped out of the cab, I was splattered with water on my feet. I was enraged when two hugging muscular men exited the car with a boy. I could tell they were bodyguards for a politician or businessman's son. When he got out of the car, he snarled at me, saying, "What the fuck are you doing here?" I was perplexed when my mother later discovered she had made a snarky comment I couldn’t figure out. We wasted no time in getting clean at the school's entrance tap and was directed to the hallway for the preliminary entrance examination. At the entrance, two security personnel will stop and search to ensure that no malpractice or inappropriate objects enter the examination hall. The examination was divided into sections A and B, with section A consisting of 100 objective questions and section B consisting of two theory questions, all of which were completed in three hours. I decided to take a walk around the school after the exam because I had been told that only those who passed the preliminary entrance exam would be eligible for the main entrance exam. . It was at this point that I noticed how beautiful and fortified the school was beyond my expectations; it was adorned with various types of flowers such as roses, hibiscus, tulip buttercup, and long-standing trees. Two days later, my mother received a text message on her phone asking her to go to the school website to check the preliminary examination results. Mum checked my result but remained silent; I was anxious, worried, and anticipating, and my mind was racing with questions such as, "Did I pass?" Why has she remained deafeningly silent? How can she just call me at home and break the news to me without telling me my score, grade, or hope? I desperately need an answer. I then begin remarking myself in my imagination, marking the majority of my actions correctly and only a few incorrectly for as long as I can remember. Finally, I come to the conclusion that I will receive no less than an 85 percent. Not long after, at half pass three, she appeared with such joy on her face that her grin makes me smile as a positive sigh to justify the accuracy of my imaginative score and grade. And when she told me I passed, I screamed like a punctured inflated balloon, jumping on her and hugging her even tighter. I then asked her why she didn't tell me over the phone and just break the news; in any case, what's my score? I inquired. Then, without pronouncing, she dramatized the score with her lips, and all of a sudden, she screamed it loudly, saying 87 percent. I was overjoyed and hugged her once more. She goes on to say, "I had to branch out in the school to get study materials that will be useful for the next exam, as instructed on the school web portal." And here it is; you will begin it tonight because the next examination is in two days. Without wasting any time, I began studying, memorizing, and so on. Mum was a great source of support and encouragement as she kept checking and assisting at critical junctures. Two days later, I was dressed for the exam, and on the way to school, the taxi cab we boarded had its tyre punctured and thus deflated. Mum and I were very concerned and felt a little sympathy for the taxi driver, so we boarded another taxi cab right away. I was nervous as I got closer to the gate, checking back and forth to make sure no car or vehicle splashed water on me this time. For the main entrance exam, we were directed to a different hall. This examination was divided into written and interview sections; however, one surprising aspect of this examination was that we were few in number and that the results would be published in the school notice board that same day. We had to wait for about 2 to 3 hours. I kept assuring mum before the results were pasted because she seemed a little tense this time around, despite the fact that I spent most of the time playing a game on her cell phone. And when I was finally pasted and passed, she was overjoyed because my name was also among the first five on the admission list. She was simply too excited to wait and break the news to dad at home, so she called to inform him that I had been admitted with a 76 percent score. On Monday morning, we went on a tour of the school before proceeding to our class, which was led by our ostensible class teacher. I felt a wave of relief sweep across my nerves all over my body. I had no idea Felix, who snarled at me after being splashed with mud water on my first day of school, was in the same class. I was never bothered by this because a parent's words kept ringing in my head that I was here to study and focus. Mr. Smith, who taught with a strong sense of humor and demonstrated and illustrated where necessary, began our next 1- hour class study on full fold. I really enjoyed his teaching and skills, and I was tempted to think he couldn't have anger in his emotions because of his pleasant demeanor. The next subject was mathematics, which was also an interesting class. During the break, I was able to meet new people and walk through to the school's art and gallery room, where accomplishments and some creative work were carefully and strategically displayed. I also play on a school soccer team. My study was increasing enormously and taking a positive drift toward excellence. I also make new friends and an enemy too, Felix, who never acts as if I exist in school, let alone that we are in the same class. Felix had a friend named Elizabeth who would always tell him to stop discrimination because his dad is the richest dad among the students of the school. Elizabeth and Felix are intimate friend back home, they’ve been attending the same school right from crèche, the same age, live in the same estate with their parents’ house at close range. Felix would leave his house a zillion times to read, study, play tic-tact-toe, Mine-craft, hide & seek, Ludo, and play video games. And at another time, Dr. Idris, Felix father, planned on taking his family on a picnic, museum, relaxation center, and Barbecue, Elizabeth would accompany them to make the trip more fun fill for Felix and other way round for Elizabeth too. One day, during our excursion to the country's national zoological park, we decided to pay a visit to Felix's dad, who happens to be the Chief Executive Officer of the zoo in addition to other portfolios he holds in the country, as opined by our coordinator. I wasn't all happy because Felix was giving me a horrible look, as if I had come specifically to seek desperate familiarity with his dad. I tried everything I could to hide my feelings and blend in with. We were warmly welcomed and given preferential treatment throughout our visit and exploration; he instructed his personal assistant to give us a special ticket with his signature; in fact, he demanded that we be given free access and promised to pay our bills. Elizabeth's father was offered a full-time job at Harvard University shortly after the excursion, prompting him to relocate his family to the United States, and Elizabeth was accepted to continue her studies in no time. Back in school, Felix and I were never companions in school, and if anything can ever bring us together, it would have to be classwork or class teacher instruction. Sometimes, I wonder why he behave that with some other students too. It was later I got to know he doesn’t like students of middle or lower socioeconomic class or race. He is uncomfortable being with children from the middle and lower classes. Though I happened to be the one of the middle-class citizen parent child in Felix's class, enjoys playing games and studying with the other students, with exception of Felix. Felix would prefer to be in the opponent's team against my team. Once, Mr. Donald, the class teacher, paired the students in preparation for a dance performance practice in the school. However, he paired Felix and I together and during the performance practice, Felix tactfully got me injured. This continued till something happened to Felix a month before our promotion examination. He had an accident on his bike, leaving his arm partially fractured, and to be hospitalize for two weeks and even with family support and visits from his class teacher and friends in school to create an aura of love and belonging around him, he still felt lagging behind in his study. Upon hearing of the accident, Elizabeth was sad and sent him gift and, fortunately for her, the gifts were delivered on time to Felix. Occasionally I used to visit my aunt, who happens to be a nurse at the hospital where Felix is being treated. Felix had praised the nurses for their care, and psychological support on numerous occasions, notably Mrs. Richard, my aunt for her comforting words. "Thank you for taking me as your child," he once told her. Mrs. Richard was on duty on this particular day, and I paid her a visit as usual after school before mum come around to pick me up, but this time she decided to take me around the facility during her break though she had to persuade me to visit Felix's room, and was even surprised Felix consented to me entering his room even though I wasn't interested initially. For the rest of the day, he was gloomy, and later requested to see me, but I had already gone home. And the following day, Mrs Richard informed me that Felix wanted to meet me. I was surprised and hesitant to visit him, but she encouraged him to meet him. When Felix sees him, he tries to get out of bed, despite the pain of his bandaged arm, and then begins to plead to me, begging him to forgive him for how he had been treated me, with little or no regard for. I did manage not to tear at point even though I felt emotionally moved. I then added, "I've forgiven you despite the fact that you wronged me by portraying me as inferior," and we both hugged. Felix then requested that his brother bring him the gift Elizabeth had sent him, and he presented one of the gifts to me. This astounded me, and a new relationship blossomed between the us. Each time I paid a visit to my aunt, I would also pay a visit to Felix, supporting him with his notes, and we would read, study, and play together.

[glossyvante]

Drunken Kiss || taekook au

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook 

At the tone please record your message. When you are finished recording you may hang up or press 1 for more options.

Taehyung slams his phone on the bar counter in frustration after hearing the same voicemail for what felt like the hundredth time. He turns it off before he has the urge to call again, then let’s his head sink into his hands with a groan.

“You alright, Tae?” Jeongguk asks as he slides into the seat next to him. His black t-shirt is slightly damp from all the dancing he was doing with Hoseok; sweat trickled down his temple when he saw Taehyung sitting alone at the bar. He signals for the bartender to get them two more bottles of soju, although Taehyung is not usually a big drinker, he has an empty bottle in front of him today.

Taehyung turns to look at Jeongguk, eyes narrowing and head tilting to the side questiongly. “Do you think I'm unattractive?”

Jeongguk, who’s taking a sip of his drink, practically chokes the moment he hears Tae's question. He assumes it's a joke because ‘Taehyung’ and ‘unattractive’ are two words that would never, ever, fit together. He lets out an airy laugh, waiting for the punchline to come in. Any second now. Unfortunately, Tae’s furrowed eyebrows show no signs of humor, his bottom lip lightly pushing out in a pout. A baby, Jeongguk things. A big cute baby. He registers the question before furiously shaking his head.

“Tae, what-”

Taehyung’s delicate hand flies up to cover Jeongguk’s mouth, quick to interrupt him. “Actually, don’t answer that. Don’t want to get my feelings hurt by one of my best friends tonight.”

He sulks in his seat with a sigh and to be honest, it’s truly not like Taehyung to be brooding at a club on a friday night. He’s usually laughing, dancing, looking pretty (not like he doesn't right now. He does! He always does) and messing around with Jimin. But instead he’s sitting here, rosy red lips that match his jacket out in a pout, checking his phone every three minutes or so. To say Jeongguk is concerned is a bit of an understatement.

“Here you go Mr. Jeon.”

Jeongguk nods at the bartender with a polite smile before opening Taehyung’s drink for him and nudging him slightly with his elbow.

“What's wrong hyung?”

Taehyung only responds by taking his drink from Jeongguk, and staring into it deep in thought, “A couple nights ago...” He starts, but soon realizes the problem sounds rather childish and he doesn’t want to bother Jeongguk, so he just dismissively waves it off with his hand and takes a sip of his drink.

Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows, “A couple nights ago… what??”

“I’m not telling you.”

“What, why?” He whines, dragging the last vowel.

“Because dignity, my dear gukkie. I would like to keep the little bit I have left.��� A teasing smile appearing on the boy’s lips.

“Yah!” He shakes Tae’s arm stubbornly.They share everything with each other, and now he’s not going to tell him this one thing that’s bothering him? Nope Jeongguk doesn’t think so. He makes it his mission to help his best friend feel better… and also he’s curious, “Since when do we keep things from each other.”

Now it's Jeongguk's turn to pout, and Taehyung can’t help but smile. He isn’t wrong, Tae thinks, they do share everything with each other. After all, Jeongguk is Taehyung’s best friend (Jimin is his soulmate).

He’s silent for a couple seconds, just staring at Jeongguk’s (adorable) face of anticipation: his doe eyes are round and big in concern, yet they seem to sparkle, the younger one has always had shiny eyes, it’s something that captivated Taehyung from the moment he met him, and lips slightly parted with the bottom one pushed out.

He takes a deep breath.

“So you know how Bogum has been taking me out on dates, right” The words come out rushed, sounding more like a statement than a question.

“Uh, no-”

“Well we finally hooked up Tuesday-”

“You what!”

“But he left right after and won’t return any of my calls now.”

“Pause. Rewind-” If Jeongguk’s eyes were big before he can’t imagine how they must look like now. He stares at the other boy in shock and confusion because he did not, in fact, know anything about this information. Taehyung was going out with someone else? Taehyung HOOKED up with someone else? He chooses to ignore the light, very very light, barely even there, ache in his heart.

“It’s been three days, Jeonggukkie.”

“So what you’re saying is you got ghosted”

He winces at his poor choice of words, perhaps he could’ve phrased that better, not been so blunt. But also, what the fuck, because Taehyung has been going out with Park-fucking-Bogum for god knows how long and Jeongguk had no idea. This is betrayal. Or something like that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... um, i’m sure he probably didn’t…” He pushes his feelings to the side because this is not about you Jeongguk, he needs to be there for Tae.

“No no, you have a point.”

“I’m sorry, TeTe. He’s an idiot if he let go of a gem like you.” Jeongguk places a hand on Taehyung’s knee and gives a light squeeze of encouragement. He knows his comment was sappy and completely fuled by the alcohol he had consumed that night, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. However, the blame is completely placed on the bottle of soju.

