#and then we're left with the final quote...

[kindasortawriting]

Jim Turner was looking forward to his next class. He stood just outside the door to the classroom hugging his briefcase to his chest and grinning.

He'd been teaching here for the better part of a decade, and nothing he’d encountered so far had been too much for him to deal with. Fights, excessive horseplay, the usual pranks on the teacher, cursing. The class clowns, the ones just getting by for the football team. This assignment was a good one, though. A younger class, fresher minds, a new start.

“Showtime, Jim,” he whispered to himself, pressing down the door’s handle with his elbow, “Give ‘em your best.” He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped through.

“Hello, children!” He spoke loudly enough to overcome any chattering from his audience. He walked the few steps to the broken wooden desk at the front of the room and deposited his briefcase on the floor behind it.

“My name is Mr. Turner. I'll be your teacher for the first semester of this year.” He stepped towards the old-fashioned, well-used blackboard in the center of the front wall and, picking up a stub of dusty white chalk, scrawled his name in large, looping cursive. “I hope we can all get along and maybe learn a few things along the way. “

He turned back to face the room, smiling warmly. He had been assigned to better classrooms, but it certainly wasn't the worst. Standard issue desks, a few run-of-the-mill posters with motivational quotes – the one portraying a cartoon kitten doing a pull-up with the words ‘Hang in There!’ below it actually struck his funny bone – and the usual loudly ticking wall clock. Above all the décor one would expect in a classroom, though, were the rows and columns of smiling faces, and he was thrilled to see that these faces were doing just that.

“Wonderful! Now, I believe you had an assignment to complete over the summer. If you'd all be so kind as to place your completed assignments on your desks, I'll come by and pick them up.”

He started with the desk nearest to the door and made his way around the room, lifting two or three sheets of paper from the top of each desk as he walked by. He stumbled twice and nearly lost his balance entirely a third time as his bare left foot made contact with a lonely, crumbling brick. He laughed it off, shaking his head and waggling a finger at himself in mock beratement.

“Mr. Turner needs to be a little more careful, eh, kids?” He collected the final sheet of paper from the desk in the rear corner and made his way back to the front of the classroom. He winced, sucking air through his teeth sharply, as he nicked his left arm on a shard of broken glass jutting from a partially boarded-up window. “More careful. Careful. Easy does it.”

He tapped the collection of yellowed sheets against the top of his desk a few times, then laid the neat stack aside before turning back to his students, gazing at them with wide, bloodshot eyes.

“Now for the introductions! Who to start with first, hmm?”

The skull atop the skeleton sitting in the nearest desk lolled to the side. The rattling, creaking sound it made penetrated the silence and echoed throughout the room. He smiled, showcasing the few yellow stumps of teeth remaining in his blackened mouth.

“We already have a volunteer!” He giggled, jumping from one foot to the other.

“I think we're going to have a great semester. Don't you?”

[splitfictionthings]

Pivot!

"Ok, ok, to the left a bit!"

"I'm stuck on a corner, Mio! I can't really rotate!"

"Hang on, lemme try and just..." Mio deposited the half of the couch she was wrangling, flicking her hair out of her face in irritation. Zoe did the same, her ponytail loose and face flushed. They were trying to lift the couch into their brand new flat, but... Well, staircases are a bitch.

Zoe huffed, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I need a hair cut."

"You and me both." Mio blew her own hair out of her face, groaning when it fell right back over her eyes. "I'm gonna shave it."

"Don't you dare." Zoe practically growled.

"I'm a strong independent woman I do what I want."

"No."

"Ok."

"Good," Zoe hefted it back up, wincing. "Ok, up we go. Pivot!"

"Don't go quoting FRIENDS at me now!"

"Why not?"

"It's a bad show!"

"Yeah but it's still iconic!"

"Ugh..."

"Pivot!"

"Stop!" Mio half-laughed, crashing into the wall. "I can't-!"

Zoe's eyes gleamed. "PIVOT!"

"No!"

"PIVOT!"

"Um... are you two ok?"

Both of them yelped, dropping the couch in surprise.

"Shit, shit shit shit shit!" Mio dragged the couch off her toes, crouching and wincing. "Ow."

"Sorry, Mio!" Zoe scrambled over the top of the couch, their neighbour doing the same.

"Are you ok?" He asked, and Mio nodded.

"Yeah, it stings but it's fine." She tentatively put her foot down, wincing. "Maybe."

"Maybe, sit on the couch?" Zoe offered, "I can try and shove it up?"

"Oh, do you need help?" Their neighbour (oh what was his name? Jack? John?) offered. "My brothers are in town so we'd be more than happy?"

"Oh that would be marvelous!" Zoe nodded, grinning. "Thank you so much!"

"I'll unlock the apartment then I guess," Mio started, before Zoe pushed her back down.

"No, no, have your Cleopatra moment, Mio! We'll be up there in a jiffy!"

"What even is a jiffy?" Mio muttered, but stayed on the couch. Zoe was a force of nature when she wanted to be, and currently was kneeling in front of her, removing her shoe and carefully peeling off her sock.

Ouch. A pretty deep red colour covered the top of her food, concentrated just above her toes from where the couch leg had landed. She could feel it pulsing slightly, and would definitely be a nasty bruise.

"Looks like you're wearing shoes that don't put pressure on the top of your foot for now," Zoe winced, "Does it hurt?"

"It's definitely throbbing," Mio nodded, before hissing. "Shit, don't press it!"

"Sorry, sorry," Zoe released her foot, putting the shoe and sock on the couch next to her. "We'll get something cold on it as soon as we're in, try and cool it down a bit."

"Frozen peas?" Mio asked mournfully, before Joe (?) and his brothers came out. After a brief conversation, the three men and Zoe each took a corner of the couch, navigating the stairwell with significantly more ease than the two of them had alone.

Despite Mio still being sat on the couch.

This was too much of an extrovert thing for her. She felt like shrinking into herself, but forced herself to at least look like she was ok being there, but her feet didn't touch the floor and she felt kind of useless.

"Careful," she finally managed to say, noticing Zoe stumble, "Only 4 more steps behind you, you got this."

"Aye, captain!" She grinned breathlessly, readjusting her grip and leaning forward to ruffle her hair.

"Oi!" Mio tried to duck from her hand, shrieking when Zoe leaned further forward. "She's bullying meee!"

"You two are fun," James (?) laughed, "Come on, final push!"

"They remind me of Jen and her girlfriend," one of his brothers grunted, and Julian (?) perked up.

"Yes, exactly!"

"You'll have to introduce us, at some point!" Zoe grinned, wheezing slightly as they angled the couch through the door.

"I think you'll get along great!"

"Mind the cat!"

"Ah shit!"

Some cat wrangling and couch fumbling later, finally the couch was deposited in the living room and pushed against the wall. Jeremiah (?) dragged a hand through his hair, puffing out a breath.

"Phew. How's your foot?"

"Fine." Mio said dismissively, but he let out a whistle as he looked at it.

"Ouch, that's gonna smart for a while. Got anything cold to put on it?"

"Already on it!" Zoe yelled, and suddenly Mio felt something cold hit the back of her neck.

"ZOE!" She wailed, a cackle being her only response. A shiver wracked her body, and she grabbed the frozen peas in a huff.

"God you really remind me of Jen. I will have to get you her number!"

"Get me the number for the domestic abuse hotline." She grumbled, and Zoe laughed again.

"Oh you love me."

"Debatable."

"Put that on your foot and be quiet."

"You see what I have to deal with?" Mio pointed at Zoe accusingly, Joel (?) stifling laughter the whole time. "I'm telling your mother."

"Do that, she'll tell you to put it on your foot and be quiet."

"She likes me better anyway."

"Which is exactly why she'll tell you to put it on your-"

"Ok, ok. Putting it on my foot and being quiet."

Somewhere between Mio putting it on her foot and being quiet, and Zoe making her way over with two mugs of tea, Jonah (?) and his brothers left, trading phone numbers with Zoe and promising to invite them over to watch the Olympics next week. Zoe deposited her tea on the side, pulling Mio's foot into her lap and moving the peas aside.

"Still looks pretty gnarly," she frowned, lightly running her fingers over the bruise. "Still throbbing?"

"A little bit." Mio sipped at her own mug, flexing her toes slightly and wincing. "More when I move."

"Well, maybe don't do that idiot." Zoe sighed fondly, "As much as I liked meeting our new friends, I do wish you hadn't gotten hurt."

"Yeah. Jacob seemed nice."

Zoe looked at her. "Jacob?"

"Jackson?" Mio tried again.

"Jason?" Zoe asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Fuck." Mio slumped as Zoe lost it, folding her arms petulantly. "I knew it started with a J."

"Might wanna get it right before we go over next week." Zoe grinned, and Mio huffed out a breath.

"You know I suck with names."

"I do. I don't know how you got mine right."

"We were stuck in a simulator together for a whole day!!" Mio grabbed a pillow, throwing it at Zoe. "You're so mean to me."

"It's not bullying, it's banter."

"It is absolutely bullying."

"Maybe a lil bit."

[so-called-quail]

'Trapped in the end!' said Sam bitterly, his anger rising again above weariness and despair. 'Gnats in a net. May the curse of Faramir bite that Gollum and bite him quick!' 'That would not help us now,' said Frodo.

Sword in hand Sam went after him. For the moment he had forgotten everything else but the red fury in his brain and the desire to kill Gollum. But before he could overtake him, Gollum was gone. Then as the dark hole stood before him and the stench came out to meet him, like a clap of thunder the thought of Frodo and the monster smote upon Sam's mind.

Now he tried to find strength to tear himself away and go on a lonely journey – for vengeance. If once he could go, his anger would bear him down all the roads of the world, pursuing, until he had him at last: Gollum. Then Gollum would die in a corner. But that was not what he had set out to do. It would not be worth while to leave his master for that. It would not bring him back. Nothing would.

Sam and vengeance in today's entry

[high-voltage-rat]

Somebody PLEASE check on Cysero his absence in the epilogue after that absolutely LOADED ending cutscene is SO suspect. What is he UP TO??? What the hell WAS all that??? Mr. The Mad Magical Weaponsmith Please Get Back Here And Explain Yourself!!!

[grotius]

oooo i love when you read/watch/play something and wake up sick with emotion the next morning

[gothwineaunts]

Well hello there, readers!!

So, I have been lurking on our socials and in the webtoon comments of Nevermore's finale episode and have picked up some very subtle hints that y'all want to know when we're going to drop Season 2. Firstly I do want to let all the smarties who guessed we'd come back on Halloween based on our Ulalume quote know that they were onto something. When we originally left that hint for you, we were indeed planning to return in late October, but some unforeseen setbacks over the summer pushed our production schedule back. Still, I wanted to say congratulations for getting the hint right! We were impressed so many of you figured it out.

As for the updated launch of season two? While I don't have a specific date to share yet, I can tell you it'll be in January.

I know, I know. Trust me, I wish it was sooner too. I can't tell you how much Flynn and I miss updating weekly. Y'all make creating this series so exciting for us with your energy and excitement and creativity!! The talent I've seen in this community is off the charts. We feel unspeakably lucky to have readers like you along for the ride, and can't wait for you to see the episodes we've been working on.

