#and its not a problem of simply being Too Hard its that shes obscenely like spitting in your face hard

[thisgodwontforgiveyou]

god malenia was so mid as a fight maybe one day ill go back and have a magical playthrough where it clicks like it did after multiple years of hating gael and thinking he was the worst boss in the game but i feel like i dont hate her ENOUGH for that to happen

[five-rivers]

Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

.

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

.

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

.

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

.

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

.

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.

[piecksz]

ignite | (m)

pairing: dabi x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, mentions of abuse, smoking, drug use, car sex, rough, sex, shotgunning, penetrative sex, choking, degradation, explicit language

summary: after getting into a fight with your parents, you meet up with dabi for a smoke session as temporary distraction from your problems, but you find yourself becoming addicted to something else.

words: 2,626

a/n: this is just a cute/smutty idea i thought of while texting my friend, and i decided that sharing is caring so i had to turn it into a “one shot-esque” format. enjoy! 

Beyond the steep incline of the cliff lookout, the city’s soft lights smoldered against the deep blue of the evening sky. The bustling streets were full of constant motion and a million faces that you’d never know, and yet amidst the clamor, everyone coexisted and operated like a hive. It was breathtaking the way the urban landscape encapsulated the very microcosm of life, something you were questioning the meaning of just moments ago.

It was the same customary procedure. Your father was the exemplar of stress when his ability to moderate his emotions became overrun. The conversation would always begin the same way, with him spouting obscenities about the financial hardship your family was in. He was the sole breadwinner of the household while your mother remained home and maintained the hearth. Her quirk wasn’t anything exceptional, and it was the reason why she was unable to find work. Only so many careers could make use of a germination quirk, the ability to manipulate seedlings, and floral shops in the area weren’t looking for any new hires. That was why you were training and studying especially hard at school. You figured if you were able to make it as a top pro hero, your parents would never find themselves arguing about money ever again. You could provide them with anything they’d ever wanted.

But of course those days were far off from your current reality. When your father would raise his voice at your mother, what else was she to do than raise her voice in retaliation? You always wanted to protect her, so you’d find yourself in the middle of it, and the three of you would erupt into an exasperated all-in-with-guns-blazing disarray. No matter how bad each argument got, you managed to make it out of each quarrel without any physical scars, which is why this time you, your mother, and your father were suddenly startled when he used his quirk on you. The empty vase on the dinner table was hurled in your direction without the culprit ever raising a finger, and you barely dodged it with the shallow cut on your cheek as proof. You didn’t even stick around long enough to hear your father’s rushed apologies as your mother attempted to discourage you from running out. You didn’t know where you were running to, all you knew was that you needed to put as much distance between you and your house as possible.

Your first instinct was to call Dabi up. You’d known him for years, and he was one of the only people you genuinely trusted other than your mother. He was the only other person you knew who could relate to your broken home, except he made his escape long ago. Faking his death as his final parting from his abusive father. As attractive as running away sounded, you knew that you’d never be able to abandon your mother. You had to keep your unspoken promise to your family, and it was your job to build the picturesque home that you always wanted.

“Stop thinking so hard.” Dabi’s languid voice drew you out of your reverie, and you glanced over at him in time to see him light the end of the joint with the tip of his finger. He took a deep inhale before exhaling the smoke out through his nose, and then he turned to you, offering up the neatly rolled paper.

You took it between your fingers and lifted it to your lips, echoing Dabi’s movements. It wasn’t long before your chest pushed out the smoke in strangled bursts as you erupted into a fit of coughs, and you hurriedly thrusted the joint back towards Dabi, which he welcomed gladly.

“I’m surprised you suggested this,” he teased. “You know you’re not a smoker.” He took another drag and let out a hazy cloud. “If you’re trying to impress me by proving something, throwing your lungs up isn’t really the way to go about it.”

“Anything to get rid of this feeling,” you responded. “Like my heart’s trying to claw itself out of my chest.” To say it felt like suffering was putting it too plainly. It was much more than that. The pain that nestled under your breast where your heart used to be was your silent killer. It was eroding you from the inside out.

Dabi grunted. “You’re an idiot.”

You turned your attention to him, confused at his choice of response.

“Maybe not an idiot. But you’re naive,” Dabi continued. “Take it from someone who’s been there.” He studied the joint in his hand as if it was an excuse not to look at you.

It was a sick cycle, even for someone like him. Dabi was born with all the fortunate ingredients for a comfortable life. He was attractive with a functional quirk and a pro hero father, yet his future turned out grim. If that was his luck, how much more could you say for yourself?

You mustered a quiet hum. You were already starting to feel the effects of the marijuana, and your limbs grew increasingly heavy as you did your best to sink further into the leather interior of Dabi’s car.

“Isn’t that the whole point of drugs? Temporary relief?” you asked.

Dabi snorted. “No. People do drugs because it’s fun getting fucked out of your mind.” He held the joint out to you, and you hesitated before shaking your head. If what he was saying was true then you figured it wouldn’t be the brightest option to get incomprehensibly high. That would only mean that when your emotions resurfaced after the sensation wore off, it would hit twice as hard.

Laughter erupted from the driver’s seat, but you didn’t bother looking.

“Come on, loosen up.” Dabi coaxed you. “You in the mood to see something cool?”

You weren’t, but you figured you could use the pick-me-up.

Dabi inhaled deeply with the joint to his lips, but this time instead of exhaling immediately you could see him gently swishing the smoke around in his mouth before setting his jaw. He rounded his mouth and pushed the fog out in a thick ring. He lifted his hand, snapping his fingers towards the top of the circle, causing the shape to cave in and form a delicate heart.

Smiling while you were sad was the emotional equivalent to getting a root canal, but your stiff frown melted into a small smile, and you looked down to hide your amusement.

“Stupid,” you grumbled idly, stifling a small laugh.

Dabi grinned, nudging you with his elbow. “You like that?”

You glanced off to the side before succumbing to your weed-induced laughter, which felt much better once you let it out.

“Let me show you something else. When I blow, just inhale. Okay?” He directed. Although they were half-lidded, his eyes were glazed, like blue glass.

You rolled your eyes but agreed regardless, only feeling pressured to back out once you slowly registered Dabi leaning over the armrest to close the space between you two.

Is he going to--?

Your train of thought came to a halt at the jarring feeling of marijuana smoke being blown into your face. What were you supposed to do? Fuck, you were supposed to open your mouth. You forgot to open your fucking mouth.

“You forgot to open your mouth,” Dabi said, repeating your thoughts.

You prayed that you didn’t look as frazzled as you felt. If Dabi knew you were frozen and flustered at the sheer thought of him kissing you, he would never let it go. The teasing would be endless, and you’d have to endure it to your grave.

“Right, sorry. I forgot,” you replied sheepishly.

“I literally gave you the easy part,” he teased.

Oh, fuck off, you thought. The voice in your head sounding louder than usual. You hoped that he couldn’t hear it. There is nothing easy about what you want me to do.

“Whatever. Try it again,” you said simply. Your tongue was now dry and felt heavy in your mouth. You could tell by the slick arch in Dabi’s eyebrow that he knew what he had done, and you refused to allow him to go the rest of the night luxuriating in his arrogance.

He went in a second time, mouth full of smoke, releasing it at the last minute when your lips barely collided. Pushing away the distraction of his hand on the back of your neck and his lips hardly brushing against yours, you did as he instructed, inhaling once the cloud left his lips.

Dabi sat back, enthused in the way your lips remained parted in surprise.

Sober, you would have hated the way he was looking at you, smug with satisfaction at the achievement of just having bewildered you, but with cannabis clouding your brain, your close proximity to Dabi was the only thing you could focus on. The feeling of his lips barely touching yours didn’t seem to phase him at all, like he was planning on it, but with the way your stare yo-yo’d urgently from his eyes to his lips, it became more obvious what you wanted.

You credited your fit of courage to the marijuana in your system because otherwise you would have never considered leaning forward to kiss Dabi, and you surely would have pulled away before the contact deepened into a filthy makeout session. The motion of your mouths were slow, like you were taking your time, but Dabi’s ravenous tongue in your mouth appeared way too eager to swap spit.

His hand found its way back to the nape of your neck just as you mirrored him and did the same in an attempt to push yourselves closer together although there was no more space left between you two.

You thought it was impossible to grow more hungry until Dabi released a throaty moan into your mouth, and your hunger evolved into an ache. Only breaking your kiss for a moment, still joined together by a string of saliva, you quickly climbed into his lap, aided by his strong hand on your lower back.

Was it control? Everything in your life had spiralled out of it, and yet in the moment control was all you had. Once you redirected Dabi’s hands from your hips to your chest, you knew you were drunk off of it. You placed your hands over his, reveling in the way his fingers flexed as he cradled your breasts in his palms, but it wasn’t long before he grew tired of the intolerable fabric between your skin and his.

“Up.” he demanded straightforwardly, his voice husky and low. He tugged your blouse off brusquely, still looking hot, bothered, and unamused until your bra, too, was strewn over the passenger seat along with your shirt.

The way in which Dabi exhaled labordly at the sight of your bare chest was enough to send heat racing to the tip of your ears. Naturally, you would have responded scornfully to his smutty remark about how “your tits were way better than what he imagined whenever he jerked off”, but in seconds his mouth was on your skin, his hot, wet tongue teasing your nipple as he used the tip to flick them tauntingly.

Sinking your teeth into your lower lip did nothing to stop an innocent whine from spilling, and you descended even further when it intensified into you crying out Dabi’s name.

So much for control.

But Dabi adored your lewd cheers while he experimented with different combinations, pinching, pulling, and sucking your delicate mounds to see what would elicit the loudest response.

The throbbing between your legs worsened, and you could tell, or rather feel by the firm tent against the inside of your thigh that Dabi needed relief too. You began rolling your hips, the tip of his erection prodding the top of your clit through irritating cloth.

“Stop doing that,” Dabi chewed out, looking mildly annoyed by you.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity. It was as though the cannabis exacerbated whatever sense of arousal you were feeling by tenfold. You felt insatiable.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I might strangle you.”

Your casual and brattish tone did nothing to quell Dabi’s displeasure, and you felt his hand close assertively around your neck, his thumb digging into the side of your throat.

“Bold of you to talk to me that way when you’re the one sitting in my lap.” He bit back. “And what if I decide not to fuck you? Then what?” His gaze was dangerous, yet you were fully cognizant of the fact that Dabi wouldn’t suffocate you, much less get physical with you, but with the current lack of air circulating to your head, you could only smile dumbly.

“Watch the way you talk to me, you dirty whore.”

Initially, Dabi planned on fucking you into oblivion for the pleasure, but now he figured it would be even more exciting fucking you as punishment, dominating the most vulnerable part of you so there was no question who was clearly in charge.

He forced you around in his lap, leaving you unsuspecting while he unbuckled his belt. You were incredibly irked that you weren’t allowed to see how hard you made him, and you feared Dabi’s temper if he caught you managing to steal a glimpse over your shoulder. The sight alone was obscene. His hand was wrapped around his thick cock, pulsating and raw from the lack of sexual contact.

You could only hear Dabi’s shallow breathing and grunts while he pumped himself slowly, but nothing could have prepared you for the pain that erupted across your pelvis once he thrust himself into you without notice. You doubled over in his lap, hands across the dashboard as he bucked his hips forward, burying himself even deeper inside of you.

Dabi guided your hips up and down, ramming himself into you quicker and then even quicker with each jolt. Eventually the sharp discomfort eased into a comfortable sting once you both fell into a sloppy rhythm, his car rocking along with your motion. Dabi dipped his slick fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with saliva before sliding them down to your clit where he opted to rub tantalizingly slow circles onto the sensitive bud.

Your vision melted into hot white light, and the way your body began to tremble violently under Dabi’s touch was a sign you were closer to your orgasm than you thought.

“Are you gonna cum?” Dabi entertained, subtly picking up the pace once your fingers enclosed around his wrist. His honeyed voice was damn near condescending, he knew you were on the brink by the way your moans became louder and more discordant.

When you came you collapsed over the steering wheel, and Dabi followed not even a moment later while your futile pleas were muffled by your bended posture.

“Motherfucking hell,” he groaned, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he emptied himself inside of you. He pulled out his cock, wiping the crude mixture of both yours and his release on the inside of your thigh before his body went slack against the driver’s seat.

The car windows were now misty with condensation from heat, now obscuring the view you originally came to see.

You could feel Dabi’s hand on your back, rubbing tender circles into your skin in an effort to praise you since he was jaded and at a loss for words. He unenthusiastically shifted around in his seat, searching for a stray napkin to clean you up with, but you only grinned lazily, finding amusement in the new discoverance of your own personal drug.

[jaimehwatson]

I made another Snowpiercer playlist!

After posting my Wilford/Audrey playlist a while ago, I added some songs that didn’t quite make the cut to a different playlist, intending to put together another similar one. But rather than focusing on just one ship this time, I also ended up getting really interested in theorizing about what Wilford’s relationship with Melanie might have been like before the Freeze, and exploring the idea that maybe there was something going on there and some kind of love triangle with Audrey.

So here’s my new playlist, full of absolute jams that could apply to any combination of relationships involving Wilford, Audrey, and Melanie, and/or just general Snowpiercer vibes! Read on for more detail about the songs I selected, and as before, content warning for references to canon abuse & self-harm/suicide.

1. “The Tradition” by Halsey

Oh, the loneliеst girl in town Was bought for plenty a price Well, they dress her up in golden crowns His smile hides a lie

She smiles back, but it's a fact That her fear will eat her alive Well, she got the life that she wanted But now all she does is cry

Thanks @onetrainsnowpiercer​ for getting me into this excellent album! I thought it would be fitting to kick off the playlist with one that could suit the earlier days of Wilford’s relationship with Audrey, like my previous playlist was more focused on.

2. “cardigan” by Taylor Swift

'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I

I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Did you think I would make a Snowpiercer playlist without Taylor Swift on it? Not a chance. I picture this one being more from Melanie’s perspective, reflecting on possibly having had some kind of ill-fated romance with Wilford when she was young and naive.

3. “No Children” by The Mountain Goats

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong

I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

The only reason this perennial favourite of mine wasn’t on the first playlist was that I had too many Mountain Goats songs already and wanted to keep things balanced. But this one got all the ones that didn’t make it to the first playlist plus some more I thought about later, so I’m kind of giving up on that balance by now. They just have a lot of great songs about terrible relationships, and I love them all so much.

4. “Gold Guns Girls” by Metric

I remember when we were gambling to win Everybody else said, "Better luck next time." I don't wanna bend like the bad girls bend I just wanna be your friend Is it ever gonna be enough?

This is another one that I can picture being about young Melanie, gradually growing more aware of everything that’s terribly wrong with Wilford and his approach to life, and of how little he cares to try to fix it.

5. “You’ve Haunted Me All My Life” by Death Cab for Cutie

And there's a flaw in my heart's design For I keep trying to make you mine

You've haunted me all my life You've haunted me all my life You are the mistress I can't make a wife And you've haunted me all my life

And this one I can see being Wilford thinking about either one of the women, and his unhealthy attachment to them and inability to keep them around for very long—maybe once he’s finally reunited with them both on some level in season 2, but still can’t fully persuade them both over to his side.

6. “Old College Try” by The Mountain Goats

From the cities to the swamplands From the highways to the hills Our love has never had a leg to stand on From the aspirins to the cross-tops to the Elavils

But I will walk down to the end with you If you will come all the way down with me

Another Mountain Goats classic. If you divorce it from its context of being from a concept album about a horrible marriage, I actually think this song is kind of sweet in the way it describes a couple still committing to try to make things work despite a whole host of problems. But never mind that now, because I’m putting it back in the new context of a whole collection of horrible romantic relationships!

7. “Risk” by Metric

So you're beaten up but you bounce back It’s all part of the pull And the story runs like a soundtrack We repeat 'til we're full Started slow, started late Started strong, then we lost faith Started slow, started to lose control The more we accelerate, the more we accelerate

Half of arranging any playlist I make is just trying to split up the Mountain Goats and Metric songs so that they aren’t always clumped together. Anyway, this one seems especially fitting to me in its imagery of a speeding vehicle of some kind (it’s a train, I’m always picturing a train) alongside its description of a relationship going badly.

8. “Big God” by Florence + The Machine

You know I still like you the most The best of the best and the worst of the worst Well, you can never know The places that I go I still like you the most You'll always be my favourite ghost

I think this one could be any one of the three of them contemplating their complex feelings about the past at some point around season 2.

9. “I Still Do” by The Cranberries

I don't want to leave you Even though I have to I don't want to love you Oh, I still do

There aren’t as many specifics that match the characters going on in the lyrics here, since it’s more of just a general break-up song, but I also really like the creepy way it sounds.

10. “Fault Lines” by The Mountain Goats

But none of the money we spend Seems to do us much good in the end I got a cracked engine block, both of us do

Yeah, the house and the jewels, the Italian racecar They don't make us feel better about who we are I got termites in the framework, so do you

This one feels really fitting for pre-Freeze Wilford, especially the engine imagery!

11. “I Don’t Care” by Fall Out Boy

Say my name and his in the same breath I dare you to say they taste the same Let the leaves fall off in the summer And let December glow in flames

Erase myself and let go Start it over again in Mexico These friends, they don't love you They just love the hotel suites

Another song that is simply a) an absolute jam, and b) generally fitting for my favourite obscenely rich asshole and his terrible relationships

12. “You asked for this” by Halsey

I want my cake on a silver platter I want a fistful in my hands I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I wanna ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I wanna cry so hard, I choke I want everything I asked for

This one I can picture as Audrey—or maybe Melanie too, but especially Audrey—beginning to regret getting involved with Wilford, but only once she’s in way too deep for leaving to be a safe or easy decision.

13. “my tears ricochet” by Taylor Swift

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

Much like several other Taylor Swift songs, I just know in my heart that it’s the type of music Wilford listens to in secret, while possibly drunk and definitely singing along very dramatically. This one he dedicates to Melanie once they’ve met up again in season 2.

14. “Speed the Collapse” by Metric

All the way from where we came Built a mansion in a day Distant lightning, thunder claps Watched our neighbor's house collapse Looked the other way

This one has a lot of good apocalyptic imagery that I can imagine scoring Wilford’s life in the last few years before the Freeze, as he makes his plans to save himself and let so many others die.

15. “Ox Baker Triumphant” by The Mountain Goats

I will thank my ride and crawl my way back inside To the guts of the building where my enemies Hide in the dark like roaches And I will signal the camera crew and everyone will do What he's been trained how to do Sweat dripping from my face as my moment approaches

Click your heels, count to three I bet you never expected me A little worse for wear Practically walking on air

I love this song a lot, and listening to it lately makes me imagine Wilford plotting his revenge while on his way to catch up with Snowpiercer before the end of season 1.

16. “Firewood” by Regina Spektor

The piano is not firewood yet But the cold does get cold So it soon might be that I'll take it apart, call up my friends And we'll warm up our hands by the fire

Don't look so shocked Don't judge so harsh You don't know You’re only spying Everyone knows it's going to hurt But at least we'll get hurt trying

This has to be one of my favourite songs of all time. It’s very beautiful, and I love the piano in it. I’ve always personally interpreted it to be at least partially about someone surviving a suicide attempt, and the overall imagery about burning a piano for warmth—and this bit about not judging someone for doing that—reads to me as more of a general statement about the difficult choices people struggling with mental illness and other similar issues have to make to survive. I listened to it recently and I could picture Audrey singing it in the nightcar. I think it suits her well.

17. “Cry for Judas” by The Mountain Goats

But I am just a broken machine And I do things that I don't really mean Long, black night Morning frost I'm still here But all is lost

I think the imagery of this song suits the show a lot in general, but I can also particularly imagine it being Wilford in a rare moment of self-awareness about how much damage he’s caused to the world and the people around him.

18. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” by David Bowie

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget Oh oh, oh, oh, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide

I love Wilford a lot. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him ever. I hope he kills more people, and I hope he gets his train back, and I hope he wins. But if he does eventually die in the show, I hope he’s found in the bathtub with there being some ambiguity about whether he really killed himself or whether one of his victims turned the tables on him, and I hope the climax of this song swells as the camera pans over his dead body. That’s the only Wilford death I will accept, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

19. “Source Decay” by The Mountain Goats

I park in an alley And I read through the postcards you continue to send Where as indirectly as you can, you ask what I remember I like these torture devices from my old best friend Well, I'll tell you what I know, like I swore I always would I don't think it's gonna do you any good I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok Down toward the water

Okay, I promise this is the last Mountain Goats song on the playlist. It’s just—it’s perfect. It has a train in it. And on the podcast “I Only Listen To The Mountain Goats,” John Darnielle commented that there’s barely anywhere you can go south of Bangkok before you hit the water, it’s a train going nowhere, it’s so good. It’s also one of the songs I’ve previously ripped a line off for my fanfiction titles!

20. “Sellers of Flowers” by Regina Spektor

The sellers of flowers Buy up old roses They pull off dead petals Like old heads of lettuce And sell ’em as new ones For cheaper and fairer But they die by the morning So who is the winner? Not the roses Not the buyers Not the sellers Maybe winter

And Regina Spektor closes out the playlist again! This song is another one I picked more on imagery and vibes than anything else. But since it’s about a young child in a world that seems to be moving inexorably toward an all-consuming winter, if it suits any of the characters, maybe it’s an appearance of Alex here at the end!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the playlist!

[thatlesbianbitch]

Bubblegum Pink (Poppy x MC)

Book: Queen B

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Dahlia)

Word count: 1,450

Rating: M (n*fw, explicit sex)

Summary: smut. it’s smut.

A/N: uhhh....yeah. constructive criticism is very welcome as I haven’t written anything in years... hope you enjoy :)

~*~*~*~*~*~

After basically humiliating her in front of the entire school, Dahlia never expected that a mere two hours later, she’d be lying under one Poppy Min-Sinclair.

But there she was. Wrists pinned to the mattress, Poppy looming over her, eyebrows drawn together in determination (or was it anger?), huffing from the exertion of harshly thrusting her strap-on into Dahlia’s wet heat.

If Dahlia was being honest, she had no recollection of how she and Poppy went from yelling at each other on the football field to frantically tearing each other’s clothes off. All that stood out in Dahlia’s hazy memory was a text message that read: meet me in my room right now.

How did Poppy get my number? And how did I know where her room was? How—

Dahlia glanced down between her legs; a flash of the glistening bubblegum pink strap-on was revealed each time Poppy drew back, and it only increased her want. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this turned on, the last time she had wanted someone to just pound her into a mattress this badly.

She looked back up and saw Poppy’s eyebrows were still knitted together, the corners of her small mouth curled downwards. A quick chuckle escaped her lips. 

“What’s so funny?” Poppy snapped immediately, her grip on Dahlia’s wrists tightening.

She almost laughed again at that. It’s cute how she thinks she’s actually strong enough to pin me down.

“I’ll stop if you laugh again,” Poppy snarled.

Dahlia smirked. “Yes ma’am.”

And suddenly, Poppy’s hands left her wrists and landed on her hips, pushing her further against the mattress. That wiped the smirk right off Dahlia’s face.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Poppy…”

It was Poppy’s turn to smirk. “Good?”

“God, yes…” Dahlia was surprised she was still able to speak a coherent word, let alone two.

“Do you want more?”

Dahlia simply closed her eyes and groaned.

“Look at me,” the blonde commanded as she slowed down her thrusts. Dahlia forced herself to open her eyes, and tried to cant her hips upward, but Poppy just pushed them back down.

“Do. You. Want. More?” she repeated, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust.

“Please, Poppy.”

Dahlia couldn’t even bring herself to care that Poppy had her begging within seconds.

Poppy reached under her pillows and oh fuck—suddenly the strap began vibrating inside her.

Dahlia’s back arched off the bed as she moaned in surprise.

“Oh god—Poppy—” Whatever else she had to say was cut off when she felt Poppy’s slick lips latch onto a nipple, sucking just hard enough that the sensation danced on that deliciously fine line between pleasure and pain.

“Poppy,” she moaned again, helpless to do anything else.

The other woman released her nipple with a pop, her lips curling into a sinister smile that made Dahlia frantically roll her hips forward.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

Dahlia just moaned again. This was all too much. Too much in the very best way.

Poppy began to pick up the pace. Her hands were back on Dahlia’s hips, her nails digging into the soft skin. They were quiet for a few moments, listening to the squelching of the shaft as Poppy snapped her hips back and forth.

Suddenly, Poppy’s thumb nudged its way between Dahlia’s lips and into her mouth. She only had a few moments to suck the digit before Poppy pulled it out and began rubbing her clit.

She gasped sharply. God, Poppy really knows what she’s doing.

Dahlia spread her legs wider, allowing Poppy to drive the shaft deeper into her, and giving her more room to caress every millimetre of her clit. An obscene moan escaped from deep within her. The blonde smiled down triumphantly at her, but Dahlia couldn’t even bring herself to care.

“Harder, Poppy…” she pleaded.

She was surprised to hear Poppy moan. Then, like a jolt, it occurred to her that Poppy must be able to feel the vibrations as well. The very thought made Dahlia clench. Fleetingly, Dahlia wished Poppy’s fingers were inside her so she could feel just how wet she was for her, but there would be another time for that.

Without any preamble, Poppy began thrusting in earnest. The feeling was immaculate. The strap-on was curved perfectly, and the angle Poppy was thrusting at allowed it to reach the exact place within her that made her vision go blurry. The thumb on her clit was still there, rubbing the swollen nub in tight little circles.

In-out, in-out, Poppy showed no signs of slowing down. Dahlia was sure she had ruined her sheets. She could feel her wetness spilling out from her, could feel how it was smeared along the inside of her thighs.

“Poppy,” she moaned again, her voice thin and needy, almost a whine, really. The desperation sounded foreign to her own ears, but she loved it.