“It’s not like i'm even hurt… well maybe a little… but all i want is just an explanation, you know?” Taehyung looks at his drink again, stare deep and cutting, as if it was going to reveal the answers to him, like a magic 8 ball. “What if I’m the issue?”

He says it so quietly that Jeongguk almost misses it, almost misses the way his voice quavers, even for a half a second. He snorts in response, “Yea, that’s definitely not it.”

“You don’t know that.” Taehyung is looking at him now, and Jeongguk can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Taehyung is confident and assertive, with a presence so strong that leaves you breathless. An aura so powerful he makes heads turn in his direction any time he walks into a room. To think that this motherfucker Bogum, who played him, is now making him question how overall amazing he is just makes Jeongguk’s blood boil. He promises himself to put that asshole in place the next time he sees him.

“But what I do know, is that that dude is a dick and you’re better off without him.”

“That’s not the point tho.” Taehyung mumbles into his drink.

“That is the point hyung. He led you on, you don’t deserve that.”

It’s quite clear that Taehyung is tipsy, Jeongguk doesn’t know how many drinks he had before he found him and Tae was never good at handling his alcohol. So he continues with his rant, disregarding everything Jeongguk is saying. “Maybe I’m bad in bed,”

This has the younger one laughing, not because he’s insensitive, but rather because he’s dreamt about Taehyung in bed multiple times and not once was it anything but mind blowing. That is in his dream of course, but he imagines the real Taehyung wouldn’t be any different.

“Maybe I’m not a good kisser.” Taehyung continues, his hands flying to lips to ghost his fingertips over them dramatically.

With those lips? Impossible. “Taehyungieee, stop you know that’s not true.” Jeongguk manages out in between giggles.

“Hmm it’s a possibility, you don’t know--”

Jeongguk stops listening to whatever Taehyung was about to say as his eyes quickly scan around the club, making sure everyone is in their own world before turning his attention back on Taehyung. His words are cut short because, in a matter of seconds, Jeongguk’s lips are on his. Tae’s body stiffens, too in shock to pull away or kiss him back. Right before he could react, maybe start to kiss Jeongguk back or tilt his head so their lips could fit together better, Jeongguk was already pulling away.

“Could be less tense, with a little practice you would be a total pro.” Jeongguk comments nonchalantly. Taehyung doesn’t miss how his tongue comes out to lick over his bottom lip, as if trying to taste the kiss all over again.

“Why… W-what did you just do that for??” Taehyung stammers, his wide eyes looking directly into Jeongguk, attempting to read him, his intentions. Jeongguk swallows the urge to kiss him again.

“You kept rambling on about how ‘bad’ you were, so I figured I should make my own conclusions,” He chuckles. “You were wrong by the way.”

Or: Taehyung is a hopeless romantic who falls too quickly. After being ghosted by some dick, part of him begins to wonder if maybe sucks at sex... His drunken self voices his thoughts to his best friend, until said best friend shuts him up with a kiss. Now Taehyung can't keep him his mind from going back to when the sweet boy's soft lips were on his. Wondering how many excuses he can come up with to kiss Jeongguk all over again.

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e1: das mouse

dejavu! have we been here before?

episode summary: brain concocts a hypnotic pancake recipe in order to hypnotise the surrounding population into being his loyal minions. however, one of the crucial ingredients is the meat of a specific type of crab, which can only be found in the reckage of the titanic.

the rundown:

we open with the mice attempting to blow their cage open.

SENIOR PRODUCER: TOM RUEGGER. sorry about that, y’all, but the opening credits are in the actual show, now, so nothing i can really do about it. at least they seem to have a water bottle in their cage, this time, which is good.

NEVER MIND I GUESS. IT EXPLODED. literally every frame there is a smear frame - again, nothing i can do.

poor mousie go bomp. ):

apparently, the plan was less regarding explosive force, and more to set off a rube goldberg chain of events that completely disobey the laws of physics to end up picking the lock.

PRODUCED BY RUSTY MILLS

it’s hard to convey without animation, but this spoon flies through the air and just straight up lands in the lock. it’s wild.

“ooo!” says pinky, watching this all impossibly unfold. “good one, brain!”

“they’re all good ones, pinky.” we will never be free of brain’s face, it seems.

as the mice wander along, brain tells pinky that tonight’s plan will "recieve the aid of legions of unassuming humans”, because he intends to hypnotise them all with the secretions of!

“what, a frog?”

yes, a frog. apparently the frog sweats out hypnotic fluid. it is Filled With Peptides. (pinky’s response to this is “naaaaaarf”, which is very helpful.) after they collect this fluid, brain just needs to work out how to get thousands of people to ingest it.

“like a giant pancake jambouree?”

“please, pinky, i--”

“yes.”

so pancake jambouree it is. brain cooks pinky an experimental batch before he decides to release them to the masses.

look at brain’s lil dress! and pinky has his tongue stuck out. everyone here is having a good time and it’s very cute. this is exactly what lori alexander wants marriage to be.

pinky does briefly express his concerns that he might, yknow, be hypnotised, but apparently the concoction doesn’t attain Full Potency until he adds the meat of a fancy crab, and these are just test batches so he can work out how to hide the taste of the Frog Juice.

it goes about as well as one would hope.

but never mind, eh? time for crab.

turns out all the crab is stored in the titanic.

still, brain is pretty convinced that they can just.... go down there and get it. look at his lil scheming face. pinky argues during today’s pondering segment that “there’s still a bug stuck in there from last time” (okay?) and brain cuts him off to insist that they GO DOWN TO THE DEPTHS OF THE OCEAN AND RAISE THE HULL OF THAT SORROWFUL SHIP.

he does a gay little point and everything.

so obviously, they have to steal a boat.

brain got one taste of crime from stealing that minivan, and it just never went away.

“behold the alvin, pinky. our ticket to the ocean depths.”

“look, brain! a baby sub on the front!”

“that’s the jason junior, pinky. an additional sub carried by the alvin for remote exploring.”

it’s an additional sub because there’s already one on this mission. (i sweat, watching the fbi draw their guns on me, and insist that i definitely meant submarine. what else could that be, right, guys?)

(the fbi put their guns down.)

anyway the mice steal the boat.

in they go.

the first thing brain does is swap out his hat for one that he brought with him, and demand to be referred to as “captain brain”, so he is definitely someone everyone should take seriously.

he just packed that specifically.

the second thing he does is pull out his big map of the ocean and give pinky a whole bunch of co-ordinates to follow. “bowplans at 2-2-9, on my mark!”

“um, brain?”

well that’s a bastard. brain blames “the sub club”, which i’m sure he knows a lot about BECAUSE HE’S REALLY INTO SUBMARINES, MR PRESIDENT, PLEASE WITHDRAW YOUR MEN

and pinky works out that he can dislodge the wrench-- the submarine clamp??? the county council clamped their submarine for overstaying their welcome in the library submarine park???? - enough for them to make right turns, but not left. inconvenient, but doable.

but before they can set off, brain directs pinky to the radar console.

this apparently stands for Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, and is their special signal that they would use to trace their submarines for oceanographic purposes. brain requests that pinky randomise the signal so they’re not followed.

a difficult job? sure. good thing pinky is a trained sub operator with a good few years of experience.

.....you can literally see him operating the submarine a few pictures up. stop looking at me like that.

with a few minutes of careful handiwork, pinky successfully scrambles the sub’s internal computation, and leaves it probably a little dazed and confused.

good thing ‘narf’ doesn’t actually mean anything, in this universe, apart from being one of pinky’s verbal tics?

oh dear.

turns out that the CIA have found the submarine, and have realised that it is, for the most part, unidentified, apart from the letters NARF.

“have you ever heard of jack mcguire?”

“captain, north atlantic. cold war nut. he was discharged-- always saying that when the enemy arrived, it would be with some mythical--”

“nuclear attack readiness formation.”

“narf.”

“the old man is concerned.”

“the president?”

“no, just some... random old man.”

so dearest “jonesy” (blonde) is instructed to track down jack mcguire in hopes to get rid of the submarine. because nobody can track down a sub like jack mcguire (hm) and “the boys want that thing terminated.”

“you mean the pentagon?”

“no, my two boys, josh and aaron.”

meanwhile, at the sub club, brain plots their course for the titanic.

see they’re here,

and the titanic is there,

but they can only make right turns, so what should be a two hour journey will take, by brain’s calculation,

“seven months.”

“well. that’s a bit longer, then. isn’t it.”

“are you jack mcguire?”

“who wants to know?”

“the cia. got a job for you. there’s a sub in the water, and they want it terminated.”

“ha.”

“so the boys finally saw it my way, huh?”

“the pentagon?”

“no. josh and aaron.”

“hold onto your newtons, desk jockey. we’re going sub hunting.”

“how long have we been at sea, brain?”

“seventeen minutes.”

it turns out that pinky is so bored that if he doesn’t do something soon, he’ll die. please, brain. this is also me whenever i have to spend more than half an hour in the car.

brain suggests that he tries to improve his pancake recipe, and pinky can try it out for him.

pinky decides that actually, he’s busy, thank you very much.

no dice.

“i’ve got another reading”, says jonesy, in the meantime.

“go.”

“4-6-0-0-5, bearing 2-2-7.”

“they’re running the nautilus.”

“the what?”

“1943. german boat captain heinz grindelwald evaded destruction by running a circular course, based on--”

“a nautilus shell.”

“so we cut them off.”

“whoever these guys are, they’re good. they’re probably plotting a missile trajectory at the oval office as we speak.”

meanwhile, pinky throws up.

“well? any better?”

i hope that answers your question, brain.

“pinky! are you alright?”

cute!

he does drop him immediately after pinky confirms that he is, indeed, still alive, but it was cute while it lasted.

“why don’t you let me try making the pancakes yummy, brain? my mother fed us very well.”

“please, pinky. you’re practically the poster child for cheese whiz.”

“pleaaaaaaaaaase.”

(he gets to make the pancakes.)

because they have bigger problems now, presumably!

that can’t be good.

it wasn’t!

and neither is that. brain laments that “someone is dropping death charges,” while pinky goes and shuts down the engine.

the sub operator saves the day once again.

“THIS IS CAPTAIN JACK MCGUIRE. IDENTIFY YOURSELVES OR BE DESTROYED.”

“this is..... jacques cousteau.”

“really. can you prove that?”

“here, ze ocean is teeming with life. but everywhere, there are signs of man’s encroachment.”

“darn! it is jacques cousteau!”

unfortunately pinky decides now is a good time to chime in with a “haha, nice cousteau, brain” so jack declares that his “little ruse will cost him.”

“i must admit. i admire your skill. perhaps in another time, maybe we could have been friends. we are very much alike, you and i.”

“i doubt that.”

so mcguire fires another charge, and the mice go down. ocean mice! sink.

):

“haha! yeah! we did it!”

“i get no joy from the demise of another man.”

“....usually.”

“HAHA YEAH WE DID IT YES YES YES WE GOTTEM WE GOTTEM WE GOTTEM”

(”take the jason hr on ahead full, mr pinky.”

“aye aye, captain brain.”)

conclusion:

this is a long episode.

still, now that they have a vehicle that steers properly, the boys seem to make it okay.

“we should be approaching the hull of the titanic at any--”

DONK.

“naaaaaaarf.”

“yes, pinky. soon we will have the white crabs of the titanic, and then,”

WE SHALL HAVE THE WORLD

“about that recipe, brain, and, um, getting rid of that bad taste--”

“not now, pinky.”

“but brain?”

“just cut it out.”

“oh! aye aye.”

hm.

so the mice bodge an air pressure mechanism to yeet the titanic to the surface. as you do.

“but brain, the icky stuff--”

“i said cut it out, pinky.”

hmmmm.

the balloon expands, as balloons do, and the titanic wobbles a bit.

RISE, LITTLE ONE, AND BE FREE

neat!

“our journey is almost at at end, my friend! we release the air and propel the ship!”

that’s a very cute happy face!

so brain does exactly that, and the titanic farts itself over to california.

i’m not exaggerating.

perhaps brain feels vaguely at home on the titanic. he has vague memories of being drunk out of his mind, and bathing in a sink. best not to unpack that.

instead, he decides to crash it into acme labs. for the lols.

“yes!”

(:

the pancakes are jamboureeing. it’s very cute.

jonesey and mcguire are here too! “nothing like a pancake jambouree after blowing up a sub, huh.”

they’re dating now, i guess. i mean, i hope they’re dating. they should be.