If you're new to Flynn and I, it might not be common knowledge that we always do the absolute most all the time, compulsively, without stopping ever (save us, ahahhaa). And let me assure you that the opening episodes of season two? Are very most. A lot of most. Super long. Really, extra pretty. I wish I could post them now but I think webtoon might um. Be upset with me if I did that, so. Just trust me, ok? One thing I can share in th emeantime is some of the S2 character concepts. A few characters are getting minor glow ups. See if you can spot the differences!

Okay, well! We'll see you in January!! Or before, if you hang around our socials. I mean we're not disappearing. We'll be here, just. Plodding along on buffer in the background. If you're dying to spoil yourselves with wip streams you can hit up our patreon but I almost wouldn't recommend it on account of. You'll be so confused, at this point. Lmfao. Like. Wow, it would be a really weird time to join a wip stream with no context. This sounds like a shameless plug but I'm being serious when I say it's probably best you don't hop in at this particular moment?? But I mean. I'm not a cop. I'm just your weird goth wine aunt. 🍷

Cheers, Kit Trace

[rcmclachlan]

The Least Vulnerable Spot 8x16 spec fic

In which I ask the ultimate questions: under what circumstances would Tommy not attend the memorial procession for Bobby? Also, how silly can I make this?

+

Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call. 

He's left so many voicemails and sent so many texts to Tommy's phone over the last four days that he's pretty sure Verizon has his account flagged, but he thinks Petrea, his account rep, would understand if he explained that his ex-but-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend flew in like a superhero and then ghosted him when Buck needed him the most. She might even dig up a Jilted Before Your Father Figure's Funeral discount for his troubles. 

It's been a week since they held the procession for Bobby, and not even Buck showing up at Tommy's house the night before and pounding on the door for an hour while shouting that he was yellow-bellied (partly true), a traitor to the 118 name (mostly true), and a lousy lay (bold-faced lie) could make the little coward show his face. 

So he's done. He is finished with Tommy Kinard and his massive amounts of baggage that would make even Briggs & Riley close up shop, and he's proving it by leaving one final voicemail that isn't influenced by his sadness over Bobby's death, the stress of the last couple of weeks, or by how much Tommy's abandonment has hurt him. He's going to be a rational adult about this. He's going to be the bigger person.

".... This is all to say that I hope you have an amazing life, Tommy," he says into his phone speaker. "I hope it's filled with love and support, and it's meaningful and fulfills your soul. And I hope you fall in love with a beautiful, kind man who treats you right, and I hope you get married and stay together for fifty blissful years, and then I hope you wake up from the coma to realize it was all a dream and you're all alone, because apparently that's what you really want! And I know you were quoting a movie on the rooftop, and you know what? I'm not going to even look up which movie it was! Look at me, kid, or whatever it was you said!"

Buck misses the days when he could snap his phone shut to hang up, because stabbing end call twenty times until his finger actually taps the button just doesn't give him the same kind of satisfaction. 

Panting for a moment, he pushes all his anger and pain into a little lockbox in the back of his mind, shuts the lid, and takes a breath. Then he pockets his phone and looks up to find everyone in the station frozen, staring at him like he just performed a magic trick or saw a bug on the wall and didn't identify it out loud.

"What?!" he snaps at all of their slack-jawed faces. "Never seen a rational adult before?"

Out of nowhere, a hand lands on his shoulder like a jump scare, and he startles back so hard he almost throws an elbow into Acting Captain Henrietta Wilson's wrinkled nose.

"Hey, Buckaroo," Hen coos. The expression on her face would be more at home on someone who's been tasked with single handedly cleaning up a nuclear meltdown. "Maybe we should put our phones in our lockers so we're not distracted by our very confusing situationships. At least until lunch time when I can escape to Rosetti's to get a break from it."

Buck doesn't whine and he definitely doesn't stamp his feet. "Yeah, but what if he calls?" 

"You know, he probably would just to tell you the quote is actually Here's looking at you, kid," Hen admits. 

"I don't get it. Who's looking at me?" Buck mutters, giving his phone the stink eye before looking up. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Hen shrugs with her entire face. "Well, I was, but when you started wailing I thought another raccoon got caught in the vent fan again, so."

For someone who got the job under the worst set of circumstances imaginable, she looks completely at home in the role, the way she always does. Buck's trying like hell to be happy for her, and he is, deep deep deep down, but he'll be the first to admit he hasn't been handling it well. Yesterday she'd brought in a tiny potted succulent and put it in the upper left corner of what was now her desk where a framed photo of Athena, May, and Harry once sat, and Buck accidentally knocked it onto the floor. And accidentally stepped on it. Twice. Accidentally.

She'd stared at him until he started to sweat, then said flatly, "You're buying me two more."

"Yep," he'd agreed. There's now a bigger succulent on the desk and a bushy lemon lime maranta on the windowsill. 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes, but she puts her hand on his shoulder again and says, "Okay. You get thirty seconds. Lay it on me."

Buck blinks. "Really?"

"Twenty-nine now," Hen says.

Damn, that's generous. Eddie only gave him ten before he tapped out. 

Squaring his shoulders, Buck lets it all come tumbling out: "I thought this meant something! He threw in with us again and kissed me on the roof and said whatever he said and it was supposed to mean something! You don't just bail after that! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to support me at the funeral! He was supposed to be there for me at the procession and then fuck the sadness out of me afterward! I had a plug in and everything!"

"Time's up," Hen breaks in, a look of abject horror on her face. 

Buck throws his hands up. "That had to only be twenty seconds at most."

Hen's eyes dart down to his hips, then back up to his face. Her glasses magnify them, so they look bigger and wider than usual. She looks like one of those Precious Moments figurines his mom used to collect. "You had a—Buck, that procession went for a full mile."

"Believe me," Buck grumbles, shifting to try and escape the chafed ache that refuses to go away. "I'm well aware. Serves me right for going with the biggest one I own, but, like, I thought Tommy was gonna—"

"Aaaand we're done." Hen executes a perfect about-face and marches in the direction of the admin offices. 

Buck calls after her, "Bobby would've heard me out!"

"Bobby would've jammed pencils in his ears!" Hen shouts over her shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm about to do!"

This is exactly what he means when he tells Dr. Copeland that no one ever listens to him. 

He's about to go see if he can corner Chimney somewhere with limited escape routes when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. His heart gets caught up in a dizzying storm of excitement, dread, and grim satisfaction, because he knew Tommy wouldn't be able to deal with the idea of Buck not looking the quote up.

But when he takes his phone out of his pocket, the incoming call isn't from Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️, but Lucy Donato.

Sighing, he takes the call. "Uh, h-hey Lucy—"

She cuts him off immediately with a curt, "Look, don't think I'm not grateful or anything. We all are. Not being forced to listen to sad James Ingram songs day in and day out has been wonderful, but it's been two weeks already and we need our lead pilot back."

"I—what? Lucy, I hate to tell you, but—"

"Tell me precisely zero details about how dick drunk you are, Buckley," Lucy says flatly. "Just tell me when you're letting him go. Cap's getting antsy and Baxter's been on call for so long that his wife is ready to kill him and turn his body into mulch."

Buck stares at Engine 2 until it blurs. "You... are talking about Tommy, right?"

"No, I'm talking about the other dipshit I work with who committed domestic terrorism because your asshole is a Disneyland attraction." Buck makes a face but doesn't correct her. Tommy once likened sex with Buck to riding Big Thunder Mountain for the first time. "He's missed like four shifts. Any more and Cap is gonna have to, like, make some calls. Where the fuck's our pilot, Buckley?"

"He hasn't been in at all?" He echoes faintly, a sinkhole opening in his gut. 

Lucy makes a sound of disgust. "Frankly, I can't believe they dropped your charges. You're way too dangerous to be allowed among the general populace."

The Army colonel who swanned into Chim's hospital room like he expected them to scatter like roaches had taken one look at all of them and scoffed. "Every fiber of my being hates what I'm about to say, but I can't handle another phone call from Sergeant Grant, so: on behalf of the United States government, we're dropping all federal charges for everyone in this room. If I see any of you ever again, I will throw you into a hole so deep it'll make the Kola Borehole look like something a kid dug at the beach."

Except not everyone was in the hospital room that day.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey, so I need to call you back."

"Wait, Dana wants to talk to you."

With a yelp of pure terror, Buck stabs his phone until the call ends, then immediately calls Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️. It goes right to voicemail, like it's been doing, and now Buck is pretty sure he knows why.

"Heeeeeeeey," he says through a grimace. "So, uh, I need you to ignore all the other voicemails and texts I sent you. Um, it's entirely possible the reason you haven't been picking up my calls might be, uh, sort of my fault, but just think: someday when we've been married for fifty years, we'll probably still be laughing about this whole thing."

Inbox full, the automated voice cheerfully tells him.

Cringing, he calls Athena.

+

Buck has never actually seen a federal prison—Jamestown was a regular prison, and he didn't have enough time to stop and take it all in—so he's not sure what to expect, but when they fly over Victorville Medium-Security Federal Correctional Institute, he's surprised to see it looks more like an army base than anything. 

The pilot who picked him, Athena, and LAFD union lawyer Bernadette Kaine up from Harbor One—and that had sucked, because the entire Harbor crew was standing on the tarmac giving him the evil eye as he boarded, and while Dana didn't physically drag her thumb across her throat he could see the same sentiment in her blank expression—didn't actually introduce himself, but his name was embroidered on the arm of his flight suit. 

"Your last name is 'Goodenough'?" Buck had asked, grinning. "'Pilot Goodenough'? Hopefully your flying is a lot better than your name suggests!"

Pilot Goodenough stared stone-faced out the windshield and said, "We might hit turbulence during the flight."

And they did, but oddly only whenever Buck unbuckled his belt. The last time Buck went to get up, Athena threatened to shoot him.

When they land, Colonel Whatshisname is there to greet them, and he looks both exhausted and furious to see him and Athena again. 

"Sergeant Grant," the colonel acknowledges through gritted teeth, ignoring Buck entirely. "It's such a pleasure to see you again."  

Athena simply crosses her arms and stares him down, which is impressive to watch, considering the guy's like 6'7". He's shriveling under her scrutiny before Buck's very eyes. 

"Colonel, it appears you forgot something," Athena says, lightly and terrifyingly.

"Someone," Buck interjects, with nowhere near the same impact.

Colonel Whatshisname sighs, looks heavenward at the departing helicopter as though he'd like nothing more than to flag Pilot Goodenough back down to take him away, then beckons them all inside.

When they get to whoever's office the colonel commandeered, Buck is almost completely distracted from why they're there by the sheer amount of rubber ducks that clutter up every flat surface in the room. No two are the same. There's even a little viking duck, complete with a mace. 

"Can I—" Buck starts slowly, inching his hand toward a duck that looks like a firefighter.

Colonel Whatshisname sits down at the desk, hard. "No."

"That's fair."

"Colonel Spade," Bernadette begins, opening her worryingly bulging briefcase. "I'd like to begin by thanking you for your ti—"

"Colonel, you know why we're here," Athena cuts in, taking the seat on the other side of the colonel's desk. She has to clear a path through all the ducks lined up at the edge so she can rest her clasped hands there. "When the charges were dropped for the members of the 118 involved in the incident, LAFD pilot Thomas Kinard's charges should have been included."

At that, Buck moves to stand menacingly at her shoulder like an attack dog, although the colonel doesn't look all that impressed at the display. If anything, he gets a look on his face like he'd just swallowed an assassin bug. Specifically a North American wheel bug. 

