#anyway now it's been six years that's literally never happened I've put the most actual hours into playing mel and I love her SO MUCH

[blujayonthewing]

I've had Melliwyk for SIX YEARS

[lieslab]

Love is a spider

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 9.5K

A/N: To the requester, I may have went a bit overboard by a bit. Can you blame me? Anyway, in these drabbles, you're a bit of a people pleaser and the guys kind of clock you for it. Some of them are softer than others. Hyunjin's is a little angsty because a little angst adds some spice.

I'm so sorry this is out a little later than planned. I have had literally one of the worst weeks of the entire year. I hope that never happens again. Never fear, life goes on and we keep trudging along. I hope everyone is slaying and finding their own versions of happiness. It's almost over now, but happy six years to the band!!

You can ignore the rest of this, but I'm going to ramble because people pleasing can really suck. I wish brains weren't wired that way because people pleasing is not the least bit swell when it's destroying you from the inside out. Some of you baddies out there need to hear that it's okay to put up boundaries and focus on your own happiness.

I wish someone would have screamed that in my face at some point when I was younger. It is okay and normal to put up boundaries. It is not okay for people to walk all over you, belittle you, and cause you mental or physical harm. You are allowed to take up space.

There is one quote that says "stop breaking yourself down into bite-sized pieces. Stay whole and let them choke." I love that quote. I used to be one of the biggest people pleasers around and it made me so miserable to the point where I quite literally had a full mental breakdown. We're only meant for so much until we break.

Practice makes perfect and the more you practice saying no, the better you get at it. The better you get, the easier it is to reinforce boundaries. The stronger the boundaries, the more strength you have, the easier it is to say no. It's so much easier said than done, but I swear, once you start it, it makes life so much easier.

Also the title of this drabble is inspired by the song 'Spider' by Kai Bosch. It's so good and actually one of my favorites at the moment. I keep looping it because that's how much I like it. Now that I've rambled, please enjoy <3

_ _ _

Chan:

Dating Chan had its pros and cons. On one hand, you never had a better relationship with anyone before. Since he was so used to being out in public and interacting with multiple different people, Chan wasn’t afraid of your romantic relationship. 

He knew what he wanted and he communicated everything perfectly. Every want, every need, every like, and every dislike, you knew them. On the other hand, you were still figuring out how relationships worked properly. The last romantic relationship you fell into, it left you scarred in more ways than one. 

That’s why it took you so long to finally agree to meeting the rest of Chan’s band. It was a huge step outside your comfort zone. The whole day, Chan had been gushing and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

You weren’t just nervous, you were terrified. Your stomach churned uncomfortably with anxiety. You kept zoning out and internally freaking out. There were so many thoughts inside your head. 

What if they didn’t like you? What if you made an awful first impression? What if you screwed something up and made a fool out of yourself? What if they thought you were insufferable? On and on, the thoughts spiraled out of control. 

Before you knew it, Chan was driving you to his dorm. It was the place where he figured you’d be the most comfortable. Plus, the guys could scatter about and do their own things. All the attention didn’t have to be on you. 

It seemed to be going alright for the first few minutes. Chan introduced all the guys to you and a few minutes later, you needed to use the bathroom. Glancing around for Chan, he had moved out into the kitchen to help Lee Know and Felix with cooking. 

Left alone amongst the other guys, you sucked in a deep breath trying to contain your inner panic. A few feet away, Han picked up on your discomfort and asked if you were alright. Upon realizing that he knew your mood, you quickly apologized. 

He brushed it off and more time went by. Eventually, you were led to the bathroom. When you came out, you bumped straight into Seungmin. Apologies flew out of your mouth rather quickly. He laughed and brushed it off. 

You apologized multiple times throughout the night, even when apologies weren’t needed. Like the time you accidentally spilled your drink. When you sat in a seat that was apparently reserved for Jeongin. When you grabbed a paper towel for Chan and accidentally tore a rip across it. 

Chan knew you struggled with anxiety sometimes, but as the night went on, he started realizing just how much you were apologizing. Every time you did it, you looked terrified, almost like you’d be yelled at or lectured. It was to the point where it was getting concerning. 

Felix made brownies for dessert. While eating one of them, crumbs fell on your shirt. When Hyunjin pointed them out and began laughing, along with an added joke from Seungmin, you looked like you were about to cry. 

Beside you, Chan shot the two of them a warning glare to knock it off. They quickly changed the subject to taunting Jeongin for a terrible dance move he performed during practice. The attention went off of you and onto the three of them. 

While the guys were distracted, Chan grabbed your hand and tugged you into the safety of his room. It smelled like the cologne he always wore. Comfort flooded your system easily. 

“I’m really sorry,” you started after a few moments. 

Chan frowned, feeling confused, “for what?”

“For messing up this thing with the guys. I understand if you want to break up with me. Actually, I can just let myself out.” You reached an arm out and headed towards the door. 

Chan leaned forward and grabbed your wrist gently. “Baby, what are you talking about? You haven’t messed anything up.” 

“I’m a mess. I’ve ruined so many things tonight. I’m sorry, I-” A lump began to form in your throat. 

Chan gently pushed a finger towards your lips. “Why are you apologizing so much? You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

You moved your head away with a sniffle. “Yes, I have. I’ve done dumb things and made people uncomfortable. Apologizing is the right thing to do.” 

“Made people uncomfortable? You haven’t hurt anyone’s feelings.” 

“I took Jeongin’s chair for dinner.” 

“That’s not a big deal, baby. The guys never have assigned seats. They were just screwing around like they always do. Did something happen somewhere that made you feel like you always have to apologize?” 

“But it’s the right thing to do.” 

“Yeah, when the time is right. You don’t need to apologize over the small things, sweetheart.” 