“as the hypnotic fluid winds itself through the minds of our friends, they shall return, happy and content to have us rule over them.”

“well isn’t that nice,” says pinky, in a very condescending manner. “narf.”

“but tell me, pinky, about your pancake batter. how did you manage to hide the taste of the hypnotic sapo?”

“well, the hypnotic stuff tasted terrible, brain. so like you said. i cut it out.”

bonk.

anyway this one goes to pinky because he is emotionally intelligent enough to A, understand sarcasm, and B, to know and/or remember what the plan was in the first place. perhaps he deliberately threw it out to make sure nobody had to eat bad pancakes? honestly, i don’t blame him. pinky, defender of the earth.

brain: 4 ½ pinky: 6 ½ outside influence: 10

“here’s our course. heading 3-2-9, depth 100 metres, bowplanes at 15 degrees. any questions?”

“um. if you could be any animal, what would it be.”

“oh, i’d have to say a hawk, pinky,”

“so i could soar through the sky,”

“and grab tiny white mice in my claws,”

“and feed them to my young.”

“that’s just... weird, brain.”

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #122

UPDATE 122: Kill the Endbringers

Last time Dinah had been taken to a hospital, and there was a very good chance Skitter would get everyone in trouble by letting her desires and ‘I know what’s good for you’ attitude cloud her judgment. Thankfully, she realized that before it was too late! Now what? Let’s find out.

Well looks like Dinah is convinced she won’t be accepted back into her home. Wow, the chapter has barely started and things are looking pretty rough already. Reminder Dinah is young. This kind of thoughts must hurt, wow. Skitter, trying to smooth things over, promises she will be received with arms wide open. Welcome home, Dinah!

“They will want you.  Just wait,” I said.  “They’ll welcome you with open arms, and there won’t even be a hint of fear.”

Oh dear. Don’t make promises that are out of your control, Skitter. Seriously, if this doesn’t go like she is saying it will...that’s going to scar Dinah so badly, and completely break her trust on Skitter. This is not good at all. I hope Dinah’s fears aren’t rooted in reality, I really do.

She even is worried because she looks pretty bad, consequences of Coil’s mistreatment and also the drugs. She thinks it’ll remind her family she has powers and freaks people out with predictions. Hmmmm...with some luck seeing her so...um, emaciated may invoke feelings of pity, perhaps some guilt if they’re aware Dinah feels so out of place. I almost would suggest she takes a look at the odds she will be welcomed back, but...but I fear they may not be favorable. Oh, geez...ignorance is bliss?

I’m not even human anymore.”

“You’re definitely human, Dinah.”

“Then why do they call us parahumans?  Doesn’t the ‘para’ part mean half?  Paraplegic, only half your body works.  Parahuman, half human.”

Hmm...is that really what ‘para’ means? I mean, paranormal sure doesn’t mean it’s half normal, it’s way above that. Paragliding is...um, it sure isn’t half gliding. Parasite doesn’t mean half a site, it’s all about adding an intruder into a body. The conclusion I’m getting is that ‘para’ is not really a reliable prefix. Thank you for coming to my linguistic discussion, was it too noticeable I have no idea what I’m talking about?

The next paragraph is Skitter making the point I was making, that ‘para’ doesn’t really mean ‘half’. She even brings up the word ‘paranormal’, like I did! Aaah, same wavelength! And she finishes her argument by saying her parents can’t judge her for stuff she didn’t choose. To that Iiii will have to disagree. They certainly could. They shouldn’t, but they could. Nothing to do but hope they don’t. I wonder if perhaps Skitter will get to talk to them before they see Dinah? I’m not entirely sure it’d be a good idea or not, but...perhaps she should consider that. Maybe.

The reason why Skitter is so aware of things like prefixes and semantics is because her mom used to be an English teacher. She has continued paying attention to that sort of things as a way to remember her. Honestly that’s pretty sweet of her. It’s...it must be nice to have something to remember your deceased loved ones by, like that. I’m glad. Speaking of family! She also mentions how she has a father, and how he is, well, not someone she has seen for a while because she puts him in danger.

As expected, the effects of Dinah’s withdrawal happen pretty quickly. Dinah is already heaving, with Skitter holding her hair. Damn, I hope she’ll be okay – but she says she won’t, the painkillers didn’t help at all. Afterwards, she says once again there’s no way her parents will accept her. You know, from how many times she’s saying it, I’m starting to fear she’s right. I want to think they will, but...with how much she has repeated it...I fear she’ll do something that’ll force the futures where they don’t accept her.

“And even if they do take me, it’ll be weird, because they can’t ignore my power now.  They pretended I didn’t have one.  Pretended I was an ordinary kid.  Pretended the headaches didn’t mean anything, like they pretended the heart disease wasn’t a thing.”

“Heart disease?  You?”

Dinah shook her head.  “Not me.”

She didn’t elaborate.  Related to her trigger event?

Oh. There’s that too. It’s going to be impossible to pretend things are fine and back to normal when Dinah was kidnapped because of her powers. I mean, measures will have to be taken so something like that doesn’t happen again, right? That’s got to include some sort of tinker technology, or guards, or something. Also, they’re a former mayor’s family. That could be used as a cover story of sorts for any noticeable security measures.

Reassuring Dinah this is the drug withdrawal talking, Skitter gets a comb and tries to make her look more presentable, so at least the parents don’t have a first sight of a young, haggard girl in the middle of the throes of withdrawal. Golly, I get shivers just from thinking about how Dinah will look. She’s feverish, she’s sweating like crazy...this won’t be pretty at all, obviously. But surely Dinah’s parents would look past all that and take her back, right? At least because seeing her like that will make them worry. Right?

...right?

Dinah asks Skitter to go knock on the door and bring her parents out. It’s time to face the music, let’s see how this particular subplot ends. Crossing fingers for a positive result! Skitter goes to the entrance and rings the bell, it doesn’t work. Instead she knocks on the door and lets a pair of flies go inside, she finds Dinah’s parents. The father takes a frying pan and gets ready, in case it’s an attack.

...

Skitter still has her costume on, doesn’t she? Cripes, what a thing to find when you open the door. No wonder the father closed the door right away! Damn! Still, I’d like to think that, if villains were to attack a residence, they wouldn’t be politely knocking on the door. Not that this fact is going to make the dad lower his guard, is it.

Of course, their first reaction is to think Skitter is trying to extort them – a reasonable thought, given she’s a villain and the first thing she says is that she has their daughter! Well, she said she brought Dinah, but still. Skitter hurries to make things clear, and doesn’t mince any words. Better that way, probably. Better for them to be aware of what Dinah is going through, than seeing her sorry state and then fall into more despair. I mean, the blow will be hard, but it’s...easier when you’re aware of what’s coming, no?

...

Gosh, that must be a nightmare for any parent.

“She has abilities, then?” the dad asked.

Oh. They didn’t know? If they didn’t, then that really adds to Dinah’s fears, then. Would they accept her, even though she has a power? Honestly, I had interpreted it all as the parents trying hard to pretend she didn’t, but...there’s really no point to feign ignorance here. Even if Skitter is a villain, she already has Dinah in her clutches.

Even though Dinah is still afraid, she accepts Skitter’s help and steps out of the car, being brought towards her family. Contrary to what Dinah was predicting – and much to my relief – her parents don’t hesitate to approach. The mother immediately hugs her, the father comes behind just a second later, which I’m sure was more out of caution towards Skitter than because of anything from Dinah. There we go! A family reunited, and there doesn’t seem to be even a bit of trouble brewing. Times will be hard for them, given Dinah’s withdrawal, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. I hope.

The father even thanks Skitter! Which she tries not to acknowledge. The guilt of having been indirectly responsible for the kidnapping in the first place, you see. There’s also something else, something that’s somewhat selfish, but perfectly understandable, in my opinion:

I wasn’t sure I felt good about that.  I’d gotten this far by making the most out of every resource I had available, and by being smart about things.  This was throwing away a resource, tying my own hands.  The decision felt dumb, even as I knew it was the right thing to do.

I know, right? It’d have been so tempting to try to convince Dinah to stay and give advice about how to fight the end of the world. Dinah herself saw that in the cards, so to say. If Dinah hadn’t said it, I think Skitter would have kept her, justifying that with how it was to prevent the end of the world. She’d have promised herself that she’d return Dinah once the end of the world was averted, even if that took two years, no? I don’t know what the rest of the Undersiders would have said, but I doubt they’d have tried to return Dinah to the family. All in all, Skitter has done the right thing, even though it may feel dumb right now.

With nothing else to do there, Skitter asks the driver to get going. She also finds two pieces of paper, probably left by Dinah. I hope they’re not meant to be private, because Skitter will have to ask someone else to read those for her. Perhaps they’re little predictions about odds? Possibly about the end of the world?

Scene cut!

Heeeere’s the team! The team and also Ballistic, who isn’t part of the Undersiders, but personally I’m not discarding he may join in some manner. The situation kind of demands it. Parian is also here.

I turned to Parian.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Tattletale got in touch.  I… I apparently missed a lot.”

“You’re up for this?”

“No.  But I want to know what’s going on, in case it affects my territory.”

Oh dear! I’m pretty sure it involves the entirety of Brockton Bay. Welcome to the Noelle situation, Parian, we’re very screwed right now. There’s only one hour and forty minutes until dawn, and then it’s showtime. Probably.

There’s been one sighting of Noelle. What’s she doing, I really have to wonder. Is she just wandering around aimlessly? Either way, Parian makes a wiener dog for everyone to ride, which is simply hilarious. Here comes the cavalry, riding a wiener dog! Hah! Awesome.

“This is so lame,” Imp said.  “How are you supposed to build a decent rep if you’re caught riding a wiener dog?”

Aw, come on, Imp, it’s great! Don’t be like that.

There’s some nice banter that ends in Imp having to settle for the plush wiener dog, while Skitter rides on Bentley with Heckpuppy. Along the way, Tattletale asks if everyone is okay with she taking charge, and they all ask Ballistic for an assessment of how dangerous Noelle is. Give the deets, pal!

“It’s why I’m here.  Consider Noelle a triple threat,” he said.  “She’s strong, she’s got nothing to hold her back, now, and she’s smart.”

She’s a natural tactician, he says. I’m going to have to doubt that a little, not because I doubt Noelle isn’t smart, or able to come up with plans. I’m doubting it because, well, she was in a gaming team. That’s completely different to something like this. Skills usable there may not transfer to other things. Still, it’d be bad to underestimate Noelle. It has been said a lot about how she’s very dangerous, I’m sure she’ll be a genuine threat.

Whooops, Ballistic is sitting out of the fight. So is Parian, but that one isn’t really terribly surprising, Parian has nothing to do with any of this beyond protecting her territory. The reason why Ballistic is sitting out is because he’s sure Noelle will use him against them somehow. That’s...a reasonable concern, really. It can happen.

...is Skitter seriously underestimating Noelle right now? Come on, you can’t be serious. Ballistic says the reason why Noelle was fooled with all the lies she was told was because she trusted Trickster blindly. Even though he got her into this situation in the first place, technically? I guess that, although she blamed him, she saw him as the only one who could help her. He being the only one visiting her must also be a factor, I’m sure.

“He became team leader more because he’s fast at thinking on his feet than because he’s good at making the right call.  He took it on himself to make a whole lot of wrong calls.  I let a lot of that slide because he used to be a friend.  And maybe because they weren’t blatantly wrong.  Just a little wrong, a little disagreeable.  But at some point every call was a disagreeable call and every word out of his mouth became a white lie.  He started lying to us for what he saw as our own good.  Not Noelle with her delicate state, but us.”

I read earlier Noelle was good at being intuitive and making moves because she read the situation well. This paragraph here makes it sound like they named Francis the team leader because he was the closest they got in terms of skill.

Speaking of Trickster! He may make things much worse, or he may be of help, depending on if he’ll help them or not. Personally I think he won’t help. Tattletale just said his focus would always be on Noelle and himself. No way he’s going to do a thing if it’ll hurt Noelle, even if it’s to save Brockton Bay. What does he care, if this isn’t even his world?

There’s some briefing about what Noelle can do, I don’t really see anything we don’t already know. What’s important to remark here, at least the way Ballistic says it, is that they have to get this all done before Noelle makes clones. Parian tries to say those clones are people, Ballistic quite reasonably says they’re not. And yeah, they’re not. The way those Cody clones were acting...yeah, I doubt they could be considered people. Oh boy, there’ll totally be some clones going on, right? I bet some if not all of the Undersiders will have to face clones of themselves.