"Normally, I would agree with you, but Thomas Kinard abused his military rank and previous clearance to gain access to a secure government building, steal proprietary assets from a lab that could have caused great harm to the population of Los Angeles, and physically assaulted personnel on his way out," Colonel Spade snaps at her. "There was no way we were letting any of that go."

"Assaulted?" Athena lifts a brow. 

"That's awful," Buck rasps, pressing his thighs together. "Like, how many people and what did he do to them? Like, were there concussions? Broken bones? You can go into detail, I'm not squeamish."

The thought of Tommy fighting his way to get to Buck is so disgustingly hot that he might pop a woody in front of Athena, their lawyer lady, a visibly upset military man, and three thousand ducks. Still not the worst place he's ever been turned on.

"Without Kinard, we never would've gotten the antidote in time to save all those people," Athena says, and yanks her chair forward a little, away from Buck. "The people you deemed collateral damage in the fallout of the release of the CCHF virus."

"No one could have predicted Dr. Blake would go rogue," Colonel Spade says easily, with hate in his eyes. "This is hardly the fault of the—"

Suddenly, Bernadette sits up, and it feels like someone's put a spotlight on her. Buck kind of expects her to break into song or something, but what happens is actually so much better.

"The day Dr. Blake stole the virus, her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and yet security didn't walk her out of the building, which goes against all federal mandated safety protocols," Bernadette says, all smiles, practically glowing. "The lab—property of the U.S. government, if I remember correctly—was entirely unsupervised, which gave Dr. Blake the unfettered opportunity to tamper with the virus, speeding up its incubation period without authorization. Or, perhaps she did have authorization and the government failed to disclose this. Tell me, what else is going on under our noses that the government isn't telling us?"

"Try to disappear the brave people who risk their lives to do the right thing, apparently," Athena answers pointedly. 

"I thought you were a union lawyer," Colonel Spade says through a visibly clenched jaw. "What do you know about federal pharmaceutical law?"

Bernadette's smile goes sharp. "I dabble."

Colonel Spade looks, for lack of a better word, murderous. He's probably one smarmy comment from grabbing the nearest rubber duck and bludgeoning Bernadette to death with it.

But Buck has never been able to help himself. "Is this a bad time to mention my ex-girlfriend is an investigative reporter?"

Athena drops her head into her hand. "Buck."

"I'm just saying!" He crosses his arms, trying to puff himself up the way some animals do when they're faced with a predator. "It sure would be a shame if an anonymous tip about all this landed in her lap."

Colonel Spade squints at him. "Are you threatening me, Firefighter Buckley?"

"You're trying to bury Tommy to save your own ass," Buck growls. "Yes, I'm threatening you."

Wordlessly, Bernadette reaches into her briefcase, which looks like it's seriously ready to bust open at the seams, and slides over a packet of paper to Colonel Spade. The colonel snatches it up and starts reading, and the longer he does, the paler he gets.

Finally, he lowers the packet and stabs Bernadette with his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I play mahjong with your ex-wife every Sunday," Bernadette says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "She sends her regards. Well, she actually sent the tip of her blackmail iceberg. How is your new wife, by the way? She graduate from college yet?"

Eyes wide, Buck looks at the colonel, who's got the swallowing wheel bugs look on his face again.

After the most awkward ten seconds that Buck's had to endure since Eddie crashed his and Tommy's pizza date, the colonel folds like a bad row of mahjong tiles.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, then glares at Bernadette. "And no, she's a junior."

Buck picks up a rubber duck with sharp teeth like a vampire. "Gross."

+

The colonel washes his hands of them by pushing them onto two enormous guards named Weekes and Kluger, who are basically human trees. 

When Kluger gets his orders to take them to cell 58, he droops like a wilting plant. "Hey, you're not here to, like, take Kinard to Gitmo, right? It's just—he's really cool. He's got the wildest stories."

"Dude figured out what was wrong with my car just from listening to a video on my phone." Weekes grins, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Buck, "it was the alternator."

"I offered to introduce him to my sister," Kluger says as they board the elevator, and he's either oblivious to Buck's glare searing a hole in his head or is just flat-out ignoring it, because he continues blithely, "but he said he doesn't like girls. Which is cool. I'm down with the rainbow, you know? So I told him about my cousin, Martin."

Buck makes a politely interested noise, but it mostly sounds like he's biting straight through his tongue. Athena elbows him hard enough to bruise his spleen.

"And what did he have to say about Martin?" Buck asks. Meanwhile, every bone in his body is vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Kluger doesn't seem to be aware that the head is going to burst into flames any second now. "He said he was flattered and that Martin was hot, but he's already got his heart pinned on someone on the outside."

Buck relaxes with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, except whoever it is left him in here to rot," Weekes adds.

"T-That's unnecessary and completely untrue," Buck lies, trying to sink into the floor so he won't drown in shame right in front of them. 

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop at the 5th floor, and Buck pushes his way out to gulp some fresh air. 

He's not sure if being on the 5th floor is a good or bad thing. Tommy was charged with domestic terrorism; what if this is the domestic terrorism floor? What if he's neighbors with neo-nazis? What if he'd been jumped by a faction in the shower and took a beating and has spent the last few days pissing blood and breathing through broken ribs and cursing the day he ever picked up Chimney's call about needing a pilot for an unauthorized rescue? 

What if he regrets ever meeting Buck?

But before Buck can ask Kluger for a bucket to throw up in, they come to a stop in front of a cell marked with the number 58, and Buck forces himself to look inside.

Apparently the question Buck should've been asking was what if Tommy's lying on his bed playing paddle ball while he mouths along to whatever 80s hip-hop song is playing on a little radio? Because that's exactly what Tommy's doing.

"I gave him the radio," Weekes says proudly, reaching out to knock on the glass door. Tommy looks up without pausing his game. The ball keeps thwacking against the wood.

"He's so good at that," Kluger says, starry-eyed. "He beat Officer Amino last week and that guy's won tournaments."

"Is it Girl Scout cookie season already?" Tommy asks cheerfully, then effortlessly twists the paddle so the cord wraps around it. He tucks the ball in. "Sorry, I don't have my wallet on me."

Buck shoves Kluger aside to practically press his nose to the glass. "We take IOUs."

As soon as he sees Buck, Tommy brightens, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, stretching with a groan, and then walks over to the door. Even in the bland blue jumpsuit, he's stupid hot. Helplessly, Buck puts his palm against the glass.

"Nice of you to stop by," Tommy says with a teasing lilt, pressing his own palm to Buck's, and Buck swears he can feel the heat of it through the pane. 

"I was in the neighborhood," Buck teases back. "Figured I'd pop in."

"I won't lie, I've been dreaming about you showing up for a conjugal visit." Tommy looks away from Buck's face to squint at everyone else. "Although you guys weren't there."

At that, Athena cracks a smile and says in an odd voice, almost twangy, "You stupid mullet head, he beat you with nothin'."

Tommy perks up and doesn't miss a bit, drawling, "Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."

Before Buck can ask what the hell they're talking about, someone shoves him aside with surprising strength. He's a little surprised to see it's Bernadette, who he kind of forgot about, but she's clearly the only one who remembers why they're here because she raps on the glass and says, "Mr. Kinard, my name is Bernadette Kaine and I'm here to take you home."

"We're here to take you home," Buck amends. 

Tommy looks at Bernadette for a long moment, head tilting like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time and gaze narrowed, and then snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know you! I sent my paperwork to you the last time I stole a helicopter."

Sighing, Bernadette nods. "If you do it a third time, I get a free sundae."

"What do I get?" Tommy asks.

"Permanent incarceration and possibly the death penalty."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Tommy mulls that one over, then gives a decisive nod. "Sounds about right."

+

The helicopter ride home is spent mostly with Buck plastered to Tommy's side while he fills him in on everything he missed. Tommy's devastated to hear about Bobby. He offers Athena his condolences over the open mic, then curls his hand around his headset speaker to murmur apologies into Buck's ear. 

"I wish I'd been there for you," Tommy says, and the words ease some kinked cable inside Buck he hadn't known was there. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I'm sorry I forgot there were consequences to your actions and left you to the mercy of the Army," Buck says, pressing his forehead to the jut of Tommy's jaw. "I just assumed everything was taken care of, and I… kind of thought you were ghosting me."

At that, Tommy snorts, wrapping an arm around Buck to hold him impossibly closer. "Evan, come on. You don't kiss a man like that and quote Humphrey Bogart and then ghost him. I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm not a monster."

Buck winces. "Uh, yeah, when you have a second, can I see your phone?"

"What for?"

"It's better if you don't know," Buck says. "Completely unrelated, but you don't have a code for your voicemail, do you, and if so, can I have it?"

Tommy snickers and presses a kiss to Buck's temple. "How bad did it get?"

"Well, I taught Chim the word 'motherfuckface', so you tell me," Buck admits, cracking a grin when Tommy laughs out loud, but he has a hell of a time trying to keep it up. Finally, he gives up the ghost and tucks his face against Tommy's, eyes prickling hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've known. Never in a million years would you have bailed on the funeral. It should've been my first clue that something was wrong."

Tommy snugs him in close and says quietly, barely audible over the rotors, "To quote an incredible man who drives me up the wall: 'it seems there's a lot we don't know about each other.' I'm glad you know I wouldn't have left you in the lurch like that, but there's a lot more… there's a lot more about me that you should know. That I… well, not exactly want you to know, but that I will tell you. Willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but—"

"Y-Yeah?" Sniffling a little, Buck pulls away just enough to be able to look up at him. "What are you doing Saturday?"

It wins him a smile. "Vivisecting myself for you, apparently. And maybe burgers afterwards?"

Grinning, Buck snuggles shamelessly back in. "Actually, I wanted to make Bobby's famous lasagna for you. I think I've finally nailed it down. Then you can nail me down."

But before Tommy can respond, Athena breaks in over the line and takes a baseball bat to the moment. "Change the subject. Now."

Swallowing hard, Buck nods and pastes on a smile that doesn't scream 'I'm chubbed up a little in my jeans and I'm trying not to make it everyone's problem.' He coughs a little. "So, uh, who's Humphrey Bogart? Does he have a podcast or something?"

Tommy turns to Athena. "Actually, thanks, but no thanks. Take me back to prison."

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Bookish girlfriend you're my yum yum - Mark Webber x reader

Summary : After going viral on book social media, you give the fans a completely new side of you. It catches the eye of an author (who happens to be a 9 GP winner)

inkscentedglamour: Squeezing in some last girly romance books before I film a new video for you 👀

username: Our queen is finally trying romantasy, I can feel it.

username: I need another object x human romance. I know it was an April Fools thing, but I need her to read Double Stuffed

username: DARK ROMANCE. DARK ROMANCE. DARK ROMANCE.

username : I know the sports romance PR is talking to her like the Green Goblin Mask

> username : Especially the new book with the MMC inspired by Danny Ricciardo

> username: need to rewatch her F1 romance streams on patreon.

username: Do you think this is after Two Girls One Formula podcast backlash?

> username: The girls brought her on to talk about books, specifically romances. I don't understand why the fans were attacking her for not talking much about the current grid and things like that and focusing on the fiction.

> username: Especially when she has said many times that she's easing into the fandom. How would you feel if people bullied you for starting with edits/ fanfics and books, like she's doing?

inkscentedglamour: Writing my script for the upcoming video and staring at what got me here

username: Throttled slander era, you will forever be famous

> username: The way she started off so hesitant to give it a bad review or DNF it. This was her first 1 star. People died.