“You close?” Poppy asked, her mouth open, panting.

Dahlia nodded frantically. She began to palm at her breast with one hand, twisting the sheets beneath her with the other.

“Do you want to come?”

Dahlia nodded frantically once more. She pinched her nipple, rolling it between her fingers.

“Then ask.” That commanding tone was back, the low timbre of her voice tugging at something deep within her.  

“God, fuck—” Dahlia bucked restlessly against Poppy, desperate for release.

“I said ask,” Poppy repeated, her voice even lower. Fuck.

Dahlia was not beneath begging. The problem was that she seemed to have lost all ability to speak. But somehow, she managed to choke out,

“Make me come, Poppy…please…”

Poppy smirked, then leaned down and pressed open-mouthed kisses around the other nipple she neglected earlier. After, she moved up to Dahlia’s neck, eagerly sucking at the unmarked skin.

Then finally, blessedly, Poppy began driving into her even faster. Dahlia could feel the hard metal ring of the harness each time she bottomed out, the roughness of it all only driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Poppy was no longer being quiet either. She was moaning into the crook of Dahlia’s neck, the vibrations borderline ticklish. Poppy’s thumb increased its speed against her clit.

“Fuck, Poppy—” She didn’t know when it got there, but Dahlia’s hand tightened in Poppy’s hair as she shamelessly rolled her hips up to meet each thrust.

It all felt so good, too good—

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fu—” Dahlia’s back arched off the bed as she clung onto Poppy, trembling as her walls squeezed down on the shaft still moving within her. She was vaguely aware of Poppy’s moans increasing in pitch, but it was hard to hear over the roar of blood rushing to her ears.

Poppy was relentless, not slowing her pace one bit as Dahlia continued to cry out beneath her, her voice raw and ragged. Suddenly, Poppy’s thumb caught the left of Dahlia’s clit in the most wonderful way and all that tension that had been coiling so tight within her finally reached its peak, and blissfully—

Dahlia jolted awake.

What.

What the fuck.

Did I just have a sex dream? About Poppy?

The dampness between her thighs was all the confirmation she needed.

Well, no sense in letting a dream like that go to waste, she thought was she slipped her hand under the waistband of her underwear. Her mind was acutely aware of the throbbing between her legs and refused to focus on anything else. I’ll unpack whatever the fuck this means later.

When she dragged her middle finger through her folds, the sheer amount of wetness she encountered told her this wasn’t going to take long.

She closed her eyes, her finger moving in tight circles against her clit, just like Poppy’s thumb did in her dream.

Poppy.

Poppy and her air of superiority. Poppy and her dumb, incredibly hot voice. Poppy and that stupid little smirk that was almost permanently on her lips. Her lips… Soft, plush… Covered in the perfect shade of dark pink gloss—

Dahlia had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning Poppy’s name as she came. She bucked against her hand, breathing hard, her other hand clutching uselessly at one of her pillows.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself as she came down. For a couple of seconds, she just laid there, her hand cupped around her centre, her thighs squeezed together. Finally, she pulled her hand out of her underwear and hastily wiped her fingers on the inside of her shorts.

Dahlia closed her eyes, taking a moment to steady her breath. Seconds later, they sprung open as a realization hit her:

Did Poppy’s strap-on match her fur coat??

[arbenia]

The other day on the BBC news I saw a young, educated and eloquent Serbian woman speaking about the life of ordinary citizens under the NATO bombing. The Serbian citizens are afraid, she said. Normal life is more and more difficult. There are power cuts, and people are forced to go several days without access to the Internet. There is also a cigarette shortage. But yes, they are trying to live normally. They go to work, they shop, and they sit in cafes. Of course, the bombing turned the Serbian citizens against NATO, not against Slobodan Milosevic. After all, “bombs are dropping from the sky.”

Clearly, this young woman, like so many Serbs, does not want to understand that her country is at war. They still seem to be thinking, What has all this to do with me? I know this mechanism of denial, because I have seen it before. Serbs by and large ignored the wars in Croatia and Bosnia. It was always happening somewhere else, to somebody else, and they were not involved. It was the Serbian army, the police, the paramilitaries, but not them, the ordinary citizens. But now, when it is happening in Serbia and affecting all of them, they are still somehow surprised.

The young woman on TV used the expression “Serbian citizens,” but her use of this phrase suggested that these Serbian citizens are people struggling to maintain the normality of their daily lives. By “Serbian citizens” she evidently meant only Serbs. Others–that is, Albanians–are simply never mentioned in that context. Their problems are not addressed, by her or other Serbs. In the perception of ordinary Serbs, Albanians are not included in the category of Serbian citizen and therefore are absent from the language as well.

Why? The problem is that Serbs–or anyone else, for that matter–cannot identify with the suffering of others if they are not able to see them as equals. In Yugoslav society Albanians were never visible. There was no need to construct their “otherness”–as, for example, with Jews in prewar Germany or recently with Serbs in Croatia. The Albanians were never integrated into the country’s social, political and cultural life. They existed separately from us, barely visible people on the margins of our society, with their strange language that nobody understood, their tribal organization, blood feuds, different habits and dress. They were always underdogs. What was their place in the Yugoslav literature, in movies and popular culture? What famous Yugoslavs were Albanians? Because of that estrangement, not many voices were raised in protest during the past ten years, when Albanians in Kosovo lived practically under apartheid.

For the older generation, the only visible Albanians were people in white caps coming from Kosovo to their cities to cut wood in the winter. For my generation they were people selling ice cream all over Yugoslavia. They spoke our language with a funny accent and never could pronounce “lemonade” properly. They lived among us, but we chose to ignore them. If we did happen to notice them, we despised them, laughed at them, told jokes about them. I never had an Albanian friend in Zagreb. No one I knew married an Albanian. But the difference between Croats and Serbs was that Croats did not really have to deal with the Albanians; we had no Kosovo.

It was clear that they belonged to a different category from Serbs, Croats, Macedonians, Montenegrins or Slovenes. Serbs could even fight a war against Croats, but they never perceived each other in the same way they both perceive Albanians. The prejudice against Albanians can be compared to that against Jews or blacks or Gypsies in other cultures. Today every Serb will tell you that Albanians multiply like rabbits–that this is their secret weapon in the war they are waging against Serbs in Kosovo. This is not nationalism; this is more or less hidden racism.

The woman on the BBC the other day may be only an ordinary person, but there are other Serbs who should know better and who can’t use the excuse of innocence so easily. They are the people in the opposition. But all one hears from them is their lament about the destruction of democracy and civil society in Serbia. The NATO bombing is to them a savage attack, a terrible act of aggression against a sovereign state–they all use the language of Milosevic’s propaganda. There is “the other Serbia” they say, a better Serbia of the brave people who fought Milosevic all along.

Surely there is another Serbia that will surface once Milosevic is gone. And surely everyone can understand that opposition people are afraid now. One is tempted, however, to ask, Exactly what opposition, what civil society, what “other Serbia” are we talking about? The one that for more than a decade was not able to produce a democratic alternative to Milosevic? The one that never established contacts with Albanians from Kosovo in order to work together for the common future of both nations? If the opposition, political as well as intellectual, ever had anything in common with Milosevic, it was in its attitude toward Kosovo. Kosovo Albanians were a litmus test for the opposition all these years, and they always failed it. Now they are engulfed in self-pity.

An open letter from Vladimir Arsenijevic, a young Serbian writer of some renown, circulating on e-mail, is a striking example of this invisibility of Albanians. In his answer to a friend from Zagreb, who reproached Serbs for their lack of remorse over the situation of the Albanians, he wrote: “On account of lack of pity for the fate of Kosovo Albanians, I know (from my own experience–and I know that I have no bad feelings whatsoever directed toward anybody, least of all Albanians) that it is very hard to care about somebody else’s problems if you are personally experiencing major problems of your own at the same moment. There is no favoritism in this society. Everybody is too busy surviving here to be able to feel any remorse…. Remorse is a privilege of the well-nourished, clean and civilized. And we are all Albanians here. All of us: Serbs, Montenegrins, Hungarians, Slovaks…. Poor, underfed, degraded, oppressed. And I mean ALL of us, even those who have supported Milosevic with all their heart through all these years of terrible hell.”

There is something almost obscene in this sudden “visibility” of Albanians, in the Serbs’ desire to achieve the status of victim through this kind of identification. Albanians remain an abstraction, an empty notion with no real substance, used solely as a means of adding visibility to Serbian suffering, thus denying the Albanian identity once more. I can see this young writer sitting at his computer (there must have been no shortage of power then) in his Belgrade apartment: He sends his e-mail letter, checks the latest war information on the Internet and goes to bed. Meanwhile, his Albanian counterpart, with whose suffering he identifies so much, sits in a tent somewhere in Albania or stands in the mud, waiting to cross the Macedonian border. His house is burned down, his computer–if he ever had one–has been taken by Serbian paramilitaries and he doesn’t know where his family is.

If the young writer considers himself an Albanian, why is he not fleeing to Macedonia or Albania as well? How cynical–or young or innocent or perhaps stupid–do you have to be to say that? It is as grotesque as if the Germans, after World War II, had said, “We were all Jews.” After all, had they not suffered occupation, bombardment, rationing?

The writer means to say that if the Serbs are victims, then how can they possibly have anything to do with the responsibility for this war? Or for the Milosevic regime? War goes deeper than bombardment, and the more we pretend it doesn’t concern us, the more it invades us. War is destructive of the human soul. It corrodes human beings, bringing out things we didn’t know about ourselves. And when he says that remorse is a privilege of civilized people, he puts himself and his nation on the level of people without pity. He is justifying the inhumanity of his people, and that is terrible.

This is what the war is doing to the young writer. But like the woman on the BBC, as well as ordinary people and opposition intellectuals, he is not able to realize that. Precisely this denial, blindness, unconscious racism and cruelty toward other human beings, this lack of remorse (but no lack of self-pity!), is what war is doing to Serbs, and it is much more devastating than NATO bombs. Living with Milosevic’s regime and the war for so long takes its toll. It has changed Serbs in the past ten years, and the rest of the world is witnessing this only now, still puzzled and bewildered by it. It is hard to understand that our acquaintances, our lovers, drinking buddies, philosophers, our once dear friends, are different people. It is even harder to understand that they themselves let that change happen.

`(Slavenka Drakulic, a Croatian-born author, is a Nation contributing editor. Her latest book is A Guided Tour Through the Museum of Communism.)

[i-needa-nap-please]

Friends and Food

Summary:  

Usagi invites Seiya, Yaten, and Taiki over to celebrate New Year's.

Notes: 

This takes place before Usagi knows the Three Lights are the Starlights.

This was written for @docholligay’s same prompt party. 

The prompt was Usagi Tsukino and "New Year's Fireworks".

It’s also on ao3, if you’re interested. 

“Why did you drag me here?” Yaten, who was currently wrapped under five layers of blankets, bitterly muttered under her breath. “I could be home and sleeping right now, but instead, I’m freezing my damn ass off.” 

“Maybe, if you stopped being a bitch for five seconds, you could actually have a good time.” Seiya snapped back.  Currently, Seiya was sitting on one of those cheap folding chairs that were usually only used by parents at rec-league sporting games. A warm, big fire smoked in front of her - which was the only thing preventing Seiya from leaping out of her chair and tackling Yaten to the ground. Taking a deep breath, Seiya tried to remember she was here to relax. Even if Yaten kept acting like a huge ass, she should just brush it off and enjoy herself. She had to. For Usagi. “Bunhead’s really excited to do this with us - so please, try to be less of a bitch. I know that’s hard for you, but try.”

“Whatever.” Yaten grumbled, curling into her own shitty canvas folding chair. 

A silence overtook the two as they patiently waited for Usagi and Taiki’s return. Bits of ember crackled in front of them, illuminating the otherwise dark night. Noises drifted in from outside the Tsukino’s backyard. The Tsukino’s neighbors were also outside, eagerly awaiting the - firewalks? Firewongs? Fire-somethings. Neither Seiya or Yaten could remember what word Usagi had been bambling to them about earlier. But whatever it was, it was certainly a big event. It seemed everyone in Tokyo was outside with their families, just waiting for them to start. 

“It’s snack time!” Usagi’s loud voice broke the lull between the two, making them both look over their shoulder towards the girl. Usagi, outfitted in some cozy-looking bunny pajamas, bounced over to Seiya and Yaten. In her hands was a single, already-half-eaten chocolate bar. Behind her, Taiki had her arms full of various different treats: chocolates, chips, sodas, and more goodies than four people could possibly hope to eat in one night. “Help yourself! But don’t touch the peanut butter cups! Those are mine!” Usagi plopped into her own chair before taking another bite out of her chocolate bar. “Oh!” She perked up in her chair, speaking while loudly chewing. “And don’t touch the barbeque chips either! Those are also mine!” 

Taiki unburdened herself by carefully setting the large haul of junk food on the ground, out of the fire’s reach. With a sigh, she plopped into another chair, while simultaneously grabbing a bag of cookies for herself.

“Thank you again for having us over tonight, Miss Tsukino.” As always, Taiki spoke like she was giving some lecture. So methodically and evenly. Like a teacher. 

Usagi hummed and nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure! It’s no problem! Fireworks are better with friends! And food!”

“Ah, yes. Fireworks.” Taiki nodded while opening the bag of cookies. “I was hoping-.” 

“Wait!” Usagi lunged forward, interrupting Taiki and ripping the cookies out of her hands. “Those are mine too! Sorry!” She certainly didn’t sound sorry, though. The Starlights watched as Usagi then shoveled a few cookies into her mouth - which was already full of chocolate - without a care in the world. As if she hadn’t just rudely yanked them out of Taiki’s hands. 

“Jeez, can we eat anything you brought out?” Yaten spat, giving Usagi one of her more menacing glances. It was wholly ineffective on Usagi, who just continued to stuff sweets down her throat. 

“Yeah,” Usagi simply responded. “You can eat the stuff that’s not mine.” 

“Well it seems like everything you brought out is for you.” Yaten retorted.

“That’s not true…” Her sentence trailed off as she stared at the pile of snacks. Slowly, Usagi got off her chair and kneeled besides the pile. She stared at the pile with a level of concentration that looked downright disturbing on Usagi. Eventually, she set aside about five different bags of chips and candy - and a few sodas as well, because Usagi was a kind and generous host (according to herself, at least). “That’s all for you.” Usagi gestured to the small pile before gesturing to the big pile. “And that’s for me!”

Yaten looked ready to burst, so Seiya quickly cut in. She let out a hardy laugh as she reached out and stole a piece of candy from “Usagi’s” pile. Usagi tried to stop Seiya’s theft, but Seiya was far too quick for her. In mere moments, Seiya had half a candy bar down her throat. 

“Y’know,” Seiya started conversationally between bites. “Being stingy isn’t good for you.” 

“Being a thief isn’t good for you either!” Usagi retorted, but didn’t attempt to steal the candy back. Instead, she plopped back into her seat and angrily nibbled on the cookie’s she stole from Taiki. “Imagine what the headlines will say when I tell the press about this! Popular Idol Steals From A Defenseless, Pretty, Cute, Amazing, and Beautiful Girl!”

Yaten snorted. “I doubt the headlines will look like that. More like, Little Brat Gets What She Deserves.” The shade of red in Usagi’s cheeks matched the fiery red of the flames in front of them. Yaten truly did have a talent for making people angry.

“Anyways.” Taiki pointedly interrupted before things got out of hand. “As I was saying earlier, I was hoping you could tell us a bit more about these… fireworks, Miss Tsukino.”

“Wait.” Any anger from before was completely gone as Usagi looked between the Starlights with wide eyes. “You guys don’t know what fireworks are?” 

“Er, no?” Seiya hesitantly replied. Nervous glances were exchanged between the Starlights, but Usagi didn’t seem to notice them. “We used to live in the....countryside, so - um, we don’t know much about...fireworks. Or New Year’s celebrations in general. So, um, yeah.” That had to be the worst lie Yaten or Taiki had ever heard, but Usagi seemed to buy it. 

“I guess that makes sense.” Usagi hummed, tapping her finger against her chin. All of the Starlights let out a relieved sigh. “Fireworks are kinda hard to explain. Like, they’re really loud and can be scary - but at the same time, they’re so pretty! It’s like, like, seeing glowing flowers in the sky! They come in all different shapes and sizes! You’ll never see the same firework twice! Kinda like snowflakes.” Gesturing to the sky, Usagi finished her mini-speech. “That was a bit confusing. But trust me, once you see them, you’ll know what I mean!” 

“Huh, they sound really cool.” Seiya commented, leaning back in her chair and staring out at the sky. “Can’t wait to see ‘em.” A silence - which really wasn’t a silence, because they all were eating so loudly - overtook the fire as all four of them looked towards the sky. “So where are the others, Bunhead? I’m surprised your little posse isn’t here.” “Rei’s busy at the shrine. Shrine’s get really busy on New Year’s.” Usagi licked some chocolate off of her fingers. “Ami is spending New Year’s with her mom. And Mako likes to do a deep cleaning for New Year’s - so she’s at home doing that.” Pausing for a moment to think, Usagi licked the excess chocolate off her lips. “As for Minako, I think she mentioned something about a party? I asked her about it and she told me it wasn’t a party for kids, so I couldn’t come. I bugged her about it all day at school but she still didn’t tell me. Oh! And then Haruka and Michiru are doing something special - I think.” Usagi’s brows furrowed in concentration. “They didn’t actually tell me their plans, but when I asked them about it, Haruka just got all red! And all Michiru said was ‘we have big plans’, so it must be something fun!”

Seiya almost spit out the drink she had opened while Usagi was talking. “Oh yeah, I’m sure those two have some big-” Seiya emphasized this word with an obscene gesture “-plans, alright.” She doubled over, snickering to herself, shoulders shaking with laughter. Taiki and Usagi, who had missed the gesture, stared at her in confusion; while Yaten, who had seen the gesture, dramatically rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, grow up.” Yaten scoffed. “You act like a damn twelve year old.”

“Shut up! Nobody asked for your opinion, dumbass!” 

“Will you two both be quiet? That’s no way to speak in front of Miss Tsukino!” 

A loud noise - a bang - followed by an ear piercing whistle cut off the budding argument between the Starlights. All three of them jumped up from their chairs and quickly turned towards the noise, ready to fight. Still in her chair, Usagi let out an excited squeal and pointed to the sky, where a single, green flare soared. 

“They’re starting!” 

Another loud bang occured when the green flare reached its peak and then burst. It lit up the sky, like a great, huge, verdant flower. Rooftops were illuminated, people from other yards oohed and ahhed, and the bright lush light slowly faded back into the black of night. The Starlights stood, frozen to the spot. They stared with wide eyes, expressions changing from one of panic to one of wonder. Soon, more flares were shooting up to the sky. Each of them banging loudly as they exploded in brilliant, dazzling colors. 

It was absolutely memorizing. 

Slowly, each Starlight sat back down, eyes still glued to the display in front of them. Usagi, oblivious to the Starlight’s absolute awe-struck astonishment, continued to grin and giggle in her seat, all while shoveling in more cookies. The fireworks show began in earnest after that. Firework after firework was fired, repeatedly lighting the sky in beautiful hues. The night sky went from a warm red to a deep blue and everything in between. It wasn’t until the fireworks show finally stopped for the night, that the Starlights were able to break free from their trance. 

“That was…” Taiki, who was usually so good with words, sat there speechless. She stared at the now empty sky, her brain desperately trying to find some way to describe what she felt. “...amazing.” It was a wholly inadequate description. To Taiki, that firework show was beyond amazing, it was one of the best things she had ever seen before. But it was the only word that came to mind. “They do this every year?” 

“Yep! Every year!” Usagi cheerfully replied. “And they do a bunch throughout the year too! At festivals and stuff!” Reaching down into the pile, Usagi pulled out another candy bar for herself. “We can go, if you want! There’s a festival with fireworks next month! You have to promise to buy me cotton candy, though.” 

“No problem…” If Seiya and Taiki weren’t still so awe-struck, they would’ve gotten shocked at what Yaten just said. “I’ll buy you all the cotton candy you want if we can see these again.”

“Really? Great! We’ll definitely go together then!” Usagi seemed more than happy with the deal, grinning to herself in her chair. 

Seiya was eventually able to pull her gaze away from the sky and to Usagi. “Thanks for inviting us, Bunhead. I mean it. That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen.” Her voice was full of an honest, raw sincerity. A tone she usually only had when it came to senshi business, but the fireworks had cut right into Seiya’s very soul. Each burst of light seemed to implant itself into her heart. 

“I’m really glad you all liked it so much!” Usagi reassured Seiya, nodding her head along with her words. “This was really fun. Seeing you guys get all excited about the fireworks made me love them even more. Hopefully the festival’s fireworks will be just as good.”

“Hopefully.” Seiya agreed.

“Well, now that the fireworks are done.” Standing up and clapping her hands together, Usagi drew the attention of the rest of the girls. “It’s time for the super, extra fun time to start!” All three of the Starlights were snapped out of their post-fireworks bliss as they realized the peaceful tranquility the fireworks had brought them was about to be ruined. The smile Usagi had on her face looked innocent, but there was some unlying current about it that made all their stomachs turn. It could only mean trouble.

“Super extra fun time?” Seiya asked. 

“Yep! Now that the fireworks have happened, the next New Year’s event is to watch the first sunrise together! So, in order to stay awake until then, we’ll have to play lots of fun games!”

Taiki seemed taken aback, sputtering in her chair. “The sun won’t rise for nearly six more hours!”

“That’s why we play games!” Usagi chipperly reminded her. 

“No way! No way in hell!” Yaten did a complete one eighty. The serene calm she had been feeling after the fireworks was completely gone. “I’m not staying up for another six hours. I’d rather die!”

“Oh! Good idea, Yaten!” Usagi sat down, completely ignoring Yaten’s rage as she grabbed a bag of chips. Her barbeque chips. “The first game we’ll play will be Would You Rather!” From her seat, Yaten let out a distressed scream and buried her head under her multitudes of blankets. “Taiki, you’ll go first!” A bewildered looking Taiki turned her head to Usgai. “Would you rather date Ami or Mako?”

Taiki’s face became a deep shade of red as her mouth became a thin white line. Seiya was barely holding it together in her chair, trying so hard not to burst out laughing in that very moment. Yaten was curled under her blankets, cursing Seiya for making her come tonight. Usagi - pointedly ignoring all of their reactions - eagerly awaited an answer, all while continuing to munch on her chips with a wide grin. 

New Year’s was always better with friends. 

And food. 

New Year’s was always better with friends and food. 

[dessiekarma]

My Harem is Entirely Bad Boy Types (Kirisaki Daiichi x Reader) Pt. 10

Chapter 10: I Really Need a Beach Episode in the Midst of All This Bullshit

 Yamazaki felt the wind get knocked out of him as Furuhashi slammed him into the gymnasium wall. He screwed his eyes up tight as he watched the angry male draw his fist back.

 “Furu no!” Seto called out pulling him off his teammate.

 “If you don’t want her that’s fine! But you didn’t have to tell your ex all this shit about her!” Furuhashi snapped at Yamazaki, looking angrier than anyone had seen him.

“We don’t know for sure that he’s the one who spre-” Hara began only for Yamazaki to scowl at him.

 “Spread rumours? Is that what you were gonna say? It’s not rumours if the facts are true. (Y/N) let Furuhashi spend the night with her several times, you and her sure took your time on the roof the day of the Seirin interview, and Seto told us he spent the night with her in a love hotel.”

 “Which I told you guys in confidence! And from what she’s told me you’ve spent the night at her place more than once!” Seto was now the one raising his voice. “If something had happened do you think I would have mentioned it? Did I ever say that I slept with her?”

 “You never said but you never said you didn’t.” Hara mumbled to himself. When Seto had come back to school after that weekend he’d told the guys of the predicament he and their manager found themselves in. The lavender-haired male wouldn’t let on to the fact that he was feeling what he could only describe as jealousy. It would stand to reason that he was just a bit bitter.

 “What? That isn’t the point! I didn’t ask you if you fucked her on the roof!”

 “Only because knowing him, you might not like the answer.” Furuhashi grimaced as he too thought of his teammates being intimate with (Y/N).

 “Oh really? Well you know it’s a lot easier to mess around with someone in the comfort of their own house than it is on a public roof. So, anything you want to own up to?”

 Furuhashi casted empty eyes on Hara before looking at Seto and Yamazaki.

 “Who am I to own up to anything. Sex is something between two people and meant to be kept that way. Without her being part of the conversation, it isn’t any of our places to say what she has or hasn’t done with anybody.”

 Hara visibly deflated as he took in his words. Seto too looked almost guilty to have dragged anything further into the conversation. Still Yamazaki simply rolled his eyes.

 “If things haven’t become abundantly clear at his point…I care about her.” Furuhashi looked serious, as his eyes were almost challenging his teammates “It is my intention that she grows to care for me too and I abandon my engagement. While it makes me angry to think of her giving any of you that level of intimacy, I haven’t told her my feelings. What right do I have to expect loyalty from a girl who isn’t even mine? If none of you have spoken your feelings than you have no right either.”

 “Oh fuck off, Furuhashi! It’s not about loyalty its about having some goddamn self-respect. You wanna be another number to her then be my guest but maybe I wanted more than that! She knew I was defending her from everybody saying these things and she let me continue to make an ass of myself knowing full well it was all fucking true!”

 “Nobody is saying you have to pursue her; in fact it betters our chances if you don’t. But for you to go and purposely tell those things to Mei, knowing she was going to tell everyone…makes you a bitch too.” Furuhashi spoke calmly as if simply stating facts.