“The last person I dated kind of made me feel really shitty a lot. They didn’t like a lot of the things that I did and they weren’t afraid to tell me.” 

“So…you apologized?” Chan guessed with a raised eyebrow. 

You nodded. 

“From now on, you’re not allowed to apologize for little things. Every time you apologize for something little during the rest of the night, I’m kissing you in front of the guys.” 

“We can’t do that! I’m sorry, but w-”  You were cut off with soft lips against your own for a few moments. When Chan pulled away, your cheeks were dark red. You swallowed and tried to regain your composure. 

“Aw, you’re so cute when you blush. I guess you’d better stop apologizing, I mean, unless you want the guys to see us kissing.” A teasing grin began to stretch across his face. 

Without even thinking about it, you reached up and playfully slapped his chest. Realizing what you did, panic flooded your face. “Fuck, I’m so sorry! I-” 

You were cut off once again by his lips against yours. 

_ _ _

Minho:

With a sigh, Minho kicked off his shoes and placed his car and house key onto the stand by the door. He jerked off his jacket and hung it up on a hanger. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he crept towards your shared bedroom door. 

His feet slid over the floor through the darkened house. His fingers grabbed the brass knob to the bedroom and he slowly opened it. The soft hum of the fan filled the air. The room was pitch dark. He pushed the door open further and stepped inside. 

“Minho?” Your voice called out. You popped up out of your bundle of blankets and turned on the bedside lamp. Both of you blinked at the sudden brightness. 

“You’re up?” He asked. “You’re seriously up, again? Baby, it’s really late and you have work early in the morning. I know you want to see me, but you need to get some sleep.” 

“I know, but I wanted to see you.” A frown filled your face. “I missed you so much and I just couldn’t wait.” 

He moved over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. You watched his bare back as he ripped off his shirt and slid into a different one. Realizing you were staring after a few seconds, you averted your eyes. “So how was your day?” 

“It was alright,” he shrugged. 

“You’re not going to give me the specifics?” 

“Nope. Not now. We can talk about that in the morning. Right now, you need to get some sleep.” 

“But I-” 

“Nope. Have you seen yourself lately? You look like you’re sleep deprived.” 

“But I’m not!” You tried to argue back. 

“Is that why you keep taking naps on the weekends?” 

“Well…” You couldn’t fight back because he got you there. Staying up after midnight really was taking a toll considering that you had to be up at six in the morning. The days you stayed up later, you struggled through exhaustion. 

Lately, you spent your days nursing coffee and energy drinks, trying to bring back the momentum, but they could only do so much. Recently, it seemed like you were more irritable and Minho was right. Brown bags sat beneath your eyes, your energy was low, and your co-workers kept making sure you were alright. 

“I don’t want to make you unhappy,” you finally got out. “I really love you, you know? You usually look really excited when I’m still up. I like greeting you when you get home. I just want to make you happy.” 

Minho headed over towards the bed, pulled down the blankets, and slipped beside you. “You make me happy in a lot of ways and I love you too. Trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings if you’re sleeping when I get home. In fact, I want you to be sleeping.” 

“I love seeing you, but you look really cute when you’re asleep too. Imagine if you woke up in my arms. That sounds so exciting. Imagine you get enough sleep and you wake up to me holding you. The perks? You get enough sleep and I get to snuggle you.” 

“And you’re okay with that? Because I could continue to stay up and I-” 

He leaned up and lightly flicked your nose. “You need to get some sleep before your co-workers show up at our house. Yesterday, you said you were really freaking one guy out because you kept falling asleep while standing up.” 

You finally nodded in agreement. He tugged you towards his chest and plopped down on his pillow. “When we wake up, we’ll have the most amazing breakfast and I’ll tell you all about my day and you can tell me about your day.” 

“Promise?” You asked. 

He nodded and shut his eyes. You laid there soaking in his warmth until you shifted. You shut your eyes, but nothing happened. You shifted again and again until Minho opened his eyes again. “What are you doing?” 

“I can’t get comfortable and my brain won’t shut off.” 

“Probably because I came home an hour earlier tonight. Your body is used to going to bed around the time I come home later.” 

“I can’t help it!” You huffed clearly annoyed as your lips stuck out in a pout. “I feel like something is missing, but I don’t know what.” 

“Maybe if you wouldn’t have been a brat and stayed up until I got home,” he started. 

You stuck your tongue out at him and shifted again. Silence filled the room as the two of you tried to sleep. After a few more minutes, you jerked into a sitting up position. Beside you, Minho frowned with his eyes closed. “I think you’re right, something is missing.” 

You thought about it for a while before your eyes widened. You jerked off the blankets and scrambled to get out of the bed. Beside you, Minho finally sat up and watched you nearly faceplant as you left. “Where are you going?” 

“We forgot to get the cats!” 

“The cats?” His face twisted in confusion. “The ca- Holy shit! We forgot the cats!” He shoved off his own blankets and scrambled after you. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were sound asleep. Snuggled in different parts of the blankets were Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. The five of you fell asleep rather quickly comforted by the warmth of one another and the tranquility that transpired around the room.

_ _ _

Changbin:

During the first week that you dated Changbin, you bought him a shirt he mentioned he wanted to you in passing. When he unwrapped the soft pink wrapping paper and he unraveled the shirt, the happiness sparkling in his eyes locked in your brain. 

During the second week of your relationship, he mentioned he really liked a new drink that he found at the grocery store. When he joked that it was the only thing he wanted to drink from now on, you took that seriously. You bought him multiple packs of it to keep in his dorm refrigerator. 

When the second week wrapped into the third, you bought him a new pair of Airpods because he lost the last pair. You couldn’t stand his frown and how bummed he was about it. When you replaced the exact case that he had also lost, he nearly hugged you to death. 