> username: Asking people to still try it for themselves and to not just judge it based on her review. Cemented her as my favorite BookTuber, I fear.

username: The fact that she still followed through and read the entire series. And rearranged her entire Goodreads ratings after that? Iconic

> username: I miss her giving 5 stars. But the quote "if I can be cruel enough to give 1 star, then I don't think I should be generous to give 5 stars to any book, but one" will forever live on.

inkscentedglamour: New video, out now

username: MARK WEBBER????? OVER EMILY HENRY????

> username: over Christina Lauren?????? Ali Hazelwood? Katee Robert

username: you're telling me an Australian driver who retired like 10 years ago is her favorite author??? And was the driving force for her to get her to watch a GP?

username: she's the queen of Booktok, has talked about every book boyfriend, and now she's into cars that go fast?

aussiegrit: Talked about Porsche, F1, Mentoring Oscar, and my book, somehow. Why is Aussie Grit trending?

username: Oh no, our little Booktuber girl bossed too close to the sun (she has a million subscribers and multiple brand deals)

> username: she got it to 5 stars on Goodreads and onto the trending page on Amazon.

username: Mark, wear the My fake boyfriend drives for F1 mech, and my life is yours

username: @inkscentedglamour, look who sorta knows you exist.

inkscentedglamour: Oh oh

inkscentedglamour: Reading the book 😄🤩🥺 vs. having to describe its impact on you, your career, and the future 🙃😑☠️. If you see me verbally abusing a Google doc at the airport, no you didn't

username: Mark Webber in the likes?????????

> username: I guess he found out why Aussie Grit was trending

username: reading video hiatus is over, society is healing

> username: we haven't gotten a part two of her trip to a random destination yet

> username: true, she just packed and left us on a cliffhanger. Surely we're getting that first

> username: her caption says it all. For book lovers, some of you have no reading comprehension.

inkscentedglamour: I finished reading my book, so it only makes sense to hit the thrift, right? Reading vlog will be up when I'm back home (I was strictly told to relax)

username: the two glasses (which could mean nothing)

> username : this is the girl that relies on our discord pins to drink water, what is going on in the house of commons

username : Mark Webber, here again????????? Before me?????????????

> username: she sped through her book cause she has his new book on pre-order

> username: I just know she'll get it on Kindle too, no way is she waiting til it ships to her house

username: Mark's pr team was sleeping because wdym they didn't reach out to her

> username: And apparently, he's got a launch party coming up with "surprise BookTube influencer" attending

inkscentedglamour : Photographic proof that my favorite author knows I exist. Thank you, @aussiegrit, for the invite. And thanks for getting a decent picture before I cried at the blurb and dedication

aussiegrit: Figured you'd wanna skip the queue at Waterstones. Can't wait for your review of this one (also please re-read the new prologue before posting)

username: Mark has been secretly divorced for a year and was writing this whole book as a therapy exercise??????

> username: he couldn't tell anybody and felt like he was slowly fading into obscurity, which affected his mental health

> username: he was not thinking of releasing this until the OG Aussie Grit review

> username: Mark saying that the YouTube video changed his life, just as much as it did hers

inkscentedglamour: Night and day

Comments on this post have been disabled

14.02.2025,approximately 3 months after the book launch

inkscentedglamour: Valentine's Day, Book Buying Day, and Merch Drop Day. Shop the My Real Boyfriend Drove for F1 tee. And yes, he signed off on this specific hard launch

inkscentedglamour: time to be sappy real quick after the merch plug. Mark has been inspiring me, guiding me and showering me with praise ever since his second book launch. I'm so happy he's in my life and I intend to keep him there for as long as I can. He beats all the bookish boyfriend one can have (yes, even Zafir)

aussiegrit: I'm so glad to have you in my life. You see me and be with me, sharp tongue,flaws and all. I wanna build you bookshelves and watch you put my books on them last. Now stop being a YouTuber for a second and get back to being my girlfriend.

[arcadelife2021]

Proper Dialogue Punctuation Master List

Because I'm apparently illiterate when I write, here's the list I made to keep track of proper punctuation with dialogue — Enjoy!

Use double quotation marks to enclose spoken words. "I can't believe it's already Friday," Sarah exclaimed.

Place commas, periods, question marks, and exclamation points inside the closing quotation marks when they are part of the dialogue. "Have you seen my keys?" John asked. "I've looked everywhere!"

Use a comma to separate the dialogue tag from the spoken words:

Before the dialogue: Mary whispered, "Be quiet, they might hear us."

After the dialogue: "I think we're lost," Tom admitted, looking around nervously.

Start a new paragraph for each new speaker. > "Did you finish your homework?" Mom asked. > "Almost," replied Jimmy. "I just have math left." > "Well, hurry up. Dinner's almost ready," Mom said.

Use an em dash (—) to indicate interrupted speech.

For abrupt interruptions: "I was about to tell you that—" "Stop!" Jake shouted, cutting her off mid-sentence.

For self-interruption with action: "How on earth"—he shook his fists—"do I punctuate this?"

For interruption by another speaker: "How should we edit—" "Not we, Bob," Whitney said. "Fixing this punctuation is all on you."

For trailing-off speech, use ellipsis (...) inside the quotation marks. "I thought I saw something in the woods..." Jeremy whispered, looking around.

When dialogue is split by a tag, use a comma after the tag and lowercase the first word of the continued dialogue. "If we don't leave now," Dad warned, "we'll miss our flight."

For questions within dialogue, place the question mark inside the quotation marks. "Where did you put my glasses?" Grandpa inquired.

When the entire sentence containing dialogue is a question, place the question mark outside the quotation marks. Did she really say, "I don't care about the consequences"?

Capitalize the first word of dialogue, even when it follows a dialogue tag. The teacher announced, "Everyone, please take out your textbooks."

For dialogue interrupted by an action, use commas to set off the action. "Okay, here's the plan. I think we should go here, and," he rifled through the papers and maps, "if we don't find what we're looking for, we can move on."

When using exclamation points or question marks in dialogue, the first word of the following dialogue tag should be lowercase. "Watch out for that car!" he yelled. "How did you know?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

When a character is quoting someone else in dialogue, you should use nested quotation marks. "I couldn't believe it when Sarah said, 'I'm moving to Paris next month.' It came as a complete surprise," John explained.

When a character is summarizing someone else's words in dialogue, you don't need to use quotation marks for the summarized speech. "I talked to Fred earlier," Mary said. "He told me he's been feeling overwhelmed lately and isn't sure how to handle his workload." "According to Sarah, the meeting went well, and everyone agreed on the new project timeline."

When punctuating thoughts, capitalize and punctuate thoughts as you would spoken dialogue. Use thought tags ("he thought," "she wondered") to orient the reader, similar to dialogue tags. She thought, When this week finally ends, my troubles will be over. Where did I put my keys? he wondered, searching his apartment. I wonder what he's thinking, Sarah mused as she watched John across the room.

Good Rules of Thumb:

If it's spoken (dialogue tags only, "he said," "she whispered") with no action, use a comma.

If it's an action while speaking, use a comma.

If it's an action completed before speaking, use a period.

If it's an exclamation mark/question mark before the dialogue tag, lowercase the pronouns following but capitalize all proper nouns (names) always.

If it's an exclamation mark/question mark after the dialogue tag, use a comma.

If it's the start of a standalone sentence, capitalize pronouns and proper nouns.

If you're confused about which to use (a comma and lowercase pronoun or period and capitalized pronoun), think "Are they doing this while speaking or after/before speaking?"

If your character is thinking, treat it like they're speaking.

If you're struggling to be consistent when writing, remember: it really doesn't matter. Perfection is an illusion, just write and use tools that make you happy. If you make a mistake, English is so complicated that most of the time, no one will notice. Now go write some great dialogue!

[0bunnyia]

congrats on 10 followers!!!! <3 how about “we’re not dating?!” with han x f!reader?

한지성 ─── “We're Not Dating?!“

You and Jisung had been friends for quite some time, but you didn't notice that you both were actually more than friends.

Pair: Han Jisung x F!Reader

— IM SO EPPIEE SOMEONE ASK FOR THIS PROMPT WITH HAN SHSHSH!!! when I first thought of the prompt, han came first into my mind, so I really enjoyed writing this hihi:3 I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it!🤍

⚠️: reader being dense maybe.. well, maybe none. wc: 0,7k

nia’s 10 followers event (send me a number pleaseee t___t)

You and Jisung had been close since what feels like forever, both you and him had seen all of each other's ups and downs. People always said that it's impossible for you guys not to date each other. Jisung had been with you ever since you can remember.

He comforted you when you broke up with your ex, cried with you when you both saw your mark for your exam results, there was no moment without him being there.

The question came casually, you and your roommate Mina were just hanging out together in the living room, the soft hum of the TV in the background. You were watching a movie while waiting for Jisung to buy your dinner.

"So, when are you planning to officially introduce Jisung as your boyfriend to me?"

You blinked, confused written all over your face. "Boyfriend?" You tilted your head. "Yeah? Han Jisung? Your boyfriend??" This time it was Mina's turn to look at you confusingly.

"No, oh gosh no. We're not dating! I don't know where you heard that but—" before you finished your sentence, you heard the sound of the door being unlocked.

"Yo, they didn't have the spaghetti, but I got us some instant noodles instead. It's cheaper" he said while tossing the package to the table. "And you're saying?" Mina looked at you, almost frowning.

"No, wait, listen! Me and Ji are not dating, right Ji?" You turn to Jisung, there you find who you thought was your friend, looking at you with wide eyes. Cheeks puff, he looks like he just heard the most flabbergasted news ever.

"No no no no, what do you mean we're not?!" — "No, what do you mean?! We're not, right?!" And that was the cue for Mina to leave. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the instant noodles, but there was a teasing smile on her lips as she stood up—quickly sliding back to her room.

"Wait, no, slow down. We're not dating?" Jisung asks again. You raised an eyebrow "No?" You spoke up, slowly. Suddenly sounding not sure.

"Are you serious? What?" Jisung paused, his eyes widened "I thought— I mean, you wear my hoodies, you call me at 3 am, I stay at yours a thousands time, I even gave you my chicken wings!"

"I thought that was platonic!"

"Will you ever give your chicken wings to Felix?" — "Well.. if you said it like that..!"

"My point exactly" he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Seriously, what else is left?" — "You never confessed!"

His hands nervously fidgeting with the package of noodles he held. "You.. you really think that when I said and I quote I wanna stay with you until we're both grey, and when I made you a playlist titled you're my favorite person. Did you really think that was platonic?"

You open your mouth, then close it again. Before you finally spoke, "But that can be platonic!?"

He gave you a flat look. "Don't even get me started with all of the track I created for you, did you just listen to hold my hand and thought it was casual?? I literally wrote it for you!"

You blinked. "Oh." Have you really never noticed how he looked at you like that? Or have you just been blind to it all this time?

He sat on the edge of the couch looking unusually serious "Okay.. but, are we really not dating? Cause I honestly thought we were." His voice was steady, afraid to hear your answer.

You hesitated, "I just don't want to assume anything."

"Well I've been flirting with you practically before I even got your name, thought that was a clue."

"You never said anything." You mumbled, going back to all the moments when you thought he was just being friendly. Well, turn out he wasn't.

"Because I thought I didn't need to" he reached out to you slowly "Because every time you would call me at night, tell your coffee order in your sleep, or smiled like that. I thought maybe, this was just us... being us.