As a general rule I still don’t like clones, but...honestly, the way Worm is doing it, it seems like it could be interesting to read! Neato!

The regeneration will be somewhat troublesome, especially since it’ll make it much harder to kill her. Skitter right away says she doesn’t want to do that unless there’s no other choice. Hum.

Ballistic turned my way, and he had a funny tone in his voice as he asked, “How do you think you’re going to handle this?”

“Containment,” I said.  “If I get enough spiders together, I could try to surround her in web.”

Hum. You know, I’m not sure containing her will be a terribly good idea. She has gotten stronger; the kind of long-term containment she’d need would have to be carefully planned in order to work. She can’t just be shunted into the Birdcage, after all! And anything can happen in the time it takes to finish a vault or something to contain her. It’s way too dangerous, way too risky. I’m not sure it’s worth it. I hate to admit it, but...maybe lethal force has to be considered? Because Noelle is pretty close to being too dangerous to not subdue lethally anytime soon.

I mean, personally I think it’s not impossible the characters will figure a way to defeat Noelle without killing her, but...given the situation...I admit lethal force is more and more like a necessity here. Oh well! Skitter has been really resourceful in the past, it’s not really impossible she’ll figure something out!

Still, Tattletale accuses Ballistic of having no consideration towards Noelle because he’s suggesting to kill her, and needless to say, Ballistic didn’t like that at all. Geez, Tattletale. That could have been handled waaaay more tactfully. I can’t blame Ballistic for deciding to leave right away, he doesn’t even wait for the sausage dog to stop moving before he gets off. Welp! There gooooo all the chances of Ballistic joining the Undersiders. No way it’s happening now, or at least it’s much less likely.

Then again...maybe I’m being too callous about Noelle? I just think she is a huge danger, given everything that’s been shown. It’s always possible I’m just taking it waaaay too callously. After all, it’s way easier to make these calls when they’re fictional characters in a story.

In what’s another possibly bad move, they try to convince Parian to fight. She refuses, asking what she can do to protect her territory. She’s not interested in dealing with Noelle.

“I really don’t think we have a choice.  You fought Leviathan,” I said.

Parian shook her head, “I almost wish I didn’t.  I only did it because I promised myself when I was a kid, when I first learned about the Endbringers, that I would fight them if I ever got powers.  That’s why I did it, because I didn’t want to betray the kid version of myself.”

“Wouldn’t your child-self want you to do this?”  I asked.

“I don’t know.  But I didn’t make any promises to myself about this.”

Honestly I can’t blame her for not wanting to get involved in that. Leviathan is an Endbringer who threatens to destroy so much of the world. Its name makes everyone tremble in fear. Noelle is...well, for now, she is more of a domestic affair for the Undersiders. I don’t discard the possibility Parian will have to fight at some point, but right now? I think it’s fair she doesn’t join the fight.

Not really any time to discuss it further, because they encounter the heroes. They’re right over there. Hi! Guys, there’s a pseudoEndbringer about to destroy the city! It’s another day in Brockton Bay – and I’m so making that the slogan for Worm: It’s Another Day in Brockton Bay.

Miss Militia is here, and her immediate reaction is to aim at them with a rifle. How welcoming. There’s some wreckage here, and Miss Militia wants to know if the Undersiders had anything to do with it. Skitter very truthfully replies they were indirectly responsible, which...is that really the best thing to be saying?

...maybe, because it’d be coming out at some point, anyway.

Miss Militia’s reasoning is that there are reports that fit with what the Undersiders have done in the past, and a hero has been kidnapped. Huh. Noelle is already making her move, it seems! How screwed are we?

“Vista,” I finished Miss Militia’s thought.  “You’re talking about Vista.”

Huh. That so? That’s one versatile combatant out of the fight, indeed. I remember Skitter had mentioned earlier that they should ask the heroes’ help so they could bring containment foam and also have Vista use her powers to help. That’s going to throw a wrench into Skitter’s hopes for containment. Right now, though, the priority is explaining to the heroes they didn’t do this...directly, and that Noelle is a huge threat. That shouldn’t be hard to convince, right? I hope, at least. Time to take a look!

...or not. It’s an interlude. Well, I guess that was a time for a cliffhanger, but it certainly wasn’t what I wanted to read, I admit. I wanted more of the current situation. I hope this interlude will be worthwhile, because...yeah, I wish I could skip it to continue with the story. But hey, let’s tackle it. Onwards!

Kevin Norton, hm...the name doesn’t sound familiar. Then again, it’s likely it has been a while since I read it, so it’s not impossible I just don’t remember him. Hell, it’s possible a Norton was already shown and this is a relative. Who could this man be? He has a dog, too.

“I’ve saved millions of lives.  Billions.”

Another hand signal bidding another small woof of agreement.

He’s making some hefty claims, too. I won’t be surprised if he’s telling the truth, though. A lot can happen in Worm. Who knows, maybe he singlehandedly prevented a widespread tragedy, by foreseeing it or something. Who knows.

Nobody’s paying Kevin Norton any heed. Some parts of his clothing are pretty much falling apart. Kevin talks to the dog he’s with, saying he’s not getting much money and calling himself ‘the most powerful man in the world’ when asking for money. There’s not really much success here, so instead he decides to give the vital backstory info for the reader’s benefit. Just who are you, Mr. Kevin Norton?

Seems like he was in this area ages ago, and so much has changed since then. Kevin reminisces, remembering people who treated him well, and hopes they’re okay. Meanwhile, he gets some comfort for himself by saying he has a lot of responsibilities and he hasn’t shirked them – in fact, he makes it sound like the mere thought of having left them aside is the worst thing that could ever happen.

Also, he’s very alone. Nobody to support him, it seems. As if the world wants to make things a little worse for him, it starts raining.

Seems to me Kevin has regrets. There sure is a lot of talk about courage and cowardice here. Perhaps it’s related to he being the most powerful man in the world, according to himself? Maybe if he had been a little braver, he wouldn’t be in that position – like being the most powerful man in the world ruined his life. It’s one of those ironic things so popular in fiction, no? I wonder what’d be Mr. Wildbow’s take on it.

A woman gives Kevin ten pounds. So this is England, most likely. Quite a distance from Brockton Bay. Kevin braces himself for the judgmental scolding people who give him a lot of money usually give, and the woman doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, she makes conversation, praising the dog and asking why it’s called Duke. Kevin brings up once again he’s the most powerful man in the world. Boy, he’s fixated on that.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Hm?” he perked up, withdrawing his hand.

“You had a look on your face.”

“Just wondering when the last time I had contact with another person was.  Might have been a few years ago.  Pastor gave me a hug as I left his shelter.”

“That sounds so lonely, Kevin.  Years without human contact?”

“Not so lonely.  I’ve got one friend,” he said, scratching Duke’s head.

Lisette nodded.

“But you shouldn’t forget.  The little stuff.  Even a handshake?  That’s something special.  Meaningful.  Value it, even if you get it every day.”

A lonely existence with many, many years without contact. Meaningful contact that wasn’t, say, the brush of fingertips when giving money. Makes me wonder what kind of life Kevin used to have before. So much melancholy in his tone, that’s for sure.

Kevin asks the woman – Lisette, is her name – to walk with him while he talks about himself. While the woman comes with him after some hesitation, she keeps her distance because hey, no harm in being cautious. Kevin starts talking. The beginning of his problems happened when he got into a relationship with a woman who in the end wasn’t really the right one for him, but he doesn’t blame her for his trouble. In the end, Kevin realized he’s gay. Still, that wasn’t the cause for the destruction of his relationship, anyway. It turned abusive in pretty much all ways possible, and Kevin left after a while. Since then he’s been living on the streets.

The place he has taken Lisette to is where he slept first. A bit of nostalgia there – I guess...we all look to our beginnings, huh.

Lisette is asked to hold Duke’s leash for a moment while Kevin got to the water’s edge, splashing some on his face. The situation takes a turn for the unexpected when suddenly there’s a golden man floating there. Huh. Parahuman, no doubt. Duke seems a bit...hm, ears flat against the head is a sign of apprehension, right? And Lisette is speechless.

You know, unless something changed very drastically in Worm and I don’t recall/didn’t notice, there’s only one golden guy floating around untouched by debris and dirt. Is this Scion? Did Scion just...appear out of nowhere to hang out here?

“Hello old friend,” Kevin said.

The only answer was the pouring rain.  The golden man didn’t speak.

“Wondered if I would see you here,” Kevin continued.  “Been a long time.  I’d nearly convinced myself I’d imagined you.  That old dog over there, he wasn’t even born when I left, and he’s on his last legs now.  Twelve years old.”

Apparently he did, and it’s not the first time. Kevin had met him before, in this same place. Probably after leaving that abusive woman. Kevin nonchalantly returns to Lisette, and reveals Scion wasn’t ever that guy’s name. An alias, really, like all parahumans have.

This here is the reason why Kevin is the most powerful man in the world. Oh, please give more details! I’m actually intrigued by that. What’s up?

So, looks like I was right in that he met Scion shortly after he fled, encountering him and finding out Scion is sad – even if golden man’s face never changes, he’s sad in the inside, and has always been. Kevin hadn’t liked that and went to shout at him for being more miserable than Kevin was back then. Since Kevin wasn’t instantly vaporized with a laser beam back then, I guess Scion didn’t take offense to that.

In a fit of frustration, Kevin shouted at Scion why doesn’t he go and help someone. Why doesn’t he do something useful with his powers like save people or something. I guess he didn’t use to do that before, hm. And so, since then, Scion has been the hero everyone knows...because that’s all Scion has, it seems. He’s empty, according to Kevin. Saving people is...pretty much all he has. So that’s why Kevin says he has saved billions – he gave Scion the push to go be a hero, and therefore countless lives have been saved. Good thing it was Kevin who found him, then. If Scion was as easily influenced as Kevin is making it sound, then someone coming and telling him ‘hey, go commit crimes’ could have happened too, and things would be so much different right now. Maybe there’s an alternate universe fanfic with such a premise, it could be interesting to write and/or read.

According to Kevin, Scion understands, he just...doesn’t say a thing or react much or even does anything. He marches to the beat of his own drum, except when Kevin gets his hands in the way and makes him stop the beat for a second.

“It’s almost like he’s autistic,” Lisette said.

“How’s that?”  Kevin asked.

“Too connected,” Lisette said.  “Too much in the way of stimuli, drowning everything out.”

“Enhanced hearing, hearing the whole city at once?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe he senses things we don’t,” she said.  “The most powerful person in the world, and looking at him now, he’s like a child.”

Huh. Interesting thought. I wonder if that’s what’s going on. Sensing too much at once, and willfully having to cut the connections to things – or perhaps even unconsciously as some sort of protection mechanism for his psyche. Could be, no? If so, it’s a bit of a miracle Kevin got through to him at all. Hmmm...lucky, that was.

“Why?  Why avoid him?”

Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the golden man.  “He scares me.  He chose me to listen to, of all people.  I’m the most powerful person in the world, just because of that.  Because I can tell the strongest, most capable man in the world what to do.”

Hmmmm...yeah, that sounds like it can be kind of unnerving. Scion is...a mystery. His origins are unknown, all that’s known is his actions, and those are thanks to Kevin. Kevin’s nudging is what has built Scion, pretty much.

At this point I just have to wonder if maybe there’s something up with Kevin and he doesn’t know it. I mean...there’s always the possibility Kevin is being deceitful in some way, but...I don’t know, something about him seems kind of sincere. I don’t think he’s hiding something. Why is Scion listening to him, of all people? There has to be a reason, no?

Still, that’s...such a scary thought. Because since Scion doesn’t even give any indication what he’s thinking, or how he’s interpreting things, if Kevin says a wrong word some bad stuff could happen, and I think Kevin is well aware of that. Honestly, anyone would be terrified. I know I would.

It seems Scion returned every once in a while just to listen to Kevin talk. Kevin just...tended to oblige, not really minding it much, until one night Kevin said something. Something that somehow got a reaction from Scion, and given how it was established he doesn’t bother reacting to anything, that’s very significant. Kevin doesn’t say what it is, but later Scion said it and the entire world latched onto it. That scared Kevin to no end. Okay, what was it? No way this intermission won’t say it! With all that’s been said about it, Mr. Wildbow just has to, no? I want to know!