He didn’t realize what you were doing at first. At first, he thought your actions were cute. He knew some people showed their love through giving gifts. Sure, he felt a little guilty about it, but you looked so happy when you handed them to him. You were practically a little ball of sunshine that he couldn’t resist. 

The last thing you got him, you took your time wrapping it, and you brought it straight into the JYP recording studio. You knew that he’d be there finishing up his recordings. As you were going in with your box, Chan and Han were coming out. 

“Oh,” Han’s eyes lit up, “what’s that?” 

“I bet it’s another gift,” Chan teased. 

“Wow, Changbin is so lucky.” 

“You really know how to spoil him rotten.” 

You laughed and responded. After talking for a few more moments, the two walked off to head back to their dorm. Apparently, Changbin was still inside finishing up the last few lyrics of a song. 

You knocked a few times before you pushed open the door. Changbin was in a black t-shirt with a face mask tucked beneath his chin. His eyes were narrowed down in a notebook and his pencil scribbled rapidly. “What did you forget this time?” 

“Uh…nothing?” 

“Oh!” His face lit up. “It’s you! Hi, baby! Give me a moment to finish writing these lyrics. How did you get inside? I didn’t think security would have let you in.” 

“Well, they probably wouldn’t have, but Felix was talking to the security guard when I came up. He told him to let me in because the two of us were dating. The security guard seemed hesitant, but Felix does what Felix does best.” 

“Melts the hearts of everyone around him with his angelic being?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” You laughed and placed the wrapped box down on the studio couch. Changbin continued scribbling for a bit and you stood patiently with your hands folded in front of you. 

“Alright, I’m finished!” He pushed his chair away from the wooden desk he was crouched over and glanced back towards you. “Should we go get dinn- oh, what’s that?” 

“It’s a present.” 

“That looks like an awfully big present. Should I be scared?” He raised an eyebrow as he studied the light green wrapping paper. There was a big silver bow on the top of it. 

“I think you’re really going to like it.” You picked it up and handed it to him. He was shocked by just how big it was. The thing easily fit across the length of his lap. 

He hesitated before he grabbed a piece of the folded paper along the side. A loud rip filled the air as he jerked it. At first, his face lit up as he revealed the internal packaging, but it didn’t take long before his face fell. 

You purchased him the lego set that he had been admiring in the window of your latest trip to the mall. The lego set was pretty big and it easily cost a couple hundred bucks. At first the gesture was sweet, but this was too much. 

“You don’t like it?” Your voice came out softly. 

“No, no, no! I-I do, but I…” He sighed and sucked in a deep breath. “Baby, why do you buy me so many gifts?” His eyes went up to meet yours. There was genuine curiosity on his face. 

“You don’t like the gifts?” 

“I do like the gifts, but I’m starting to think you’re spending way too much money on me. Why do you feel the need to buy me so many gifts? A lot of what you’ve been buying costs quite a bit of money. I don’t want you to waste your hard earned money on me.” 

“I’m not wasting my money on you.” You suddenly felt like the size of a grape. All that happiness and joy in your heart, all that excitement slipped out of your heart like a deflated balloon. “I just wanna make you happy.” 

“Honey, you make me feel like the luckiest man in the world, even without these big gifts. I like that you want to make me feel happy, but this,”  he tapped the box of legos, “this is too much. I feel bad for receiving this. This costed so much of your money.” 

You couldn’t help it, tears filled your eyes. He instantly frowned and shifted. You frantically blinked trying to keep them from falling, but they dripped onto your cheeks. You wiped them away as Changbin placed the legos onto the floor. He leaned over and pulled you close to him. 

“Hey, hey, hey, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I don’t want you to spend all this money on me. I want you to spend all this money on you. I want you to be selfish for yourself.” 

He wiped more fallen tears and tugged you onto his lap. You sniffled and allowed him to. “Why do you feel like you need to buy me such large items?” 

“I-I don’t know. I guess I just feel like I’m not good enough. Maybe if I buy you things you really like, maybe you’ll stick around. Maybe I can buy your love and I-” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Buy my love?” He gently cupped your cheeks between his hands. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to buy my love. Not at all! I’m with you because I love you. I wouldn’t be with someone if I didn’t like them.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll leave,” you whispered. 

His heart broke even more and he shook his head. “If I was ever thinking about leaving you, I’d bring it up to you. I wouldn’t keep you in the dark about anything like that. Relationships are very serious things and I’d never shut you out or try to hurt your feelings on purpose. Never.” 

“So no more gifts?” You asked. 

“Well, I won’t say that. You seem like you really like giving gifts, right?” 

You nodded your head. He wiped his thumbs beneath your eyes again. “If you’d like to give me gifts, how about something small? Like maybe one of my favorite snacks? Or you could do something else.” 

“Like?”

“We could go on adventures together. We can go half and half and go on fun dates. Hyunjin just recently told me about a couple’s private pottery class that his pottery teacher hosts. How about something like that? We’ll make memories together, have fun, and we’ll have a shared experience.” 

“I guess that does sound pretty good.” 

He smiled and gently poked your cheek trying to cheer you up even more. You blushed and couldn’t help, but smile back. Your eyes went down to the lego set beside your feet. “Are you really going to make me take it back?” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I really want you to have it and I spent good money on that. Plus, I don’t want to go back to the mall. They’re going to ask why I want to return it and I’m not good at lying. I don’t want to admit that my boyfriend didn’t want it.” 

“Well…” Changbin’s eyes followed yours. “It is a really cool lego set and you did spend a bunch on it. I would like you to take it back, but I will admit that it’d look super cool in my room.”

“So will you keep it just this once?” 

He sighed before he caved. “I suppose, but this is it! If you do something like this again, I’m forcing you to take it back. I’ll hold your hand and drag you into the store. I’ll make it as dramatic as possible, so you’ll be too embarrassed to ever do it again.” 