He looked down, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between you two. Silence was louder than anything for a while.

"Well, maybe we both were dumb." You spoke up, staring at him. He cracked a smile, "Definitely."

"Well, if you did want to ask me officially, in the correct way.." fingers brushing to his. "I wouldn't say no." He turned his hand and caressed your finger slowly, "I'd like that." He said quietly "Wanna go out? Like actually?"

"Yeah, I would love to." You smiled.

Well, its not how you expected it to be. But it was better late than never.

[hyuckhyukahansol]

Hold On, We're Going Home

────────────

"you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.”

or

you're a popular soloist and your secret boyfriend is a kpop idol. when your Canadian tour dates line up, you both opt to stay at his parent's home in Vancouver, but even with his parents asleep downstairs, mark just can't seem to keep his hands off of you after your show.

tags -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  idol!mark, soloist!reader, fem!reader, reader is american, porn with minimal plot, established relationship, childhood room, twin bed, missionary, jealousy, possessiveness, praise AND degradation, mentions of reader being small, ATTEMPTED quiet sex, sacrilege if you squint (theres a jesus on his wall), size kink if u squint, marks parents are mentioned but theres no dialogue with them because im not writing that, reader has her drivers license, implied that reader is not christian, reader's love language is being mean to mark, EXTREMELY unserious

nicknames ┇ his babe yours princess!! baby... etc

date started┇march 20 2025

date posted ┇march 28 2025

wc ┇4.4k

A/Ns ┇ nothing like a good "lets fuck on my childhood bed!" 

room based on the mark's homecoming teasers for firstfruit.

umm mark probably doesnt have a childhood bedroom in canada because he was like 13 when he left for sm and also he lived in new york before that so lets just pretend for the sake of the fanfic that he does ok? ok! >_<

in section 2 i mention bible study as a way for me to skate around actually writing meeting marks parents LMFAOOO um im unsure if this is a popular thing everywhere else but like i know in the south at least its like youth group but for older people where they'll have a like mini religion discussion thing? i dont know i havent been to church in several years and i'm atheist 😭 iykyk i guess

reader's dialogue is based off of me and im a very strange fella and i cannot be serious for one single second so its kind of bad 😭

FINAL NOTE im completely a virgin like ive never even kissed anyone LMFAO so if the smut seems inaccurate at all thats on me because i refuse to let a real obtainable man get that close to me 😆

────────────

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

01. prologue

"no way our tour dates line up." 

you were in disbelief when your boyfriend called late at night to inform you that you would both be in the same city at the same time and that it just so happened to be where his parents lived: vancouver.

you were tucked under your warm, plush duvet with an unnecessary amount of pillows under your head and you groan as you sit up from them, cold air hitting your newly exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its chilly wake.

"i'm serious dude, the company usually lets me visit my family when we go for canadian stops. i could see if i can stay at my parent's house for longer.. and you could come with me.." mark's voice got higher as he started adding to the equation. "and maybe you can stay.. and meet some people.."

"you're saying you want me to meet your parents?" you reply blankly, holding in a laugh at your boyfriend's shyness about asking. you lean back in your bed, cotton fabric sighing with effort.

"see? that's my girl, i knew you'd get it." your face heats at his words.

"oh dude you're flirting..." you quote him, earning a sound of annoyance from the other end of the call. you snicker.

"you actually have to stop watching those fan compilations." you giggle at how easily it both annoys and embarrasses him that you keep up with what he does at work.

"okay, i'll stop watching fan compilations of you when you delete your folder of edits of me" you offer jokingly through your fit of laughter.

he scoffs "that's out of the question." 

"okay then i guess i get to keep watching videos of you goofing off at work." 

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

02. the twin bed

several months ago, your boyfriend had asked you to meet his parents in person. both of you living in seoul and being music artists meant that trips home were few and far between, so it made sense that mark would ask you to meet his parents in real life once the finally opportunity arose after two years of only seeing them in 2160p on a facetime screen. mark would've asked sooner if he weren't swamped with schedules — between three groups and solo activities, it was near impossible to find any amount of time to fly home, let alone with a secret girlfriend who's schedule was just as packed as his.

both of your tours had already started and you really hadn't seen much of each other since. you were grateful for the large amount of time you had in vancouver: about three nights of time together before you'd each have to take your separate flights to different cities for the rest of your respective tours. you had your show the first night of the three-day stay and his was the night directly after. 

mark had taken a plane with the rest of 127 and you opted to take a completely different flight; it wasn't worth the trouble of having to deal with both of your own saesangs on one flight as well as risking being caught. since mark's plane departed earlier than yours, he arrived at his parent's house much earlier than you, having already unpacked what he needed and started catching up with his folks when you rang the doorbell on the single-family home. as you were marveling at the normalcy of the house, your boyfriend swung the door open, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"did your staff already leave?" mark asked after surveying the street outside and not finding any cars. you turn and look back over your shoulder quickly even though you know you won't find a car there either.

"yeah, dropped me off and then sped away." you answer as you step inside. mark closes and locks the door behind you. 

"well, after she got out of the passenger seat because i begged her to let me drive-"

"you drove?" your boyfriend cut you off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised so high that his forehead was wrinkled.

"pfft, yeah?" you roll your eyes dramatically.

"i have my license and i'm a big girl. got here in one piece and everything." you reassure the man as he takes your suitcase and carryon from you.

"dude, you have an american drivers license."

"ooookay? it's basically the same! y'all drive on the right side of the road too.." you playfully push mark's shoulder, pouting as you continue.

"i never get to drive in korea. can't drive on the right there." you switch from a playful pout to a curious expression. "where are mother lee and father lee?" you ask, using your favorite nicknames that his parents thought were so endearing and silly. mark chuckles before answering.

"they're at wednesday bible study, so we have some time to unwind before you have to mingle with anyone other than me." mark explains, walking towards to stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. "my room is upstairs. it hasn't been redecorated since i was, like, 13." 

"oh, how fun." you joke, beginning to walk up the stairs with your boyfriend following behind you. "can't wait to see all the.. um.." after a long pause, you stop at the top of the stairs and turn to face him. "i can't finish my insult because i have no clue what little canadian boys like."

mark laughs and you're sure if his hands weren't full he would start hitting you in his fit of laughter like he usually does, but instead he hunches over a little at the joke before directing you to the last door on your right. 

the room is small and littered with old books, cd cases, and cassette tapes, all lined up haphazardly on painted wooden shelves that were much taller than you, the freshest layer of brown paint peeling in worn spots to reveal the previous paint job done in teal. in the left corner, against the flaky yellow wallpaper, sat a red guitar and in the right corner there was a boombox on a shelf above a bed. on the right wall was a crucifix and ivory jesus stared down at the bed below it with its mismatched plaid duvet and sheets and more pillows than any one boy needs, all with different pillowcases on them, one checkered blue, another white with blue stripes, the other two in solid teal and red. it was cozy, but something irked you and it wasn't the carpeted floor or the popcorn ceiling.

"you didn't tell me it was a twin bed?" you exclaim, turning to mark who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. he makes his way past you into the room, speaking as he sets your bags on the beg and sits next to them.

"yo, listen: you can have the bed to yourself and i can have the floor if it makes you feel better" mark offers, trying to soothe you. you're still stood in the doorway, leaning against it now.

"i dont want your funky ass twin bed? id rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor downstairs." you complain, frustrated at the entire situation. "I don't want to sleep without you but also I'm not sure we'll both fit comfortably." you express. your boyfriend looks at you funny. 

"are you serious?" he starts, getting up from the bed and walking towards you, stopping when he's stood just close enough that you have to look up to meet his eye. "there's definitely enough room. we'll just have to cuddle." he explains. you look up at him through long lashes and pout. 

"i'm starting to think the reason you didn't tell me is because you just wanted an excuse to hold me all night." you accuse. mark holds his hands up in a way that says 'you got me.'

"well, usually you complain that i'm too warm and you end up moving away from me after i fall asleep." mark admits with a slight frown, dropping his hands to his side in order to hang his shoulders in an attempt to sulk. he looks so cute when he pouts, large dark eyes shining at you with a hint of an apology for withholding information. you push yourself off of the door frame in favor of draping your arms on mark's shoulders, fingers touching around the back of his neck.

"okay, but you do get super warm and you know i run hot too." you defend yourself. mark pits his hands on either side of your waist and cracks a smirk and you know he's thinking of a terrible joke.

"yeah, super hot." 

"ew, that's so corny." you scrunch up your nose, making a disgusted face and he giggles, leaning in to pepper your cheek with kisses that you can feel the smile in.

"you're making me reconsider my option of sleeping alone." you threaten, but he only wraps his arms around you and holds you tight instead as if to say that there's no way you can back out of it now. you accept defeat.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

03. the concert

mark's parents were just as kind in person as they had been over video call. they just couldn't stop telling you how you were so much prettier in person and how proud they were that mark had found "such a nice young lady." you told them how lovely their home is and thanked them for letting you stay. the meeting was brief since you had to get to your venue for sound check and other preparations, so when your staff arrived to pick you up and whisk you away to your job, you apologized and swore that you would talk more the next day, assuming they probably wouldn't be awake by the time you got back.

sound check was smooth and you enjoyed seeing your fans for the 45 or so minutes it lasted. afterwards, you had your makeup and hair done and put on your first outfit. you made sure to take ample selfies so you could choose what to post after the concert, what to send to bubble now, and what to send to mark since you had down time. 

you: [image]

markus 😒😋: my gorgeous gorgeous girl

you grin at your phone, face heating to the point you start to fan yourself. you giggle at your own incoming joke as you look through your camera roll for a video to send to your boyfriend. the video is a clip his fans like to use of him with a blush filter on his face. (you know the one)

you: [video]

markus 😒😋: yeah ok im blocking you now

you: NOOOOO ☹️ 

markus😒😋: too late. need to start being nicer to your boyfriend

you: but youre so cute when youre annoyed..

markus😒😋: your fans are like really loud by the way

you: ???

markus😒😋: [2 images]

markus😒😋: your number 1 fan

the images mark sends you are one of the stage you're supposed to be on in about an hour and the other is selfie of him, mask hat, and glasses on, in a seat at your venue.

you'd attended each other's concerts before and it certainly wasn't a secret to either of your fans that the two of you knew each other, having done challenges, tiktoks, and other collabs together, but it still would give you butterflies when he would show up to a concert. 

you: 🥹 i told you if you would tell me beforehand that you were coming then you wouldn't have to actually buy tickets

markus 😒😋: its no fun when you know already!!! 

you: next time get floor tickets so i can have eye candy in the crowd

markus 😒😋: yes ma'am 🫡

the concert went super well. you were on time and your mic was loud enough for once and your costume wasn't itchy and your boyfriend was in the crowd. you were sure multistans had already spotted him there and you hoped that he was having a good time and that everyone was leaving him alone.

during the section of the concert where you walk around and sing into a handheld mic and do fan service, you spot a particularly funny sign. the sign, which was decked out in glittery letters and lots of hearts read: "y/n let me get that nda"

you double over in laughter as the back track plays without main vocals before continuing singing, going over to the fanboy holding the sign and taking his phone to record with it. the fan all but faints when you hand his phone back and blow him a kiss. when the song ends you talk for a bit about your tour so far and read other signs, flirting with your fans (as one does) and drinking water to soothe your throat. you don't particularly even think about what you're doing as you interact with the crowd, simply happy to see them smile.

the rest of your concert goes smoothly and you stay for around 30 minutes after everyone clears out in order to help your staff pack equipment and to make sure you didn't forget anything personal at backstage. when you're changed into a hoodie and some sweats and sitting in the passenger seat of your staff's car, you notice mark hasn't texted you, which is weird. mark always texts you after a concert even if you're going back to the same apartment. you assume maybe his phone died when you shoot him a "how was it?" text and he doesn't respond. you're really too exhausted to think of anything else as the road lulls you into a quick nap as you're driven to your boyfriend's parent's house.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

04. jealousy, jealousy 

mark's parents are asleep when you get back to their home, making for a silent house other than the whirring of the air conditioning and the click of you locking the front door. your boyfriend greets you as you walk through said door with a kiss on the cheek. you take in his already scruffy hair and pajama clad legs as well as the loose t-shirt he obviously just threw on.