“What did you say, if the word wasn’t Scion?” Lisette asked.

Ah, I see. So, I don’t really remember the details about Scion’s one and only word, but I faintly recall it was, well, ‘Scion’, and that’s why they’re calling him that. It seems Kevin said something and Scion latched onto it, but it actually was a word similar to that one.

Shenanigans ensue when it’s revealed it was actually Xion, because Kevin is a huge Kingdom Hearts fan and wanted to share some theories he had been building.

Okay, no, hah! Just joking. That’s just what came to mind when trying to think of something similar to ‘Scion’. I got nothing, I admit. Can’t think of a word.

“Only realized later.  Was talking about home, religion and family.  Talking about a memory from my childhood.  Don’t even remember it that well, now.  But the word he paid attention to was Zion.”

“That’s Hebrew, isn’t it?”

I went to search ‘Zion’ in Google, of course. The first result is Zion, a reggaeton singer, but unless Scion here is about to bust out some urban rhythm, that can’t be it. The next result sounds more like it:

Zion (Hebrew: צִיּוֹן‎ Ṣîyōn, LXX Σιών, also variously transliterated Sion, Tzion, Tsion, Tsiyyon) is a placename in the Hebrew Bible used as a synonym for Jerusalem as well as for the Land of Israel as a whole (see Names of Jerusalem).

That’s from Wikipedia, of course. So, as I see it, maybe it can be a hint about an origin. Nothing indicates Scion popped up into existence twenty years ago or whenever Scion first appeared floating in the air, maybe he has existed for way longer than that and heard that word before. Could be a hint about origins? Hm...

The other possibility is that it’s not so much something related to him, instead it’s something he’s familiar with. Or maybe he’s searching for it. I don’t know. Something’s up with that word, that’s all that’s plainly obvious. Doesn’t seem Kevin here has any ideas, either.

The reason why Kevin came here was to talk to Scion, and make a request. Seems that Kevin once told Scion to go fight the Endbringers, but he fears he wasn’t specific enough, that maybe he should have said to kill them so they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. That because of that, Scion just...wasn’t bothering to try all he could to kill them, and that because of his bad choice of words, a lot of people have died. Boy that’s terrifying. It’s pretty much what I had said earlier. Part of me almost hopes this doesn’t work, if only so Kevin doesn’t blame himself for all the death and destruction.

Kevin is close to death. He came here to get his affairs in order, which he’s doing by telling Scion that about the Endbringers, and also by telling him to come to Lisette here if he ever needs anything.

Kevin sighed.  “I’m here to get my affairs in order, and you’re most important after Duke.  I want you to keep doing what you were doing.  Help people.  Try to communicate with the good guys more.  I told you to do that before and you didn’t listen, but you should.  And if there’s a problem, if you need someone to listen to, someone to visit from time to time, look for this young lady.  Lisette.  Because she’s good people.  She’s a better person than I am.  Braver.  Has to be braver, if she’s stopping to talk to a homeless motherfucker like me, following him someplace.”

Wow. That’s got to be pretty awful for Lisette. Here, Lisette, you deal with the superpowered guy who doesn’t even give any indication he wants to listen to you. Honestly, it’s a bit of a curse, given how much grief that brought Kevin, and how Lisette, who is privy to why exactly it made Kevin so antsy, will have to undergo it too. It sucks for her, honestly. Goodness gracious.

I’m not sure if Scion will come to her or not, but...what’s done is done, no? Guess she...well...will have to deal with it, if he does come. I know it’s not like Kevin could have asked her permission because really, who’d say yes? But still, wow, that’s rough for Lisette.

Of course, Lisette seems kind of panicked about this. With good reason!

Kevin didn’t turn around or stop walking as he raised his voice to respond over the sound of the pouring rain.  “Good deal, isn’t it?  Ten pounds to become the most powerful person in the world.”

Methinks she may be regretting giving those ten pounds, honestly. That’s pretty rough.

That’s where the interlude ends. I see the tags here, where the character names usually are written, only has ‘Scion’. I guess that means Lisette won’t appear anymore, which is...understandable, honestly. What are the odds she goes to hang out in Brockton Bay for no reason at all? As I see it, it’s possible she’ll appear in a future interlude, but that’s it. I hope she’ll be okay, even if she was given this burden to deal with.

So, the intermission was...it was interesting. Somehow, although half of the time I’m annoyed by intermissions, Mr. Wildbow always manages to deliver. I can’t remember an interlude I ended dissatisfied with. I guess next time the story continues! But for now, this update is over.

[satsuki2406]

Dear Aomi Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

"I've seen you in a dream before, you are the warm and bright presence that embraced me on Cape Kamui a long time ago on a June afternoon."

Shinohara (Y/N) is a normal girl who had everything she could ask for, a loving family, a beautiful home, friends, and a fluffy cat. For a long time, she gave her life and happiness for granted, never imagining that she'll face one of the worst and crueler facades of society so closely, destroying what once was a happy, harmonious and normal family. One day, in hopes to recover what they lost, the Shinohara family took one of the more difficult decisions of their lives; leave behind their home back in Hokkaido and travel hundreds of miles south until Musutafu, the place that could grant them a solution and help close the yet fresh wound and scare away the ghosts of the past. Hardheaded, passionate, and ambitious (Y/N) is forced to confront the incarnated face of the superhuman society that she hated the most; Bakugou Katsuki.

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, My poor attempt of humor, Strong language (Courtesy of Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers, LONG ass chapter.

STATUS: On going

Chapter 1: School is a Great Place to Make Enemies

Chapter 2: My Stupid Classmate, the Angry Dandelion

3-In Conclusion, This Day Was...

The light night air caressed (Y/N)’s face and swayed her hair as she calmly strolled on the street. The ride from the konbini was short, after a couple of minutes, (Y/N) reached her home’s front gate. She pushed the creaky short gate pushing her bike along her with the shopping bags and closed it behind her. She put the bike on its little corner next to the driveway and locked it. She took the two shopping bags, along with her bag and walked to the front door. Before (Y/N) could even align the key with the keyhole, the door was harshly swung open revealing a much preoccupied and almost hyperventilating woman, (E/C) eyes met an equal pair of concerned (E/C) ones.

“Oh, (Y/N)! you’re finally home!” Immediately (Y/N) was engulfed in the hugest mama bear hug imaginable. Her mother, Akari consumed by aggravation and worry squeezed the lights out of her ‘little baby’ alleviated to have her between her arms, safe and sound.

“Mom...! I can’t- I can’t breathe…!” (Y/N) choked out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby! You know how I get when I’m worried, and excited, and when I see a good deal at the supermarket but enough of me! Tell me, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Lovingly, Akari cupped (Y/N) soft cheeks and proceeded to quickly exanimate her closer, looking for any scratch or cut. “Your temperature is normal, does any part of your body hurt?”

“Well, other than my legs, my butt, and the growing migraine I’ve been feeling since I left the konbini, I’m awesome, thank you.”

“I knew it! I knew that something was wrong! You must have been trapped in that horrible incident in the commercial district! What if the migraine is because you hit your head and will develop some brain damage if we don’t treat you immediately or your legs are injured?! What if they have to amputate them!? Should I call 911?! Or take you myself to the hospital?! No! We have no time to lose! Quick! Get in the car! I’ll go and get the keys and my purse-I have to call your dad!! Oh but he’s way too far right now! What if!-”

“Alright Mom! enough!” (Y/N) snapped. “Look at me, now, inhale and exhale, sloooowly, take your time and calm down. Once you are relaxed, I’ll explain myself, so stop jumping to conclusions please. Look at me in the eyes-that’s right, deep breaths, deep breaths…” You said softly while you also breathed deeply to show your mom how she had to do it while she dramatically imitated you, putting a hand over her chest to help herself.

“Al-Alright, I-I’m feeling better now”

“Perfect, so the reason I’m late is, indeed related to the villain attack, BUT! No how you are thinking! You know that in the center of the city there’s a bikeway, right?”

“Y-Yes I do”

“So, you also must remember that the Commercial District is part of that same bikeway’s route, right?”

“I-I recall so, yes”

“Perfect! Now that we have that important but kinda trivial piece of information clear, I’ll proceed to tell you what happened. Sooo… During my way back I decided to ‘take my time’ and you know, explore the city. But, but, but! When I was about to go back home, I heard a really big explosion coming from there, there was a lot of smoke as well. Right there I ran into an elderly lady and her daughter and they explain me the situation, they also advise me to get home as soon as I could. But the fastest and safest route home with the bike implies going right into the crime scene which was a super no-no, so I saw myself forced to take the long route around the Dagobah Park, a.k.a the city’s biggest illegal trash dump all the way down the coast line which took me around an hour which is also the reason my legs and butt hurt, oh! And also, the stop on the konbini that ended in an unfortunate incident related with a defective Ramune bottle and a rabid macaque-”

“W-Wait a minute! R-Rabid macaque?!” Your mother exclaimed panicked.

“That’s irrelevant right now mother, my point is I’m ok, and I’m not feeling like getting into the ER right now, also I have perishable products in this bags that need refrigeration and I reek like death and destruction, so can we enter to the house pretty please?”

“O-Oh, right, that was a bit confusing but I think I got it.”

“Great! By the way I bought the missing ingredients to make dinner.”

“Fantas!- Oh no! I was so preoccupied about you that I forgot to make dinner! I haven’t even made rice! Why don’t you take a bath while I put up something together to eat? You can also tell me about your first day of school over dinner!”

“Ok!”

 🐈🛀💢

Contently, (Y/N) hopped up the stairs and made a beeline to her bedroom. Although she has only been living in there for 2 weeks and a half, she found herself loving the place, the new house in general was really homey and cozy, it was roomy and stylish, somewhat similar to the house she lived before with her family back in Sapporo. One detail that she found extremely beautiful was that this new house possessed an ample number of skylights, in almost every room of the house, including hers, it gave her an amazing view of the sky while she was lying on her bed during night, or the rain clipping and clapping over the crystal. The house also possessed a pretty old and pretty picturesque cherry blossom tree in the backyard that had gifted them that very same spring with lots of delicate pink petals that she usually saw dancing in the wind.

But her room was something special. (Y/N) was not sure if it was the way the light illuminated it, or the color the room was painted at that moment but it was something similar like love at first sight. Since that very first moment she and her parents visited the place along with the realtor that winter day last year, she knew that this would be her special corner.

Moving itself is a long and tedious process, but in their case the distance made it trickier. Musutafu and Sapporo were 880 miles away from each other, which mean they had to go there by plane, otherwise, (Y/N) would’ve to be stuck in her parents’ car for over 18 hours.

The moving truck was sent in advance so their stuff would be there the day they arrived. The flight only took 1 hour and 35 minutes, it was really short but once (Y/N) got out of the plane it was like she entered into another dimension. Musutafu was way bigger than Sapporo, also busier and hectic, there were more heroes around the city which made sense because of its size, the crime rate must be higher here as well.

After all the unpacking and mess that moving in implied, the Shinohara family was successfully settled down, it felt like it was so long ago. Time really flies by when you are occupied, huh?

(Y/N) closed her room after she entered, going directly to her bed, plopping herself in the fluffy comforter. Suddenly with the corner of her eye she caught a sudden movement next to her, focusing more she recognized a familiar ball of white fluff that napped away comfortably over the mound of pillows and cushions situated on the upper part of the bed.

“Mashumaro!~”

“Mrrrow~”

Mashumaro, a 5-year-old white British Shorthair, stretched deliciously and stud up from his pillowy paradise to receive one of his (several) daily coddle sessions. (Y/N) opened her arms to the affectionate feline, enveloping him in a warming hug.

“Oh Mashu! You can’t imagine the day I had! Everything could have gone perfectly fine if it wasn’t for that stupid angry blowfish! And when I thought I got rid of him for the day, he ‘blessed’ me showing up in the konbini! That idiot! How dare he to live nearby!? I hope he doesn’t live close at all, see his ugly puckered face at school every day is bad enough! I’m utterly exhausted, and this was just the first day.”

“Mrrrow”

“Yes! Can you imagine?! How the rest of the year would be?!”

“Mrrrow”

“I know, I know, thankfully this is the last year of middle school, after next spring, boom! No more Bakushit!”

“Mrrrow”

“Oh Mashu! ~ You are the only one who understands me, thank you for listen to me, I feel better now~”

“Mrrrow...?”