Your cheeks went red again as you nodded in agreement. Changbin’s gaze went back up to you. “So how about we take this back to my dorm with the rest of the guys? I’ll order us food and we can put this together. Maybe we can have the other guys help us because this is going to take hours.” 

“That sounds like fun.” 

“Maybe even a full year to put together.” 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.” 

“You don’t know that. What if it takes a century? How about a millennium?” 

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.” 

“I can’t help it!” He tossed his hands in the air. “I live with Hyunjinnie! What did you expect to happen? 3racha doesn’t just rub off on Hyunjin, he rubs off on us too!” 

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“You’re being such a fucking bitch!” 

They were just words, but it might as well have been a slap in the face. The look of hurt on your face was one that Hyunjin would never forget as he stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door after him. He slammed it hard enough that the walls shook. 

You shut your eyes and sucked in a deep breath trying not to cry. You were under a lot of stress from work and he was under stress from some stupid controversy that had happened with his band. It was a minor thing, but the management team was grilling all of them behind the scenes. 

The argument was just a simple miscommunication on both your ends. You were both irritated and frustrated due to external factors. It wasn’t much of a surprise when the two of you started to argue, but you didn’t think it’d get this far. 

With your head down, you walked over to the couch. You collapsed onto it and curled your head into the arm. The mixture of high strung emotions whirled into a tornado and now both of you were hurt. Your heart ached due to the cursing and all Hyunjin could feel was guilt. 

You cried and cried and cried until you ended up crying yourself to sleep in the living room. Outside, Hyunjin went on a walk trying to clear his head. He couldn’t believe he had said something like that to you. He was absolutely gutted about it. 

If there was an award for the world’s shittiest boyfriend, he’d have it in the bag. He couldn’t believe he fucked up this badly and it was absolutely unforgivable. His brain started to spiral out of control. 

What if you broke up with him? What if you never wanted to see him again? What if you went to the public and released this information to the press and the fans? He nearly had himself in tears as he took off running back towards the apartment. God, what would his band members think? They’d never forgive him for this. 

Nearly tripping over his feet, soaked in sweat, he shoved open the door and rushed inside. He walked through the brightly lit living room and was about to head towards your room until he found you curled up into a ball on the edge of the leather couch. 

For the first few moments, he was smitten. Your back moved up and down slowly as soft snores came from your mouth. He couldn’t have been outside longer than twenty minutes. 

It was quickly ripped apart when he remembered what he did. Remembering it was like a knife fileted across his stomach. He sucked in a deep breath, moved over to you, and gently shook your shoulder. He softly called your name trying to get you to wake up. 

You shifted at the touch and hummed softly. Your eyelashes were clumped together from tears. When you jerked your head and blearily opened your eyes, Hyunjin’s heart crumbled at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. 

“Baby?” His voice called out softly. He gently stretched a hand out towards you. He held his breath waiting for your reaction. 

“Hmm?” 

He sat down beside you quickly and tugged you into his lap. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I’m so sorry for calling you a bitch. I-I don’t know how to make it up to you, but it’ll never happen again.” His eyes became glossier as he spoke. His voice wavered as if he was on the verge of tears.  

“It’s fine,” you weakly got out. “We were both upset and you snapped. It’s not a big deal.” 

“But it is a big deal. I hurt you terribly and said something that never should have come out of my mouth. Darling, I’m so, so, so sorry.” 

“I’ve been called worse,” you mumbled. You were still half asleep with your head on his chest. “I was kinda being a bitch, so you weren’t wrong.” 

“No, you weren’t! I was being an asshole. Please don’t ever accept me calling you names. Never accept anyone calling you names. It’s pathetic and it’s low. You’re so much better than that.” 

“Not really,” you shook your head, “it’s okay, seriously.” 

Tears dripped down Hyunjin’s cheeks. Not only had he done the unimaginable, but now he realized you had low self-esteem. He shook his head, unable to accept your words. 

“No, it’s not okay. You are beautiful and you are lovely. You are a wonderful person and you’re very intelligent. You’re someone I can’t live without and, best of all, you’re my muse. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.” 

“I-” 

He cut you off, “no. You don’t get to say mean things about yourself. You don’t get to accept what I told you. I was a fucking piece of shit and I hate that I can’t take back the words. I’m sorry, so please, if it’s okay with you, just let me hold you for a while.” 

The tears were back in your own eyes as you nodded. You had been called a variety of names in your lifetime. Once upon a time, with an awful friend, you accepted every awful thing they said about you. You were too afraid to stand up for yourself, so you took in the words constantly. 

You heard them so much that you began to believe them. Internally, those words had damaged you far more than you’d ever admit. There were thorns in your heart that still jutted out. 

Sure, Hyunjin’s words and the actions that followed, they really were wrong. Nothing he could say could take them back, but, at least, he was trying to make it right. You couldn’t stand the way he looked with tears in his eyes. 

You adjusted yourself and wrapped around his torso like a koala. He hugged you against his chest tight and rested his head on top of yours. He was so glad that you were still here and were willing to hear him out. 

_ _ _

Han:

“I’m really sorry,” you got out with a grimace. “I know, I know I shouldn’t, but she’s my friend. I can’t leave her hanging all alone. She’s a mom now and I bet that’s really exhausting.” 

Han frowned while watching you lace up your shoes. For the third time, you were canceling the date that the two of you were supposed to go on. All he wanted to do was spend time with you, but your friend kept taking advantage of your kindness. 

It was okay, at first, and he understood. Parenting could be hard and it was healthy to take breaks. However, your friend kept constantly asking you to watch her kid. She never paid you for it and she asked in the spur of the moment. There was never time to preplan anything which kept throwing off what you had with Han. 