"did your phone die?" you ask, worried as to why he didn't respond to you.

"yeah" he rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand "man, um, traffic was crazy, i only just got here and changed."

mark hasn't been this awkward with you since the first few months you started dating. there's obviously something bothering him but you really don't know how to ask, especially when it's so late and you're still tired despite your nap. 

"yeah, i didn't actually drive back so i was able to take a power nap through it." you reply. mark simply hums and turns around, walking to and up the stairs, abruptly deciding he's done with the conversation. you follow him, face twisted in mouth opened, furrowed-brow confusion whenever he had his back to you. mark lingers by the doorway in his room as you pass him to flop down dramatically on the bed, facing the wall, only bothering to kick off your shoes and socks. you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.

your boyfriend continues to kiss around your ear, moving now to your shoulder, each kiss messier and needier than the last. one of his hands moves to cup your breast while the other sits right below your belly button, tantalizingly close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in liquid form. his pinky dips under the waistband of your sweats and stays there as he toys with your nipple, pinching the bud with two fingers, eliciting a soft whine from you to which he hisses.

"have to be quiet, baby. be quiet for me? for me?" he repeats. you breathe out a shaky "ok" as you move your arm behind you in an attempt to feel up your boyfriend, petting his side.

mark snuggles closer and you can feel his erection against your ass as he continues to massage your breast. his other hand finally dives under the waistband of your sweats, middle finger finding your clit oh so easily as he begins to almost pet you, cupping your entire mound and rocking his hands against it, middle finger pressed ever so slightly between the lips and against your bundle of nerves. you try your best to keep your whines down, your once free hand now occupied with covering your mouth. you buck embarrassingly and helplessly against mark's hand.

"desperate, huh? that why you made a show of yourself?" he coos.

you nod. of course it wasn't the truth and you both knew that. you really still weren’t sure what you even did, but your mind was too hazy to do anything except play into his hands, literally and figuratively. 

mark begins to rub circles into your clit, using the friction from your panties to add to the sensation of it. you struggle to stay quiet and when you let a particularly obscene sound slip, your boyfriend groans, pulling away from you.

"sit up, baby." he commands as he gets off the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. he runs his palms up your clothed thighs when you turn to face him.

"take this off for me, princess?" he requests.

you oblige, lifting your hips to discard your sweats, deciding your hoodie is too much and discarding that as well. you don't know when mark removed his shirt, but between him locking the door and getting on his knees, it had been tossed to the opposite corner of the room, bunched up and barely visible from the moonlight filtering through the window. 

mark pushes your legs open and slots himself between them, kissing the inside of your thigh, face oh so close to exactly where you need him. you look down at him in awe. the way his messy brown hair falls into his prettily-pink tinged face and how absolutely drunken on you he looks when his gaze flicks up to you might be enough for you to cum on the spot. you're practically throbbing for him when he finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit. your breath hitches and you let out a soft whimper at the contact.

"you still haven't exactly told me what i did.." you remind mark as his thumbs hook under the hem of your underwear. they linger there for a moment while he answers.

“i think you know."

you lift your hips once again to allow mark and to slip your panties down and toss them somewhere in the room. the air is cool against the heat of your cunt and you fight the urge to close your legs to keep in the warmth.

"so fucking gorgeous." mark mutters before rolling his tongue against your clit. you let out a loud whimper and he shushes you gently but does nothing more to stop you when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit and coming off with an obscene pop that has you biting into the hand covering your mouth. he returns to it, making slow circles of it with his tongue while he inserts a finger into you, then two, pumping them in and out and curling them at an agonizingly slow place.

you whimper around your hand for a second before taking it slightly away from your mouth.

"i s-seriously don't know— hah— w-what i did, babe." you manage to get out.

mark pulls his face away from your heat, replacing his tongue with his thumb, increasing to a medium pace.

"touched other people. laughed at their jokes. just missed you so bad, princess. wished it was me.” he melts into the side of your thigh, looking up at you as he answers before focusing intently on the way his fingers move against you. the sound of his fingers inside of you fills the room with nasty squelching. his free hand has been rubbing circles into the outside of your thigh this whole time and you attempt to grab it to hold his hand when he finally speeds up a third time, going a pace that you can finally feel your orgasm building with. he swats your hand away.

"think you deserve it?" he asks

"m'sorry." you reply, opting to place the hand on his sheets instead. you can finally feel your release building and your moans get harder and harder to contain behind your hand.

"mark m'gonna cum, please" you plead with him. for what, you're not sure. 

"that's it, good girl." he coos "let it all out, princess." 

his praise is just enough to make you topple over the edge of pleasure, orgasm washing over you in waves as you let out a silent cry. mark finger-fucks you through it, not bothering to stop even when your thighs threaten to crush his head or your foot hits his back, before slowing and then finally pulling his fingers away once your clenching ceases, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean whilst you catch your breath. 

"lay down, if i don't fuck your brains out right now i'm seriously gonna lose it." your eyes widen as you reposition yourself so that you're laying on your back while mark discards his pants and underwear. he crawls over you, holding himself up on one forearm as you start making out, tongues melding against each other. he breaks from the kiss to lean back and put one of your legs over his broad shoulder. he teases you, rubbing the tip of his fat cock against your still-sensitive clit.

"nobody else can do this but me right, princess?" he asks and you can hear his breath hitch as he continues to rock himself against you. you shake your head in response.

"need it so bad mark." you plead with him, tired of the teasing and the empty feeling in your core.

mark lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, coupled with quiet groans. the stretch is something you're never used to no matter how many times the two of you fuck; the way he fills you is delicious.

he pauses when he's fully inside you, leaning over you, causing the leg on his shoulder to fold back on you. he kisses your neck and jaw and nibbles at your ear he pulls out until just the tip remains and thrusts back into you, causing you to let out a loud combination of a whine and a strangled groan, to which mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand. he starts slow, rocking in and out of you at a leisurely pace. his free hand that isn't muffling your noises rests beside you on the bed so that he doesn't absolutely crush you. mark makes sure not to fuck into you too hard, worried the loud sounds of skin on skin might wake his parents up. 

"think you can cover your own mouth for me?" he asks and you nod.

he pushes himself up so that his chest is no longer flush with yours and his hand is no longer covering your mouth. you hover the back of your hand over your mouth so that your voice is still audible enough for mark to hear, commanding him to go faster. you cover your mouth as he obliges, and he starts letting out soft moans. they're not nearly as loud as yours but they're so sexy that you almost can't help the way you try to roll your hips up into him in response. 

"what would all your fans think?" he says. "folded in half for my cock... all for me." he adds, starting to get lost in the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. he throws his head back and you swear you could cum from the sight right then and there. 

something snaps in mark- maybe its how close he is or how warm you are, but he stops caring about the noise and starts making pointed thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot in you that makes your eyes roll and your back arch off the bed. the sound of his skin on yours is loud and if you weren't so fucked out then maybe you'd care, but your brain is fuzzy and your skin is tingly and the only thing you can think about is how impossibly tight the coil in your stomach is. your hand isn't enough to muffle anything anymore, your fingers keep curling and you're squirming so much that it's hard to contain any sounds you make. mark seems to have forgotten where he is because he just starts praising you like you're alone in his apartment.

"so fucking gorgeous. gonna cum, princess? yeah?" he coos.

through babbles and broken groans you manage to get out a broken "please." his thumb finds your clit and he rubs it in rough circles and you swear you're on fire. your orgasm crashes into you like a crack of lightning and you open your mouth to let out a silent scream. you squirm and kick and mark holds your hips down to fuck you through it, chasing his own orgasm all the while. he cums not too long after you with a chant of your name and a broken, choked moan as he fills you up with ropes of hot seed. your chest heaves and you honestly forget that you even exist until mark's words bring you back.

"you don't think we woke them up, right?"

────────────

A/N ┇OH GOD!!! im actually really scared i hope this isnt as bad as it seems to me i think i just dont like it because im the one who wrote it. i got a bit out of character for mark but like also who knows what hes like during sex. you dont know. i dont know. AHH! um i hope you 🫵 enjoyed it. take a shot every time i said the word you in this fanfic.

I got distracted while editing this because I had nct mvs playing in the background and 90s love came on… winwin I miss you

[mediocreanomaly]

The World Keeps Turning

Cecil x GN!Reader: Comfort Drabble

Authors Note: a little comfort for you sweeties. (I sprinkled some of my southerner Cecil propaganda in here, deal with it.)

Breathing should come naturally to you, yet your breaths come in uneven stammering inhales that threaten to turn into something more, something worse, a breakdown that would mean admitting that you can't keep it together. So you try not to think about it. Try not to think about anything.

It's one of those days where the walls seem too close, the world is moving too fast, and you… you're sinking. You can feel it choking up your throat and crushing in your chest.

You take another breath.

It's more watery than the last, threatening to spill over.

The front door unlocks, the sound adding insult to injury. It feels… wrong, being caught like this. Steady footsteps of dress shoes on the ground feel like a hammer driving nails into a coffin. The man who exhausts himself protecting the world, and you can’t even get out of bed?

It makes something dark and writhing twist in your head and you bury your face against the pillows to pretend to be asleep.

“Honey?” Cecil asks, setting down his bag; you can hear the ‘thump’ of the leather on the carpet floor as he comes to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly with his weight.

You can't look up. You CAN'T. If you do, he'll see what a mess you are right now, and the thought of adding another problem for him to fix to his day is just too much. So you stay buried, unreachable, a cocoon of quiet suffering.

“Hm” Cecil hums like he understands, like he's adjusting a radio dial, he already knows what to look for he's just got to fine tune for to you. “One of those days, huh?”

Of course he knows. Cecil always knows.

He reaches forward, fingers threading through your hair, toying with the ends before smoothing them back. His touch begins to unravel the tight knot of tension in your chest.

After a few moments, he gets up, and just as you start to miss him, he's already over at the record player in the corner, setting a vinyl in place. The needle dips, and the first crackles spill from the old speakers as Can't Take My Eyes Off You begins to play. It's familiar, one of his favorites when he's in a sentimental sort of mood. The music wavers and cracks, the record well loved from years of use, but Cecil never throws it away. You hope he never does.

You can hear the telltale sound of rustling fabric as he slides off his coat, undoes his tie, and toes off his shoes to get comfortable before he slides into bed with you.

His arms wrap around your frame, the weight of another person gathering you and keeping you together… making you feel like you can finally let go.