“Talking about feel better, I have a date with that ofuro at the end of the corridor, so if you excuse me…”

In a fluid move (Y/N) wiggled out of her bed, leaving her furry companion to keep enjoying his catnap and get the most comfortable pjs she could find in her wardrobe. With the selected garments in her bed, she left her room and headed to the bathroom. Once inside the wet room, she proceeded to fill the tub, setting the water temperature to her liking. Meanwhile, (Y/N) slipped off her uniform and folded it aside into the hamper to wash later. Once ready, she stepped under the shower and turned on the head, soaking herself completely in the relaxing liquid. (Y/N) eagerly washed away all the stress and sweat that formed during this crazy day.

‘I wonder if Midoriya made it home safely’ (Y/N) absentmindedly took her shampoo bottle and squeezed some of its contents over her hand and applied it over her head.

She hummed blissfully while her fingers massaged her scalp. The bipping of the controlling pad interrupted her relaxation moment to inform her that the tub was filled and ready. She rinsed her hair and body drenched in shampoo and body wash foam and applied her conditioner to the final touch. Once she was ready, she turned off the shower head and wrapped her wet hair in a towel, she tested the water with her toe, which she approved with a soft sigh and submerged completely and hummed contently.

“Ahhh~ This is life!” (Y/N) closed her eyes and let herself being wrapped in relaxation and tranquility.

‘I’ll ask Midoriya tomorrow how it went, I hope he didn’t have to go near the villain attack. For what they say it was a big deal, I hope the hostage is ok’

(Y/N) came to a halt with the soft knock on the door. “(Y/N) sweetie, dinner will be ready in 10 minutes, don’t take too long so you can eat it while it still hot.”

“Ok mom! I will, thanks!”

‘I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow! I wonder if I can change classes or something, but that means Midoriya would be left alone at the mercy of that brute again.’

‘Alone…’

“No! Midoriya has had to deal with this by his own, if I can do something about it, I will”

‘He deserves to feel that someone appreciates him, supports him and believes in him, just like anybody else’

(Y/N) stud up from the tub and covered herself with a towel and exited the bathroom. Once in her room, she closed the door and sited on her bed to check her phone.

“Oh, I got a message…”

From: Haru ✨

 3:42 pm

Hey gurl! How was everything? 😁 Sorry I didn’t text you during lunch, I forgot my phone in the classroom, 😓 silly me I guess, 😅 like always, haha! 🤣🤣 Anyway! Tell me! How are schools down there? Did you meet some cute guys?~ 👀🤩 I’ll call you tonight!~ 😘💋

“What do you mean ‘how are schools down there’ you moron, like in the rest of Japan.” You snickered.

To: Haru ✨

6:41pm

It is complicated to tell how my day was, ‘incredible’ maybe? 🙄 Just to give you a preview it got me so tired that I want to sleep for the next 25 years and this was just the first day. 😫😫 Anyway, I’ll go get dinner, call you later. 

(Y/N) dried her body, put on the clothes she chose and went down stairs were she saw her mom setting the table filling it with several steaming yummy looking plates and bowls.

“Wow! this looks really good!~”

“I’m glad you think so, come on, sit now before it gets cold”

“Ok!~”

There on the table laid a full arrange of delicious comfort food; hearty veggie miso soup, grilled salmon, green salad and potato salad, pickled veggies and last but certainly not least katsu white curry, one of (Y/N) favorites.

“Its been a long time since we ate white curry!”

“And don’t forget the cheese stuffed tonkatsu~”

“Yay! ~”

“Itadakimasu!”

(Y/N) took a spoonful of rice and curry and hummed happily at the savory and spicy flavors dancing in her tongue, the golden-brown tonkatsu was crispy and juicy, crowned by the gooey cheese on the inside.

‘Mom’s food is the best~’

“By the way, your father called when you were in the shower, he said he’ll be back in Musutafu on Thursday afternoon”

“Really?! That’s awesome!”

“Things went way smoothly than he thought, we will bring the remaining suitcases we left, the ones with summer clothes”

“Oh, those will come handier here since is warmer”

“You are right, now tell me how was your first day of school? Did you make some new friends?”

(Y/N) almost chocked on her soup as all her misadventures of the day came to her mind at the same time, trying to think about a good response she cleared her throat and compose a bit.

“Mmm, I’m not actually sure if I can call him a friend but there was this really timid guy in my class-”

“Oh! A boy?! Good thing your father is not here otherwise he would be seething, and crying at the same time because his baby is growing up so fast!” Your mom said with an amused expression on her face at the mental image of your father in such state, the tips of her fingers were covering her lips in a vain attempt to conceal her giggles.

“M-Mom! I-It’s no like that! A-And I just met him today! Good God! Don’t go saying things like that so blatantly!” (Y/N) said suddenly rising from her seat, her face completely aflame with shame for her mother’s words.

“Oh honey, I’m kidding! No need to get so riled up!”

“Hmp!” (Y/N) grunted with puff up checks and an expression that more than angry, looked cute. And of course, her mom made sure to emphasize it.

“That face makes me want to squish it to death just like when you were still my little cutie baby boo! ~”

“M-Mom! Stop it!!!”

“Haha! Honey calm down! Don’t take it too seriously!”

“Hmm…”

 📱📱📱

“Woah, woah, woah! So, you are telling me that this guy actually called you a bitch and threaten you and another classmate in front of the whole class and the teacher didn’t do or say anything?! No even detention or something?!” (Y/N) best friend, Haruka exclaimed as she suddenly paused applying her moisturizing cream, a part of her ‘night beauty routine’.

“You got it, I guess that he’s scared of him, everyone actually, so he must be used get away with everything and you know that people usually looks away when a quirkless person is discriminated, like it wasn’t serious or it was something to laugh about.”

“Yeah crude but true, unfortunately that’s not new, the ‘bully with a decent quirk’ kind of story is really common, but to that extent? Is kind of terrifying. You also said he wanted to be a hero? What the heck?! I’ll definitely will not support a hero like that! If you actually could be able to call him a ‘hero’ after all, I hope that U.A reject him on the spot! A meanie who bullies my bestie does not deserve such title!”

“I’m pretty sure that the U.A staff would have your concerns into consideration”

“I’m serious (Y/N)!”

“Me too”

You were now laying lazily in the comforting warmness of your bed. As you promised you called Haruka after dinner, filling her into all the details of your crazy first day, and a certain insufferable spiky blond.

“How about you? How was everything there?”

“Cold as hell! It started snowing when I was walking back home. You know, typical Hokkaido.”

“You know that the hell is hot, rig-?”

“Don’t smartmouth me bitch, you get my point.”

“Yeah, yeah, today the weather was really nice here, is getting warmer everyday and the sakura are on full bloom. I think is the first time I haven’t freeze to death on my first day of school. It was a nice experience for a change.”

“Oh, I’ll wish to be there! I can’t believe we are in firkin’ April but it feels like January!”

“Like you said, Typical Hokkaido. Hey Haru, my eyelids are closing; I’ll go to sleep now ok? I’ll message you tomorrow and please for God’s sake don’t leave your phone in the classroom, you moron.

“Ok! Ok Mom! Geez! Suzue told me there was this new hottie in class 3-C and I had to check if he was Jefree Star Approved!”

“Doesn’t Jefree Star review make-?? Oh! Shut up and go to sleep!”

After hanging up to a pouty Haruka, (Y/N) put her phone to charge and submerged herself under the softness of her comforter, turning off the bedside lamp she sighed prying to whatever God out there listening that tomorrow could be a better day.

“Just a good day, that’s all I’m asking for…”

With little flashbacks of all those days spent with Haruka and all her friends, her family, her old home, of Hokkaido.

 Embraced in sweet memories, she was lulled to sleep.

Raise your hand if your mom also freaks out about everything ✋

*Mashumaro: Marshmallow in Japanese ヾ(•ω•`)o

[backtothestart02]

Return to Paradise - 2/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: The chapters will be much longer after this one. I hope you enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 2 -

Barry stood, watching Iris and Nora say goodbye to everyone else at STAR Labs, and tried his very best not to look depressed. Whenever Iris and Nora turned his way, he put on a brilliant smile. And truthfully, it would be fun getting to go on a vacation with Nora when they’d never had one together. He just wished it wasn’t right now.

He was all for embracing being a father to his adult daughter – though it was still a little weird, he couldn’t lie – but his need to have Iris all to himself was stronger than it had ever been, especiall after existing in a reality where she thought he looked like Oliver. And now every time they shared even the purest, fully-clothed moment, it would likely be interrupted by their very chatty, very present daughter, Nora West-Allen.

Somehow, he had to get his mind right. Iris had obviously accomplished it already, which was understandable since she hadn’t experienced a separate reality that she could remember.

“This was awfully nice of you to suggest,” Joe said, who also had no memory of the alternate reality and had come back to Central City with Cecile and Jenna for the Christmas holiday season.

“Actually, I suggested it!” Nora chirped, beaming proudly.

Joe looked over at her. “Oh, did you now?” He looked back at Barry, smiling. “How did that come up?”

“Oh, simple really.” Nora bounded over. “I went upstairs to wake up my parents, and –” She paused. “Well, they were already awake.”

Iris cleared her throat, stepping across the room before her dad could connect the dots.

“She heard Barry and I talking about a vacation before Christmas and –”

“Invited myself along!”

“I…see.” Joe looked back and forth between his daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter.

“We’ll be back in time for Christmas,” Barry said, squeezing Joe’s shoulder. “It’ll only be a week, maybe ten days.”

“Ten days,” Nora said, with stars in her eyes.

Barry swallowed hard and muttered under his breath, “Or maybe seven.”

Cisco, who was watching the entire scene unfold before him, suddenly picked up on the clues dropping like flies. Something was very wrong here.

“Hey, Barry?”

Barry looked over at him, relieved to briefly be out of the conversation involving the enthusiasm of a family vacation.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He gestured to the hall.

“What- Uh, sure, man.” He lowered his voice as he slipped past his girls, “’Scuse me.”

He followed Cisco into the hall until they couldn’t be heard and that’s when his best friend hit him with the mother of all questions.

“Why aren’t you excited about this vacation?”

“What?!” Barry squeaked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice still high-pitched. “I am. I totally am.” He willed his voice to lower. “I am.” But it lowered a lot, making him look awfully suspicious.

Cisco folded his arms.

“Spill, Bartholomew.”

Barry sighed.

“Okay, so there was this time change…”

Cisco hit him.

“It wasn’t my fault this time!”

“Whose fault was it then, Flash?”

“Shh!” He looked around worriedly.

“No one can hear us.” Cisco rolled his eyes. “But you, sir, have some explaining to do.”

Barry looked back at him and prepared to tell his tale.

“Okay, well, there’s a lot involved, and I’ll tell you all of it some other time, but there was a crossover and the bad guy was constantly changing realities to what he personally wanted.”

“Huh. Seems legit. Go on.”

“In the first reality I woke up to, only one thing had changed. I was Green Arrow and Oliver was the Flash.”

Cisco almost laughed at the ‘Green Arrow’ bit. Almost. But then he started to understand.

“Wait. Just you two had swapped? Not your wiv-”

Barry shook his head.

“Ah. So, you had to see Iris madly in love with Oliver thinking he was you.”

Barry glared.

“Just clarifying!”

“Yes,” Barry ground out.

“Did you ever get through to her? I mean, as Oliver?”

“Eventually, yeah.”

“What’d you say?” Cisco asked curiously.

“That she’s my lightning rod, obviously.”

Cisco’s lips twitched. “Works every time.”

There was a pause, then—

“Wait, if you had to see that, then I’m guessing your suggestion of a vacation was actually as a redo honeymoon and that Nora jumped to conclusions and invited herself, and she was so excited you didn’t know how to say no but now you’re stuck?”

Barry winced. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me? We can get Nora out of the picture. Surely she’d understand if you told her.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“She’s never had a vacation with her dad, Cisco.”

Cisco softened.

“If I take this away from her now… after we just had that breakthrough over Thanksgiving, I…”

“So, don’t take it away from her. Plan a family vacation over the summer. Cicada should be locked up by then, and you’ll probably have a few months before the next Big Bad comes around trying to kill you and everyone you love.” He patted his arm lovingly.

Barry snorted. “I wish I could say you were joking.”