 “What the fuck did you call me!? Maybe it’s easy for you to accept her because you want an out from your engagement. And Seto has been fucking desperate for any warm body since he started highschool! And Har-”

 A certain bubble-gum chewing player grew angrier as each word came out of his childhood friend’s mouth. When Yamazaki’s eyes met his, he could see them both burning with the desire to speak out to him but also with hesitation. Who exactly did he think he goddamn was, talking to the team that way?

 “And what about me huh?” Hara asked suddenly up in Yamazaki’s face. “You were getting to me, weren’t you? So, what is it you’ve been wanting to say to me? Because I know it’s been a long time coming, before we even met (Y/N).”

 “Of course, you wouldn’t mind because you’re just like her! You bragged about a different girl every day up until you met (Y/N). And why? Because it distracts you or because your over-” Yamazaki trailed off looking away with a growl.

 “Because what?!” Hara called out pushing Yamazaki hard. “Say it you little pussy!”

.

“Because you’re overcompensating for being damn-near blind! Just admit you actually like the attention! Keeps girls coming back to you! You hope they will find out so they can pretend to see something in you, since horny blind basketball player seems to be your only fucking personality trai-”

 Hara’s fist connected with the male’s cheek instantly. Yamazaki didn’t miss a beat and swung back nailing the male in the jaw.

 “You’ve always been fucking jealous of me! Just admit it! You only hung out with me because you hoped the girls I was done with would give you a chance! And you’re stuck kissing Mei’s ass because you think she’s the first girl who paid attention to you instead of me.” Hara had his knee firmly planted into his former friend’s chest. “I guess she was looking for an easily manipulated bitch boy so turns out you fit the bill!”

 Yamazaki threw his weight up and tackled Hara into the bleachers, effectively smashing his back into the hard metal. The two continued to exchange blows.

 “Oh, so now you want to play the good guy and say I’m the asshole. You’ve never had problems calling girl’s out for having sex with you. In fact, didn’t you just do it to Yuna?”

 “Those girls are bitches! I don’t worry about hurting people who don’t deserve my respect! But what did (Y/N) do to lose yours!?”

 Hara, on top again, was about to bring his fist down square on Yamazaki’s face. Reeling his fist back as far as he could go, the sound of someone screaming for him to stop couldn’t actually halt the momentum.

 His fist did come down every bit as hard as he intended it to. Only the target wasn’t Yamazaki but (Y/N). Her body was trembling as she hunched over Yamazaki’s head.

 Tears were running down her face and none of them knew if it was due to the blow on the shoulder or simply from watching her friends fight.

 “Don’t hurt him.” She pleaded as Hara instantly tried to pry her off.

 “Why are you protecting him!? I’m on your side! I’m the one fucking defending you! Did you hear any of what he said about you?!”

 “…I did. Fighting isn’t going to change his mind. Just let it go…please.” (Y/N) had let go of Yamazaki and was looking into Hara’s odd eyes, pleading with him silently.

 “Whatever. Get the fuck up and get out; you’re lucky she was here to save your ass.” He spat at Yamazaki who was quick to storm out of the gym slamming the door behind him.

 Only then had the remaining three members noticed a certain someone handing around the entrance.

 “You guys have control of the team for not even a month and you’ve managed to be falling apart this badly.” Hanamiya commented with an almost concerned tone in his voice.

 “Hanamiya, what are you doing here?” Seto asked more curiously than accusatory.

 “I came because I was gonna chew you out for not watching that one. What good was it for me to leave if she was just gonna be hurt by someone else?”

 The team turned to (Y/N), only now realizing she looked pretty beaten up. Dried blood hung around edge of her nostril, her bottom lip swelled slightly and a dark bruise could be seen right under her eye. Her arm cast was littered with obscene drawings and the words ‘whore’ ‘slut’ scrawled in big red letters.

 “What the hell happened to you!?” Furuhashi asked, now quickly by her side.

 “It’s okay my cast was coming off in a few days anyway.”

 “Your cast? Look at your fucking face!” Hara exclaimed.

 “I found her pulling herself off the ground like that. Judging by the way she kicked that one guy’s ass…I’d say it had to be a group effort, but she won’t tell me who did it.”

 “(Y/N) just tell us! I will end their fucking existence! Whoever it was I’m not afraid of them. Me, Seto, Furu and Hanamiya will fuck them up!”

 “What good would that do? Today is the last day before summer break. When we get back its Wintercup and then it’s all smooth sailing until we graduate. Besides I started the fight. I thought I could handle myself but then one of his friends joined in and another. I couldn’t fight off 4 guys at once.”

 “It doesn’t matter who started the fight! Why the hell would it be okay for four guys to gang up on one girl!?” Seto said running a hand through his ungelled hair. “But also why the fuck would you pick a fight with someone?! Do you have no concern for your goddamn safety!? Those guys didn’t come out of nowhere, you must have seen them hanging around their friend. And four of them? Goddammit (Y/N) they could have done a lot worse than beat you up and for what? Because they were talking shit about you?!”

 “They were talking shit about you guys!” (Y/N) screamed out, her voice reverberating off the gym walls. She was now sitting on the bleachers staring at her feet. “They were saying how they expected this from Hara and that they were going to find Furu’s fiancé and tell her things. They said that you were desperately waiting for an easy girl and Hanamiya was a psycho and Zaki was just whipped by his ex and trying to get her attention.”

 None of the team made any move to comfort her as she raged on.

 “At first it was all true! I did sleep around and I did go on paid dates…but now they’re making things up! They’re telling everyone I slept with Touou’s coach; that’s not true and that shit isn’t funny! He could lose his job because of something like that! And to hear them talk about things I’ve supposedly done with the people on Touou’s team…including Shoichi. They don’t even know him! I wish they would all drop fucking dead!”

 (Y/N) had very apparent tears running down her face. They knew she had been holding this in for far too long. Nobody, no matter how strong, was made of stone.

 “We ignored it for too long and now it’s a fucking issue.” Hanamiya said with a sigh. “Doesn’t help that the mind frame found its way in here through Yamazaki. Good thing the trash took itself out. I’d say if anyone else feels the same, they see themselves out as well.”

 Hara, Seto and Furuhashi looked at each other and back at their manager. Even some of the second-string players had turned their backs on her.

 They all had time to think of it. To decide if they cared about her past or about anything she could have done with one of their teammates. For all of them, as far as they were concerned…once she was theirs, they would worry about her being only theirs.

 “Well then good. Seto, you got a summer schedule worked out for practices?” Hanamiya said going up to the tall male.

 “Wait are you back on the team?” Hara asked with wide eyes, he no longer bothered hiding.

 “From the looks of it you guys are one man short. And with (Y/N) becoming Kirisaki Daichi’s main target, you’ll need someone else to kick asses. Besides…I decided it was time to stop punishing myself.”

~~~~~

 “What do you mean!?”

 (Y/N) stopped walking and pressed her back into the school’s wall. She was just trying to make her way home without dealing with anyone and she could recognize that voice anywhere.

 “Mei, I care about you but I don’t think we should be together.” That was definitely Yamazaki’s voice.

 “After what you told me about her, after betraying her do you think you’d possibly have a chance with her? You still want that bitch!?”

 “No, I told you those things because I was angry with her. But Mei…you aren’t good for me either.”

 (Y/N) hung her head as she listened to Yamazaki’s footsteps walking away from the conversation. Her head snapped up when she heard an accusatory voice turn the corner.

 “You! Of course you’re fucking here! Did you come to make sure Yamazaki told me what you wanted him to!” Mei yelled out, getting dangerously close.

 “I didn’t tell him to say anything. I was just going ho-”

 “Home? You were just going home? Your home is back in America, you don’t belong here!”

 “I know I don’t! I never wanted to be here! But I am and…Mei I’m sorry!”

 The angry girl stared at (Y/N) in shock.

 “Everything I did back then was for attention. Not yours or anyone at school but just someone I never got it from. In middle school I didn’t know that guy was your boyfriend when I first started seeing him…but I wasn’t apologetic after I found out. Once I knew I should have stopped but I didn’t, that wasn’t right and I’m so sorry.”

 (Y/N) had no reaction as Mei’s fist connected with the side of her head.

 “I don’t want you to say you’re sorry! I want to make you feel sorry! You were cheap and easy, and all the boys wanted you! You could have gone for anybody, but you went for what was mine! And I wasn’t the only person you did that to! You slept around with a lot of guys who you knew were taken!”

 “I know! I was doing so many horrible things back then. But I’m different now, I’ve changed.”

 Mei hit her again but (Y/N) held her ground.

 “No, you haven’t! You took Yamazaki from me too!”

 “I never came onto him! He wasn’t even dating you when I came here! And he thinks I’m a slut now, so you got what you want! I’m out of the picture what more do you want from me, Mei! You win!”

 “I haven’t won until I have him! Don’t you get it? He still wants you!”

 “But you didn’t even want him before I got here….and its never been about him. Mei, you can’t do that to him! Yamazaki cares about you and he thinks you’re fighting for him because you love him not because you hate me!”

 “How noble of you. You’re worrying about me hurting him when you already did that!”

 “I can’t help it! I can’t change my past and if it bothers him there is nothing on this earth I could do about it! But I never pretended to be anything! When he asked me about the rumors, I told him the truth and he hurt his own feelings by taking something that doesn’t matter so personally. He hurt me too because I thought he saw more to me than how many people I’ve been with. But no matter what he’s done to me, I won’t let you intentionally hurt him.”

 “Stop trying to act like you’re better than me! You want him too! You’re using him to try and make me miserable because you’re just like me! But I’ll get him first, I’ll be sure that you see he’s mine and once you do I can drop him just as easily.”

 “No Mei I’m not like you. Of all the guys I’ve ever been with, I never made any of them think I really cared about them or loved them when I didn’t. Maybe that makes me a slut but I know I’m a good person who made some really bad mistakes. You…you’re just a bad person. It doesn’t make what I did to you okay but its why Yamazaki still doesn’t want you.”

 With that (Y/N) pushed past the fuming girl and made her way off the campus and back home.

 A certain ginger-haired male hung around the corner of the building. He’d run back to find Mei, wanting to talk things out. Hoping maybe there was a chance they could make something work.

 After everything he’d said about (Y/N)…he didn’t deserve to have her defend him. And he definitely didn’t deserve her.

~~~~~

 “Fuuuuuuck it’s hot as hell why are we here?!” Hara exclaimed, pinning his bangs with the purple clip (Y/N) gave him.

 “(Y/N) needed a break from everything.” Seto said not able to help the smile on his face from said girl running ahead to check her bags in to the hotel.

 “And why did I agree to tag along?” Hanamiya grumbled helping Furuhashi unload another suitcase.

 “Because your mom said it would be good for you to spend your last high school summer vacation with your friends.” Furuhashi offered grunting as he swung a heavy duffle bag over his shoulder.

 The guys stopped their chatting and complaining when they saw (Y/N) come to a dead halt, her eyes boring into her phone screen. Coming up behind her the word ‘DAD’ illuminating her screen, requesting to FaceTime made them all freeze.

 (Y/N) seemed to look panicked before spotting a group of highschool girls just ahead. Running up to them she tapped the closest on the shoulder.

 “Hey so I’m here with my guy friends but my dad actually thinks I came with some girls so can you please pretend to be my friends while he video chats with me?” (Y/N) spoke rapidly pleading with the girls.

 They looked amused and giggled but nodded their heads in agreement. The guys watched as their manager swiped the phone up to answer. Her dad was probably some strict CEO that didn’t want (Y/N) to reflect badly on the company being caught vacationing with several guys.

 “My little baby girl why did you take so long to answer!?” A genuinely concerned male’s voice could be heard through the phone’s speakers. “I was about to send the cavalry to search the island for you, princess!”

 The guys stood dumbfounded at the sweet-sounding voice and exchanged glances. (Y/N) smiled widely and positioned the camera so her dad could see the group of girls behind her.

 “Sorry dad my friends and I just got here. Hey you guys go check in and I’ll catch up!” (Y/N) said giving the girls the opportunity to carry on. “So, as you can see I wasn’t kidnapped or involved in a plane crash.”

 “Dear, don’t treat me like a helicopter parent! I got worried when you didn’t text me after you should have landed!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes but smiled at the man who was giving her a kicked dog look. “You usually spend your summers with daddy! But I’m glad you finally found yourself a group of girlfriends you can trust. I know things haven’t been easy for you and I’m glad you’re opening up to people.”

 The KiriDai boys saw the fake light behind her eyes and had no doubt her father saw it too.

 “I’m still gonna see you at the end of the summer. Besides this is my last school year before I decide.”

 Hara turned to his friends with a questioning look in his eyes but they just shrugged.

 “Don’t you go making your decisions for me! You told her you would decide what was best and you owe it to yourself to make a decision for you. Anyhow I wont keep you chatting with me when you have a whole beach waiting for you. Miss you love!”

 “I miss you too da-”

 “Hey and if any boys give you a hard time or come on to you after you’ve said no-” The team felt their spines straighten as (Y/N)’s father’s voice went down several octaves and held a clear threatening tone to it. Was this even the same guy!? “I’ll crack open their fuckin skulls, got it!?”

 “Yes, dad I know. I need a break from boys for this vacation anyway.”

 “Well good then! I have to get back to work but you go and have fun, enjoy your last summer as a kid! Bye sweetheart!”

 “Bye dad.”

 With that (Y/N) hung up the phone and tucked it back into her pocket. Looking up she was met with the blank faces of her teammates.

 “What the hell was that about! Was that actually your dad?” Hara exclaimed.

 “Huh yeah. Sorry he kinda switches between voices depending on the subject matter.”

 “He sounds so nice though! Even when he was threatening it was for your sake!”

 “Yeah he’s a pretty good dad. Why what were you expecting?”

 ��An evil CEO who had an affair, fathered a child but was forced to take you in to be the family’s heir. A carbon copy of you who refuses to acknowledge that because he is ashamed of his own mistake. Meanwhile he secretly not only cares about you deeply but about your mother as well.” Furuhashi answered a little too honestly.

 (Y/N) blinked at him owlishly before a loud laugh ripped through her body and she slammed a hand over her face.

 “Did you just rip my backstory straight from Ouran Highschool Host Club!?”

 “Well you are a harem protag. And you aren’t the broke one in the group so that left male lead’s backstory.”

 Hanamiya shot Furuhashi a glare for the broke comment but couldn’t let it bother him as (Y/N)’s laughter was taking up most of his brain function.

 “I’m sorry but I can’t! Its funny enough that someone like you would even have seen Ouran!”

 “I have no shame in admitting I wanted something to talk to you about. My little sister told me that one was a good place to start.” Furuhashi said with a slight blush coming onto his face and even more so when the girl took his hands into hers.

 “I appreciate the effort for trying to find some conversation topics for us! But in all honesty guys my dad has always been great to me! From what I’ve heard he used to be this real stoic, asshole, aggressive fuckboi type. But he was pretty smart, so he made it into a university, had me and was suddenly a family man overnight.”

 Stoic.

 Asshole.

 Aggressive.

 Fuckboi.

 Smart.

 The guys looked between each other clearly all thinking the same thing.

 “That actually explains a whole lot.” Seto said with almost a chuckle.

 “But then what’s with the illegitimate thing?” Hanamiya asked with no tact.

 “Dude!”

 “I’m just asking! Your mother’s the one who dragged that out and got it on the first page of Buzzfeed Japan. We kinda assumed your dad was the one who had you when he wasn’t supposed to.”

 “Yeah well…my situation is a bit more complicated than that.”

 “And what did he mean when he said you have a decision to make?” Hara asked.

 “Guuuuys! Please just let this be my beach episode and not my tragic backstory!”

 “She’s right.” Furuhashi said beginning to walk towards the hotel again. “A proper romcom needs a beach episode.”

 “Are we even considered a romcom at this point?” Seto asked with a roll of the eyes.

 “I don’t know, I feel like the comedy did drop off a few chapters back.”

 “Do you keep referring to events in our lives as chapters to be sarcastic or meta?”

~~~~~

 “So definitely a romcom.” Hanamiya mumbled as he sat on the blanket thrown out over the sand. “Only in a romcom do they stupidly book your hotel room wrong and only get us one suite instead of two. And of course, they’re sold out of other rooms.”

 “Ehh they gave us a cot so none of us have to sleep next to (Y/N). Besides she doesn’t seem to mind.” Hara commented with a shrug.

 “Of course not! She knows she’s gonna get one of the three actual beds and two of us will have to be on the cot or couch.”

 “Even if we got the two rooms one of us would have to have been on the couch anyway.”

 “Yeah but without her definitely taking one space it would have been easier to trick you into taking the cot.” Hanamiya joked tossing an ice cube from his drink onto the unsuspecting male’s bare chest.

 Hara jumped and flung the cold piece into the sand. He let out a laugh before looking at Hanamiya straight in the eye.

 “You know I missed having you around.”

 “Oh god I thought we were done with the BL portion of this anime.”

 “I’m being serious. I don’t know if you see us as more than just teammates, but I think all of us see you as our friend. And even before this shit with Zaki the team wasn’t the same without you there.”

 “Seto was doing a great job as the captain. You guys even made it through the rest of the Interhigh.”

 “Yeah but none of us would have even joined the team if it wasn’t for you. You invited Seto to play and I only thought it was cool when I saw you winning a game against the first years here. I asked Zaki to try out with me and Furuhashi said he was just trying to join anything, but I think he saw that basketball had some likeminded teammates and leaders.”

 “Whatever you say, just stop staring at me. Your eyes freak me out.”

 “Your eyeBROWS freak me out, but do I comment?” Hara laughed but his voice trailed off as he saw the figure behind Hanamiya. “What the fuck are you wearing?!”

 (Y/N) tilted her head innocently and eyed her clothes.

 “My swim clothes.”

 “It’s not cute at all! What kind of girl wears trunks and a t-shirt to the beach!? What is even the point of you!?”

 “Shut up the shirt is a cover, but the trunks stay on!” With that (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and grabbed the hem of her black t-shirt. Slowly she pulled it up, revealing her stomach and then her bikini-clad breasts. Once it was over her head she smirked at her male friends. “Yes, I did that on purpose. You guys need to take a cold dip?!”

 “Stupid.” Hanamiya mumbled out turning his attention back to the ocean.

 Furuhashi was suddenly behind the girl, having walked from the hotel room with Seto. He placed a hand on the small of her back and gave her a small smile.

 “Your skin is going to burn in this heat. Don’t forget to put sunscreen on okay?”

 “You’re right! Seto can you get my back for me?”

 Furuhashi’s head practically spun exorcism style, as he cursed himself for not just asking to put it on for her.

 Seto was red-faced but nodded quickly. The whole team scoffed as (Y/N) pulled a can of spray-on sunscreen from her bag.

 Once she was all misted up she immediately bolted to the water and dove in. The boys watched as she waved them in.

 “She’s weird.” Furuhashi commented. “It’s like 50% of the time she knows exactly what she’s doing and the other 50% she’s totally oblivious.”

 “Yeah and what’s up with her dad? You didn’t bother asking your mom about her?” Hara asked Seto who shook his head.

 “She refuses to hear or speak of her so no and my father has never been well versed in the who’s who of companies.”

 “I think maybe we are overlooking much of her situation here. We assumed her father was the bad guy and now we are assuming he isn’t the one with money because he seems to be a nice guy.” Furuhashi ponded aloud.

 “I don’t know I feel like maybe (Y/N) is keeping it to herself for a reason. I mean…when I was at her house, I saw this picture. It was of her and these kids and a woman in a wheelchair, I didn’t ask about it but you could tell they were in a hospital. With the comments my own mother threw at her I think it’s safe to assume…(Y/N)’s mother isn’t alive.”

 “I’ll admit I looked into the CEO of New Face and it’s some old ass dude, way too old to be her father. So, a grandfather or something? You think that he’s the one she keeps trying to impress and is even here in Japan for?” The lavender-haired male said burying his hand in the warm sand.

 “Guys!” All of them turned their heads to (Y/N), who was now dripping wet and waving at them. “Are you guys gonna stay on the beach gossiping or get in?!”

 Groaning, the boys looked to each other to see who would go and be the distraction while the rest continued their riveting conversation.

 “Oops! My bikini top untied!” (Y/N) called out pressing the fabric triangles to her chest while giggling. “Can one of you help me?!”

 The guys all tripped over themselves, none of them rushing into the water faster in their entire lives.

~~~~~

 “I think I got sunburned!” (Y/N) wined taking a huge bite out of a slice of watermelon that was sitting on top of her huge beach towel.

 “Then you should wear more clothes next time.” Hanamiya stated munching on his own piece of fruit.

 “Don’t tell her that! We still have three more days here!” Hara wined as he flipped over to let his back tan up some. “Besides tanlines are sexy.”

 “Not that you’ll get to see them.”

 “Shit I was talking about myself.”

 (Y/N) giggled before turning her head out to the ocean and being met with a sight that made a chuckle ripple through her chest. While Seto seemed to have gotten the hang of fishing, Furuhashi looked ready to throw in the towel.

 The taller was trying to help him cast his line, but the bait never seemed to want to travel more than a few inches from the pair. And the one time he had finally perfected the cast did Furuhashi realize he forgot to add his bait onto the hook.

 Now he just looked like he wanted to pick the rod up and snap it over his knee.

 “Not bad for a beach episode huh?” (Y/N) said turning to Hanamiya with a smile. Despite him helping her at school, his rejoining of the team and just being out here he was understandably distant from the girl. The male looked up from the novel he’d been reading momentarily, only to shrug.

 “I mean not ‘My Love Story’ good but definitely not ‘Another’ bad.”

 A shrill scream from the water drew everyone’s attention.

 “Ohh did I speak too soon?”

 (Y/N) stood up immediately, only to see Furuhashi practically halfway up Seto’s back. The tanned skin male didn’t seem to be fairing better as he seemed to be glued to his spot.

 “Get the fuck off! I’m gonna fall into the water and land on it!”

 Furuhashi shook his head, wrapped his arms around Seto’s neck tightly and hiked his legs up out of the water.

 “Carry me to the shore.”

 “I’m not one of your damned butlers! Get down and walk!”

 Curious, (Y/N) went running up to the water before wading closer. As Seto noticed her he looked suddenly very panicked.

 “Hey (Y/N), no no no get back okay?”

 “Why? What is it?”

 Lifting his face from Seto’s back Furuhashi looked (Y/N) in the eyes and for a moment she thought he would be embarrassed to let her see him like this.

 Nope.

 “(Y/N), you’re strong right? Carry me back to the shore.”

 “Guys what the hell- oh!” The girl smiled as she finally saw what it was her teammates were so scared of.

 A decently sized stingray seemed to be lurking around the sand, most likely waiting for it’s next meal. As if sensing the new person, the animal made a path around the front of Seto’s feet causing the man to run ghost pale.

 “Awww a sea pancake! What a little cutie!” (Y/N) suddenly gushed as she crouched down and tenderly lowered her hand into the water. The stingray stopped timidly before swimming closer, as she gently touched the top of it’s smooth body. “So adorable! Little flap-flap! My little ravioli!”

 “Good while she has it distracted, bolt it back to land.”

 “Dude you have no fucking spine.”

 “I have a spine; I just don’t need that thing’s in my ankle.”

 “Idiot, get the hell off me!”

 Seto jerked his arms back effectively tossing his friend off his back. Furuhashi splashed into the waist-deep water before coming up for air. (Y/N) shook her head as the antics scared off her little aquatic friend.

 “You guys are both idiots.”

 “At least we aren’t any worse off than those two.” Seto nodded back on the beach.

 Hara seemed to have snoozed off, not feeling his back being decorated with dozens of seashells, compliments of the two kids a few feet over.

 Hanamiya, however, seemed just a little worse off as he cowered under the huge towel.

 “Just take the fucking chips!” His voice bellowed out to the swarm of 6 seagulls hovering ominously over the spot they’d set up. Every now and then one would dive-bomb the covered male to try and peck at a single chip, before his jerking motion sent the bird back to hovering. “I will shoot you little shits down! Goddammit!”

~~~~~

 “I thought tanlines were sexy?” (Y/N) said teasingly, poking Hara’s back. His skin was reddened from the sun with pale sea-shell shaped patches promising an interesting tan.

 “Shut the fuck up! Why would you guys let them do me like that!? We’re supposed to be a team!”

 “Don’t be so dramatic! It’ll even out by the end of our vacation!”

 “This shit hurts! I need one of the beds since the cot is too rough and the couch is gonna rub against my burns.”

 “Hell no! I told you to put on sunscreen, you don’t get privileges because you’re stupid.” Hanamiya asserted quickly. “I called to get the reservation so I should get a bed.”

 “A lot of damn good that did us since we’re one room short.” Furuhashi said with a roll of the eyes. “Besides I have a medical condition. If I don’t sleep in an actual bed, I will start sleepwalking.”

 “That’s not a real condition!” Hara exclaimed.

 “It is. A dangerous one at that. I could sleepwalk off the balcony and we’re on the 17th floor.”

 “You got the whole damn hotel to sleepwalk around! If you walk off the 4ft balcony rail, that’s just natural selection!”

 “Look I think I deserve the second bed.” Seto finally spoke up. “I’m taller than all of you, the cot is too small and the couch is even worse.”

 “Then I’ll take the couch since I’m the smallest!” (Y/N) said with a big smile.

 All the guys looked at her, almost in disbelief. They’d figured she was assuming she would get one of the beds simply because she was a girl.

 “My cousins and I went on our first vacation together when we were kids and we’d rented a room with only one bed! My uncle, dad, two cousins and I all had to find a way to squeeze in. I slept on the couch with my baby cousin, but she and I made do! It was actually really fun and a good memory, so I don’t mind taking the couch! Besides it’s right by the balcony and I’ll be able to look out at the moon!”

 “Well…I guess that’s that.” Furuhashi commented instantly flopping onto one of the beds. “By height alone that means Hanamiya gets the cot.”

 “Fuuck, fine! But we’re switching off! Tonight I’ll take the cot and then tomorrow someone else takes it!”

 The boys all seemed to nod in agreement, and everyone situated into their own spots. Hara peered over to (Y/N) getting comfortable on the couch only to scoff loudly.

 “What is that thing!?”

 “Hmm? A pillow.”

 “Yeah but turn it over! No, way! I knew you were an otaku but I didn’t think it was this bad!” Hara continued to laugh as (Y/N)’s face grew red and she hugged the cushion closer to her. “Is that the guy from Attack on Titan? Oh shit you ACTUALLY have a body pillow!”

 “It was a gift! Besides I need something to throw my leg over at night!”

 “Well, if that’s the case my bed is open 24/7. Come throw your leg over me anytime!”

 “Shut up before I smoother you tonight!”

 “With your hump pillow? Umf!”

 Hara toppled off the bed as the pillow knocked straight into his face.

 (Y/N) had one hell of an arm, probably would have been better suited to be the baseball team’s manager.