Your boyfriend’s patience and understanding only went so far. In your eyes, you were trying to be a good friend. In his eyes, you were being used as a free babysitter because your friend didn’t want to deal with the responsibility of having a kid. It was frustrating and it was annoying, especially when it kept ruining your date nights. 

“I’ll be back later,” you managed to get out. You were starting to feel upset about the situation yourself. Dealing with a baby, one that was only a few months old, was a lot of work. 

After being at work all day, you wanted to lie down and cuddle with Han. You wanted to go with him to do some low energy activity and then come back home and cuddle. Both of you were introverted and you liked it that way. 

Dating an introvert was the best decision you ever made. Sure, occasionally, the two of you liked to go do something you both enjoyed. Most of your time was spent at home where you were relaxed. You weren’t overstimulated and you weren’t overwhelmed. 

“What’s the reasoning this time?” Han grumbled, unable to stop himself from being bitter. He was tired of your friend’s bullshit. If she wanted you to watch her kid so much, the least she could do was pay you. 

“Um…” You trailed off knowing that your response would upset him. 

“Is it something dumb?” 

“I-I guess,” you shrugged, “she wants to go to the bar.” 

“Are you being serious?” He whined. “Baby, that’s not fair! She can wait until the weekend to get plastered, it’s literally only Tuesday! I made restaurant reservations in an hour and now I have to move them again!” 

“I’m really sorry, but she’s my friend.” 

“She’s using you!” 

“But she ju-” 

“Why are you making excuses for her? You know that I’m right. This isn’t helping your relationship with her. You’re not getting paid for this either. You’re babysitting her child and now, when she gets home, you’ll have to babysit her too because she’s going to come home drunk.”

“What am I supposed to do? She’s my friend! I can’t just leave her to suffer alone and I-” 

“Woah,” his eyes widened in shock, “since when is parenting suffering? Your friend knew what she was getting into and you know it. She planned this pregnancy and she went on and on and on about all the baby books she read.” 

“I know that it’s hard to be a single-parent. It’s overwhelming and it’s awful, but you know what? I love you!” Your face scrunched up in confusion from his words. “And I don’t like seeing you being taken advantage of because you’re too kind.” 

“You keep chasing after your friend and you keep giving her an excuse to abandon her duties as a parent to go have fun. It’d be different if this was planned in advance and if you were being paid for it or something, but she keeps doing this!” 

“But-” 

He held up his hand to silence you. “This time she wants to go to a bar. The last time, she had a nail appointment. The time before that? She wanted to go to the bar again. When you’re a parent, you have to do what’s best for your child and sometimes that means sacrificing things for yourself.” 

You stayed silent hating that he was right. Ever since your friend gave birth, she had been leaning on you a lot. It made sense, in the beginning, and you didn’t mind, but it was starting to become a huge issue. 

It’s not that you didn’t like her child because you did. He was adorable and he listened well, but you didn’t want to have a kid and the responsibilities that came with it. At least, not at this time. 

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings,” you finally admitted. “I feel really shitty if I say no. I just…I don’t want to be an asshole.” 

“I know you don’t.” Han walked towards you, grabbed your hands, and tugged you off the couch. “But does it really make you an asshole if you’re putting yourself first? Sometimes you have to give people some tough love. Your friend can’t avoid her parenting responsibilities forever.” 

You let out a sigh and nodded your head. “I’ll go talk to her. I’ll come back and-” You paused before your eyes met his own sparkling eyes. “Is it alright if I meet you at the restaurant?” 

“Really?” 

You nodded again. 

He screeched in delight and jerked you over his shoulder. You shrieked as he spun around and bounced a few times. Your shrieks turned into laughter as he cheered. 

Once he finished, he put you back down. “I’m so proud of you for creating boundaries.” He reached over and planted a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’ll text you the restaurant location and then we’re getting drinks to celebrate. Now,” he shoved you towards the door, “get out and go talk to your friend.” 

“I believe in you and you can do this! No matter what happens, even if it backfires, you’ve got this! Honeybun, you can do anything and handle any problem that comes your way. Wait!” He rushed towards you and placed a kiss on your cheek. “For good luck!” He beamed. 

You laughed and thanked him as you left the apartment. Once you were outside, you sucked in a deep breath. This was terrifying and anxiety-inducing. You were sure your friend would be upset at your decision, but Han was right, you couldn’t keep bowing down to your friend and watching her kid all the time. 

It wasn’t making you happy. It wasn’t fair to the baby because you weren’t their parent. It wasn’t fair that your friend was able to keep avoiding responsibilities either. As you approached your car, you reminded yourself silently that Han believed in you. In turn, it made you believe in yourself too. 

_ _ _

Felix:

It was all going wrong. Everything was going wrong. Felix’s birthday was today and you were screwing up massively. You had everything planned out perfectly and then your mother ruined it. 

Usually, you put aside extra money to splurge on things. You weren’t the best when it came to money. In fact, you struggled with it. Every time you had money, all you wanted to do was spend it. It was a bad habit that you had just yet to break. 

Lately, you had bought a few gifts for Felix. You picked out a few new games for his Nintendo Switch that you’d thought he’d like. Plus, you found a few new articles of clothes that were his style. You even managed to purchase a bottle of the fancy cologne he liked to wear because you realized he was getting low on it. 

You splurged on the wrapping paper and the gift bags. Gift wrapping wasn’t your forte, but you were determined to impress Felix. This was the first year the two of you were dating and you were excited to throw him his own small party between the two of you. You spent nearly three hours on YouTube studying the perfect way to wrap gifts. 

When you found the video you liked the most, you took another two hours following along and neatly following the tutorials. You kept the gifts hidden beneath your bed and away from Felix for a few days, so he had no idea. 