“But I’m not. Go with God, my man.” He pushed him back towards the cortex. “Oh, and out of curiosity, who else knows about this crossover that none of us remember?”

“Just Iris. Listen, I can’t just—”

“You can and you will. Go!”

They both entered the cortex again, just in time for an ecstatic Nora West-Allen to squeal and call her dad over for a family picture. Everyone else was smiling watching them, and even Iris warmed to seeing him again. Barry wondered if she was as prepared for this trip as he was.

“Come on, babe,” she called out to him, gesturing to their daughter. “Picture time!” She laughed a little.

Cisco suddenly understood.

“Have a fun family vacation, oh, dear friend of mine.” He clutched Barry’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

He squeezed his friend’s hand to near pain and then rejoined his family.

…

It took only seconds for Nora to start her interrogation once they’d gathered their luggage together at the loft.

“So, where are we going?” she asked, swinging one leg over her knee as she sat on top of the only half-filled suitcase meant for her.

“Bali,” Iris said, or started to. “It’s where we had-”

“Your honeymoon! Oh, yes! I love Bali.”

Barry’s lips twitched. “You’ve…been to Bali before?”

“Mhmm.” She nodded ecstatically. “You didn’t tell me much about your past growing up, Mom, but I did manage to find out where the two of you went on your honeymoon. It’s a trip getting there, isn’t it?” She blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Thank goodness we’re speedsters and don’t have to get sweaty sitting on a plane for a day and a half.”

Barry thought about the plane trips last year, and how well, yeah, they would’ve loved to spend their time doing other things and were pretty much exhausted by the time they arrived, but it was also a sweet time, and a sexy time for part of it, despite the complications of a tiny bathroom. The next time they were able to get away, he’d been hoping to get some of that first-class mile-high seating where you actually had a private suite and your chairs turned into a bed.

Not to mention, he’d planned to up the romance with the type of hotel suite they got this time. Maybe they’d get a villa or one of those tropical huts that extended way out into the water.

But all of that was moot with a third party.

“That sounds great,” Iris said, and Barry realized Nora must’ve been talking, listing things she wanted to do or things she had done. At least he guessed that’s what it had been when Iris’ elbow hit his side forcefully.

“Ow,” he mouthed. Neither woman took note of his reaction.

“So, we’re speeding there, right?” Nora asked hopefully. “I want to get started right away. Today should be a beach day!”

Barry thought of his and Iris’ beach days the year before and how this would be nothing like it. But then he reminded himself why he’d agreed to this venture in the first place. Nora’s eyes were glittering as she looked up at him, likely imagining all the father-daughter moments they hadn’t gotten when she was growing up that she would now get.

“Sure, why not? We’ll have to stop at a hotel first and make sure there’s actually a place to stay, though, since this isn’t a day trip,” he joked lightly. Neither woman got it.

“Great!” She cheered, jumping up and down. “It might take a couple trips, but I’m sure we can get all the suitcases to the villa I stayed at when I was down there.”

“Are you sure it’ll be there, Nora?” Iris asked. “I mean, we are 25 years ahead of schedule,” she joked. Nora laughed lightly, obligingly. Barry hid a smile.

“It should be there,” Nora said, eager to get past the awkward moment and bad mom joke. “But if it’s not, there should be some like it. It’s not like villas were just invented in my lifetime.”

Iris looked at Barry who smiled encouragingly. A possible villa had been part of his plan initially anyway.

“All right, a villa it is.”

Nora was gone with half the luggage in her arms before returning back for the rest.

“See you guys there!”

And then she was gone again, leaving no indication of exactly where in Bali she was going to. It was a tourist destination. She could’ve literally gone anywhere.

Barry looked down at his wife of one year and grinned.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing. I just like my piece of luggage I get to take with me, that’s all.”

“Did you just call me a piece of luggage?”

“Light as a feather,” he promised her, then sealed his promise with a kiss.

Iris moaned in irritation when he pulled away.

“What?” he asked on a laugh.

“Who knows the next time we’ll be alone together like this? You’re gonna leave me with just a peck? Really?”

He laughed, then sped her to the side of the building for a hot ‘n heavy passionate kiss worthy of an award. Iris was breathless when he pulled back this time.

“Was that better?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she nodded.

“Ready now?”

She took a breath and nodded.

“Let’s get this family vacation started.”

In a flash of color and wind, they were gone.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[thecoleopterawithana]

‘(Forgive Me) My Little Flower Princess’ was written during John Lennon’s stay in Bermuda, from June to July 1980, and recorded upon his return to the studio, on 14 August 1980. It wouldn’t be heard by the general public until 23 January 1984, on the posthumous album Milk And Honey.

The lyrics go as follows:

Forgive me, my little flower princess For crushing your delicateness Forgive me, if you could forgive me

Forgive me, my little flower princess For selfishness Forgive me, forgive me

Well, I know there is no way to repay you Whatever it takes I will try to The rest of my life I will thank you Thank you, thank you, my little

If you’ll forgive me, my little flower princess Never too late unless you can’t forgive

Time is on our side Let’s not waste another minute ‘Cause I love you, my little friend I really love you

Give me just one more chance And I’ll show you Take up the dance where we left off The rest of our life is the, my little

I’m home

Overall, the song seems to strike the same apologetic tone previously expressed in ‘Jealous Guy’ (1971) and ‘I Know (I Know)’ (1973).

I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m sorry that I made you cry Oh no, I didn’t want to hurt you I’m just a jealous guy 

— ‘Jealous Guy’ (1971)

I know what’s coming down and I know where it’s coming from and I know and I’m sorry (yes I am) but I never could speak my mind

— ‘I Know (I Know)’ (1973)

“The rest of my life I will thank you” gives a sense of gratitude for the other’s love and presence in his life, further explored in ‘Now And Then’ (1978). 

I know it’s true, it’s all because of you And if I make it through, it’s all because of you And now and then, if we must start again Well we will know for sure, that I love you

— ‘Now And Then’ (1978)

“Take up the dance where we left off” shows hope in a reconciliation that they have “the rest of our life” to experience, as found in ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ (1980) and ‘Grow Old Along With Me’ (1980).

It’s been too long since we took the time No-one’s to blame, I know time flies so quickly But when I see you darling It’s like we both are falling in love again It’ll be just like starting over, starting over

— ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ (1980)

Grow old along with me The best is yet to be When our time has come We will be as one God bless our love

— ‘Grow Old Along With Me’ (1980)

Nevertheless, this feeling that “time is on our side”  doesn’t take from the urgency to get together and “not waste another minute”, similarly dealt with in ‘Borrowed Time’ (1980) and ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ (1980).

Now I am older ah, hah The future is brighter and now is the hour 

— ‘Borrowed Time’ (1980)

It’s time to spread our wings and fly Don’t let another day go by my love

— ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ (1980)

Regarding the endearments used during the song, we find the classical ‘little friend’, famously used by aunt Mimi in reference to Paul. (It is also worth noting that, tongue-in-cheek or not, in French ‘petit-ami’ means boyfriend). 

Also, the song is called ‘My Little Flower Princess’. It is known that Yoko Ono has reported hearing Paul being called ‘John’s princess’ around Apple.

But it’s John’s thing with flowers as a metaphor for love that fascinates me the most. 

Forgive me, my little flower princess For crushing your delicateness

…

Forgive me, my little flower princess For selfishness

John, after some introspection, has reached the conclusion that his relationship with Paul was destroyed by “inattention or inadvertence of selfishness”. He seemed self-aware enough to realise that his half of the “blame” was a problematic possessiveness:

Q: Do you think that a new attitude towards love and relationships – would it be fair to say we’re getting away from the property concept of relationships? John: Of owning the other person? I think – yeah, we could be. But uh… That’s all very well intellectually, but when you actually are in love with somebody, you tend to be jealous and want to own them, possess them a hundred per cent. Which I do. Yoko: Yes, it’s real life, all that. And I do it too. John: But intellectually, before that, I thought – right. I mean, owning a person is rubbish, but. I love Yoko, I want to possess her completely; I don’t want to stifle her, you know? [Yoko laughs] And that’s the danger, it’s that you want to possess them to death. But… that’s a personal problem of mine. Yoko: But we’re doing alright now – just very nice, you know. In other words, I think— John: It’s after the beginning, when it cools down a bit – not cools down, whatever, it st– uh, whatever the word is, you know – that you can allow each other to breathe. Yoko: Yes. When you relax a bit, you know. John: But at first you tend to strangle each other, I think. Yoko: And [inaudible] we’re starting to relax— John: And because you have so little as a child, I think it is, you – when once you find it, you want to hang onto it, you grab it so much you tend to kill it.

— John Lennon and Yoko Ono, Women’s Hour Interview for BBC Radio 2. (28  May 1971)

John even goes as far as to recognise that him not feeling loved enough as a child by his parents, was the original cause of all his insecurities and franticness. So desperate was he for love, that he ended up “crushing its delicateness”. 

A decade later, we get another glimpse into his matured perception of the nature of love:

Q: As Tom Robbins half-facetiously asks in his most recent book, “How do you make love stay?”

John: Trying to possess it makes it go away. Trying to possess somebody makes them go away. Every time you put your finger on it, it slips away. Every time you turn the microscope’s light on, the thing changes so you can never see what it is. As soon as you ask the question, it goes away. Peripheral vision is what it is. There’s no looking directly at it. Try to look at the sun. You go blind, right? Now that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work on it. Love is a flower and you have to water it.

— John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

John suggests that not only being possessive of the person you’re in love with “makes them go away”, but that the love itself is subject to some weird kind of observer effect, in which the mere act of trying to understand the relationship alters it — “As soon as you ask the question, it goes away.” (And this specific example is, in my opinion, another crucial clue about what went down.)

This philosophy that love is ruined by conscious interference and the specific choice in words — Love is like a flower — seem to have been heavily inspired by the D. H. Lawrence poem ‘Mess Of Love’. (Note that D. H. Lawrence has been referred to in the Beatles presence).

We’ve made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woman, a certain woman, all my life That moment I begin to hate her.

The moment I even say to a woman: I love you! — My love dies down considerably.

The moment love is an understood thing between us, we are sure of it, It’s a cold egg, it isn’t love any more.

Love is like a flower, it must flower and fade; If it doesn’t fade, it is not a flower, It’s either an artificial rag blossom, or an immortelle, for the cemetery.

The moment the mind interferes with love, or the will fixes on it, Or the personality assumes it as an attribute, or the ego takes possession of it, It is not love any more, it’s just a mess. And we’ve made a great mess of love, mind-perverted, will-perverted, ego-perverted love.

But while Lawrence urges us to accept the fleetingness of love (going as far as to say that it’s its own ephemerous, untouched and undefinable nature that gives it meaning), John clearly wants to strike a compromise. Because while he admits he was probably crushing this delicate flower by “wanting to possess it to death”, you still have to water it, Paul! 

In fact, John’s first known comparison to love being like a flower reflected more his unmet expectations than his own role in the end of the relationship.

Love is like a precious plant. You can’t just accept it and leave it in the cupboard, or just think it’s gonna get on with itself. You gotta keep watering it. You’ve got to really look after it, and be careful of it, and keep the flies off and see that it’s alright, and nurture it.

— John Lennon, 'Man of the Decade’ Interview (2 December 1969).

John was clearly feeling neglected, hurt by the “kind of insensitivity [Paul] would have”. And his own desperate need to acknowledge the love and have it validated — coupled with Paul being “scared to say ‘I love you’” — escalated into a vicious “mind game” where John was ready to do absolutely anything to get Paul’s attention or some sign that he cared, including destroying the Beatles.

It seems fitting then, that around the same time, an emotionally exhausted Paul was marvelling at the self-reliant and giving nature of the new plants in his life:

When we are in Scotland we plant stuff – vegetables – and we’ll leave them there, and of their own volition they will push up. And not only will they push up and grow into something, but then they will be good to eat. To me that’s an all-time thing. That’s fantastic. How clever! Just that things push their own way up and they feed you.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed for Life Magazine (16 April 1971).  

I like to think that by 1980, at the time this song was written, they had matured enough to “work it out”. 

John knew he couldn’t be possessive to the point of crushing the flower, or selfish enough not to realise that he also has to water. With his more self-assured persona, he would probably learn to recognise and accept Paul’s Acts of Service for the love expression that they were, and eventually even help Paul himself overcome his own insecurities regarding saying Words of Affirmation outside the plausible deniability of songs. 