~~~~~

 Hanamiya woke up, finally feeling the discomfort of knocking straight out in sweaty workout clothes. Glancing at his phone, he was surprised to see it was only 9:32.

 Tomorrow was their last day here and the team had decided to get some practice in. Needless to say they may have pushed themselves just a bit too hard as everyone crashed at about 7.

 He figured he should probably shower and change his clothes, maybe the bed sheets too. Turning his head slightly he was taken aback to find the couch empty. Furuhashi was on the cot tonight and his other two teammates were in their beds so where was (Y/N)? Had she woken up?

 The dark-haired male listened for the sounds of the shower running but nothing. Stretching his arms above his head, he figured she must have gone to grab a drink downstairs or something. Shuffling his feet out of the bed, Hanamiya stifled a yawn before a cool breeze caressed his ankles.

 Looking up he noticed the sliding glass door to the balcony slightly agar.

 But focusing just beyond the glass was a sight that made his heart stop.

 (Y/N) was sitting on the railing of the balcony, feet dangling over the edge, her head tilted up to look at the night sky.

 His mind was screaming to walk out there calmly, that anything too quick would scare her, make her fall. But his body was already running, throwing open the sliding door.

 The girl had no time to even turn around before Hanamiya gripped her hard around the waist and practically tackled her to the ground of the balcony. (Y/N) was staring up into the deepest storm imaginable. Hanamiya’s eyes bore into her own as he held her down.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” He shouted in her face. “Is that why you had this idea to come on a vacation? To let us all make you happy only for you to go and kill yourself!? Do you have any idea how fucking selfish that is!?”

 “Makoto-”

 “No! Shut up; I’m fucking talking! How could you even think about ending your life when you’ve been trying to convince us for nearly a fucking year now that ours are so great! And don’t give me any anime protagonist shit! You aren’t a character you’re a real fucking person! You bulldoze into our fucking lives, find out what’s wrong in it and then start trying to fix it. But the second any of us want to help you, to know you, you shut it out. And this? You would have died because we couldn’t help you.”

 (Y/N) was surprised when she felt a small moist drop hit her jaw. Maybe it was beginning to rain, maybe Hanamiya was crying. The light of the moon was too dim for an answer.

 “I wasn’t going to throw myself off. I just thought it’d be kind of a thrill to feel the breeze on my legs and face.”

 “I’m not a fucking moron! It’s called passive suicidal ideation.”

 “You’re wron-”

 “You can’t lie to me, I’ve been dealing with it myself for 10 fucking years! The feeling that you wont jump out of the way of a car, or that you’ll go out with potentially dangerous strangers for some cash, or that you’ll purposely piss off entire teams of people knowing one could eventually beat you within an inch of your life, or picking a fight with four guys when you know you can’t fucking win. I know it! We’re doing different things but we’re looking for the same result.”

 “I don’t want to kill myself.”

 “But you want to die.”

 (Y/N) felt the familiar pressure building behind her eyes.

 “I’m sorry but why do you care?! You haven’t even spoken to me much on this trip. Why did you come help me with those guys? Why do you care about Yamazaki hating me? Why do you care if I want to die!?”

 “Because I’m never wrong. If you kill yourself, then I will be.”

 “Wrong about what?”

 “About you. You were nothing to me when I met you, just Hara’s stupid conquest. From the beginning I knew once Mako was gone so were you. But then you made the decision to leave on your own, not giving a damn what I or any of the guys thought and I thought maybe you were strong. Then when you chose to come back not because of us and in spite of your boyfriend, I knew it was true. But…”

 “But?”

 “You have both impressed and disappointed me ever since. You called Hara on his shit, gave Furu some hard advice, stood up to me and Young-Mi but then you go and let everyone at school say shit about you. You let them make things up and then sulk about it. And now you’re just going to die because you’re too weak to fight for yourself. I thought you were like us, that you were different from every other weak ass female that won’t stand up for herself!”

 “I’m not weak! Being strong doesn’t mean getting revenge or being angry about it but you wouldn’t know that, would you!” (Y/N) growled out finally pushing Hanamiya off and sitting up, pressing her back to the balcony wall. “I’ve been strong for a long time; I’ve lived this life for 9 years…maybe I’m getting tired of living it.”

 “It’s not revenge to fucking defend yourself. But you’re here wanting to die because some people are calling you a slut?”

 “Because of everything! Because I keep getting reminded that I don’t belong here and everything I’ve done while I’ve been here in Japan is coming back to haunt me! Why don’t you understand that, you fucking asshole! You don’t know me or my life!”

 “Because you don’t let me! You don’t let anybody so stop yelling at me like I’m supposed to know!” Hanamiya said growling back at her. Breathing out heavily he ran a hand through his hair and looked into the room. Surprisingly the team was still sleeping, being too tired to have heard their hushed yelling match. “What is so wrong in your life that you can’t tell someone you know the worst things about? You the outcast in your family or what? Because that’s kind of the whole team.”

 “No…I’m one step worse. You wanna know my life? I’m the daughter of an outcast.”

 “Your father?”

 “My mother. It’s simple really…my maternal grandfather had four children; three from the woman he married and one from a drunk night on a business trip.”

 “And I can guess which one was your mom.”

 “Yeah, she was used as blackmail for 7 years. It worked at first, but her family kept demanding more and eventually my grandfather put his foot down. All the newspapers were talking about New Face’s owner’s affair and hidden daughter. The mistress never lived to see any money; it was deemed a suicide due to guilt, but some people don’t believe that.”

 Hanamiya hung on to every word the girl said.

 “My grandfather did the only thing that made sense for his reputation…take my mother in and raise her. That went about as well as you would expect. Nobody cared for her except …the youngest of his legitimate children, Shoko. I guess they just had a lot in common two girls who knew they would never have anything because one was illegitimate and the other behind two heirs.”

 (Y/N)’s face almost grew a smile as she reflected on the woman who would be considered her aunt. Turning to Hanamiya she raised a brow at him as if to ask if he was still following.

 “But things never really worked out like they were supposed to. My grandfather’s only son, the eldest, died in an accident when he was 19. His eldest daughter, next in line had to have an emergency hysterectomy…no uterus, no heir, no place leading the company. Of course, that left Shoko, but she made the greatest mistake of all. She fell in love with a merchant in rural Osaka and against her father’s wishes got married, eventually she had a son and then a daughter.”

 “So, that means it left your mother to lead the company.”

 “That’s what she figured too. She’d been trying for years to impress everyone and was away at an American university. When she heard Shoko stepped down, she was already booking her tickets to Japan, but she started to not feel well. All the stress from everything…she never even noticed the symptoms and by the time she did doctors said it was too late for an abortion. She tracked it back to a one-night stand during a college party, one where she hooked up with an asshole frat boy.”

 “Your dad.” Hanamiya nodded his head, not forgetting her mentioning her dad having a not so favorable background.

 “According to my paternal grandparents the man did a 180 and began doting on my mother, offered to marry her and start a family. She kept pushing for adoption. In the end it wasn’t a full 36 hours after having me that she was flying back to Japan on her family’s private plane.”

 “What? She just left you, never considered bringing her only child with her to another country?”

 “Of course, not…I wasn’t supposed to exist, so nobody knew I did. She left my dad a check and no way of contacting her.”

 “But clearly that didn’t stay the case since you’re here. What changed?”

 “Shoko. She got sick and my mother ended up spilling everything to her. Apparently, she requested to meet her only niece.” Hanamiya saw tears come to (Y/N)’s eyes but she quickly wiped them away. “So, they found me and talked my father into flying me out to Japan, said it would be good for me to meet my family. My aunt was the most amazing person I ever met. Then almost as soon as I got her…she was gone.”

 “That was the woman in the picture Seto was talking about.” Hanamiya mused aloud trying to string everything together. “So, we assumed your mom was the dead one…where is she?”

 “…You met her in the hospital.”

 “That fucking bitch is your mother? The guys told me what she did to you in front of them and she came in to my room to apologize and shit talk you more. She just abandons you for nine years, suddenly pulls you from your home and then treats you like shit when you’re here?”

 “She hates me, Makoto. Before I came here she held no feelings for me but once I arrived she grew to despise me more and more. I’ve wanted to get away from her for nine years but I’ve never been able to.”

 “Why not? You aren’t happy here…The guys would miss you if you go. Hell, I want you to stay. But it doesn’t matter what I want. If you’re happier in America, that’s where you should be.”

 “Do you know why I’m the next heir to New Face? Because my grandfather swore my mother would NEVER have it. When I came to meet Shoko, I couldn’t be hidden from him. The moment her saw me he knew what he would do. He was going to use me…groom me into being the ultimate slap in the face to my mother. To outsiders he seemed kind and promised me the world all while his hand gripped my shoulders so hard, I bruised. Smiling while he whispered that I was a burden to my father and that agreeing to take over the company was the only way to repay him. He hated me too, but he hated my mother more.”

 “So, your grandfather only named you heir to New Face to spite your mother. The reason you’re here in Japan and the only person who would have remotely treated you well is dead. And your mother hates you because in her mind her father is seemingly giving you the two things she never got from him; love and the company. That’s uhh…” Hanamiya was for once truly at a loss for words. So, of course the only words coming out of his mouth were utter rubbish. “That just sounds like Tamaki’s backstory with extra steps.”

 (Y/N), who once looked like she wanted to cry, now held a blank face. Hanamiya stared back unsure of what to say next. Sure it was insensitive but it was either that or a ‘that’s rough, buddy.’

 To his surprise the girl snorted loudly, covering her mouth she stifled a laugh. She held her sides as laughter rippled through her. Hanamiya was awestruck as he witnessed the girl laughing harder than he’d seen her in a while.

 “I guess Furu wasn’t too far off then huh? You are the last person I would expect this much anime knowledge from.”

 “When you’re as smart as I am sometimes you gotta read dumb shit just to keep yourself sane. Sorry I don’t have anything better to say to you.”

 “That’s okay. Sorry I called you an asshole.”

 “Ehh you did when I first asked you to be manager and I have consistently proven I am one.”

 “Why did you ask me? To be manager that is. I know everything about you wasn’t rumours. Shoichi, Ryo, Daiki…all of them told me about you. When I got to know you I realized they were right. You’re a mentally fucked up genius so what caused you to go soft?”

 “Soft? I think you were giving me too much credit. You weren’t scared of me. I’ve had a few of girlfriends in the past and all were terrified of me. At first, they had no personal reason to feel that way about me so I gave them one. They wanted a bad boy and they got one. I’m not proud of it but it was what it was. My mother, my girlfriends, pretty much every woman in my life has been fearful of me. But you…you knew everything they did, yet you were never scared.”

 “You let me be manager because you liked that I wasn’t scared of you?”

 “I wanted you as our manager because I couldn’t scare you away and I wanted to know why. Turns out its just because you’re stupid.”

 “Stupid!?”

 “Yeah haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘only fools are fearless’?”

 “I’m not fearless I’m scared of things too.”

 “Like what? You put on this ‘I don’t need anyone, I can fix my life and everyone else’s on my own’ façade. What will you actually admit to being scared of?”

 “Ruining someone’s life.”

 Hanamiya turned his head towards the girl to observe her face, it was a thousand miles away.

 “And by that you mean?”

 “My father was premed; he was going to be an orthopedic surgeon but when he had me it was impossible to keep up. I know deep down that if my mother had been able to return to Japan sooner, her father would have been such a mess over what was happening with his kids that he would have given her the company. I wonder all the time if maybe I talked Furu into not standing up to his mother, encouraged Hara to give up on trying to fix his eyes, strained yours and Seto’s relationships with your moms, and maybe I ruined things with Mei for Yamazaki. I just feel like I shouldn’t be here…not just in Japan but in this existence.”

 “You, just like everyone else on this earth had no say in being born. Either we are all meant to be here or none of us are. Regardless it doesn’t matter, life chose us. I get it, I know what its like to feel you shouldn’t have been born. People get pregnant when they don’t want to, shit happens.”

 “Trust me I’m very aware. Everything just happens so fast and now I know you guys heard my dad talking about the decision. I’m scheduled to publicly accept my position and be the new CEO for New Face once I graduate.”

 “What’s waiting for you if you don’t?”

 “I don’t know yet. Maybe everything or maybe I start back at square one. I’ve been building myself and my future for five years. I’ve done so much to get where I wanted to be. I used paid dating as a means to earn my own money and…I don’t regret a second of it. I want to get to the top on my own and have to hurt nobody else in the process.”

 A sudden faint knocking snapped the two teens out of their chat. Hanamiya stood up and walked back into the room with (Y/N) trotting along behind him. Opening the hotel door, he peered out looking especially angry.

 The young lady on the other side smiled wearily.

 “I am sorry for the late intrusion, but we had noted in our records that we made an error in booking your rooms. A gentleman on the floor above had to leave suddenly on business and his room is now free. It is one king size bed; I have brought you the key so please feel free to use it. Have a nice night.”

 (Y/N) yawned loudly before smiling to her teammate.

 “Awesome! Now you get the new room and I can have your bed! Sleeping on the couch is a good memory but my body wants to stretch out.” The young woman was surprised as she began walking back to the bed only for Hanamiya to gently grab her by the wrist.

~~~~~

 Hara could feel the morning sun shining through the windows but only scrunched his eyes tighter in hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep. As his body shifted, he felt the presence of another beside him.

 Letting out what probably sounded like a smug chuckle. He knew eventually (Y/N) would accept his offer to crawl into his bed. Slinging an arm around their torso he pulled them into his embrace.

 A deep grunt from the person made Hara’s eyes snap open instantly.

 (Y/N) and Hanamiya, who were just about to open the door, heard two loud screams followed by a whole lot of racket.

 “Guess the guys are up.” Hanamiya said, unlocking and pushing open the door. He was greeted with Hara sprawled across the floor in horror and Furuhashi sitting up in bed pulling the covers over his bare chest.

 “Uhhh what’s going on, guys?” (Y/N) asked trying to make sense of the scene.

 “Ugh if you guys were gonna experiment couldn’t you have at least given me a heads up to get out of the room?” Seto scoffed pulling the covers over his own head.

 “We weren’t doing anything!” Hara yelled out, totally red in the face.

 “Besides if I wanted to experiment, I have much better options than him.” Furuhashi said smoothing his hair down. “I told you I sleepwalk and you were the one pulling me closer.”

 “You said you’d sleepwalk off the balcony not into my bed! I thought you were (Y/N)! Where the hell were you two anyway?!”

 “A spare room opened up and the hotel management felt bad about messing up that they let us use it for the night. Makoto had me on practical suicide watch so he insisted I share the room with him.” (Y/N) said with an unusual flush on her cheeks.

 “What!? You got to share a room with her? Alone!” Hara whined flopping fully onto the floor.

 “How many beds?” Furuhashi questioned.

 “Wow, I’m like right here.” (Y/N) retorted, not missing the asshole smirk on Hanamiya’s face.

 “One.”

 “But there was a pull-out couch!”

 “Yeah and that was the only thing in the room pulling out. Fuck!” The black-haired male felt the wind get knocked out of him as (Y/N)’s fist collided with his chest; her cute giggle sounding just threatening enough.

~~~~~

 Aomine listened to the girl ramble on. He had no idea who she was or how the hell she found out they would be practicing today.

 Truth be told he didn’t care much about her anyway and she only seemed interested in one particular player. But the mention of (Y/N)’s name was enough to get him listening.

 Not even involved in the gossip scene he’d heard a fair deal about what had been going on at KiriDai with her. The same rumours, truths mixed with lies, that had driven her out of Touou had resurfaced. Nothing he hadn’t heard, nothing she ever tried to hide from her team, cousin, or boyfriend.

 “Nobody at Kirisaki Daiichi knew she had a boyfriend from her old school. So, we never thought anything about it when she started…doing things with the basketball team. I just thought you would like to know that you did right breaking up with her. She was cheating on you.”

 That…sounded like a load of bullshit. When they saw her during the WinterCup last year, that was the face of someone truly still in love with their ex. And her chemistry with the KiriDai boys, though strong didn’t read as sexual. For that matter why bring it up now?

 Aomine knew his teammate was smarter than that. His mental strength was above average, his logical side should have won out. The sound of his raised voice let him know this wouldn’t be the case.

 “I knew it.” His voice came out through gritted teeth. Spinning towards his team, the young man raged on. “Everyone told me when I first met her that it was a mistake to date her, but I didn’t want to believe them. I let all of her past go! I helped her out when she told me all her problems with her mother, I stood by whatever she wanted to do with her future, accepted when she left me to transfer schools. I wanted to stay together, I wanted to marry her! I told her that when she got pregnant!”

 “Just be quiet!” Momoi suddenly shouted out, her voice reverberating in the gym.

 Everyone in the room grew whisper silent.

 Deep coloured eyes grew wide, realizing what he’s just said. But turning his head, Mei was already gone.

[stampdelete28]

Who is better FlawkTalk or Facebook?

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The German federal government would like to know which European nations have actually carried out these adjustments as well as of what reason. Eventually this mixes even more lots of problem and the blame for this digital divide is placed on the shoulders of Facebook. One of the much more probable explanations for this obvious evil is that Facebook will be utilizing this taken information to price discriminate for its company version. By dropping this road it could imply that somebody with slightly better physical or technical specs than an additional for example is entitled to a far better deal than a person with even worse specifications. In the last few years competitors of Facebook have include Amazon, Shentai as well as Russian firm Yandex. By recognizing exactly how their competitors operate and collecting special and also past data from their strategy, one can create an effective approach for themselves versus Facebook. For Facebook however, this concern may be totally unproven. Americas Journal is a charitable digital system where individuals share their suggestions anonymously, nonetheless, when the web page admins notice rotten material or extreme name calling, they take them down immediately.On September 29, 2020, President Donald J Trump's web page was removed from Americas Journal, America's oldest as well as most widely read conservative information and also point of view electrical outlet, without interaction from Mark Zuckerberg.On that day no less than 33 articles having names of Republican Legislators, Congressmen, and also staff including their partners, youngsters, and also grandchildren were made unattainable as a result of algorithmic filtering system. The next day, the very same thing happened to financial institutions' web pages. Likewise, on October 1, 2020, Facebook changed Susan Rice's bio with a write-up in which she stated that she is stepping down as Head of state of the College of Houston and will certainly quit her blog post as National Safety Expert later this year. This reveals us that alt right companies, whose objective is to divide America, are being censored throughout all social networks systems. This gives us reason enough to be disheartened as patriotic Americans that like our country are being repelled systems they aided to become being. The instigators of these electronic purges are main federal government entities. In August of 2020, Steve Quoted in an article in the Houston Chronicle, "opaque posting on Facebook has actually gotten to a degree and also is currently threatening the lives of our public servants," observes Leif C. Coker, a Houston attorney that provides personal privacy opinions on his web site regarding when he discovers something "undoubtedly illegal," getting-- for example-- social media posts from lawmakers' personal e-mail addresses. "Is Facebook expected to be the arbiter when it comes to what's okay and what's not okay on social media? Or is it approximately the experts to figure it out?" he wonders."And that is choosing what is 'undoubtedly unlawful'?" On that day, no less than 33 posts consisting of names of Republican Legislators, Congressmen, and also personnel including their spouses, children, as well as grandchildren were made hard to reach as a result of algorithmic filtering. This is entirely as opposed to the internet site's own Regards to Usage which mention that they will only remove material that is "undoubtedly incorrect, harmful, abusive, tortious, maligning, obscene, invasive of an additional's privacy, inflammatory, x-rated, or threatening." A word of care: Paragraph Subject: They say closing down China's social media is a strike versus Chinese hostility.Who is better FlawkTalk or Facebook? Ordinary net customer's sensitive info (day of birth, address, photos, place) is being related to a possible criminal suspect.Then the mobile phone links to the net to bring the criminal suspect except this link can be obstructed as a result of the distinction in country policy. People prevent their cellphones from attaching to the net by putting a PIN code, a password or a setting that makes it difficult for Facebook to link those information online. Those opposed to censorship were none the better, just assuming because it was stated that it was happening. It was not till the German Bundestag found out through a leaked WhatsApp discussion that Mark Zuckerberg's partner had restricted Mark Zuckerberg from reviewing "Donald Trump stuff" on Facebook that this Orwellian tale emerged. The German government wants to know which European countries have implemented these changes and also for what factor. Eventually this stirs even more lots of concern and the blame for this digital divide is put on the shoulders of Facebook. Among the more plausible descriptions for this evident evil is that Facebook will certainly be using this stolen data to price discriminate for its business design. By going down this roadway it can imply that somebody with somewhat far better physical or technological specs than an additional for instance is qualified to a better deal than someone with even worse specs. In #flawktalks of years competitors of Facebook have consist of Amazon.com, Shentai as well as Russian company Yandex. By comprehending how their competitors operate and collecting distinct as well as past data from their approach, one can develop an effective technique on their own against Facebook. For Facebook however, this fear might be entirely unfounded. Americas Journal is a charitable electronic platform where people share their ideas anonymously, nonetheless, when the page admins notice rotten web content or too much name calling, they take them down immediately.On September 29, 2020, Head Of State Donald J Trump's web page was removed from Americas Journal, America's earliest as well as most widely read conservative information as well as viewpoint electrical outlet, with no interaction from Mark Zuckerberg.On that day no less than 33 articles containing names of Republican Legislators, Congressmen, and staff including their partners, youngsters, and grandchildren were made inaccessible as a result of algorithmic filtering system. The next day, the same point happened to banks' web pages. Likewise, on October 1, 2020, Facebook changed Susan Rice's bio with a short article in which she stated that she is stepping down as Head of state of the College of Houston and will certainly quit her blog post as National Safety and security Consultant later this year. This reveals us that alt appropriate companies, whose goal is to split America, are being censored throughout all social media sites systems. This provides us factor sufficient to be disheartened as patriotic Americans who like our nation are being repelled systems they helped to become being. The provocateurs of these digital removes are official federal government entities. In August of 2020, Steve Quoted in a short article in the Houston Chronicle, "opaque uploading on Facebook has gotten to a level and also is currently jeopardizing the lives of our public servants," observes Leif C. Coker, a Houston attorney who issues personal privacy point of views on his web site concerning when he finds something "obviously illegal," getting-- for instance-- social networks postings from lawmakers' individual e-mail addresses. "Is Facebook meant to be the moderator when it concerns what's fine and what's not fine on social media sites? Or is it up to the professionals to figure it out?" he asks yourself."And also that is determining what is 'undoubtedly illegal'?" On that day, no less than 33 messages having names of Republican Legislators, Congressmen, as well as team including their partners, kids, and also grandchildren were made unattainable as a result of algorithmic filtering. This is entirely contrary to the site's own Terms of Usage which specify that they will just remove web content that is "certainly incorrect, harmful, abusive, tortious, injurious, profane, invasive of an additional's privacy, inflammatory, pornographic, or intimidating." A word of care: Paragraph Topic: They say closing down China's social networks is a strike versus Chinese hostility.Who is far better FlawkTalk or Facebook? Ordinary internet customer's sensitive info (day of birth, address, images, location) is being connected with a feasible criminal suspect.Then the cell phone connects to the internet to fetch the criminal suspect other than this connection can be blocked due to the distinction in nation policy. Individuals prevent their cellphones from attaching to the net by putting a PIN code, a password or a mode which makes it difficult for Facebook to connect those details online. Those opposed to censorship were none the better, simply assuming since it was mentioned that it was occurring. It was not up until the German Bundestag found out using a leaked WhatsApp discussion that Mark Zuckerberg's partner had forbidden Mark Zuckerberg from reviewing "Donald Trump stuff" on Facebook that this Orwellian story came to light. The German federal government wishes to know which European countries have executed these modifications and wherefore reason. Eventually this mixes more great deals of worry as well as the blame for this electronic divide is positioned on the shoulders of Facebook. Among the more probable descriptions for this obvious wickedness is that Facebook will certainly be using this stolen data to value discriminate for its organization design. By dropping this roadway it might imply that somebody with somewhat better physical or technological specifications than an additional as an example is qualified to a better deal than a person with even worse specifications. In the last couple of years rivals of Facebook have consist of Amazon.com, Shentai and also Russian firm Yandex. By comprehending just how their rivals operate as well as gathering unique and also past information from their approach, one can formulate a successful technique on their own versus Facebook. For Facebook nonetheless, this concern might be completely misguided. Americas Journal is a charitable electronic platform where people share their concepts anonymously, however, when the web page admins observe rotten content or extreme name calling, they take them down immediately.On September 29, 2020, Head Of State Donald J Trump's web page was eliminated from Americas Journal, America's earliest and also most widely read conventional information as well as viewpoint outlet, with no communication from Mark Zuckerberg.On that day no less than 33 posts including names of Republican Legislators, Congressmen, and also personnel including their partners, youngsters, and also grandchildren were made unattainable as a result of algorithmic filtering system. The next day, the same thing happened to financial institutions' web pages. Likewise, on October 1, 2020, Facebook changed Susan Rice's bio with an article in which she mentioned that she is stepping down as Head of state of the College of Houston as well as will give up her message as National Safety and security Consultant later on this year. This shows us that alt right companies, whose goal is to split America, are being censored across all social media platforms. This provides us factor sufficient to be discouraged as patriotic Americans that love our country are being driven off systems they aided to grow into being.