You went out of your way to design a special cake. There was a bakery in the area that had raving reviews. They made custom cakes and you already had an idea of a cake you wanted to create. Since he spent so much time playing Animal Crossing and listening to Animal Crossing music, you wanted to get him to follow that theme. 

You were making a simple sketch of what you wanted. You planned to take it down to the bakery and have them create it. You had a price range and everything. Everything was perfect and then your phone rang. 

You were on your way towards the bakery, it wasn’t far away. When you picked up the phone, you realized it was your mom. You swiped the call and pressed the phone up to your ear. “Hello?” You answered. 

You paused and listened for a moment before your face fell. “Did you seriously? Mom!” You cried out. You couldn’t help the frustration that built up in your voice. 

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me!” Your mother shot back. “You’re old enough that you should be giving back to me. I helped raise you! I put food on your plate and a roof over your head! I fed you and I gave you an education.” 

You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes at her response. After a while, you hung up the phone frustrated and upset. You returned back home and tried to fall back into your usual upbeat persona. You must have done a good job because Felix didn’t realize that something was wrong. 

The day before, you went to your mother’s house to help her make a meal. You put the small backpack you carried with your jacket. What you didn’t realize was that while you were out cooking, your mother got into your things and stole the cash you pulled out of the bank, specifically, for Felix’s cake. 

She constantly harassed you for money and sometimes you gave in. You couldn’t help it. Every time she pulled out the excuse of raising you, you felt guilty. It was like a kick to the back of the knees and you collapsed every time. 

You struggled to figure out what to do. You didn’t want to borrow money from anyone. You definitely weren’t going to make Felix buy his own cake. You didn’t want to wait until the end of the week before your next paycheck came in, so you decided on the next best thing. 

The next best thing, apparently, wasn’t the best idea. You thought you were making the recipe right for homemade cake, two days later. Everything was going alright until you tasted the batter. You instantly gagged and spit out the mixture. 

As you flipped back through the recipe, you realized that you had followed the recipe perfectly. However, you somehow managed to mix salt with sugar. The supposed sweetened batter was now a salty wreck. 

You cursed beneath your breath and dumped the mixture. You pulled out another bowl to remake and remeasure everything. While you were trying to recreate the recipe, Felix walked right into the kitchen. 

His sudden appearance caught you way off guard. You jumped while pouring flour and suddenly the bowl of half-made liquid cake was coated in way too much flour. A lump sat in the back of your throat as your face fell. 

“Oh,” Felix frowned, “I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you heard me come through the door. What are you making? I’ll help you remake it.” He sent you a reassuring smile, reached over, set a hand on top of your head, and playfully messed up your hair. 

All you could think about was how much he would have loved the Animal Crossing cake. The cake would have been moist and light. The frosting wouldn’t be too sweet and it wouldn’t overwhelm him. 

A strangled squabble came from your throat. Felix blinked in confusion and raised an eyebrow. “Baby, are you alright?” 

“I was supposed to get you a cake!” You blurted out. “I had this plan to get you an amazing cake with Tom Nook on it. I was going to recreate your little house and your character. It was going to be so cute and t-then-” you sucked in a shaky breath feeling like you were going to cry. “My mom took my money when I was at her house. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“It was going to be a cute cake. It was going to be custom made and it was supposed to be here, but I couldn’t even pay to have the bakers make it. I wanted to put it here and surprise you. I was going to make you a homemade one to try and make up for it, but I keep fucking it up.” 

A soft smile filled Felix’s face. “You were going to get an Animal Crossing cake for me?” 

“You love that game a lot.” 

“And I also love you a lot. It was an incredibly sweet idea, but don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll be more than happy to have anything you bake me. I know you’d bake a homemade cake with plenty of love. That’s something that Tom Nook doesn’t know anything about.” 

You suddenly broke into a laugh as tears filled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you finally finished. “I’m just really not having a great day. I should be having the best day ever. You popped out of your mom’s womb on this day and that was the greatest gift of all.” 

“Woah, okay, how about we stop right there?” He laughed. “We really don’t need to talk about my mother’s womb.” 

“I should call her and thank her.” 

“I don’t know how she’d respond to that. So anyway, what about your mom stealing your money? Is she going to give it back?” 

And so, you and Felix worked side-by-side making a third cake batter and placing it in the oven. He listened to you ramble about your mom while the two of you tossed ingredients into a bowl. You explained how guilty she made you feel and how you’d occasionally give her money because of that guilt. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s healthy. You don’t owe your parents anything. As a parent, it’s their responsibility to provide for you. They shouldn’t be making you feel guilty for that.” 

“I can’t help it, it’s the people pleasing part of me.” 

“I understand because I’m like that too sometimes. You’ve just gotta do what’s best for you. Your mom can be a little…um….” 

“Crazy?” You finished for him. 

“Well, I was looking for a nicer word, but yes. She can be a little much sometimes. You seem to be a lot happier when you don’t interact with her. I think you should focus on what makes you happy.” 

The two of you continued to talk. When the cake was baked, Felix leaned over to pull it from the oven, and you rushed to your room to grab the presents you had. He placed the cake on the stove to let it cool. When he turned back around, he blinked in shock. 

A few wrapped presents and a gift bag sat upon the counter that the two of you had just cleaned up a few moments prior. When his curious eyes met yours, you smiled at him. “Just because I couldn’t get the cake, it doesn’t mean I couldn’t spoil you with gifts. Happy birthday, baby.”

_ _ _

Seungmin:

Seungmin’s heart stopped beating when he heard you sobbing. He just came home from the studio. There wasn’t time to take off his shoes. His brain instantly went to the worst thing and he sprinted towards the sound. 

He didn’t knock, he just shoved the bedroom door open with wide eyes. You were a wreck with your face in the pillow. He rushed towards you in a panic. “Hey, hey, hey, why are you crying?” He hurried over and plopped down beside you. 