Unfortunately, despite their beliefs, time was not on their side. 

But like Yoko said:

Once you know somebody, you can never unknow that person. And knowing is loving. So you can never get out of love. There might be misunderstandings and separating for other reasons, but love is always there. Staying together is just one form of love. Maybe that’s a strong love and expression of love. But love is a soul thing. It always stays there.

— Yoko Ono, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

John himself had said it to Paul some years prior:

Bless you wherever you are

Windswept child on a shootin’ star

Restless spirits depart Still we’re deep in each other’s hearts

…

Bless you whoever you are Holding her now, be warm and kind hearted

And remember although love is strange Now and forever our love will remain

— ‘Bless You’ (1974)

[dinoyoongi]

Broken Bones & Salami Sandwiches

(I do not own image)

SYNOPSIS: When your excitement to watch Yoongi accept BTS’ first Grammy award takes a clumsy, painful turn. 

PAIRING: Yoongi x Y/N

GENRE: Fluff

WARNINGS: Language 

WORD COUNT: 2543

_______________________________

“And the Grammy goes to ...” the presenter takes an obnoxious pause, grinning at the camera like he's the funniest person in the world. You growl angrily, grabbing the closest item within reach which happens to be an open pack of salami and whipping it across the room. Your sister gawks, watching as the deli meat pops out of the packaging and flies through the air before falling like confetti.

“You are 100% cleaning that up. What a waste,” she grumbles, eying the slices scattered amongst your hardwood floors. You shush her urgently, waving your hand furiously in her direction. “Y/N, it's too early in the morning to be -”

“BTS! Congratulations!”

The screen shifts to a view of the group who are still sitting, shock and disbelief painting their faces. Hoseok is the first to hesitantly rise, grabbing Taehyung's arm to either pull him up or keep him grounded.

That's about as much as you see before hysteria completely possesses you.

You're on your feet, half sobbing, half screeching as you jump up and down. Through your tears and hops, you try to focus on the screen. The boys are on the stage now but they don't seem to be in any better condition than you with their red eyes and wet faces. The camera zooms in on Yoongi and you break again, resuming your hops.

At least you won't have to go to the gym tonight to work off the junk food.

“Stop screaming! Don't you want to listen to their acceptance speech? They're about to start talking!” your sister shouts at you from the couch. You pause, eyes glancing to the screen. Namjoon holds the microphone, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He opens his mouth to speak when the camera goes to a group shot. Yoongi stands next to Namjoon, the little golden gramophone in his hand.

You can't help it. You lose it again. You jump ecstatically across the room, only stopping for nanosecond cry breaks. Your boyfriend is a Grammy award winner. A two-time Grammy award winner, to be exact. BTS picked up the award for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance earlier in the show but just happened to nab the most prestigious award of the night – best album. It's something that you have heard Yoongi and the boys talk about countless times. Though they never dared to have any expectations, just wishful dreams.

“They did it! Oh my god, they did it!” you screech through your leaping. Your sister begins to nag about the possibility of the downstairs neighbors calling the police but you keep jumping. It feels like your body is too small to contain the amount of happiness that you currently have and the only way to release it is to keep jumping. It's a good plan until your heel lands on a stray piece of salami. You feel everything happen in slow motion. The meat slides across the floor, taking you along with it. Your torso falls backwards and in an awkward attempt to balance yourself, you plant your right leg behind you. Unfortunately, since your excited jumps were so high, you come down hard. Right on your leg.

Crack.

There's a fierce pain and the room is suddenly spinning. It feels like your body is too small to contain the amount of pain that you currently have and the only way to release it is to close your eyes. So you close your eyes.

____________________________________

You open your eyes to the sound of your ring tone blaring somewhere in the room. You are definitely not at home anymore. You're in an unfamiliar bed, your lower half elevated with your right leg being suspended in the air by some kind of strap. There's a decent amount of pain but it's tolerable and you suspect whatever medication has been put into the IV drip inserted into your wrist is doing its job.

The sound of your phone stops. “Hello? Yoongi?”

Yoongi. BTS. The Grammy s. The jumping. The salami. It all comes back to you.

“Y/N couldn't come to the phone because she's currently recovering from her surgery,” your sister says dramatically. You can hear Yoongi's surprised “what!�� from where you're laying. Your sister snickers. “No, I'm really not joking. She fell and broke her leg in four different places. They had to do emergency surgery on it. Hey, congrats on the awards, by the way.”

With as much energy as you can muster with all the medication pumped into you, you reach out your arm to your sister, fingers wiggling for the phone. She turns her body away from you and you have never wanted to strangle her as much as you do right now.

“We were watching the awards and she totally lost her fucking mind when you guys won album of the year. She threw a pack of salami and then started jumping around and eventually slipped on some of said salami. She passed out on the spot and I had to call an ambulance. They made me turn our phones off when I came into the surgery ward.”

I whine loudly, still reaching for the phone. Your sister laughs. “She just came to but she's super groggy from the anesthesia and pain medicine. I'll let the doctor see her first and have her call you back when she can. It must be super late there – do you just want to call her tomorrow?”

“Alright, alright. I'm sure she'll be calling soon. Give my congrats to the boys and your team! Have fun!” she says before throwing your phone back into her bag. You slump in defeat, your arm falling off of the bed. Your sister rolls her eyes.  “He has to do a few quick interviews anyway. You can call him after I page the doctor.”

She presses the big red call button on the side of your bed. “Broke your leg in four different places by slipping on a slice of salami that you tossed all over the place. Way to go, champ.”

Only a few minutes go by before both the doctor and a nurse come in to check on your leg. Whilst he explains how bad your break was and the treatments that you'll have to endure during the healing process, the nurse sets you up with a can of ginger ale and a few graham crackers to help ease the grogginess. After he finishes his spiel and you finish your snack, you feel refreshed despite the throbbing pain in your leg.

“You've been with me all morning. Why don't you go out and get yourself some lunch or something?” you suggest politely to your sister, flashing her a blinding smile. She scoffs. After 25 years with you, she's able to see right through you.

“I got some snacks from the vending machine earlier. I'm fine.”

Your smile drops. “Well that can't be very healthy. What would Mom say? She'd be upset if you didn't eat a proper-”

“It was Mom's idea. She didn't want me to leave you during surgery. She's coming this way with dinner later so I don't want to fill up now.”

“Oh my god, just get out!” you screech, your patience snapping. Your sister smirks and drops your phone into your lap, heading towards the door. She turns back to say something before she leaves but you whip your arm back as if you're going to throw your phone and she laughs, closing the door behind her. Your fingers fumble to find Yoongi's name in your contacts. It only rings twice.

“Y/N ! What the hell! You fell while jumping?” Yoongi scolds as soon as he answers the phone. You exhale in satisfaction when you hear his voice. “Sometimes I think you forget how old you are.”

“Yoongi,” you interrupt, voice breaking. You sniffle as the tears begin to pool. “I'm so proud of you.”

He lets out a long sigh. “Jagiya, stop being cute when I'm trying to be stern with you. How are you? Are you in a lot of pain?”

“It does hurt quite a bit but I'm handling it okay. How are you? Is it overwhelming?

“A little,” he confesses. “I haven't had time to process it yet. We were taken off stage and immediately thrown into interviews and photo sessions. It doesn't seem real even though I'm staring at the awards right now.”

“I can't wait to touch them,” you say, eliciting a burst of laughter from your boyfriend. “You have to let me touch at least one of them before Big Hit takes them away for display. It's the least you can do for causing my injury.”

“Wait a minute. It's my fault that your leg is broken? How so?” he asks in mock outrage. You can't stop yourself from giggling like a teenager. Yoongi does that to you.

“I was jumping because I was so happy for you. If you had lost, I wouldn't have jumped and slipped on the salami. So in conclusion, this is all your fault.”

“Okay we can discuss the ridiculousness of your logic later. But first, I have some questions about how salami got involved.”

___________________________

“Can you grab me a sparkling water?” You call out to your sister as you lounge on the couch, foot propped up on about six different cushions. “And bring me a bag of chips as well!”

Your sister places the carbonated beverage on the coffee table in front of you but throws the bag of chips at your face. “You break your own leg and I'm being punished by waiting on you hand and foot. Life is unfair.”

“Stop being a drama queen,” you grumble. It's been three days since the accident. You only stayed at the hospital for two nights but the massive boot that they've installed engulfs your entire calf and completely limits your mobility. You've taken to sleeping on the couch because your bedroom is too far away from everything else in the apartment but your poor sister really has had to literally carry you through your day. “I only have to wear this boot for a week. They'll switch me to a slimmer one at the next appointment.”

“You're lucky that your Grammy award winning boyfriend is out of the country. I would totally make him do everything.”

“Two-Time Grammy award winning boyfriend,” you correct her. She glares at you, exhausted with hearing that phrase from you for what feels like the millionth time. You grin obnoxiously in response. She opens her mouth to argue when the chime of the doorbell rings out and she turns to press the camera view of the door.

“Is it Mom?” you ask, craning your neck from where you lay to see the screen. You can't make anything out though. “If it's Mom, I'm going to pretend I'm napping. Yesterday she spent nearly forty-five minutes badly explaining the plot of Descendants of the Sun to me even though I told her ten times that I've already watched it.”

Your sister snickers, her eyes on the screen. “Yeah, it's Mom. I've buzzed her in so you better hurry and get all bundled up.”

You take her advice, throwing the blanket over the length of your body and tucking it up under your chin. You shift so you're facing the cushion of the couch. You even out your breathing to look convincing, listening as the front door opens and closes.

The voice that fills the apartment definitely does not belong to your mother. “Where is she?”

Like always, your heart skips for a moment before it takes off into a gallop. Yoongi never fails to fluster you, no matter how long you've been dating or how often you see him. Your head pops up from the pillow and you scramble with your arms to push off the blanket. In the scuffle, you've somehow tangled yourself and the next thing you know, you're on the floor. You cry out in pain when your bad leg knocks against the coffee table.

Your sister laughs. “Oh, look at that. I suddenly have plans. She's all yours. Good luck.”

“I'm changing the pass code on you! Better find somewhere else to live!” you scream from the floor. Your sister is still cackling when she reaches out to pull the door close after her. “I'm keeping your clothes too!”

Yoongi hurries to the couch, gaping when he sees you sprawled on the floor. He rushes to you, lightly reaching under your arms and lifting you back onto the couch. He winces when his eyes fall on the giant boot. “Wow, you really broke it. Look at that thing. I bet it's uncomfortable.”

You ignore his concern and grab his face with both hands, grinning like a lovesick idiot. “You're really here. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?”

He softens under your touch, sigh turning into a gentle smile, pulling your hands from his cheeks but keeping them in his grip. “The point of a surprise is … you know .. a surprise. Surprise!”

You're giggling again. “Do you have to go back soon or can I keep you?”

He shakes his head. “We're all majorly jet-lagged so we have the afternoon off. I had them drop me here from the airport. I'm all yours for the next sixteen hours.”

“Well you're in luck,” you say, scooting back against the couch with your good leg. You pat the space next to you. “The only thing I'm really capable of right now is laying down so I will be your nap buddy. Come here.”

He frowns. “I didn't come here to sleep. I haven't seen you in weeks. I'm here to spend time with you before anniversary promotions begin.”

“Yoongi, you have bags the size of Australian spiders under your eyes. You've worked so hard and deserve a good sleep. Now get over here before you make me get up with my bum leg and drag you myself.”

He laughs in resignation, shimmying out of his sweater before plopping down. He stops himself before he's fully stretched out next to you.

“Wait,” he says, turning his body to face you. Leaning down, he surprises you when he pushes his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Well … at least it started sweet. Most of the time, the two of you really struggle with keeping things PG and you wouldn't have it any other way. After a few minutes of making out, he pulls away breathlessly, giving you his best gummy smile. “Okay, got that out of my system.”

You giggle for the millionth time in the five minutes that he's been here, sighing in content when he relaxes his body against yours. His arm reaches around you and tugs you closer to him. Within seconds, you feel your eyes get heavy.

“Yoongi,” you mumble sleepily. He hums in response. “When we wake up, will you make me a sandwich? My sister is an awful cook and she's been starving me.”

His body shakes with laughter underneath you. “Yes, I'll make all the sandwiches you want. But I have some conditions.”

“Conditions?” you ask curiously, tipping your chin to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He grins down at you.

“No salami.”