The water works come quick and with abandon, trembling full bodied sobs escape your mouth as you press your face against Cecil's chest. His cologne and aftershave fill your senses, a scent that feels more like ‘home’ than any GDA-approved living space ever could.

You think you speak, or at least try to. Watery gasps and cries of apologies for the situation, for yourself. He shushes every single one.

“Easy Darlin’...” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft for a man who’s mastered the art of snappy detachment.

He talks about everything and nothing at all; his day, dull government meetings, and more entertaining, exasperated quotes from the team. He tells you he ate the lunch you made him, that Donald pretended not to be amused by the handwritten note tucked inside, but Cecil’s known the fucker too long to be fooled.

He tells you he cut down on his caffeine and that he missed you. He tells you that you're okay because, you know what? He's seen the worst of the worst and the world keeps turning.

Sweet words muttered against your hairline like if he said them enough, you might just believe him.

He stays until you've worn yourself out, until all that's left is dull exhaustion, and even then, he just holds you tighter.

“We're alright, sugar,” he says softly, pulling the covers higher up your shoulders, keeping the world out of this moment for just a moment longer.

For once, it feels like that might be true.

[erinwantstowrite]

does that mean chapter 19 is almost complete?? no rush! take your time.

i have four and a half-ish scenes left and i finally got out of the part that i did not want to write at all but had to happen for plot or whatever so yipee!!! i'm guestimating it'll probably be like... 25000? don't quote me on that but yeah, we're more than halfway through now ☝️‼️

[lizthewriter]

red wine supernova / regina george

SUMMARY  regina george has made you the new victim of her attention. it's a different kind of attention than you expected from her.

QUOTE  "she was a playboy, bridgette bardot, / she showed me things i didn't know, / she did it right there, out on the deck, / put her canine teeth in the side of my neck," - red wine supernova by chappell roan

WORD COUNT  1.1K

WRITTEN  6.3.2024

you've always been introverted and shy - some people were loud, rambunctious, easily likeable. easily sociable. it had never been that easy for you - anxiety rumbling at the bottom of your stomach every time you spoke to someone new, hands trembling and voice stuttering as you spoke in front of the class. it didn't help when others began to tease you for it - it only made you more reclusive.

but then, she noticed you. everyone knew who she was. regina george. queen bee of the mean girls, the plastics, the fake and bake's, whatever people liked to call them these days. and believe me, no one wanted to be noticed by regina george, not the way she noticed you.

it started out as small, targeted comments in the lunch line. on your clothes, on the foos you ate, on the way you did your hair. cute, girly tips hidden behind the pretentiousness of a pig with lip glass. okay, perhaps that was taking things way too far. she was gorgeous and she wasn't completely terrible. you just couldn't figure out why you were so special to be one of the few victims of her attention and insults.

but now she was making it obvious to everyone that she had taken some odd liking to you. swinging her arm around your shoulder and calling you pet, playing with your hair and giving you beauty tips with thinly veiled conceit, things like that.

you tried to stay away from her as much as possible, but unfortunately that was impossible. world history and of course, for your final project, you abaolutely had to be thrown with her.

regina plopped down in the seat next to you as people scattered across the room to find their project partner. aaron was sitting practically next to her, but she wasn't even watching him. she seemed to give all her attention to you lately. "hey babes, looks like we're stuck together."

you laughed nervously. "yeah, looks that way," you responded in a small tone, staring down at your notes. "so i was thinking, i'm very educated in world war two discourse, i was hoping we could do our project on -"

"you know, you should totally come over my house this weekend." most of your classmates around you froze and glanced towards regina. she never invited anyone but the plastics at her house. "i can show you how to do makeup - i'll even let you borrow my lip gloss."

"you never let me borrow your lip -"

"oh my god, will you stop taking things so personally gretchen?" regina responded, not even turning around in her chair to face gretchen, who was sitting behind her. regina gestured to gretchen and rolled her eyes, finally returning all her attention to you. she grabbed your hand and started to trial her fingernail around your hand in circles. "what do you say, pet?"

"umm, i'll bring my notebook so we can work too," you responded in an uncertain tone.

"great!"

-

"and don't worry girls, if you want to have a party, i still have all of my old nas cd's downstairs!" regina'a mother exclaimed as she left the room. you and regina were situated on her bed, sitting rather close to one another. as you reached to pull your notebook out of your bag, regina pushed your hand back down so that your notebook was firmly back in it's place.

"don't be a bore, let's have some fun first," regina responded with a roll of her eyes, popping her lollipop back in her mouth. she grabbed you by the arm and hauled you all the way over to her vanity, turning on the lighting and grabbing all the possible makeup in sight. "we are giving you a makeover."

she grinned at you, and in that moment you couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. you decided to go along, for the sake of it - why upset her now? she could have her fun with you and then you could go back to working on your project. "all right, i guess."

she started to pull out all sorts of makeup application devices you either recognized and didn't use or had never seen at all. she tapped her phone and punk rock music began to blare through the speakers in her room - you found yourself suprised at her music taste but said nothing, only tapping your feet along to the beat.

she began by brushing your hair and pulling it back with a headband, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted to your face. she started out with skincare, washing your face and applying a face mask.

"so, what do you like to do in your free time, or whatever?" regina asked you in a bored tone, though her eyes seemed rather interested as she looked down at you. enamored, almost, but that must have been a trick of the light.

you started to name a few hobbies but before you knew it, the two of you were deep into conversation about various different things and surprisingly, as she did your makeup, you found yourself opening up to her, becoming louder and louder, while she somehow became more dormant - less mean and commanding and more, understanding and listening.

"okay, take a look!"

you turned around and faced yourself in the mirror. you smiled widely as you felt rather pretty, wearing the makeup regina had put on you, sparkly yellow eyeshadow and pink mascara. you saw regina biting her bottom lip as she looked at you in the mirror - suddenly you felt shy again and felt a blush fall over your cheeks.

"how do you like it?" regina asked as she turned you to face her.

"i feel really pretty . . . thanks," you mumbled shyly, staring down at your feet

"you are really pretty," she told you in a low tone, placing her finger under your chin and raising your head so you met her eyes. "you're so fucking dumb, how long will it take you to realize i like you, pet?"

she laughed at your confounded expression. you felt your face turn a tomato red and you buried your face in your hands, feeling embarrassed. "i thought you were making fun of me!" you exclaimed between your fingers.

"i was endearingly teasing you, or whatever," regina said in a defensive tone, though she was still falling over laughing at your expression.

"this isn't a prank, right?"

"of course not! now let's finish this dumb project so i can take you out on a date, hoe."

[formosusiniquis]

twins of the heart

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Carol Perkins wc: 2141 | T | tags & themes: Meeting the SO; No-longer Secret Relationships; Humor & the Tiniest Hint of Angst For @stobinmonth Day 11: matching | AO3

“I'm not changing.”

“We are not meeting my girlfriend for the first time matching, Steven.” Robin crosses her arms, ironically -- probably he's never really understood that -- matching his stance as she stands across from him.

Standing beside their selected arm chairs -- Robin's plaid with low arms and a springy cushion and Steve’s sunken and leather with the tall back -- he feels like Clint Eastwood. In a standoff with Robin, who's a second cowboy he doesn't know the name of even after weeks of watching spaghetti westerns with Wayne. She's got a smirk on her face. 

She thinks he's going to give in.

“We're in agreement then,” he says, “you've got a closet full of other shirts go find one.”

Robin looks seconds from ripping his button up off his shoulders, like it's his fault she's finally realized how much fun the bright colors are instead of the neutral pattern clashing she used to do.

“Your closet is bigger, she's my girlfriend you go change.”

“No, I've got my whole outfit planned.”

“I don't care that you matched your shoes to your shirt.”

It’s true that he has done that. It's also true that he has a backup outfit that he could use instead. But something about the frazzled way she’s looking at him, the way she’s tugging at the ends of her hair is tapping into his inner need to be a problem.

So instead of going back to his room. Instead of continuing what could, without a doubt, be an hours long argument until she either gave up and went to change or they went to the restaurant matching. He takes a step forward, settles down into the embrace of his chair and crosses his leg over his knee.

“Let’s talk about why it’s so important this ‘first’ meeting goes well.” He puts the air quotes around first because he knows how much it annoys her. Clasping his fingers on his knee when he’s done. “Are you worried that this sincerity of matching with your soulmate will scare her away?”

“You’ve taken one psych class, and it was developmental psych. For children.”

“Is this hostility real, or is it an easier emotion to express than fear?”

“I hate you. I hate you. I don’t know why we’re doing this.”

It wouldn’t be hard to keep this bit going, but Robin’s stress is quickly moving from funny joke to actually concerning. “It’s Carol, babe. I probably know your girlfriend better than you do.”

“Great,” Robin claps her hands, spins in a circle like she’s about to go back to her room but thinks better of it. “You can stay home then and I can make that table for three a table for two instead.”

“Robs.”

“You have to change.”

“We’re meeting,” he says slowly repeating her question from earlier in the same cadence he uses with his daycare students, “because you want your two favorite people to get along and because you feel bad that you were secretly dating my old best friend for a whole month.”

“She’s changed.” Robin says.

“I’m sure she has,” he agrees. It would be stranger if she hadn’t. Of the three of them Carol had always been the smartest, the quickest to point out what they had missed. Picking at a stray cat hair his lint roller had missed, he wonders how long after he’d left that Carol realized he’d been right about them being dicks. Wondered how long before she stopped being so stubborn and did something about it too.

“You’ve changed.” She says slowly like she’s repeating the answer to a question he’s asked three times already.

That doesn’t feel fair to either of them, and he’s ready to say that, when Robin’s hand flapping distracts him. “Except you haven’t, you’re just Steve and you’ve always been Steve but what if she has changed and you all can’t stand each other.”

“Well you’ll have to break up with her then.” He uncrosses his legs, braces his arms on his knees, a mockery of that ‘I mean business’ pose that Hopper would take at the end of a lecture,

Only Robin doesn’t laugh. Her eyes drop down to her clasped, nervous hands instead.

“No.”

“I mean,” she starts to say the expression on her face almost as guilty as it was when he answered the phone just to be shot back in time at the sound of Carol’s complaining the second she hears the line open.

The snap of her gum and the, “Babe, you are not going to believe this.” Had been so jarring he’d had to check that he was in the shitty, smoke-stained kitchen in their apartment and not the white walls of his parent’s house. When he’d caught Robin’s eyes hers had been wide enough he could see the pink in the corners. Panic like he hadn’t even seen in the Upside Down.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” he had said, hearing the soft sound of Carol’s surprise through what’s passing for a connection. “I’ll pass you over to Robin now, Babe.”

That night she’d done what passes for grovelling: take out from the place he likes but she can’t stand, Some Like it Hot already playing on the TV.

They didn't like arguing and like apologies even less. Robin was sorry he was sure, even if he was less sure why she hadn't told him about Carol in the first place. She hadn't had any problem complaining about her when she realized they were sharing the same campus.

And now they were wearing matching shirts in their living room, minutes from being late to a dinner with a girlfriend she’s thinking about breaking up with. Maybe that's why she hadn't said anything last month or last week or any time in between when her “study sessions” at “the library” went late enough that they missed getting to see each other before work and bed.

Steve is fine being the voice of reason, even if hes not sure why he has to be. “You’re not going to break up with your girlfriend if we don’t get along.”

“I will break up with whoever I want to.”

“Robin.”

“Steve.” Her arms are crossed, pulled tight against her chest. 