His hand instantly went towards your back to comfort you. Upon hearing his voice, you cried into your pillow harder. There was something embarrassing about being vulnerable in front of your significant other. 

“Baby, please talk to me. I don’t know what’s wrong if you don’t tell me. Did something happen?” He gently scooped his hands beneath your stomach and shifted you into a sitting position. 

A thousand what-ifs were locked into his head. You sucked in a shaky deep breath and let out another sob. He frowned and wiped your tears away. You hiccuped through the final few sobs. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered in a shrill voice. “I-I just-” 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong. I hate seeing you like this.” He frowned and wiped away your tears. 

“M-My friend,” you managed to get out. 

“Your friend? What happened? Did they get injured?” Fear struck his heart. “Did they die?” 

You shook your head again frantically and your hair shook from side to side. “T-They just keep saying things a-and-” You burst into another sob. 

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. His arms wrapped around you while you sobbed. While he held you close to him, there was a vibration from beside you as your phone received another notification. Your fingers clenched around his arm and you cried harder. 

Seungmin tried to console you, but you were a mess. He pressed his lips against the top of your scalp and continued to fight off your tears. He shushed you and rubbed your back. When your phone vibrated again, he finally glanced down at your phone. 

Your head was buried in his chest. You were a wreck from what your friend was telling you. More quick vibrations filled your phone with every text sent your way. Seungmin’s eyes didn’t leave the screen as more and more text notifications filled the screen. 

“Baby, who’s texting you?” 

You didn’t respond. Your fingers clutched onto his shirt tighter. You buried your head in his chest more as if it’d help you escape your inner turmoil. The tighter you clung to him, the more worried he became. 

He’d never seen you to the point of being unconsolable. Sure, you had your rough days before, but not like this. When your phone vibrated again, he didn’t ask. He reached over, unlocked your phone, and he glanced at the text messages. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he definitely wasn’t expecting to find one of your close friends screaming every obscenity at you imaginable in capitalized letters. His jaw instantly clenched and his hand tightened around your phone screen. 

“Baby, why the fuck are you being cursed out?” 

“B-Because,” you hiccuped, “I said I didn’t want to hang out with them.” 

“So why are they cursing at you?”

“They’re always like this when they don’t get their way. I’m h-having-” you hiccuped again, “a bad day and t-this just-” 

“Was your tipping point?” 

You sniffled and nodded. Seungmin frowned and scrolled through a few previous text messages. “They’re really always like this?” 

“They’re kind of mean when they have a bad day.” 

“Kind of?” Bewilderment stretched his eyebrows up. “Kind of?” 

He read a little more and gasped. “I know this dumbfuck didn’t just call my significant other ugly. Now we have our own little beef. Ugly? Have they considered looking in the mirror? The love of my life is no such thing.” 

He didn’t even ask, he just responded. When he was quiet for a while, you pulled your head out of his chest with wet cheeks. “What are yo-” 

“Putting this cunt in their place.” 

“Seungmin!” You cried shocked at the insult. 

“Don’t ‘Seungmin’ me. They just said you looked like you were inbred and they have a big storm coming their way. I won’t let an ugly cunt insult the love of my life. Not when they look like they were shaken in the womb and came out disfigured in more ways than one.” 

“You cannot be mean back!” You reached out and attempted to grab your phone. He jerked it out of your reach. “Seungmin!” 

“I’m just getting to the good part, baby. Wait until I tell them that a New York City rat has more manners and class than them.” 

“Seungmin!” 

“Swing low and I go lower,” he shrugged innocently, “maybe they shouldn’t have been so mean. They can start it, but I’m ending it.” 

You sighed, but you let him go. He seemed to be really focused on your phone. His eyes were narrowed and his thumbs moved frantically over the screen. He typed for quite a while before he hit the send button. 

“Do I even want to know what you said?” 

“Nope. Don’t worry,” he pressed a few more buttons, “because now you never have to deal with them again.” 

“What did you do?” 

“Blocked them after giving them a long insult that will be sure to affect their family for multiple generations after them.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I’m not going to sit by and let an asshole insult my favorite person.” 

You softened instantly and glanced up at him with heart eyes. “I’m your favorite person.” 

“Maybe. It might have just slipped out. Anyway,” he stood up and grabbed your arm. You followed along and let him lead you into the bathroom. He pushed you in front of him and stood with his hands on your shoulders. You stood staring at your reflections in the bathroom mirror. 

“What are we doing?” 

“You’re going to repeat after me.” 

“But I-” 

“Nope, you’re not getting out of this. We’re going to stand here for five minutes and recite positive affirmations to dust off that negativity. After that, who knows, I might put a curse on that motherfucker.” 

“Seungmin!” 

“I’ll let Changbin beat them up and allow Lee Know to shove them in the air-fryer. Just wait until Felix finds out what they did to my precious gem. The sunshine is going to turn into a tornado and rip them apart. Now repeat after me, I am beautiful.” 

You hesitated at first, but after a while, you were repeating the affirmations through laughter and smiles as Seungmin tickled you. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone off on your friend, but you were precious to him and he hated to see you cry. He’d do anything to cheer you up. 

_ _ _

Jeongin:

Another day meant another chance to thrive. In your case, it was another day to sleep whenever you could fit it. Today, it was in your car. You barely got into the driveway and got the car turned off. You instantly slumped forward and pressed your head against the cool steering wheel. You fell asleep rather quickly and were like that for a while. 

Jeongin was used to coming home and finding your car in the parking lot. You got home an hour before him on most days. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he saw your familiar car in the parking lot. He parked his car behind you and shut it off. 

After climbing out, he yawned and lifted his arms above his head in a stretch. There were a few quick pops from his spine and he hissed. Today, the band had dance practice. His body was sore in more than one area. 