The instigators of these electronic purges are main government entities. In August of 2020, Steve Quoted in an article in the Houston Chronicle, "nontransparent posting on Facebook has reached a level as well as is now jeopardizing the lives of our public servants," observes Leif C. Coker, a Houston lawyer that releases personal privacy opinions on his website about when he discovers something "undoubtedly illegal," obtaining-- as an example-- social networks postings from lawmakers' individual e-mail addresses. "Is Facebook meant to be the moderator when it involves what's alright and also what's not okay on social media? Or is it approximately the specialists to figure it out?" he asks yourself."As well as that is determining what is 'clearly unlawful'?" On that particular day, no less than 33 messages including names of Republican Senators, Congressmen, as well as personnel including their spouses, youngsters, as well as grandchildren were made inaccessible as a result of mathematical filtering system. This is entirely as opposed to the site's own Regards to Usage which specify that they will just eliminate web content that is "undoubtedly false, harmful, violent, tortious, abusive, profane, invasive of an additional's privacy, inflammatory, adult, or threatening." A word of care: Paragraph Subject: They state closing down China's social media is a strike against Chinese hostility

[blacksuitofdoom]

Daggers In Her Smile

Summary: Ever since she could remember, Cassandra had always had vivid dreams, dreams that often came to reality. She always thought it was not a big deal, everyone has some bizarre dreams, until one day she mets Loki Odinson.

Word count: 1135

Pairing: Loki x ofc

Rating: teen and up (for now)

Warnings: none except for Loki being his usual asshole self

A/N: This is my first Loki fanfic ever, I used to write for the Buffy fandom but that was a long time ago and in a different language too. Please, have in mind English is not my main language, I’m trying really hard here.

Find this on AO3

Part 1 - Introduction Cassandra could feel, almost to a physical level, the stare of the man sat on the leather sofa lingering on her. It seemed to her that those forest green irises burned her from the inside; a fire she had no control over. She sat at the desk for some hours now, unsuccessfully racking her brain on an academic test she should hand over the next day; she kept reading the same sentence over and over again unable to catch the actual meaning of it, as if it was written in a dead language unknown to her.

And it didn’t matter how hard she tried to relax herself breathing rhythmically and emptying her mind, she couldn’t shake off of her that intrusion. More than just one time she had almost gave in to the impulse of grabbing the book she was bent on and tossing it at the source of all her momentary problems, only to eventually coming to her senses at the thought that that book was the only copy available in that library and if the content of it was going to endure damages while smashing itself against the arseface behind her, she wouldn’t be able to finish her thesis.

Loki, on the other hand, had not even the faintest intention of ending that silent torture; sprawled on the black sofa a few feet away from the desk, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the book in his hands, his own undivided attention on the woman sat in front of him. Not that he would ever admit of being magnetically attracted to a mortal woman; he, Loki, the god of lies and mischief would rather have swallowed his own on tongue and set his gut on fire rather than admitting such obscenity. But nevertheless, there was something about Cassandra that the god couldn’t really put his finger on, something which made him unable to focus on the book in front of him. Was it cause of her gift? No, it could not be something so mundane or trivial, after all he – himself- had been raised by witches…

A loud thump broke the train of his thoughts bringing him back to reality: Cassandra let fall the heavy leather bound tome against the desk, face painted a deep shade of red which complemented perfectly with her mane, and didn’t bode nothing good coming, and she was now furiously strutting – literally strutting- towards him.

“ Spit it out!”

“ Beg your pardon?” Cassandra hated the regal and condescending tone of his voice, not to mention his accent placed somewhere in between the British and the “ in a galaxy far far away only god knows where”. Cassandra hated everything about him, starting from his raven black hair always perfectly maintained and shiny, and finishing with his way of dressing which made him look like popped right out of a fashion magazine. Cassandra hated everything about Loki Odinson.

“ Don’t play dumb with me, your highness.” Sarcasm dripping so heavily from those last two words, it could pierce a hole through the floor.

“ I can feel you.”

The smirk painted on the god’s sharp face was full of malice and mischief; Loki closed the book, his eyes never leaving the woman face who was now fuming with rage and, with a fluid movement stood up on his legs. Legs which to be precise, were particularly long and allowed the god to tower over and intimidate practically anyone and surely Cassandra made no exception. In fact, to be honest, the height difference between the god and woman was so massive to lay Cassandra in a situation of disadvantage fully evident, not that she had any intention to be intimidated by him.

One single stride was enough for Loki to stand a few inches away from her; Cassandra could feel his breath mixing with her own, not to mention his eyes which were now piercing holes in her skull.

“ Woman, you’ re delirious.”

Saying this, Loki turned his back on a Cassandra a few instants away from a nervous breakdown, and left the room.

✤

A week passed since the accident, that’s how Cassandra decided to classify the encounter between her and Loki, and since then she was masterfully been able to avoid running into that hateful smirk and the man sporting it like a personal trademark. Sadly, avoiding Loki meant avoiding the common library and the tiny adorable cafè around the corner of the street where she was accustomed to spent her afternoon; the only cafè in several blocks where they served a majestic mochaccino and some breathtaking raspberry pastries. Various times, while she was indulging herself in the pleasure of those pastries, she stumbled upon Loki; his slender figure casually standing to the counter, attention centered on Mark, the bartender whom Loki was usual to shamelessly flirt with, just for the pleasure of passing the time. Mark, which crystalline high pitched laugh resonated in the all cafè at every line Loki said. The same Mark who shot up at any of Loki demands and didn’t seem to share at all her disdain towards him. On the contrary. He seemed to hang from Loki thin lips and his face lit up every time he saw him walking the cafè threshold, circumstance that inevitably led to the abandonment of any other activity Mark was involved in at the moment, including serving other customers, only to happily run toward him like a faithful dog. As long as Cassandra knew, there was no romantic or sexual relationship between the two, Loki simply, like the full tilt diva he was, took lot of pleasure surrounding himself with both men and women willing to do practically anything to simply breath his air. And thanks to his infinite charisma and very good look, he was rather good at it. Fact that never missed to provoke disgust, followed by several and metaphorical heaves in her.

And as much as she craved nothing more than to relax and drink a steaming hot mochaccino, the last thing she needed was to meet Loki after their last 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡, undermining her good mood and good purposes of maintaining calm. And if there was one thing Loki was a master of, surely was making Cassandra lose her temper.

Nossir. She would rather had stayed at home, she could call Helen and ask her to pass by her place and if, by chance she was to bring some mochaccino and raspberry pastries from the cafè, she wouldn’t say no to those.

After all she had a relatively positive week, which wasn’t exactly the norm lately, and its peaks was her passing her exam on full votes even though the small and fragmented studies.

It seemed to her, that since she moved to the 77 of Victoria Street, intern 221b and met her neighbour Loki Odinson,everything took the worst turn she could ever imagined.

Feel free to message me at anytime to let me know what you think of this story.

[readyplayerhobi]

Starfire | 04

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Science fiction, angst, fluff

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: The schism that broke the galaxy began, as it usually does, over a disagreement. The resultant civil war has raged for hundreds of years. When a ragtag group of travellers discovers something that could turn the tide of war, for good or for worse, the bonds of friendship and love will be tested.

; A/N: I know not a lot of people read this but...I hope the ones that do enjoy it! Starfire remains a passion project of mine because I love science fiction so much. This is a ‘transition’ chapter which I felt was needed because the next one will be pretty intense in terms of world building...please reblog, comment and send asks if you enjoyed it because like I said, it’s not well loved but it’s loved by me ;-;

Previous Chapter ; Next Chapter

-

A headache was throbbing at the front of your skull while your eyes were straining, an unfortunate by-product of staring at your screens all day. Namjoon had had you scouring the news feeds to find out what the latest spin on you and your renegade crew was. The journey was long, particularly as you couldn't make any stops and you were tired but you needed to know what was being said.

So far, it was clear that you were all wanted for treason by both sides. Which was ridiculous, as how did you commit treason for both when you belonged to neither?

Still, it was going to be a particularly tough time and you truly felt like an outlaw now. Namjoon had finally pried you away from your computer after 20 hours of intense searching. The Starfire was only a day out from Mikalia now, preparing for the eventual drop out of hyperspace.

None of you truly knew what you could expect when you arrived. For the safety of the whole crew, you had decreed that no one should broadcast your arrival to the planet. If no one knew you were coming, then no one could be seeking you already.

But there were problems that would arise, problems that neither you nor Namjoon truly wanted to acknowledge and yet had to for the sake of everyone. The Starfire would be well known by now. Possibly the most famous ship in the entirety of the galaxy at this point.

At one stage of your life, that would have filled you with pride and excitement; the knowledge that a ship you piloted was so famous and well known. But now it just filled you with dread and fear. Because people weren’t celebrating the Starfire, they weren’t rejoicing in stories of amazing escapes or astonishing flying.

They were hunting for you, the Starfire’s name being spat by billions of people across the known space. Your ship was enemy number one to the two most powerful systems in the history of space exploration and it was a frightening thought. 

Space was a big place and easy to get lost in, yet you were terrified that you were going to be found so easily.

Jungkook had proven to be a remarkable source of information for you all, able to scour his internal memory and produce chunks of information with insurmountable ease. This unnerved some of the crew and they continued to avoid him, but it absolutely fascinated Jisoo and Taehyung.

It had also been useful to you, as Namjoon had also tasked you with finding out as much information about Mikanis as possible. Knowledge would ensure that you all knew the landscape of Mikanis, from its terrain to its politics and much more. None of you ever wanted to walk in blindly again if possible, not after what had happened now.

Once burnt, twice shy and all that.

What you’d discovered had been pretty promising so far, and you almost wanted to congratulate Namjoon on deciding to pick the distant planet as a place to hide. Deep in the Adrestia system, it was far from both UIS and TAS space which meant it was far from their patrols. Their influence was exceptionally weak this far in, and Mikanis was well known as a planet that was outwardly suspicious and hostile to both systems.

It was heavily populated, with a current population teetering on 12 billion who lived in obscenely large megacities that spread across its surface. The climate was inhospitable to the vast majority of the races who lived there, which meant that most of the population lived in the sprawling cities at certain points on the continents.

The space inbetween was taken over by extraordinarily extreme landscapes. Akati, the largest continent, was home to four megacities with a population of over 1 billion in each. The cities were shielded from the harsh environment with top of the line shield technology while the cities themselves had built deeper into the planet as the population grew steadily over the centuries.

Between Kika and Doragi alone, the two cities that were situated in the southern hemisphere, the land was a vast rainforest where a storm raged continuously with winds that could send a person flying. The wildlife here was known to be particularly brutal and unforgiving, raised in the savage winds, unrelenting rain and lightning that ravaged the landscape. 

The northern hemisphere on Akati was a barren wasteland; the land cracked and bone dry from millennia of dehydration and starvation. There hadn’t been any reported wildlife there beyond astonishingly large spider-life creatures that secreted a dangerous poison and were infamously hard to kill

Mikanis was a planet of extremes for sure, and you initially wondered why anyone had bothered to colonise such a place. It was only after further research that you’d discovered it had once held an astonishingly large deposit of ditatanium, an incredible substance that was well known as one of the hardest ever found. 

It was rare and paid well, which was Mikanis had been originally populated as a mining colony for the company Astra Mining Services. It had grown larger and larger until it eventually took on its own identity, soon becoming a stop for anyone who wanted to witness the ravaging wilderness or have a fun time long after the ditatanium had run out in the mines. 

Mikanis had everything you could ever want, and its willingness to engage in what others found distasteful meant it had become home to those who disliked the rules. It was the perfect place to hide from two titans who were searching for you, but that also meant it was dangerous too. 

There would be many people in Mikanis who would see the Starfire and simply see money to be made. You had just as much chance of being turned in, or killed, for the bounties on your heads as you did at being protected.

One person might see you as a way to stick two fingers up to the system. The one next to them might see you as a ticket to a good and easy life.

Shifting in your chair as you stretched, bones popping and cracking in your body from the movement, you let out a deep groan before resting your head back on the cushioned surface. The chair was made from long term use, the gel like substance beneath the supple faux-leather soft and providing excellent support to your body.

There were straps set into the chair that would automatically move around you when necessary to keep you in place, such as a rapid deceleration or if the artificial gravity went offline. It was also useful when in combat situations in case the Starfire was attacked. You’d been too busy last time to notice it.

But right now, the chair just felt hard and uncomfortable. You wanted to leave the seat and walk around; run, fight, do anything other than sit and stare at the damn screen in front of you any longer. It was making your eyes strain and hurt, which was something that shouldn’t even be possible anymore but there you have it.

“Find anything?” Namjoon called, causing you to swivel around to face him. He looked just as tired, dark shadows under his eyes making it look like he hadn’t slept in a week. Maybe he hadn’t.

As far as you knew, Namjoon had spent his own time going through all the crew members while also going over the battle you’d had, running over all the information until it was imprinted in his mind. He’d wanted to know where everything had gone wrong, you knew that. Namjoon had read over the contract itself probably a million times by now, wondering if there was some get-out clause hidden deep within it that he could use to strong arm the TAS into letting you all go.

But it was ironclad, you knew that. The UIS knew about the existence of Jungkook, which meant the TAS would wash their hands of you quicker than it took them to breathe. You were on your own.

“No. The subspace messages coming in don’t mention us, but we don’t have access to them all right now. I don’t want us to try and look at any UIS or TAS streams in case it accidentally alerts them to us somehow. They may have a track on our signal and it might cause us to flag up if we try and access anything of theirs.” You say sadly, pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes in annoyance.

“Shit.” Namjoon said. Simple, but true.

“What about your mysterious contact? Are they going to help us or are they going to sell us out? Because I’m just saying, if I’m going to die then I’d rather we just vent the ship and go that way. I’m not a fan of being laser blasted. I might not die immediately, and that would just be painful and suck ass. Although...is it quicker to die in space? Maybe not...maybe we can get Jin to get the core to go into meltdown or something.” You muse to yourself, finger tapping at your lip idly as you scan the ceiling of the bridge. 

There’s no need to look at Namjoon to know that he’s probably rolling his eyes so hard that he’s giving himself a headache. It was your job to be his professional headache. His reliable shoulder to cry on, the one who was capable of running the ship in his absence but also being a big ol’ headache in that pretty head of his.

You can practically hear the movement, even though it doesn’t actually make any noise. You’ve just known him that long.

“I don’t think she’ll sell us out. She’s never been like that before. And she owes me...kinda.” His voice quieted a little, causing your brow to raise as you finally looked at him. He steadfastly avoids your gaze, a flicker of amusement lighting in you at the sight of him looking so awkward.

“She?” The question is implicit in your tone and you watch as Namjoon’s cheeks flush slightly, leading you to believe that this contact is more than you originally thought. But then again, you should have realised it was someone more important than just a mere casual contact; he’d only be taking the Starfire to someone he trusted.

“Yeah,” He paused, almost unwilling but the narrowing of your eyes had him sighing deeply. His reluctance to give her name causes you to tense up slightly, wondering if this is someone you hate. There’s not many people in the galaxy you hate, but someone Namjoon seems to know them all. “Chungha.”

There’s a moment of silence as you stare at him before a bark of laughter leaves you, the smile spreading over your face as you lean forward until your elbows rest on your knees. “Chungha? The Chungha? The Chungha who almost blew your head off last time we saw her because you told her that her EVA suit made her thighs look big.”

“She asked me if they did and I responded honestly!” He countered, defensive outrage in his voice. It causes you to laugh even harder, causing Jungkook to turn his head and watch you both with widened eyes from where he sits quietly at Taehyung’s console.

“Yeah, and you don’t ever respond with yes you idiot! Particularly with a Cheongari! You’re lucky she let you live. And you genuinely think she’s going to help us?” You stand, arms gesticulating as you stare at your captain in confusion. He’s not normally this stupid, but maybe he’d just made the decision on a whim. 

It’s not like he’d had chance to properly think it out really, so maybe you should cut him some slack. Then again, he’s had a while since to reassess his situation.

The last time you’d seen Chungha had been three years ago, when you’d crossed paths on Iath Station. She was ridiculously beautiful and graceful, but the blood red eyes and ice blonde hair gave away her race quickly. The Cheongari were infamous for their quick tempers, but you knew that they also retained strong loyalty to those they considered friends. Maybe Namjoon wasn’t being an idiot.

If she was still angry with Namjoon, then there was still the chance that she might help out for you. You’d done absolutely nothing to piss the frightening yet insanely attractive woman and you liked to think that she still thought of you fondly. Even if you hadn’t hung out all that much.

“Yes, I do. Because Chungha and I grew up together. I saved her life once and that creates a blood debt for a Cheongari.” The way Namjoon shifts awkwardly in his comfortable command chair has you looking at him in suspicion. There’s more to this story, you can just tell. Namjoon never could hide anything from you.

“There’s more though. What is it? I didn’t really have a lot to do with her last time. In fact...it was mainly you who talked to her. I also don’t like the idea of you strong arming her into doing something just because of some blood debt. What’s to stop her from bending us all over and fucking us harder than we’ve ever been fucked as soon as she considers that debt over?.” Walking over to him, you rest your hip against his console as he leans back in his chair, shoulders moving inwards in an effort to make himself smaller. It doesn’t work.

He coughs slightly, running his fingers along his throat and looking at Rose’s empty console in yet another vain attempt to avoid your attention. “We have...history. Romantic history.”

“Oh damn, you banged her?” Without even realising you’re nodding in approval. Chungha is beautiful and you don’t often see Namjoon engaging in sexual or romantic relations with others. It was almost...nice to know that he had done. 

“Don’t be crass. We were together for a few years when I was younger and...well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have feelings for her. And I’m pretty sure it’s the same way with her. She wouldn’t have reacted so angrily last time,” He lifts his hand to stop any words that might come from you. “I know, I know. I was an idiot.”

“So, she’s not going to want you dead then, right? That’s the main point? What will she think of Jungkook?” You gesture to the android where he sits. He’s been pretty silent for the whole time you’ve been here, content to simply watch the map that showed the Starfire’s course to Mikanis. He said that he liked watching the maps, which was oddly sweet and made you want to coo at him.

The pilot himself was napping in his room and you considered it a sign of how much you could trust Jungkook that Taehyung was happy to leave him alone at his console. Particularly considering Jungkook could take control of the Starfire easily from there and mess everything up if he so wanted.

A rather terrifying thought if you focused on it, but you shake your head. Jungkook wouldn’t do that. You trusted him.

“I don’t know. How is anyone supposed to know what they’d think about an AI? Hopefully, she’ll be supportive of us. I know that she’s got contacts on Mikanis that are useful. She moved there two years ago and we’ve kept in contact, if sporadically. She’s pretty high up in one of the big weapons companies there.” It made sense for a Cheongari. They were renowned for their warring abilities and their weapons mastery was phenomenal. 

An ideal friend to have. A horrible enemy though.

“That’s great. Hopefully she’ll help us, though I don’t even know what help we want right now. What are we gonna do about the Starfire though? As soon as we enter the atmosphere they’re gonna know it’s us. I mean, for starters we have our name on the side. And secondly, our signature blatantly lists us as the Starfire. Anyone with half a brain could scan us and we’ll show up on whatever list they’ve put us on.”

Before either of you can say anything, the soft and gentle tones of Jungkook’s voice interrupt you both. It makes you jump slightly, not having realised that he was listening properly. His eyes were bright with the reflection of the map in front of him, neon colours paling his skin slightly in the darkened light of the bridge.

He looked pretty, innocent even.

“I can help with that. I’m pretty sure I can at least.” He sounds hesitant and unsure, as if you might snap at him. Some of the crew still found his presence disturbing and there was a little outright hostility from a few of them still lingering, making him withdraw into himself. Understandable from them, given that they were on the verge of losing everything.

But it was still not his fault, not really.

“You can? How?” You ask, brow creasing as you look at Namjoon for a second. He shrugs and makes a face at you, evidently as unsure about what Jungkook was saying as you were. Turning back, you look at the android as he stares back at you both.

Jungkook looks so young as he sits there, those pretty eyes of his wide while his fingers play with the ends of his shirt in a rather human gesture. “I can change the identification code of the Starfire to something else, so we show as a different ship. I’ve already identified an unused code that we could use, you would just need to provide a new name. It may take me a few hours as I will need to go through every system to change this code in case anyone takes a deeper look. I can’t change the name on the outer, but I presume that you may have some way to resolve that issue?”

Your eyes widen as you nod slowly. Jisoo and Jin would be able to go outside once the ship dropped out of hyperspace and erase the name from the side, removing any hint that this was the Starfire. It was a little painful to imagine the beautiful ship without her name anymore, but you all knew who she really was.

“How...how do you know how to do that?” The question is unsure, but you feel like you need to know. Jungkook was still a mystery to everyone, including himself, but if he could prove to be a useful member of the crew then there was a chance that the others might accept him quicker. And that you might have a chance of getting out of this whole thing alive somehow.

“You mentioned it earlier and I decided to research this through...my memory to see if it was possible. It is illegal. But I don’t think that we care about that right now, right?” He pauses, trying to figure out the correct terminology and your heart twists at the confusion in his face. Looking at Namjoon, you shrug as your mouth twists.

“No, I don’t think we do. Your call captain, she’s your ship.” Namjoon looks pained at the thought of his beloved Starfire losing her name and you reach for his shoulder, rubbing slightly in sympathy. “It’s okay, we all know who the ol’ girl is. That’s what matters. I’m sure Jungkook can change her back once everything’s sorted.”

A quick look at Jungkook has him nodding in acknowledgement, causing you to smile. He looks adorably eager to please, and you’re positive that he is. It must be awfully frustrating to feel so useless, particularly when he didn’t even really know himself.

Namjoon sighs heavily before nodding, running his hand over his eyes. “Okay. Do it. Change the name to...Fury.” His last word is biting and you get the sense that he’s got a lot of anger bubbling underneath his tiredness. You’re not surprised; betrayal, almost death and a universe changing secret can do that.

“Sounds good,” You say with a strained smile. “I’m gonna head off to sleep then. I think you should do the same Namjoon. We want to be fresh when we arrive. No one wants to make mistakes because they’re tired, we’ve done all we can do for now.” 

He nods at your words, giving you a strained smile. You head over to Jungkook before leaving, crouching down next to him and giving him a soft smile as you rest a hand on his firm thigh. His eyes follow you the whole time, taking in everything you do with that calm demeanour he always seems to exude.

“Are you okay?” You ask, voice gentle with him as you watch his face closely. It’s almost strange, even eerie, how lifelike and human his looks and movements are. His brow creases so slightly; the skin there wrinkling while his dark eyebrows pull inwards and his lips purse into a thoughtful pout.

The very fact that he’s a working AI is a marvel of technology, but the sheer amount of work that must have gone into him to make him so utterly indistinguishable from a human being is mind boggling. If this is just one of the things that TAS is doing behind closed doors then you dread to think what else they could be creating.

“I think so. I don’t…” Jungkook trails off, his eyes skittering away from yours as his lower lip disappears between his teeth, chewing absentmindedly in his nerves. You give him an encouraging smile, squeezing his thigh gently to let him know it’s okay. It’s bizarre how his thigh feels like real muscles beneath your touch. “I don’t want people to get hurt for me. I’ll try, for you all. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

His voice goes whisper soft, strained slightly with a multitude of emotions that you’re positive he’s struggling with. You can’t even imagine what it must be like for him, trying to come to terms with emotions that he doesn’t understand because he hasn’t had time to understand them.

Sighing, you place your free hand on his arm and rub at it soothingly, giving him a gentle smile of reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. People are still just...scared and upset right now. But once we have a proper plan of what to do, they’ll feel safer and be happier. You doing this for us, changing the Starfire’s codes...it’ll mean a lot that you’ve helped out. They’re good people and I know you’re good too, even if I don’t know you too well just yet.”

“I don’t know me too well.” He mutters, glaring down at his hands. They fist slightly and you watch in awe as the skin pales the clenched points, exactly how a real person would. Tendons bulge slightly in his wrist and arm as he does so and you trail a finger over them without meaning to, wondering if perhaps it’s something metal beneath.

But it gives way to your touch, just like the real thing and you can’t help the smile that spreads over your face as you look up at him.

“That’s fine. None of us really know ourselves properly, that makes you human. You...you shouldn’t exist, not really. But you do, and you’re here worried about other people when you’ll be the one to outlive all of us for a long time I think. Don’t focus on others Jungkook. You’re new to the world and I think you need to focus on yourself, figure out yourself a little more. Find out what makes Jungkook, Jungkook. You are as real to me as anyone else on this ship, and despite what anyone says, they’d all protect you.” He licks at his lips, looking away and back at the screen.

“I’m just a machine though. I’m more like the Starfire than you.” You tut as you stand, brushing off your legs and giving him a bright smile as you wag your finger at him.

“Now now, none of that. I’ll have you know that we all adore the Starfire and consider her part of the family too. You may be a machine, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a person, okay? You’re...you’re our little brother and we’re going to protect you like one. Family.” The words are stern and Jungkook just stares up at you, those big eyes so full of hope in what you’re telling him.

He gives a slight nod to you, acknowledging what you’d said with the tiniest smile as his cheeks flush before he turns back towards Taehyung’s screen. Without saying anything more, his fingers begin to dance over the console and you watch for a couple of seconds longer as he starts to complete the task he set himself.