He thinks they’re going to have to actually talk about this. Not just bicker and tease and ignore the places where the hurt feelings come from. Because hurt feelings aren’t them, they aren’t something they do. They’re Steve and Robin. They don’t fight, disagree, or really argue -- because not wanting to get pizza from the place twenty minutes away that doesn’t deliver for the second time that week is none of those things.

“Were you ever going to tell me you were even seeing someone? Or should I just be glad I didn’t walk in on you eating out in the kitchen.”

“There wasn’t anything to tell.” Robin snaps like a rubber band pulled too far: sudden and it’s break more surprising than painful.

“At some point there was, and since we aren’t actually attached at the brain I really don’t know what you’re thinking.” He keeps his voice level but now that the words are leaving his mouth it’s like the slow peel of a scab coming up. Fresh blood following the sting of an unhappy, unhealed wound.

He wishes he were, wishes he could know everything about her, and she him, instantly. Wishes thoughts and extensions and meaning could just be there immediately and obvious. 

But it isn't, they aren’t. Steve just has to deal with knowing there are things that will always be secret, meaning he may never even be aware he missed.

“You liked her and I didn't,” Robin says carefully, the first stuttering chugs of a train starting forward. It has to start before it can barrel on. “That’s how it started.”

Steve is still sitting, legs spread, and Robin’s hands are flicking back and forth, swaying in a miserable vogue as thoughts arrange themselves in her mind, she steps forward.  Stepping and putting herself in that open space, ending the argument they still weren't really having through her proximity.

“Then we both hated her and that was good,” Robin continues. “What if now that I like her, you still don’t?

“If you never meet again it’s never a problem,” she continues. “I won’t have to end things. Cause that’s what I’ll do, Steve, there isn’t a choice between you and someone else. It’s always gonna be you. You’re my person.”

“It’s always gonna be you too, Rob.” He settles his hands on her waist in an almost hug, contact so he can keep looking her in the face when he asks. “But why are all you nerds so black and white?”

She scoffs, a total not-answer he knows means she doesn’t know what to say because he’s right.

“I didn’t hate Care, I still don’t. I was mad at her and Tommy. Mostly Tommy. But it wasn’t like she was dead to me. We talked in class and at games. She moved here for school, we were busy with fighting evil. We lost touch.”

“You don’t hate her?”

“I hate like three people and two of them are dead already. Everyone else is just annoying.”

“So you’ll change?”

She asks it gently, like it should be accompanied by an upset child’s sniffle. He almost feels bad about the way he knows he’s going to answer. Turning the hold on her waist into an actual hug, Steve rests his chin on the soft muscle of her stomach, looking up into her chin, and says, “No. We’re already late.”

He’s laughing too hard to keep his feet under him as Robin pulls him out of the chair. When he stumbles up to standing, she squeezes his hand, hard, a punishment for being mean to her.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” she chants.

She’s still muttering it down their apartment hall, in the car, and up to the restaurant where her mildly pissy face melts into something soft and gooey.

Carol is already waiting looking polished and pressed as she always has. The mid-length skirt and the chin length hair suit her. If the fashion is any indication, the 90’s seem like they’ll be kinder than the last few years have been.

Steve drops Robin’s hand as Carol walks up, gives them the space to greet one another. A warm hug: hands drifting. A kiss to the cheek: lip gloss sticky and possessive. Kind doesn’t mean they don’t still need to be careful, their greeting never slips beyond what could be friends meeting up. 

And when they let go Carrie’s eyes, still soft, take on that sly pinch at the corner. She hugs him too: one arm, from the side, hands firmly in the zone of public decency. “This twin thing is cute.”

Robin groans so they can both hear all the ways that Steve has victimized her.

“I mean it, Birdie, “ she says. And Steve can hear the way age has sanded down some of her sharper edges. “Makes me hungry.”

Robin flushes, a deep red Steve can feel the heat of in his own face. “Really?

Some of her edges, not all. The look in her eyes revealing that sharp gleam he knows meant, at one point, that she and Tommy were going to disappear into a spare bedroom and leave him to fend for himself.

“I had meant literally.” If they disappear to fuck in the bathroom he’s leaving them with the bill.

But Carol shakes her head and puts the obviously dirty thoughts behind her. “I haven’t seen you two look this cute since the summer we graduated.”

Wait. 

“You didn’t ever come into Scoops.” Steve accuses. 

Carol’s complexion betrays her. “No, but Orange Julius was right across the food court.”

Robin is looking back and forth between them. And she was worried they wouldn’t get along. He’s about to give Rob the food to get Care riled up for weeks.

“You spend a lot of time in the food court that summer?”

“Freshman fifteen doesn’t count if it happens before the school year starts.”

“And the seats across from Scoops were the best in the room?”

“It had the best view, and I can remember more than a few freaks and geeks who would say the exact same thing.”

“Wait,” Robin says, “you were looking at…”

“Blue looks good on you,” Carol sways into Robin’s space, a leer on her face that suggests that Steve will have the apartment to himself tonight. Carol’s eyes cut up to him, a reminder that she hasn’t forgotten him or the purpose of tonight, “It looks alright on you, Stevie.”

“Yeah, big surprise who you think wore it better. You’ve always been easy.”

“We have that in common, looks like you match with both of us.”

[sfstranslations]

what's your process on TLing? like how do you do it? I've always wondered what its like TLing stuff

Disclaimer that it's probably different for everyone, obviously, but for me it usually goes something like this:

(Got long, so under a cut. Minor bonus at the end for My S-Ranks fic writers!)

Get the raws (obviously, LOL).

When I start a TL session, I usually read back a little just to get the context of what's going on, because otherwise you risk getting some of the contextual information wrong.

Time for the actual translating! Read the sentence.

Break it down as best as I can—pick out grammar structure (is XYZ the subject or object etc.), pick out what words I know, cobble together a partial sentence from that. Ends up something like, "Character A {??ed} loudly and lifted their {right? left?} hand."

Look up the words I don't know in the KR-EN dictionary (usually Naver, but also Wiktionary as a backup, both English and Korean) and fill in the blanks. My Korean vocabulary is minuscule so I have to do this for at least one word almost every sentence… I also like to double-check the meanings of some words I'm not fully sure of (see right/left dilemma above 😅), or to see if there's other verified translations that would fit the sentence better if the one I think of doesn't flow well.

Addendum to the above point: If there's a word that doesn't really fit the scene or means some random off-the-wall thing, go on a research spree to figure out why it's showing up here. If this takes longer than 5 minutes, put a pin in it to come back to later and move on; otherwise I risk getting distracted or burning all my energy on research instead of translation, and sometimes the next few lines help me figure out what was being said anyway. Generally I mark these with the {???} from the example above, with a note on what confused me about the bit in question. (These are usually the things that require footnotes!)

If I completed the sentence, read over it to check that it actually makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't and I have to go back over grammar to redo it. Subject/object/topic markers my beloathed

Then once the meaning of the sentence is worked out, check that it flows with the rest of the scene. (If it doesn't, 70% chance it's a quote or reference to something, in which case, again, research or put a pin in it for later.)

Rinse and repeat until the end of the chapter.

First pass complete! 🎉

Go back and do all that research I saved for later :( (Chiyul is niceys to me and only uses odd or flowery wording that I can work out given enough time, but Geunseo is so mean about this. Stop referencing poets from the Tang dynasty who don't have easily accessible online translations for their works. What the hell) (Sometimes they'll reference something obscure and then make an oblique reference to THAT reference instead of the source material because they loooove having characters use injokes which I do love. But it is also majorly harshing my groove. Please have mercy)

Read over the chapter again, Korean then English, paragraph by paragraph, to make sure the translations actually line up and I didn't mess anything up during the first pass. Also for English editing purposes—grammar, punctuation etc. So combination quality-checking and editing.

Pass the baton to other team members for a second round of combination QC/edits; sometimes gets skipped, it depends

Clean the chapter (i.e. deleting all the Korean and running some final checks via regexes for miscapitalizations and the like)

Pick a good excerpt, tag all featured characters, and post! Aaand back to the grind for the next chapter. (…Bit of a simplification. What I actually do is just keep translating until I run out of energy/thinking power for the day. Chapters get cleaned and prepped for posting in batches of 10 only when the last batch have all been posted; e.g. we're on 390-something for S-Ranks right now, so when I'm about to post chapter 400, I'll edit and clean 401–410, and so on.)

Some more notes I wasn't sure where to fit in, below.

Besides quotes/references to external media and language/culture quirks, I also sometimes add footnotes when characters quote other characters from chapters that were posted quite a while ago. This is in part because it's probably helpful to readers but largely because it's helpful to me specifically (I have a terrible memory 😔) (if I don't do it then when I'm rereading the chapter for editing/cleaning I always end up going "they literally didn't say that though…? Is that a mistranslation?" and then it turns out they did say that but it was more than a chapter ago so I forgot. Sighs.)

Disclaimer that I don't translate from MTL anymore!! Quality is worse than translating by hand!! But sometimes if a chapter is really confusing then I'll slap the whole thing into Google Translate so I have an English version I can skim for the context. It's helpful because Google Translate gives extremely bad TLs in terms of English readability so I don't adopt its phrasing into my own TL, but it also gets juuuust enough right that I can identify what the gist of events is. Like if a chapter cold opens on a fight scene and only five paragraphs later clarifies the location of said fight, then the rough MTL lets me know whether I should be translating something as a wall (indoor fight) or barrier (dungeon fight), for example. Also helpful for pronouns, since Korean doesn't use those the way English does; if the character isn't named right off the bat, I don't want to be writing every sentence like "[PRONOUN] looked at [PRONOUN]self in the mirror, noting the dark circles under [PRONOUN] eyes", then have to go back to fill in the blanks 5 minutes later, you know?

I also make style guides for every story I'm translating, which I refer back to while working so I can keep the translations consistent. Whenever we're in a new setting or something gets brought up for the first time, I add it to the style guide for future reference. There's a lot of stuff in the guides that's probably only mentioned a few times, but at least I don't have to translate from scratch each of those few times!

The general style guide has stuff like number/unit formats, honorifics, and notes on spellings I mix up often (I try to use American English for consistency, although personally I prefer a combination of American/Commonwealth spellings (USA you are just wrong about worshiped, it's worshipped!! Do you say shiped?? Huh????)).

The story-specific style guides let me keep track of special names—places, characters, and more—but also things like system message formats. For My S-Ranks, I also have separate sections for the regions with lots of unique terminology (the VR dungeon and China so far, more to come).

Below are some examples from the general style guide and the S-Ranks-specific one.

Oh, one part of the style guide might also be helpful to any S-Ranks fic writers out there—here's the special characters I've been using for system admin messages such as "η๐┰ ሃ๐∪ዩ բმ∪┗┰" from chapter 53. (No replacements for B, J, K, M, Q, V, X, and Z because those haven't been needed so far. Added those in anyway for future-proofing!)

A: მ

B: ß

C: င

D: Ð

E: ∈

F: բ

G: ₲

H: ዞ

I: 𝔦

J: ຽ

K: ƙ

L: ┗

M: ៣

N: η

O: ๐

P: የ

Q: ዊ

R: ዩ

S: ડ

T: ┰

U: ∪

W: ￦

X: ㄨ

Y: ሃ

Z: ☡

Anyway! Hope that sheds some light on the translation process, at least the way I do it. Let me know if you have any more questions or requests! This was fun.