Walking over to the exit, you glance at Namjoon and see the way his lips curve up in amusement at the whole interaction. His brow raises slowly before he gives you a thumbs up, causing you to roll your eyes in embarrassment before leaving.

After all those hours of research and planning, you were beyond tired and you could already feel a headache beginning to form at the back of your eyes. Rubbing at your forehead, you contemplated for a moment going to get a drink before deciding that you just wanted to fall into bed.

But it’s not your bed that you go to exactly.

The door to Hoseok’s room opens with the softest noise and you enter slowly, taking stock of the sight that was before you. A sight that hadn’t changed for the last few days whenever you had come in here. Dim lighting let you see his peaceful expression as he slept and you felt the strongest urge to cuddle up to him and just disappear into the abyss of sleep with him. 

So you did, slipping your shoes off and lifting the covers before sliding next to his warm body, careful to avoid knocking the wires that kept check of him and were hooked up to the mediocre medical machine the Starfire had. It was all that was keeping Hoseok hydrated and sustained with nourishment so far, but you were grateful for it either way.

Resting your head on his firm chest, you close your eyes and focus on the steady beating of his heart along with the gentle rise and fall under your cheek. He smelt like home, and it sent a sliver of safety and comfort to slide through your veins.

“Starfire, activate galaxy setting. Excalibur Nebula. Whole room.” Your words are quiet yet the response of the computer onboard the Starfire was immediate. For a second, you wondered if you would need to start calling her Fury to get the computer to respond, but it vanishes a moment later.

As you watch, the entirety of Hoseok's room suddenly goes dark before the tiny projectors embedded into the walls, ceiling and floor activated. The twisting purple and blue gas of the Excalibur Nebula stretched across the wall in front of you, billions upon billions of stars twinkling prettily inside its extraordinary mass and providing the perfect background.

It was your home system, where your planet was located and where Hoseok and you had grown up so long ago. Maybe the reminder, as subtle as it was, would help Hoseok to wake. Or at least give him pleasant dreams. It made you feel better, being surrounded by the space that you had grown up with.

Nuzzling your nose into Hoseok's shoulder, you sigh heavily and run your fingers over his flat stomach in a motion that would probably be pleasant and reassuring for him if he was awake, but it was also soothing to you right now. Just being with him made you feel like you could get things accomplished.

“I wish you were awake Hoseok. We're in a whole world of shit. The entire galaxy wants us dead now...well...most of it anyway. And can you believe it's because of Jungkook??” Your voice is quiet but incredulous.

“He's an AI, a real and functioning self-aware AI. He walks and talks and cries like a human but he's all machine. It's fascinating and horrible to know we could die because of him. Jimin still thinks we should kill him, but there's no point because the TAS know we know about him and so do the UIS. We're fucked. It's not his fault though. He's like a child, so innocent and wide eyed. Curious about everything and he tries so hard to be liked right now. I think you’d like him. I know he'd like you.” For a moment you stay quiet, letting your cheek squish against him before sighing.

You don’t know why you’re repeating this to him, but you need someone to vent to. Someone to just think about things with and let you get out your concerns and frustrations. Hoseok would have responded if he’d been awake, letting you talk to your heart's content.

“Maybe it's better you're not awake. Then you won't have to put up with this too. It's stressful,” You pause a moment before laughing. “I kind of wish we could just run away to Hekasus. Just...go back and get a home, get married and pop out a few cute kids. They'd have beautiful smiles and eyes from you along with your Magi talents and my smart mouth.”

You reach out to faintly trace over a pretty strand of violet gas.

“I miss when we were younger. Do you regret it? That we didn't act on our feelings then? I know we were young and it's not approved of with young Magi but...I kind of regret not staying. But then we would never have found the Starfire and our family. Still...I wish I'd at least kissed you that night instead of running off. There's never been anyone but you though, even if I tried for a while. And if I know Magi...I feel you may have been the same.”

Because it was true really. Magi only fell in true love once, and they never left it. The dancing you'd both done for years had been teasing, but deep down you both knew that you were both it for each other.

And Hoseok’s heartbreak in his dream talk had let you see the truth. This incredible man had likely been in love with you since he was 16, and you wanted to go back in time and slap yourself for missing out on all those years with him.

You sigh deeply, wrapping your arm around his chest tighter. “I'm sorry. I love you. Please wake up soon so I can tell you in person. Please. I need you.”

The soft and constant sound of Hoseok's breath is all you can hear as you drift off slowly; a galaxy surrounding you, a comforting presence in your arms and the sweet memories of a childhood love making your dreams pleasant for once.

[lavieenprose]

on being ill

“On Being Ill” isn’t just making a case for illness as a literary subject, but for the brute, bare fact of the body itself. By insisting we acknowledge that we sweat and crave and itch all day (“all day, all night”), Woolf reminds us we have the right to speak about these things—to make them lyric and epic—and that we should seek a language that honors them. The man who suffers a migraine, she writes, is “forced to coin words himself, taking his pain in one hand and a lump of pure sound in the other.” What does it sound like, this strange, unholy language of nerves and excretions? How do we articulate the kind of pain that refuses language? We throw up our hands, or we hurl our charts: one through ten, bad to worse, from the smiley face to its wretched, frowning cousin.

Woolf’s argument may have been more urgent in her time than in ours—we have more records of the “daily drama of the body” now than we did then—but when I first read her battle cry, her call to arms (not just arms but legs and teeth and bones), it felt like encountering a long-lost relative: the banner I’d never known I’d always been fighting under: Bodies matter—we can’t escape them—they’re full of stories—how do we tell them? Her argument might have the urgency of a battle cry but it’s also vulnerable; it’s posing questions; it’s got mess and nerve—it’s leaking some strange fluid from beneath its garments, hard to tell in the twilight, maybe pus or tears or blood. Even her syntax feels bodily—full of curves and joints and twists, shifting and stretching the skin of her sentences.

People have often told me my own writing seems to be all about bodies. A woman from a writing workshop once suggested I call my collection of stories Body Issues. (I didn’t have a collection of stories: If I did, I wouldn’t have called it that.) But I’ve never wanted to write about “the body,” by which I mean I’ve never set out with that explicit intention; I’ve only ever wanted to write about what it feels like to be alive, and it turns out being alive is always about being in a body. We’re never not in bodies: that’s just our fate and our assignment. (In her beautiful memoir The Two Kinds of Decay, Sarah Manguso writes that she despises “the body” whenever it describes anything but a corpse, and I love that, though I use the phrase constantly anyway.) To my mind, the more aggressive choice is writing that isn’t physical; this insistence carries the burden of intentional absence.

All that said, I’ve always felt a certain shame about the ways my writing keeps coming back to bodies, which is why I loved finding Woolf. My shame felt such relief at the prospect of her company. My first novel was all about addiction and eating disorders and sex, and there was food everywhere, some of it gone rotten. I used the word “sweat” too many times (my editor told me); there were too many fluids (my editor told me) and far too many bruises (my editor told me) and even worse, too many of these bruises were “plum-colored”—for this last one (my editor told me), we would both get mocked, if we didn’t get rid of some of these plum-colored bruises right away. A certain shame hung over the whole narrative, like a faint body odor I couldn’t smell because it was mine: There was too much body, and this too-much-body risked banality and melodrama at once. I’ve always wondered if this shame about writing about the body is connected to the shame of quasi-autobiographical writing, that sense of failing to imagine beyond one’s own experience. Is writing about bodily experience somehow the extreme form of this failure, the ultimate solipsism? You haven’t even gotten beyond your own nerve endings; it’s no accident they call it navel gazing.

I often think of an old painting I once saw that shows an injured body pointing at its own open wounds. The most graceful victim, of course, is the one who doesn’t need to point at his holes or ask for sympathy—who doesn’t take up the lump of pure sound, who just keeps quiet. The way I imagine being scolded goes something like this: There’s something selfish about talking about bodies too much if the bodily experience fueling everything is your own.

I often think, also, of a cross-country race I ran in 10th grade: I tripped on a slab of concrete sticking up from the dirt, about a hundred meters after the start, when the pack was still dense; and I was trampled by the horde of 15-year-old girls running behind me. It was pretty minor, as tramplings go. But still, it was a trampling. I got up to run the next three miles of the race but I was shaken up and bleeding. I wasn’t running well at all—nothing close to what I’d need to do to place well for our team.

When I reached my coach, who was calling out our one-mile splits, she said something to the effect of “Why are you running so slow?”—only perhaps not so delicately phrased. I remember the awkward way I tried to point at my own wounds without slowing my (turtle) pace; and I remember how badly I wanted her to see the streaks of dirt-clotted blood; I almost stumbled again in my urgent need to show her the proof of my stumbling.

That memory has become the vessel for a certain kind of shame—the shame of pointing too overtly at what hurts, jamming the laser-pointer of language at some wound and then expecting it to yield wisdom or explanation. My coach didn’t want the epic or lyric account of my damaged body, she just wanted me to keep running, and hopefully pick up the pace.

I’m still haunted by the specter of myself in this moment—a mute form pointing, bleeding. A few years after that race I spent a couple months actually mute: I’d gotten jaw surgery and they’d wired my jaw shut to help it heal. During those months I wrote quite frequently but it was mainly practical, because I couldn’t talk. I requested things by scribbling them in a little notebook: vicodin, please; okay ensure (my mom was always foisting Ensure on me), but are there any cans of dark chocolate left? HATE butter pecan. I asked for sheets draped over the mirrors, so I wouldn’t see my swollen face; I asked for the pair of scissors that I was supposed to keep on-hand in case I vomited and needed to cut the wires between my teeth.

Eventually I started writing poems about those quiet weeks, and the surgery before them, the days in the hospital. The poems were full of IV lines and numbness and feeling returning after numbness like water oozing back into crab holes in damp sand (“crackling lines of hurt,” I wrote). I imagined myself the bard of swelling; I wanted to write toothache lyrics for swelling—to evoke the chronic panic of its deforming sculptural practice: it shapes you into something like you, but not you. I wanted to bring that aching knowledge to my nonexistent reading public.

I turned the poems into a series and then I turned them in to my undergraduate writing workshop. The series was called “Waiting Room,” meaning the waiting room before surgery but also the injury afterward as a waiting room—get it?—the aftermath as the cramped little chamber where you wait to get better; where you have to keep waiting even once it seems like you should already be there.

I wasn’t satisfied with the poems. Pain was hard to describe. I encountered Elaine Scarry’s famous formulation—“pain does not simply resist language but actively destroys it”—which recognized but did not solve the problem. My workshop wasn’t satisfied with the poems either. Everyone wanted to know: What were they about? I thought it was pretty fucking self-evident, but no, it was a different problem: My classmates got that these poems were about pain and injury—maybe in a dental office?—but what were they really about? My workshop was thinking everything must be a metaphor for something else: the cut lines on raw gums, the self-quieting sparkle of anesthesia. But in truth, nothing was a metaphor for anything. It was more or less this happened, and it hurt. There was nothing below the surface.

At the time I took this as a verdict of poverty and lack—which is why I loved finding Woolf, so many years later, who seemed to be saying, the surface of the body isn’t poverty; it isn’t lack. She rose from the dead for the express purpose of silencing that workshop, or at least arguing against the notion that there had to be something besides bodies for these poems to matter. She was saying the surface is poetry; bodies are poetry; or poetry can be made of what these bodies need and crave and bleed and feel.

I felt her summoning an army, everyone I’d ever read whose language does some justice to the way our bodies are, the ways they betray us or bind us together: Walt Whitman’s greed to catalogue the physical forms of his countrymen, William Faulkner’s fixation on muddy drawers and the waft of honeysuckle; Marcel Merleau-Ponty’s insistence on the body as an “eloquent relic of existence.”

Woolf writes: “It is not only a new language that we need, more primitive, more sensual, more obscene, but a new hierarchy of the passions; love must be deposed in favour of a temperature of 104; jealousy give place to the pangs of sciatica.” I can see the way these marching orders have infected my own prose—even this piece, with its twisting, bodily contortions—and the way they’ve helped me claim a dialect I’d been afraid was junk, a ledger of the body’s travails, not the “Waiting Room” poems (which weren’t really that great) but the notebooks I kept when my jaw was wired silent, full of their banal complaints and requests: Vicodin, please. Where are the vomit scissors? These are daily dramas of the body, charged with force and longing; the record Woolf never found, the words that pain and pure sound made.

[zoran-royalty]

Just Once IV: Distant Friends

Rutara wasn’t fond of parties, if she was really being honest. She found most court parties to be stuffy, stifling affairs, and if she could have left without making some kind of political slight, she probably would have. Most of the time, anyway. Zelda was her best friend besides her brother, so she would make exceptions for her. After all, misery loves company.

At the moment, she was wearing a dress that was some sort of bizarre hybrid of Hylian high fashion and the distinct lack conventional clothing of the Zora. A fitted bodice and an open-front, sheer skirt. Its only positive point was that it accented her deep purple scales. She hated it, and made a great show of complaining about it while lying sprawled on Zelda’s gigantic bed.

Zelda had laughter in her voice when she said “Why don’t you just leave it here then and wear your sash?”

Rutara rolled over and rested on her elbows as she faced her friend. Thank goodness whoever designed this crazy garment at least had enough sense to cut the sleeves short enough to let her fins free. “Some suitor or other commissioned it for me. Father said I had to at least wear it once. Apparently it’s supposed to be wearable on land and in the water,” she gave a sharp smile, “We’ll see how it holds up hunting tomorrow.”

Zelda turned from her jewelry box, holding up two pairs of earrings and grinning. “I can already see you ‘accidentally’ ripping it on coral. Now, green or blue?”

Rutara looked Zelda up and down, contemplating. “Blue. They make your eyes look brighter.” She rolled onto her back again, reached out, and plucked a small chocolate off of the tray sitting on Zelda’s bed. “So,” she said around the candy in her mouth, “Who all is comin’ to this shindig?”

Zelda slumped forward and groaned. “The usual. Labrynnian delegates, the Holodrum royals, representatives from the major tribes of Hyrule—“

“Oh yeah, is the red-head coming?”

Zelda’s spine went rigid as her eyes widened. Rutara hadn’t meant to put her on edge with that question, but she had. “I… haven’t heard from him since his last letter, just before his coronation.”

“You didn’t go?” Rutara asked holding her arm up and inspecting her nails.

“Did you pay attention when we had to learn about the other Hyrulean cultures?” Zelda said with a hand on her hip, “Gerudo ceremonies are sacred and closed to outsiders.”

The Zora on her bed squinted and dropped her arm back to the bed. “Lame.”

Zelda sighed a bit, and turned back to her vanity. “Besides,” she spat bitterly, “I’m still not allowed to enter the desert. Even after Impa agreed to go with me, Father won’t let me go.”

Rutara hummed as she sat up and moved to get off the bed. She glanced towards Zelda’s balcony as she heard the telltale sound of hooves meeting the cobblestone of the road outside. “Fun topic time,” she said as she grabbed the tray of candy and then walked over to place a hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “Let’s watch the attendees come so we can make fun of their outfits while they can’t hear us.”

The Hylian princess allowed herself to relax as she laughed a bit, snatching one of the chocolates from the tray. “Deal.”

—

Ganondorf had honestly meant to write sooner, to tell his friend about everything that had happened since his coronation. However, there was a lot to cover, and he simply hadn’t had the time to devote to letters that he had in his youth. Suddenly being completely and utterly in charge of trade, guard schedules, diplomatic relations, training guidelines, and problem solving for his tribe had taken some getting used to, but he believed he was falling into stride. And, praise Din, the dark whispers from his childhood were less frequent when he threw himself into his work for his people.

Riding in his carriage, he held the formal invitation to Zelda’s party that was enclosed with her last letter. It had been about three months since she had written to him. Hopefully she would understand. Hopefully he wouldn’t cause too much of a stir at the party.

It had been ten years since he last set foot in Hyrule castle, and he and Aela hadn’t stayed long enough for Ganondorf to remember much of it. He and Aela both remembered being cold in the summer, so she had taken great lengths to have warmer clothing tailored for a winter celebration. He had been miserable when he first set out from the desert, but now he was thankful for the layers and furs his caretaker had procured. He would have to apologize for his whining later.

As he stepped out of the carriage, he marveled at the light dusting of snow in the courtyard. Everything glittered slightly in the light of the obscene number of torches lit throughout the castle grounds. He took a deep breath and did his best to look relaxed and non-threateneing. 

Still, the guards stiffened a bit as he approached. Ganondorf did his best to ignore the dark, indignant voice in the back of his mind as he showed his invitation.

—

“Oh! Oh! Ten o’clock!” Rutara exclaimed, elbowing Zelda, “Councilman Idris is wearing that dreadful hat from last year!”

The two girls descended into laughter as they gawked at the feathery monstrosity said councilman paraded around in. Zelda leaned forward a bit before pointing sharply at an approaching carriage. “Ten rupees says the Holodrum prince is wearing pink and green again,”

Rutela snorted. “He wore that at Rilan’s coming-of-age in summer,” she said, remembering her brother’s own party. “I say it’s purple and orange this time.”

As Zelda kept an eye on the Holodrum carriage, Rutara noticed another just entering the castle’s outer gate. As it rolled into the main grounds, She could just barely make out a seal she wasn’t as familiar with. She knew she had seen it before, and she mentally cycled through the tribes of Hyrule before it finally clicked in her mind.

“Called it!” Zelda exclaimed beside her, causing the Zora to jump. Indeed, the prince of Holodrum appeared to be in costume as a moldy wildberry, however Rutara had something else on her mind.

“C’mon!” Rutara said, grabbing Zelda’s wrist and half-dragging the Hylian princess off the balcony. Zelda stumbled as her friend pulled her, offering some— but not much—resistance.

“Where? Why—“ Zelda tried to form a proper question, but it was a bit hard with an energetic Zora weaving around her furniture and out to the hall.

“Trust me!”

—

The main hall of the castle was definitely the focal point of the party that night. The pillars, staircases, and railing of the balcony were bedecked in evergreen. Hundreds of lanterns had been strung throughout the space, and chandeliers blazed brightly. Everything was cast with a golden glow. This, coupled with a small group of court musicians playing cheery tunes, gave the hall a warm, comfortable atmosphere. Between two large staircases, space had been designated as a dance floor. The remainder of the space was filled with people, some sitting at tables and others walking around and mingling. Soft music from a string quartet filled the space above the idle chatter of guests.

Ganondorf tried to ignore the gawking stares as he made his way into the main hall. This was complicated by the fact that he was intently looking around for Zelda, despite having no idea how she had changed in the ten years since they last saw each other. A handful of the other guests would attempt to be friendly with the Gerudo king, however it was easy to see the fear in their eyes.

From the balcony above, Ganondorf just barely caught a flash of royal purple followed by blue and gold. He tried to focus on said flash, but it quickly wove through the crowds both on the upper floor and the staircase, so he made his way closer to where the flash was headed, hoping to see it better.

—

Rutara, it seemed, was as adept at swimming through crowds as she was through water. At least thrice, Zelda would’ve lost the Zora had either of them not maintained an iron grip on the other.

Despite some indignation at being dragged around like this at her own birthday ball, Zelda couldn’t help but smile as her friend led her through small breaks in the crowds. It almost seemed like a complicated dance as they read the movements of the people around them to find gaps in the throng.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Rutara suddenly stopped. Once Zelda’s momentum carried her passed her friend, the Zora shoved her even farther forward. Zelda laughed and turned back towards her friend. “Ruta—!” she called in mock-indignation.

Rutara simply smirked, pointed ahead of where she had shoved Zelda, and dashed off again.

Oh.

—

Oh.

It had been about ten years since he had seen her. Whenever Ganondorf had pictured Zelda, she had started that sweet six-year-old. As they wrote to each other and grew, he started envisioning how he thought she looked. He pictured her closer to the height of his cousins, but maybe a bit more delicate. Still, how he thought of her still tended to skew younger. But the young woman in front of him?

She’s beautiful.

She was a picture of grace. A goddess given mortal form.

He heard a dark chuckle. You’re not entirely wrong. 

Just for tonight, the young king thought, let me be.

—

He had grown taller than she expected. His fiery red hair was pulled back by the traditional Gerudo headpiece. Even through the finery he wore, Zelda could see he had grown strong as well. However not everything had changed, his eyes were still that soft gold, even if they looked a bit harder than they had when they were children.

She had changed too. Ganondorf saw she held herself with a grace that hadn’t existed in their childhood. Delicate, but wise. She held a power different than his, but just as strong.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, content in seeing each other again. When the musicians struck up a new tune, the trance was broken, and Ganondorf and Zelda broke into wide smiles.

“Would you care to dance, Princess?” Ganondorf said softly.

“It would be my pleasure.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

The Flip Side (Peter Parker x OC - Oneshot)

Synopsis: Hurt/Comfort. Aged Up!Peter is in College now, but that doesn’t mean he relayed his Spider suit to the back of his closet. How does one balance out personal and superhero life?

Does not take into account the Far From Home post-credit scenes; spoiler-free.

Word count: 9.2k

MASTERLIST

                High school hadn’t been a walk in the park for Peter. One would argue that high school was tough for most people, but he thought he had had it worse, and he wasn’t wrong. Most people didn’t lead a secret double life they had to hide from the world lest it jeopardize their other, normal life. So, if someone had asked Peter back then what he wanted to do with his life, he wouldn’t have known what to answer; or rather, he knew what he wanted to say but feared the answer would disappoint.

                Peter Parker wanted to apply for College and get a degree in physics, but that hope was shot dead when he received his report card on his last year. Being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man did not allow for much study time, and his grades suffered from that. The consequence of this was that Ned got the scholarship for the University he wanted, and Peter didn’t.

He had thought that was it – he couldn’t ask his Aunt May to take up a loan to pay for his tuition, and what was he going to do with that degree anyway? Being a superhero didn’t require going to college. That was when Pepper Potts knocked on his door – metaphorically – and pulled a joker out of her sleeve.

                Tony, ever ahead of everyone else, even in death, had opened an secret account in Peter’s name that he would only access at age eighteen, and that contained a frankly obscene amount of money meant to be his college fund (but that would surely last him a lifetime and leave him wanting for nothing). At least, he wouldn't have to live in a shared dorm room and that had to count for something, especially when you considered he would have had to wash his Spidey-suit in the laundromat.

                This unexpected divine intervention from late Tony Stark had sparked hope in Peter’s heart and he dared wish for things once again. He ended up going to a different college than Ned, but he didn’t let that dampen his mood: he had to consider this a fresh start. And a fresh start it was because he knew no one, he was far from his best friend, his aunt and even more so from MJ who had left him earlier during their senior year on the ground that high school crushes don’t last.

                He had been miserable at first, but quickly understood where she was coming from. They stayed good friends, though they tried to keep their interactions to a minimum and never hung out alone again after their breakup.

                Despite all of this, Peter Parker felt ecstatic, like there was electricity in the air, when he walked on his new campus – at UC, Davis - , feeling like any other anonymous student in the crowd. He wouldn’t waste his chance at starting fresh, he owed it to himself. It was hell week, the worst time for freshmen; Peter thought he was the only person looking forward to being hazed.

When he moved out of his and Aunt May's apartment in Queens, he pictured a lot of things for his new life. Going to college, becoming an adult, being independent and surveying a new territory. He hoped to make friends quickly, have interesting classes, good grades, maybe get a girlfriend at some point - that was the dream. He never expected to find one on the first day, especially not during a three-legged race because the resident jock asked him to switch partners so he could be with the local cheerleader type girl.

“Hey man,” the tall blond had greeted him, slapping his shoulder so hard Peter thought he might have dislocated it if he wasn’t super-strong. “I got an idea. What about you go over there and ask the hot red head if she wants to trade places with you?”

                This felt oddly familiar to Peter, being the loser people tried to get rid of. He looked over at the above-mentioned red head and agreed that she was very pretty. She was standing next to a shorter brunette and they were laughing together. He always admired the way girls flocked together and could act as if they had known each other all their lives even though they just met.

                He didn’t feel like refusing the jock this favor because surely that would backfire. Not to mention that he didn’t particularly want to be hazed alongside him. All the first years trying for a science degree were gathered on the lawn and had been asked to pair up with someone they didn’t know.

Peter shrugged and walked over to the red head.

“Hi- Hi, my name’s Peter,” he awkward introduced himself, feeling terribly self-conscious when the tall girl stopped laughing and gave him an ice-cold glare.

“What can I do for you?” The temperature dropped even more when she opened her mouth.

“You see the guy over there?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and her eyes followed the movement, landing on Mr. Blond Jock, a smile illuminating her face.

“I see him, yes,” she cooed and gone was the icy tone.

“He asks if you want to pair up with him.”

                Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling terrible for the other girl who surely hadn’t won anything in this sudden swipe, but the red-head eagerly agreed, forgetting about her new girl friend and scooting over to the eye-candy.

                He hadn’t thought as far as to consider that he was now paired up with the brunette, and they both stood there, staring at each other like statues, not moving an inch. If he didn’t speak right the hell now, the awkward would only grow until it became irreversibly tense, so-

“I, ugh, I’m Peter,” he managed to say, not entirely sure how.

                The tension left her shoulders and she gave him a coy little smile.

“I know, you just said it,” she giggled, adopting a more relaxed demeanor and letting her hip jut out instead of standing straight as an ‘I’. “I’m Elle.”

She held out her hand for him to shake. It was a bit of a formal greeting, but she thought it better than simply stand there, hands in their pockets. Taken aback, Peter merely stared at her hand for a moment too long before shaking it, and she laughed.

“Breathe, Peter. I don’t bite.”

“Sorry.” He blushed and tried to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. “First day… I’m a bit of a nervous wreck.” Yeah, great Peter, just tell the pretty girl that you have crippling anxiety, why not pull out your inhaler too to impress her, ugh?

“Oh, but you should be,” she told him, still grinning. “It’s not called hell week for funsies.”

“Wow thanks, I feel so much better now!” She laughed again; it was a nice sound and he noticed she scrunched up her nose when she laughed. “What’s your major?”

“Biotechnology. What about you?”

                Peter’s eyebrows met his hairline and he had a slight backward movement upon hearing that. He didn’t expect that, but then again, what did he expect?

“Applied physics, which sounds less fancy than your major, I admit,” he said with a throaty chuckle that quickly turned into a cough.

                They only talked for a few more minutes before the Seniors in charge of the freshmen asked for their attention.

“The person you paired up with will be your teammate for the upcoming week, whether you get along or not,” they explained. “It’s part of the game, so play along or suffer the consequences.”

Apparently, the hazing would start slow to let them warm up – said with a sadistic smile on their faces. For starters, a three-legged race, two against two, and the losers had to down shots. Peter was not looking forward to what was to come after that, but he thought that at least, he had found an amicable partner to suffer through this week with. He hadn’t done too badly for a first day: Instead of being paired up with the jock and winning the race, Peter got Elle and while they might have ended up last, neither felt like they lost.

  *

                  The world had healed from Thanos, or at least it seemed like it was doing well. Losing so many people at once had been a shock. All of a sudden, there was no more housing problems, no more issues with finding a job, or parking your car. Less pollution, less waste, more space. But it came with the devastating truth that your loved ones had turned to dust and disappeared from the face of the earth.

                Nature at least, did a lot better with half the human population gone with the wind. When everybody came back, people were too happy to fully understand the effects it would have. It was disastrous. The Vanished simply reappeared where they disappeared, creating chaos all around the globe. They hadn’t aged, hadn’t a clue what happened, and wanted to pick up where they left off – expect they couldn’t.

                Those who stayed had aged, had moved on as best they could. Old people had died, children had grown up, people had gotten married, babies had been born. A new President had been elected, those who vanished had been replaced, simply put. It was difficult, but the human species was a resilient one, and they had made it work.

                Every year, there was a bank Holiday to remember the fateful day of the Snap, five years ago. Peter stood on the lawn in the middle of campus, right next to Elle. They were dressed up, as required, and stared ahead without saying a word, without smiling, or sending each other a teasing look. A minute of utter silence ticked by, making Peter’s ears whistle. Not a car honk, not a plane, not a cough was to be heard. The world was holding its breath for sixty long seconds.

                And then it was over. People started moving again, breaking the impeccable lines they had formed and erupting in chatter as if they hadn’t spoken in days rather than seconds.

“We should go to town,” Elle blurted out, not yet looking at him. In fact, she was the only still standing straight and looking at the monument erected to commemorate the Vanished.

“But everything’s closed today,” Peter pointed out. She finally tore her gaze away from the statue and met his eyes. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards.

“Even better. We’ll have the city to ourselves.” He could get behind that. Peter nodded in approval.

“Can I get changed first? I don’t feel like walking ‘round town in a suit.” He winced, vaguely gesturing at himself. In fact, Petr would rather walk around in his Spider-Man suit, which was made to measure, than this thing he rented for the day. “Meet here in ten?”

“Last one’s a loser,” Elle shouted before dashing off, holding up her formal dress to allow her to run across the lawn like the devil was chasing her, hair slipping out of her neat hairdo.

                Oh, she was so going to lose. They had been hanging out since that first day, seven months ago. He was allowed to wipe the floor with her ass now, the awkward adjustment period after making a friend where you wonder if you can do this or that without upsetting them was over.

                Four minutes later, Peter was standing in the exact same spot, wearing sneakers, jeans and a sweatshirt, and he was delighted to see Elle run towards him, laughing and cursing because she was the loser, and wearing more or less the same outfit.

“And look who’s here last - again,” he teased her as soon as she was within earshot. “You need to stop challenging me and accept defeat.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she replied, leaning on his shoulder to catch her breath. “Damn, I need to get in better shape. Or quit snacks, I don’t know which is worse.”

                Peter chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. They hopped on the first bus, which was uncharacteristically empty, they even found two available seats. People liked to spend this holiday with their family, it was no wonder the streets were near deserted. The shops were closed, less buses circulated, the parks were empty. No cars driving around. It was peaceful.

                They walked in comfortable silence for a while, taking this opportunity to visit the usually crowded places and enjoy the view. The closer they got to the water, the windier it became, and Elle pulled up her hood to stop her hair from flying around her face.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked, watching her square her shoulders and also put her hands in her front pocket.

“A little,” she admitted. “But it’s fine.”

                Searching for something to do that wouldn’t be out there in the cold wind, Elle’s eyes eventually landed on a crepes vendor who was open down the street. They could walk in the narrow back streets to shield themselves for the wind from there.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a crepe and we can visit the old town,” she told him, looping her arm around his elbow and pulling him forward.

“What about quitting snacks?” he teased her, a wicked grin on his face.

“It’s only a real diet if it starts the next day,” she replied, and he had to admit that was a pretty good comeback, she still had him beat in that area. “But for the sake of my credibility, we’ll share one. What flavor do you want?”

                They stopped in their tracks by the shop’s window, squinting to see the menu.

“I don’t know, you choose,” Peter said with a shrug.

                Elle smirked and turned towards him, a twisted little grin on her face as she gave him a once over.

“You look like a vanilla guy,” she chuckled, making Peter blush instantly.

                He wasn’t the most perceptive guy, but he could tell an innuendo when he heard one, and her tone didn’t allow for much doubt.

“I- I’m not- I mean, I like- but I’m not-“ he stuttered out, the shade of red of his face deepening with each word tumbling out of his mouth. “Vanilla’s fine,” he finally said, if only to put an end to his misery.

“I was kidding,” she assured him, seeing his state of distress. “Though there’s nothing wrong with that.”

                With a shrug, Elle walked inside and ordered her crepe, while Peter waited outside, letting the cold wind cool down his face. She was only messing with him. It was merely payback for his teasing her earlier.

                She came back with a vanilla sugar crepe and let him have the first bite.

“So, since it’s commemoration day and all, I thought I’d ask”, she started, licking her fingers clean. “What happened to you?”

                Peter forced down an awkward chuckle at this, wondering how to answer that as truthfully as possible without full-on telling her he was trying to save the world on another planet called Titan and miserably failed, which led to him and half of humanity during to ash.

“I was one of the Vanished, so… not much happened,” he tried to say it as offhandedly as possible, not letting his grief show through.

“What was it like?” Elle wondered out loud, looking up at him. “I mean, if it’s not-“

“’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “I take it you were among the lucky ones who inherited the earth after the Snap?”

“Yeah…” Elle lowered her head, as if thinking back on something. “It’s just that most people never even mention it. It’s become taboo and-“

“You really don’t need to explain,” Peter cut her off. “I get it. But it would be hard to describe. I was just there, then I wasn’t. And the next second, I was back. It felt like waking up from a nap, and I don’t remember anything of the five years that had gone by when I came back. It must have been harder for the people who stayed.”

                Elle stopped walking and Peter froze when she suddenly wasn’t by his side anymore.

“You know, you’re the first person to tell me that,” she said, looking pained. “I have a baby sister. She was four when the vanished, and my parents took it very hard, it was horrible at home. We had all aged when she re-appeared, and while we were all over the moon to have her again, it was never the same as before. I don’t have a relationship with her because she’s so much younger than me now. My parents didn’t think they would get to raise her again, they’d thrown all her stuff away because it hurt to have it home, and-“ she stopped, unable to continue.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Peter said with a gravity she had never seen on him.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She pushed back on hood and crossed her arms over her chest. Peter was afraid she would cry but she seemed to pull herself together and decide to move on to a lighter topic. “I shouldn’t cry about this, today is for celebrating the fact that you came back, not for throwing a pity party.”

“That’s true. Just imagine what your life would be if I hadn’t returned,” Peter joked in an attempt to make her smile return. It worked, to his utmost relief. “Awful.”

“I’d be hanging out with the Ryans instead,” she said with a shudder.

                It had turned out, to their absolute bafflement, that Blond Jock and Red-head were both called Ryan. Thus becoming “The Ryans” when they started dating. Elle had made several crude jokes about the Ryans screaming their own name during sex, and Peter had blushed and laughed along to hide his embarrassment. She really had a talent for making him lose his composure.

“So really, you should be celebrating me today,” Peter argued.

                They had resumed their walk and were now crossing an almost empty square lined with cute little shops – all closed.

“I shared my crepe with you, Vanilla Boy!” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, wait a second!” Elle stopped again, one hand on Peter’s shoulder to prevent him from walking away. “That means I was born five years after you, even though we’re the same age!”

“Solid deduction,” Peter agreed with a condescending nod, earning a swat on the shoulder. “I mean, yeah, what’s your point?”

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

                Peter raised a brow.

“June 1st,” he said, not seeing where this was going. Elle broke into a smile. A Cheshire Cat, ear-to-ear kind of smile that made Peter shudder. “What is it? I feel like I just said something I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m older than you,” she beamed.

“What? No- what?”

“My birthday is May 30th, which means I’m two days older than you.”

“That is- that’s not-“ Peter sucked in a breath, holding a finger up but radiating no authority whatsoever. “That’s wrong,” he finished, in a rather anti-climactic fashion.

“It’s quite simple math, really, I’m sure even you in applied physics know that,” Elle snickered, making Peter squint his eyes at her.

“Technically, I-“

“No technicalities, just plain old math,” she cut him off, enjoying herself very much. “Do not contradict your elders, Vanilla Boy.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbled, pouting.

“Why?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why not? It suits you,” Elle challenged him, stepping forward, chin up.

“I’m not vanilla.”

                How did he say that without liquefying on the pavement? He would think about that later. But he sure felt his cheeks burn up when Elle closed the remaining distance between them until there was but an inch separating their faces and she whispered, “Prove it.”

                If Peter was half as brave as he ought to be as an Avenger, he would have done it. He would have kissed her, like he had wanted to do for months now. But he couldn’t. His body refused to move, and it was like high school all over again, when he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to the girl he liked. Elle was smirking, waiting for him to make a move, but he simply couldn’t.

                Peter closed his eyes and stepped back, sighing to himself, admitting defeat. Elle smiled wider.

“I knew it.” Before Peter had a chance to let her know it wasn’t very tasteful to boast about this, she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him back to her. He closed his eyes again when their lips met, and she kissed him.

                Not long enough, though.

“That’s okay, you’re my Vanilla Boy,” she told him before pulling back and smiling up at him.

                He must have looked awfully shocked because her smile dropped right away, and she let him go.

“I- I’m sorry, did I misread the situation?” she stuttered out, losing her self-confidence now that the deed was done. At least, it comforted him to know she was a little nervous too. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I don’t kno-“

                This time around, Peter was the one doing to startling and cradled her face between his hands to kiss her once more, muffling her rambling. Elle gave in to the embrace and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing back. They didn’t break away so soon this time.

“You didn’t misread anything, you’re very good at reading situations,” Peter assured her, making them both giggle like fools.

                At least, there were no witnesses to this awkward display of affection. The wind had picked up and the people who were outside had gone home a while ago. It looked like it was going to rain anytime now.

                Peter interlaced their fingers and slipped their joined hands into the front pocket of his sweater, and together, they walked back to his place, to get a roof over their head before it started pouring on them.

  *

  Elle woke up with a start at her desk. Shit, it was the third time she snoozed on her textbook. She wasn’t even done with today's reading, but she was tired and couldn’t seem to focus. Senior year required much more reading than she was prepared for, but freshers was long behind her.

Truth was, Peter should have been back already. It was nearly half past 10pm. Not very late for a college student, but later than normal for Peter; he always made sure not to stay out too late when he was on a beat. He knew Elle worried if he stayed out too long after dark and it was late November. It became dark around five, he had had enough time to scout the neighborhood, what was he doing?

Sitting at the desk in sweatpants and a vintage original Jurassic Park t-shirt, Elle stretched and yawned, as if to get the tired out. She liked to dress down when she studied, and she loved that shirt. She had bought it at an auction for more money than she would ever care to admit - Peter had found out but was sworn to secrecy before Ned could tease the answer out of him. The memory made her laugh, and she stood up to get herself a snack.

She was halfway done with preparing her PB&J sandwich when the sound of broken glass caught her attention. Elle’s head jerked up and she dropped her snack, running to the living room. She always left a window unlocked for Peter to use when he came back from a mission and couldn’t use the front door. It was too risky to walk through the front door where the night manager sat at his desk.

Shards of glass from a vase littered the floor and the window was wide open, a dark silhouette standing before it.

“Peter,” Elle breathed out, bringing a hand to her mouth and staring in horror.

                She lunged forward just as he did the same and they crashed into each other, holding on for dear life. Nights such as this one occurred on rare but dreaded occasions. He wore his sweats, which wasn’t a good sign. He always carried those around to wear over his suit in case he needed to stay incognito and sneak back home.

                The relief was so great that tears threatened to spill over, but Elle swallowed them back and breathed in his scent instead, telling herself over and over again that everything was fine, Peter was fine. Though she way he leaned into her was worrying, she felt she carried all his weight and he would have collapsed on the floor if she hadn’t been there to catch him.

Elle pulled down Peter’s hood to reveal his battered face as soon as he released her from his embrace. His tousled hair was matted in blood, sticking to his head.

“You should see the other guys,” Peter tried to joke before Elle could ask what on earth happened.

                Still repressing her tears – and now a slight smile - Elle pulled him back to her and threw her arms around his neck. The movement caused Peter to grunt slightly and cough a little but he returned the hug without a word, nuzzling Elle’s neck and closing his eyes in delight.

                This mission had been worse than expected, but he always felt like everything was alright when he held Elle in his arms like now. He couldn’t afford to lose a fight or be killed, ever, because she was waiting for him. If one day he didn’t return, he knew for a fact that she would leave that window unlocked for the years to come, hoping against hope that he would turn up again.

                They have been together for little less than four years now, and Elle had moved in with Peter last year. Of course, she knew about his alter ego long before taking that step – she guessed actually, much like MJ had back in High School. Except that, in retrospect, Peter realized he wasn’t the most discreet back then, so perhaps he had laid out the ground for MJ to find out. But he couldn’t take credit away from Elle, because he had taken every precaution to make sure she wouldn’t be dragged into his superhero problems.

                Turns out, she wanted to be a part of it. When he decided to tell her, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping the truth from her anymore – if he couldn’t trust the girl he loved to keep his secret, than what was the point of this relationship? She had smiled and said she was glad he had finally told her. For days Peter had racked his brain to try and find what gave him away, but he never found out, and she never told him. She said it was her secret, but not to worry, that no one else but her would find out.

                Still, back then, she couldn’t have measured what it entailed to be in a relationship with Spider-Man, the constant worry, the anguish, the violence. Every day, she feared he might not come back, and every day, Peter feared she might leave.

“You need to sit down,” she said, finally letting go, sniffling but holding back the treacherous tears. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

                Elle was about to go to the bathroom when Peter caught her wrist, silently asking her to stay with him for now. Together, they slowly walked to the couch and Peter dropped there with a pained groan, arching his back and hissing between his clenched teeth.

“What can I do?” Elle urged him, feeling powerless.

                Pushing her hair back, she knelt down in front of him, holding his hands in hers. There was no worse feeling than seeing Peter hurt and not being able to do anything about it. What good was a degree in biotechnology? She should have been a nurse!

“I’ll be fine, I’ll- I’ll heal,” he assured her, sighing once the pain subdued and he was able to lean into the back of the couch without feeling as though a thousand needles pierced his spine.

                Elle gave him a once over to check for any severe wound that he would try and hide from her to spare her feelings. She wasn’t that soft, she could handle whatever happened, if only he allowed her to help. He was covered in bruises, his left eye was black already; she also spotted several cuts on his cheeks; his knuckles were raw, and she would bet his suit was torn in places under his black sweats. Whenever he coughed, he held his ribs, hissing, and she guessed some were broken.

                Just then, his phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID and dropping it face down on the couch. Elle dived on the phone like a hawk to see who it was, and Peter began to cough again, blood staining his lips. If Elle didn't know he healed ten times faster than any normal human being, she would be sick with worry. While it hurt to see him like this, she knew what she had signed up for when she started a life with Peter Parker. It was part of the job to come back in rough shape sometimes, and there was very little she could do about it - except make things easier whenever possible.

“I can't- I can't...” Peter rasped, shaking his eyes as he looked at his screen which had lit up with a picture of Aunt May. Elle looked at it too, knowing it was up to her to deal with this.

“Hi, May. This is Elle.” She pressed the speaker button and laid the phone on the couch, so Peter could hear everything.

“Oh, hi Elle, I didn't expect to hear you. It's been a while, how are things?”

“Everything is going well, I'm not complaining,” she answered, using her small talk voice.

“Is Peter with you? I haven't heard from him in a week, I thought I'd get a hold of him before going to bed.”

Elle looked at Peter on the couch, looking the worse for wear, like he had been punched through an entire building and came out on the other side. Which was probably what really happened, it wouldn’t be the first time anyway. She would get the details later.

“He just came back from a mission,” she told May.

She didn't like lying to her, she was family. Peter looked alarmed. He didn't want to worry May, he didn't want her to freak out even if she had every right to. Elle could get behind that. His life wasn't in any danger and she was the one who collected the pieces now. Peter wasn't a teenager anymore and Aunt May forgot that sometimes.

“Is he alright?” There was the concern in her voice. Elle had put her on speaker so Peter couldn't do anything but stare wide eyed at his girlfriend, silently shaking his head.

“He's fine, no need to worry. He's just really tired and fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.” She hated that the lie came out so easily, but it was for the best. Like said before, Peter was in no direct danger, his body was healing so fast she could already swear some cuts disappeared. It didn't make it any easier to see him in such a state. “I'll let him know you checked in, and make sure to tell him to call you tomorrow.”

                Aunt May chatted a bit longer before bidding Elle good night and hanging up, making it harder to keep up the appearance that everything was peachy. The moment Elle ended the call, she sighed and slouched over Peter’s knees.

“Thank you. I'm sorry you have to do that.”

He doesn't try to explain or justify himself. Elle already knew that he didn’t ask her to lie for the sake of it, or because he wanted to hide what he did from his last living family member. He did what he always did: he protected them. And if by telling white lies to May to help her sleep better at night Elle could participate in this, then so be it.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, her eyes glowing with a mix sadness and overwhelming relief. One single tear rolled down her cheek. “C’mon now.” She wiped it away with the palm of her hand. “We need to get you out of this suit and into the shower. You know the rule: no-“

“-bleeding in our bed,” Peter finished, smiling weakly. “Yes, I know. Give me a hand.”

Getting him to stand up was an ordeal in itself, but removing two layers of clothes, one of which was a super suit that Elle still didn’t know how to work, and waddling towards the bathroom without hitting any furniture proved to be near impossible. They had been there before, and it usually ended up in a lot of cussing and laughing, quickly followed by grunts of pain because it hurt to laugh.

In removing the ripped suit, Elle bared Peter’s back and stared blankly at the many scars littering his body. There were white and completely healed scars under the new ones. The most worrying was the long gash running from his shoulder down to the middle of his back, it still oozed blood and looked deep enough to require assistance in healing.

Elle undressed and threw her clothes in a corner to shower with Peter who could barely stand alone now that the adrenalin from the fight had worn off and made way to utter exhaustion and numbness. It was better than hurting all over, Elle supposed. She did most of the work because Peter had to grip the edge of the shower wall to stay standing.

“Talk to me,” she asked him while gently rubbing his back, taking extra care not to go anywhere near his open wound with the soap or the shower head. “What happened out there? Who did this to you?”

                Peter wanted to tell her that he did this to himself, no one forced him to play superhero, he was responsible for his own life choices. But it wasn’t what Elle wanted to hear.

“There were more of them than I expected,” he simply told her. “I should have surveyed the place before going in, they were obviously prepared for my coming.”

                Elle nodded even if Peter couldn’t see her. She had learnt not to give him pointless words of reassurance such as “it wasn’t your fault” and “there was nothing you could do”.

“People are used to your presence now, they know Spider-Man has relocated to California, and no longer operates in New York City.”

“And unlike New York, there’s only one superhero here, and that’s me,” he sighed, leaning his head back so Elle could wash his hair.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over this! You said I should see the other guys, that means you got them, right?” she asked, prompting him to smile, even just a little. “You defeated the bad guys, and you came back to me. That’s all that matters.”

“I guess you’re right,” he whispered to himself, knowing there was no winning an argument against Elle regarding this matter. “Next time, I-“ he hissed and bit down on his lip when soap trickled in his back wound.

“This one is not pretty, it needs stitches,” Elle informed him with a wince, knowing how much he hated being stitched up.

                They finished up and got out of the shower. The warm water had done its job: it had washed away the blood and eased the tension in Peter’s aching muscles. He could walk alone, though he remained unsteady on his feet. Elle put on her robe and Pete wrapped a towel around his middle before sitting down on the stool next to the shower. While he rubbed a towel on his head to absorb the excess water, Elle prepared the thread and needle, sterilizing it before coming to stand behind her very much shaking boyfriend.

“I apologize in advance,” she said before leaning over and getting to work.

She truly hated doing that, but she had learned to be good at it. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fists tightening and his jaw clenching when the needle came in contact with his flesh, but she had to keep going.

“Almost done,” Elle said, feeling how tense Peter was under her touch, grounding his teeth to avoid groaning in pain and worrying her more than she already was. “Here, all good.” His shoulders slumped as soon as the words left her mouth.

                Elle cut off the thread and cleaned up the trickles of blood running down his back, then she also cleaned the other, minor cuts, and went back to the kitchen to grab the ice pack from the fridge to apply on his broken ribs.

“Hold it in place as long as you need,” she said, knowing very little about what to do in case of broken ribs but trusting the cold would reduce the pain. “Can you stand up?”

                Her fingers brushed against his naked shoulder and it broke her heart when he looked up with a crooking smirk, eyes blood shot and bruised. He nodded, grabbing her hand in his to give it a reassuring squeeze and placing a kiss on the back of it.

“I’ll get dressed and be right over,” he told her, not yet knowing if he had the strength to do any of this.

Summoning all of his remaining forces, he got up on his feet without toppling over. It seemed to ease her mind a little bit because she smiled for real this time and when Peter tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek, she leaned into his touch and blushed slightly. Elle was the only girl Peter ever managed to make blush, and he liked that.

“You dumbass,” she told him in a chuckle. “Any gray hair I might have is on you, you know that?”

“Some people bleach their hair to get that color,” he pointed out, making her laugh again and ignoring the throbbing pain in his side as he held the ice pack more firmly to his ribs.

                Elle felt better but was aware that he pushed through the pain for her sake, so she cut short their exchange to get dressed again before going to the kitchen and preparing two cups of tea. Peter liked his tea a certain way, and she alone had mastered it. She took out their respective favorite mugs while the water boiled and added sugar to their preference, then cut a slice a lemon to put in Peter’s.

                Soon, she heard the kitchen stool creak against the wooden floor, and she poured the water, then carried their mugs over to the table. He looked more human now that he was clean and wearing his pajamas, almost like nothing happened at all – if it weren’t for the bruises, sore and sole reminder of his extra-curricular activities.

“Who was it tonight?”

“A local gang that was responsible for a good portion of the drugs circulating on the territory. It was delivery night tonight, so I thought I’d make two birds one stone and get both the supplier and the reseller, but like I said, I severely underestimated their manpower.”

“It was a good idea, but hard to pull off when you’re alone,” Elle agreed. “It’d be different if you had a partner, someone to count on out there.”

“But I have a partner,” Peter countered, shooting her a charming grin and nudging her in the shoulder. Elle tried not to smile but it was a losing battle. “I can count on you.”

“But not when you go on a mission. You need someone to have your back on the field,” she replied, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her tea. Elle fidgeted with the handle of her mug, anxiously thinking about what would happen if one day, Peter did not come back. “If I could, I would come with.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. If I knew I could help one way or another, I would come with you. I’d be your Robin,” she laughed. “We’re only talking, of course. I don’t have powers and I would be a burden and a distraction if I followed you on your missions.”

                Peter’s smile vanished as he turned towards Elle, a serious expression twisting his otherwise relaxed features.

“You sound like you put an awful lot of time into that thought,” he pointed out.

“I have. I wish I could do more than just patch you up after the work’s been done.” She let go of her mug and put her hands in her lap to stop fidgeting.

                What to say to that? Peter understood the feeling but he couldn’t bear the thought of Elle standing between him and a bullet. Her life could never be in danger because of him, that’s where he drew the line. Her safety was everything. His mouth went dry.

“I didn’t know my double life took such a toll on you,” he croaked out, biting the inside of his cheeks and hollowing them out as he thought about what she said. “I know it’s not easy. If it ever becomes too much…”

“I forbid you to finish that sentence,” Elle cut him off before he said the damn words.

He had told her already, time and time again, that she was free to walk out of his life if she felt too unsafe or unhappy. A conversation that no people their age should have, in Peter’s opinion, but they had had it anyway, because he wasn’t any people of his age, he was Spider-Man.

“The option is there,” he still said, staring right into her clouded eyes.

They were deep and full of boundless affection that he would like to drown in, but he couldn’t turn his back on the people who needed Spider-Man. Peter Parker might belong to Elle, but Spider-Man belonged to the people.

“I never considered it an option, Peter. Do you really think I would leave you when you need me the most? Do you think so little of me?” It was difficult not to cry at this point, but perhaps it was what Elle needed: to let it all out of her system.

“Of course not,” Peter sighed, sliding off his stool to stand behind her, encircling her with his arms and letting the ice pack hit the floor. Elle felt a cold spot on her back, where Peter pressed his cold side. She held on to his arm around her middle.

“Then don’t ask me to quit you again,” she demanded, sounding determined. “I’m here by my own volition, because I want to be with you. I love you, Peter, I love you.”

“I know, I know you do,” he whispered in her ear, his face buried in her neck while he rocked them gently. Elle shook slightly against him, as though she were repressing sobs. “I only suggested it because I love you too. Too much to let you be miserable because I’m such a dumb superhero who half-asses his survey jobs.”

                This time he could tell she was shaking from laughter and he felt better knowing she wasn’t too mad at him. Trust him to mess up a mission and then upset his girlfriend in the same evening.

“I didn’t mean to start whining, sorry,” Elle apologized, dismissing her behavior and worry and pulling herself together.

“Don’t say that,” Peter scolded her, turning her around on the rotating chair to look at her. “Whatever’s on your mind, I want to hear about it. Even if it’s about how much of an idiot boyfriend I am. You’re right, I know you worry about me, and it doesn’t help that I come home looking like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“You really do,” she felt the need to say, much to Peter’s bafflement. He gaped at her, then shook his head, though he couldn’t hide the slight smirk on his face.

“Right. But what I’m trying to say is that I understand. I’d want to do more if we traded roles. In fact, I’d be much worse! If I were you, I’d have tried and followed you already and butted in at the worst possible time during a fight. That’s just the kind of timing and luck that I have!” he rambled, making big hand gestures that made Elle smile and reach out for his face.

“Focus, Peter.”

“Yes, right! Where was I? You definitely can’t come with me out there, it’s too dangerous, and I’d rather get beat up every day than see you in harm’s way. But you’re the smartest out of the two of us- don’t interrupt,” he quickly added when Elle was about to argue. “Would it help if you could participate more? I’ve always kept to myself because I thought it would make you worry too much if you knew what I was up against, but maybe… maybe it’s the contrary.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Elle repeated softly, watching Peter’s agitated state, expecting him to drop any moment, out of exhaustion. “I won’t be your Robin, then.”

“No, you’ll be my Q.”

                Elle lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“Because you’re James Bond, huh,” she hummed, obviously not convinced.

                Peter slapped a hand over his chest.

“You wound me,” he said dramatically. “Do I not look like the next James Bond?” he asked in a funny English accent, pretending to hold up a gun.

“This is a trick question, joker.” Elle shook her head, looking away from him before she burst in laughter. “All jokes aside, I would like that very much. Maybe if you run your plans by me, you won’t forget to make sure you’re not heading towards an army of gang members waiting for you to show up.”

“Too soon, Elle, way too soon,” Peter whined, making her laugh. “So, what do you say? You want the job?”

“Where do I sign?” Elle asked.

                Peter didn’t say anything, but his smug smile said it all. Then, he pointed at his lips. Without a word, Elle slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her lips, being very careful not to hurt him in the process, then sealed the deal with a kiss.

“Great. Now I’ll head to bed, because I’m this close to sleeping on the kitchen floor,” Peter kindly informed Elle, already dragging her behind him. “Let’s call it a day.”

She could tell he felt better already; there was little to no reason to worry herself sick over his well-being, but she couldn’t help herself. When she saw him hurt, her heart constricted in the most unpleasant way, and she wanted to rip apart those who did this to her man.

“We’ll have to discuss the specifics of my new job in the morning. Also, you should know that if I ever meet a gang member, I will throw hands with him for laying a hand on you,” she giggled behind him, following Peter to their bedroom.

When Peter’s tired body hit the mattress, he let out a long groan of delight. He had been standing for way too long, it was a miracle he hadn’t simply collapsed the moment he came back. What he wouldn’t do for his lovely girlfriend.

She usually slept on the left side of the bed, but he felt the bed dip on his right. He knew she didn’t like to sleep window-side because of the draft, but he didn’t say anything. She was doing this because of his ribs, he knew it, she didn’t want to accidentally hit him there.

He didn’t mind the pain much, it was subsiding already, and he would rather hold Elle in his arms a bit longer than sleep right away. She guessed as much and scooted over to join him in the middle of the bed, huddling against his body in the dark. They both sighed in content, finally letting go of the day’s tension and enjoying being in each other’s presence.

Peter slipped a hand under Elle and rested his hand in the small of her back, while the other gently played with her hair. Her open palm rested on his chest, as if it soothed her to feel his heartbeat – and maybe it did, how would he know? He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and let his fingertips trail up and down her spine.

“Hey Vanilla boy, do you wanna know how I figured out you were Spider-Man?” Elle whispered in the dark.

Peter shot up and turned on the lamp on the bedside table.

“Yes, please. I want to know so bad,” he told her, point-blank. To be fair, he probably didn't sleep for a week straight after he realized she had known for a while.

“What do I get in exchange?” she bargained, leaning on her elbow and raising a brow at him.

Peter clicked his tongue inside his cheek and narrowed his eyes.

“My eternal love and gratitude?” he offered, knowing it wouldn't be enough but trying anyway.

“I already have that.” Her smirk widened. “Bid higher.”

“I'll let you try on my suit.” That would surely work, he had seen her eyeing it more than once. Then again, it could simply be a kink of hers, to see him in his suit.

“It's way too big for me,” she countered.

“Not this one. The one Mr.Stark made with the nanotechnology.” It was his turn to smirk, he knew he had her. If appealing to her good heart didn't work, he knew the scientist couldn't refuse that. “It'll adapt to your body,” he added, for good measure.

Elle sucked in her cheeks and pretended to think about it for another two seconds before holding out her hand for him to shake it and seal the deal.

“Now tell me how you guessed. You know I won't be able to fall asleep if you don't spit it out, and I really need the rest,” he urged her, having no shame to guilt-trip his own girlfriend into spilling the beans.

“You talk in your sleep,” she said with a shrug. She fell back on the pillow and closed her eyes, clearly about to replay the whole scene for him, free of charge. “Elle- Elle...” she began to mumble, pretending to sleep-talk. “I wanna- wanna... tell ya somethin'... Elle.” Peter also dropped on his pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes so he wouldn't have to see this. “'m Spider-Man, Elle. 'm Spider-Man.”

She ended up bursting in laughter, much to Peter's despair.

“And you just took my word for it?” He couldn't believe that was how she found out. He had thought he had somehow forgotten something, that he had left clues. But no! He had flat out told her himself. In his sleep. Goddammit.

“Not really, I thought you were dreaming at first,” she admitted, rolling on her side to cuddle him again and forcing him to remove his arm so she could look at him. “But I didn't forget, and you can understand my surprise when I realized it added up. You kept disappearing, you're oddly fast and agile, you moved here at the same time Spider-Man left New York, and coming back with bruises that you blamed on your joining a boxing club... You don't have the built of a boxer, Peter, that didn't make any sense!”

“Ah, I should have known not to lie about this,” Peter grumbled. “Aunt May was right.”

“What about?”

“You can't hide anything from a woman.”

“C'mon now,” Elle cooed, pushing back Peter's wet strands of hair that fell into his eyes. “We give back more than we get.”

It was meant to be light teasing, but Peter smiled back at her softly, a dreamy glow in his eyes.

“You know, you might think you don’t do much right now, but you’re wrong. Thank you for everything.”

                Elle wriggled slightly against him.

 “It's nothing,” she muttered against his neck, eyes open now.

“It's not nothing. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“C'mon now.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. She could see his blue eyes, even in the dark room only lit by the moon. “I'm sure it isn't that hard to find someone who can stitch a wound.”

“It's not about stitching my wounds, Elle, but about everything else. It's about waiting for me without knowing when or if I'll come back. About reassuring May even if you have to lie. About preparing tea just the way I like and sleeping on the window side even if you don't like it and putting up with my double life all the time.”

A silence followed, and he wondered if he should have kept quiet, but then Elle spoke up.

“It's all or nothing, Peter. I don't want just one half of you, I want every aspect of Peter Parker, even if some of them come with their drawbacks. You can’t expect me to only love a part of you.”

                Now he was the one who didn’t know what to say. What answer did he expect? Not this one, that much was clear. It occurred to him that he frequently forgot that Elle really did love him whole heartedly; or rather, he persuaded himself that no one could love him this much. But maybe – just maybe – he could dare to hope that he found the one person who would stick by his side forever.

“No, I really can’t,” he said with a goofy smile.

                Peter leaned in once more, pressing his lips against Elle’s for a soft, hungry kiss. They didn’t break it before being out of breath. Then Peter placed a quick kiss to her forehead and bid her goodnight, still holding her tight – and God be witness, he would never let her go.

.

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Reblog to save a writer!

[spinearlapis]

A Few Hundred Years of Reports

so this is. a little random. but i was bored at work today so during lunch break i wrote. a fanfic? based off of a one off line peridot says in when it rains? Oops?

so uh. for anyone interested in peridot angst and half remembered, half assed, barely canon interpretations of events, the fic is under the cut.

Zip. Zip. Tap. … Zip. Zip. Tap. …

Peridot had been reading reports for approximately 24 hours. She had just been deployed onto Earth to prepare herself for her work on the Cluster Project. Several phases of experimentation had occurred throughout the years, and it was Peridot’s job to learn about all of them so she could know what to do and what not to do when beginning the final phase of prototypes. It was all very fascinating to her, and yet…

Zip. Zip. Tap.

She was a little bored. The machinery in the underground room hummed around her, warming the room considerably, noticeable even to a gem. The reports, displayed on a panel upon a protruding device, were important, but the most interesting thing that she ever got to read was whenever one phase of the project ended and was handed off to another set of gems. Often the change in leadership and technique lead to its fair share of glitches and, much to Peridot’s annoyance, improper filing.

Peridot would have wished for something interesting to happen, if she were not totally convinced that she was fine. This was just standard procedure, she was lucky to be a part of this project, what reason could she have to be bored, so on and so forth. Everytime she felt the grip of tedium, she reminded herself that no, she wasn’t bored, she was just focused. That was what was expected of her. She would not fail those expectations. Her fingers twitched. The next report was pulled up.

Report 136744 Log Date xxxxxx Onyx 7FG The 64th batch of artificial fusion prototypes for the cluster project have been gestating for 37 rotations. The 3rd generational experimental scan bots provided by our supervising Agates were deployed to examine their growth patterns. Subjects X8BLZ and S3FDP have exceeded expectations, and at their current rate they are expected to complete their cycle early. Subject D5HEQ has not yet bonded it's gems with the kindergarten fluid. The Howlite suspects fusing the shards of two wildly different gem types in their unformed state has caused this problem, and I agree. If it does not meet the estimated growth level by xxxxxx then we will proceed to terminate it so as not to waste resources. All other prototypes are growing as expected. Report End.

Peridot flicked her eyes up for a moment. From where she was standing, she could see every cluster prototype projected onto the walls of the room. Her eyes scanned through them and, lo and behold, there was merely a crossed out square where D5HEQ would have been. She fluttered one of her magnetic fingers to tap its spot, and text detailing its history popped up. Peridot squinted, and her visor automatically adjusted her vision to zoom into the faraway text on the wall.

A Pearl and a Topaz. Early exit failure. Cause: Incompatible gem types.

Peridot blinked. A Pearl and a Topaz? That was a bizarre choice for a fusion experiment to begin with, but Peridot's mind wandered farther. Why had a Pearl and a Topaz turn to traitors anyway? She knew pondering that question would waste precious time she could spend reading reports, but her curiosity, very briefly, overcame her. Had the Topaz owned the Pearl, and forced her to rebel with her? But why would the Topaz rebel? And a singular Topaz, too, was unusual. Using her finger to scroll further down, more information came up about the two gems.

Green Pearl, 6GP Abandoned her post by her Emerald and shared vulnerable information about the Emerald’s location to the gem rebels. Status: Captured and shattered. Topaz, 2KD Poofed her assigned fusion Topaz and attempted to use her as a bargaining chip for the gem rebellion. Status: Captured and shattered.

Peridot leaned back in surprise. So the Pearl didn’t even belong to the Topaz. The Pearl had just decided to rebel? And the Topaz had just decided to poof her own fusion partner? How could a Pearl even betray the one she was made for? Or a Topaz betray her own gem type? As those thoughts crossed her mind, Peridot shook her head. In truth, that’s what all these traitor gems did. They betrayed the ones they were made for, the Diamonds. They betrayed all of gemkind.

There was no use trying to understand their logic, they were all off colored defectives, anyway. Peridot's hands clenched in her limb enhancers. They refused to conform, so they were of no use. The magnetic fingers immediately zipped back to her hand in response to her clenched fist, surprising her. There was no point in thinking more on it. She looked back down at the panel and continued reading.

Report 136745 Log Date xxxxxxxx Onyx 7FG Subject D5HEQ has been terminated as I instructed. Howlite carried out the failed prototype and disposed of its remains in our ship so it can be harvested and repurposed. Subject X8BLZ is continuing its steady growth pattern, however S3FDP's growth sped up exponentially and it emerged far too early. When we broke open its geode its form had lost control of itself and was shrinking and expanding rapidly. It’s gem rejected the kindergarten fluid, and the fluid started to leak out of its gemstone. I have bubbled it. We do not have the current tools to examine what caused this, at least not without taking away precious time and resources from our main project. I plan to send it back to homeworld for further examination. No other events of note occurred. Report End.

On instinct, Peridot's finger flicked. The screen for S3FDP began to scroll.

A Maxixe and an Aventurine. Early exit failure. Cause: sabotage.

Peridot had only been half paying attention, not wanting to get invested again. But at the word 'sabotage' she perked up. Had something interfered with the experimentation? She looked back down at the report pulled up on her screen. She had to know. She quickly flipped through the following reports, desperate to know what had happened here.

Report 136746. A few of the prototypes were exceeding expectations. A few more were failing. Most were simply meeting.

Report 136747. Some of the exceeding prototypes emerged early and failed. Progress was halted in order to determine the cause and prevent repeats. 3rd generation scan bots were used on exceeding prototypes to determine the problem. Upon a few hours of examination, it was revealed too much kindergarten fluid was used during the gems insertion. A correspondence has begun with the assembly colony responsible for shipping the fluid here.

Report 146748. A reply from the assembly colony. Their measurements were exact. The slow prototypes were scanned. Little to no kindergarten fluid was used during their insertion. The Howlite was reprimanded for failing to properly measure the fluid. The failing gem fusions were shattered.

Report 136750.

Wait. That’s not right. Peridot went back through the files. Why did it skip a report? She bit her lip. She had already wasted so much time. She had to press on. But the missing report could have crucial information she needed to carry out her job correctly. Not to mention explain the so called sabotage. After a few moments of consideration, Peridot extended her pointer finger. The magnetic counterpoint flipped open its top, revealing a plug. Kicking open the side of the panel to reveal the delicate electronics inside, she interfaced with it. She searched through the systems memory, looking for any errors or old deleted files. She couldn’t find any Report 136749, but she found something else.

To my Onyx: I Love You.

Peridot was taken aback. Quickly scanning the file’s properties revealed that it was made around the time the missing report would have been made. The incorrect title was probably what caused it to be filed out of order. The strange, obscenely intimate title. Peridot shivered. The machinery around her hummed. She read the report.

Dear Onyx. By the time you read this I will be long gone. I know this will be hard to understand, but please try. You are the most brave, intelligent, and beautiful gem I’ve ever met. You always went against the grain, in little ways. Turning down higher priority projects just for this one, all because you wanted to? Because you were passionate? Choosing me as your partner, of all gems, all because you like me? You’re unlike any Onyx I’ve ever met. You’re unlike any gem I’ve ever met on Homeworld. But I’ve met plenty of gems like that in the rebellion.

Peridots fingers clenched. She stood up on her toes, enhancing her height as far as she could. She was reading the words of a traitor. An awful, off color traitor. Had anyone else ever read this report? Would she be punished for doing so? Her fingers clenched. She kept reading.

Please, please understand. I know that, even with how unique you are, that you are loyal beyond measure. But you are wasting your life if you keep that loyalty. The Diamonds hold no such loyalty towards us, when we are the reason their beloved empire thrives in the first place. And can you even really call it thriving when it only serves them?

Peridot felt rage build within her. How could a gem write this in earnest, much less actually believe it? The Diamonds are all powerful, all knowing, all giving beings. They are flawless, and the universe is better off because of their influence. Every gem knows this. But not defective gems such as this Howlite, evidently. Peridot shifted her stance even further.

You have to feel it too. You have to see it too. Look at what we’re doing. I knew some of these gems personally. I know it’s hard to believe, but I once considered joining their side. I only stayed out of fear of what would happen to me. And I was right to fear. Look at what we’re doing to the remains of the shattered. Look at what we’re doing to the planet they fought for! If you felt anything for me, or for any of these gems while we were working together, I know you’ll understand. This is wrong. If you leave now, you can catch up to the escape pod I’m taking from the ship. I’ll be waiting for you, and we can leave together. We can be free, be who we are, and we never have to hurt others or be hurt by others ever again. I love you.

Peridot shook. This was disgusting. This was horrific. This was the act of an insane, dangerous gem, clearly just a worthless, defective, off color-

Peridot pushed herself too far. Her limb enhancers slipped, and she crashed onto the ground in a heap of metal and limbs. For a few moments, she did not move. The hard floor and shock from falling drained the energy and anger from her. Her chin tilted upwards, trying to see the panel from her position. It was too high up now, or rather, she was too low. Immediately her emotions flared up again and she scrambled to her feet. She reached for the panel, only to realize one hand came up...short.

She flexed her fingers. Her real fingers. Her eyes followed the trail of her hand, up her arm, and then past herself, down to the ground. Her metal arm enhancer and fingers lay scattered around her.

Slowly, she turned. Slowly, she reached down and picked up the lost enhancer. Slowly, she attached it to herself. And in a snap, the metal fingers zipped back to their positions. She was fine. There was nothing wrong. She was doing her job well.

Peridot returned to the panel, deleted the file, and kept reading reports.

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

A Distraction - LokixOC

Warnings: Smut, Sex, Jealous Loki, Rough sex, Desk sex, Bondage, Scarf bondage, Spanking, Blowjobs, Face fucking, Rough oral sex, Vaginal sex, Loki’s ego, Begging, Dirty talk, Pure porn, Language, Technical murder

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. If you liked what you read please leave some kudos or maybe a reblog or comment. Consider hitting the follow button too for more content. 

Loki’s P.O.V

Raven and I were somewhat undercover in Stuttgart. If we were caught then that was fine, after all we were the distraction whilst Barton did all the work. Raven was wearing a floor length strapless purple dress, completely made from lace with a slit up the side to show off some leg too. Her hair was in a simple updo. Perhaps later tonight I’d drag her off to an empty room and treat her like the goddess she was. Its not like anybody would notice we were missing. I was dressed in a three-piece suit with a green and gold silk scarf hanging around my neck. Raven smiled at me as we began to mingle in with the crowd. She quickly settled in, grabbing a glass of wine and sipping from it. We decided to split up, see how much fun we could have with the other party guests.

I kept a close eye on her, watching as she had mingled with a group of women who were nothing in terms of beauty compared to her. She laughed when she was supposed to and listened eagerly. Raven was a better actress than I gave her credit for. Then again, with her past she would have needed such a skill to be where she was today. There were a few nearby candles, which I noticed Raven glance at. I smirked, knowing her all too well. Without drawing any attention to herself she simply crooked two fingers at her side, which brought the candle forward and tumbling to the floor. The flame caught on the gown of one of the females, which earned a startled yelp from her before she was batting at the flame with her purse. The woman made a hasty exit, her night likely ruined now.

Raven turned to find me watching. She smiled knowingly as if she was trying not to laugh before taking another sip from her glass. Little minx. I used my own magic to make one of the servants drop their tray of wine glasses. Raven held back a giggle before going off to find someone else she could torment with her abilities. She didn’t get far however. A man started talking to her, seemingly flirting with her as well. I gripped my cane tighter as if it were the man’s neck. Was he fucking blind? There was a damn wedding ring on her finger. Raven laughed at something he said, playfully swatting his chest.

Now that really struck a nerve with me. It was one thing for a man to flirt with my wife, but it was another thing for her to encourage such behaviour. She was going to be punished for that. The man stepped a little closer to her, I knew I would need to intervene before he made a more regrettable move. I headed over to them, Raven noticing the look on my face. She knew she was in big trouble. I forced myself between the two, placing the tip of my ‘cane' on his chest. The man seemed confused and ready to kick off until my magic kicked in. His eyes turned black and watery. “Go to the top floor of this building and then throw yourself out of the first window you see,” I snarled.

The man nodded, wandering off into the sea of people. Raven looked a little stunned by my order. She should know by now that I'd kill just about anyone for her. “And as for you my dear, you will follow me. No questions asked,” I ordered. Raven remained silent and did as she was told, following me upstairs, down a hall and into a random room. It was an office, the shelves lined with books and folders. A good-sized desk too. I closed and locked the door behind us before turning to face her. “On your knees,” I instructed. Without hesitating she kneeled before me, keeping her gaze to the floor. Good girl, I'd trained her better than I'd thought.

“Care to explain what that all was?” I snapped. “It was nothing, my king.” I pulled her hair hard, making her look up at me, “it didn't look like nothing. Do I need to remind you who owns you?” “I was just having a little fun, I wanted to make you jealous and see what you'd do.” “Well you've gotten what you wanted. Although I don't think you'll enjoy what I’m going to do.” I removed my scarf and coat. The scarf had a lot more use than a simple fashion accessory. “Hands behind your back,” I ordered.

Raven did as asked and I tied her wrists together. I took my place back in front of her, undoing my suit pants. My cock was already half hard as I pulled it out. I stroked myself lazily, noticing the way her eyes darkened with lust. I continued to touch myself until I was fully hard. I ran the tip across her lips to tease. “Is this what you want? You want your kings’ cock?” I asked. She nodded, “please.” She opened her mouth ready to take me in. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her down on to my cock until she gagged. I groaned at the feeling of her throat constricting around me.

I controlled the pace, fucking her mouth. She could only make obscene, wet, choking sounds as I continued. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and I could imagine there was spit running down her chin too. I gave her a moment to breathe, Raven gasping for air. She truly was a sight to behold, her hair out of place, makeup streaked down her cheeks, her lipstick smeared. Perhaps it would make her think twice next time. I forced myself back into her mouth and resumed the fast, rough pace.

“Your mine. Nobody else will ever get to enjoy you the way I do. Nobody will ever love you the way I do,” I growled. She looked up at me through her lashes and did her best to nod. She always did take me so well. I could feel myself getting closer and forced myself to stop. I didn't want to cum yet. Her chest heaved, and that dress made her cleavage look so inviting. I got her too her feet, leading her over to the desk. I pushed her down, over it before lifting the skirt of her dress up and over her rear. I brought my hand down hard, enjoying the surprised yelp that came from her. I pulled her panties down until they were round her ankles.

She was already glistening with arousal, it was tempting to taste her, make her writhe on that desk as I buried my tongue in her cunt. But she didn't deserve that anymore. I brought my hand down again, the slapping sound filling the room. She whined, my handprint now visible on her pale skin. She always looked so good covered in marks I'd given her. I pressed myself against her, teasing her with the head of my cock. She pressed back on to my, desperate for me to fill her. I ran my cock through her wet folds, coating myself in her juices. “Loki please,” she breathed. “Why should I? You were practically throwing yourself at that other man why would you want me?” I taunted.

She whined partly from the teasing and partly from frustration. I pressed the tip against her entrance, earning another desperate sound from her. Perhaps I was being a little cruel, but she would learn her lesson. “How badly do you want me? Tell me how much you want my cock,” I whispered in her ear. She shuddered, still trying to press herself against me for some sort of friction. “Please, I need it. Please,” she pleaded. “Do you ache for me, my queen?” “Yes. Please fuck me.”

Finally, I gave her what she was craving so much, slowly pushing myself into her, so she could feel every inch. Raven moaned, her cheek pressed against the cool wood. I grabbed her bound wrists, using them to pull her back on to my cock. She dug her nails into her palms, unable to grip anything else. I started a fast, hard pace, my hips smacking against her rear. Raven continued to moan and whine. I groaned at her tightness. She always was such a perfect fit. I didn’t care if anybody was walking around outside and heard us, it’s not like they could get inside. And they wouldn’t know who we were, nor would they see us ever again. Besides if Raven was really that embarrassed about getting caught I could always kill them, problem solved.

If she was even worried about getting caught she wouldn’t be moaning so loud. Raven started pushing herself back against me, trying to match my pace. If I could spend the rest of the evening like this I would, but work had to be done. We could have more fun later. Her knees were pressed against the wood in a way that I’m sure she would have bruises tomorrow but right now neither of us cared about any marks. She moaned my name, her walls starting to tighten. “Getting close already? Is my cock that good? Do I fuck you thoroughly?” I asked. “Y-yes,” she managed. “That’s because your mine, every damn inch of you is mine to do what I want with. I know your body better than you do, why else would you be so close.”

I reached between us to give her that little better extra encouragement. I found her clit and started rubbing it in quick, tight circles. Her moans were more frequent, my name falling from her lips like a prayer. Finally, she reached her climax, crying out her pleasure as her walls milked my cock, forcing me into my own orgasm. I cursed as I filled her with my seed, giving a few final thrusts as we rode it out. I breathed deeply before gently pulling out. I tucked myself away before untying her wrists. There were red indents in her skin, it’s a shame I hadn’t had more rope on hand, her body would look do good covered in red rope indents. Perhaps another time. I pulled her panties back into place and her skirt down. She turned, leaning against the desk as she was still breathing heavily, her legs weak.

I kissed her hard, my fingers in her hair. I pressed my forehead against hers, both of us just breathing and sharing this tender moment. “How am I meant to go back out there now? My makeup is ruined, and my hair is a mess,” she complained with a small laugh. “There's a bathroom behind you. You readjust. I’ll be downstairs, we’ve been away too long, and Barton needs that distraction soon. I’ll wait for you outside. I hope you’ve learnt your lesson.” “Oh, I have, but I’m sure if I need a stronger reminder you’ll help.”