He shook out his limbs and began to head towards the apartment until he saw something out of the corner of his eye. With a frown, he glanced over towards your car. It took him a moment before he made your slumped figure out in the driver’s seat. 

His eyes filled with horror and he rushed towards your side of the car. He gripped the side of the car and tugged on the handle. Unfortunately, it was locked. Panic engulfed him and he knocked on your window frantically. 

You groaned at the noise interrupting your sleep. You shifted, but you didn’t lift up your head. Upon seeing this, he knocked at your window harder and tried to tug the handle again. 

Realizing someone was attempting to get into your car, you finally glanced up to find your boyfriend at your window. His eyes were full of concern as he gestured for you to unlock the car. 

You reached over, hit the unlock button, and you yawned. Jeongin flung the door open and hurried to your side. “Are you okay? Baby, please look at me.” 

When your sleepy eyes met his, his worry increased. He gently grabbed your chin and turned your head to the side. His eyes scanned for a head injury. “Are you alright, sweetheart? Did you hit your head? Did you pass out or something? Have you eaten anything?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You were unconscious in the car.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you shrugged, “I fell asleep.” 

He let out a sigh of relief, stroked your chin a few times, and finally let go. “You scared the fuck out of me. I thought something had happened and I was going to have to call an ambulance. If you wouldn’t have unlocked the car, I probably would have broken the window.” 

“I’m alright, I swear. I’m just tired, that’s all.” You rubbed your eyes with another yawn. “I’ve gotta head inside and get some sleep. My boss is probably going to want me to come into the office again early and stay late.” 

“Baby, with all due respect, you’re like a walking zombie. I know you like pleasing your boss and the money is good, but this isn’t healthy for you.” 

You let out a groan, but Jeongin stood his ground. “I know you don’t like hearing it, but you know I’m right. You need to focus on what’s best for you. Sometimes that means making sacrifices that might make other people unhappy, occasionally.” 

He reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Let’s get you inside and taken care of. Have you eaten anything today?” 

“I haven’t had time, honestly.” 

He frowned again, but he didn’t lecture you. “Let’s start there and then we can go on. Let’s get you a quick bite to eat and then get you to bed, alright?” 

You nodded in agreement. He held out his hand and you intertwined your fingers with his. You let him slowly tug you towards the house. Still half-asleep, you didn’t mind the babying he was doing for you. He plopped you down in a kitchen chair. 

You rested your head in your hand and nearly fell back asleep. He quickly made the two of you instant ramen cups to share. You were teetering on the edge of conscious and unconsciousness. He gently shook you awake, so you can eat. 

The two of you managed to have a decent conversation despite your yawns and tired voice. You managed to get halfway through the ramen before you nearly knocked it over as your body twitched while falling asleep. 

He chuckled and moved your ramen away from you. “Alright, come on, let’s go.” He stood up, grabbed your hands, and gently tugged you up. “Let’s go get you all tucked in, sleepyhead.” 

You hummed in agreement and let him lead you to the bed. He helped you out of your work clothes and into a pair of pajamas. When he was finished, he led you towards the bed and he tucked you beneath the covers. 

Bending over you, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” you sleepily mumbled with your eyes shut. 

“Promise you’ll start to work less overtime? I don’t want you to fall asleep on the road and get into a car accident. I want you to be safe and healthy.” 

You weakly nodded your head in agreement. He planted another kiss on your head before he laid down beside you. Happily, you snuggled into his warmth. His arms wrapped around you and he rested his head on top of yours. 

You fell asleep rather quickly, but it took a little longer for him to follow. He was nearly asleep until your phone chirped with a new notification. Groggily, he reached over and grabbed your phone off the side table. 

He stared at the text message from your boss and then he glanced over at you. You were sleeping rather peacefully and he didn’t want to wake you up. Taking his time, he slowly removed himself from your bed and crept with your phone out into the kitchen. 

Far away from you, he called your boss and explained that you had been overworking yourself. When your boss heard about how little sleep you were getting, they were instantly struck with guilt. Jeongin got permission for you to take off the next two days. 

You now had Thursday and Friday off, so you could catch up on sleep and recover. After that, you were free during the weekend. On Monday morning, he made sure you were able to go in at normal time. 

Maybe, you’d be able to work overtime as long as you didn’t overwhelm yourself with it. Jeongin couldn’t help it, he was worried about you. If you were upset and thought he’d overstepped his boundaries, that was a conversation the two of you could have the next day. 

For now, he placed your phone back on the side table. Climbing back into the bed, he wrapped his arms around you. He tugged your sleeping form close and let out a sigh of relief. With a calm mind and a fluttering heart, he’d finally join you in the land of dreams. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡|

Masterlist

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[coldflasher]

so me and my friend had to put our flash (re)watch on pause for a while bc she broke her ankle so we haven't seen each other in a while, but we finally picked season 8 back up and. god. i don't even have anything funny or insightful to say about it because it's just bad. it's so bad. and i couldn't even put my finger on why it was so bad at first, but eventually my friend pointed out that like. NOTHING happens. the characters literally just stand in a circle and talk. then whenever something DOES happen they go "hey so this thing just happened, hold on a sec while i describe it word for word in case you missed it." there's no action 90% of the time and there's no meta of the week for the most part so every episode feels samey and directionless as we slowly crawl our way towards a resolution of a plotline that isn't particularly compelling anyway

the characters are flat and nothingy. barry, the main character of the show, does FUCKING NOTHING EVER. there was one scene where he was running down the street, which he obviously used to do in every single ep, and my friend was like "holy shit i feel like we haven't actually seen him RUN in ages" and she was right. the man whose WHOLE SUPERPOWER IS RUNNING VERY FAST DOESN'T RUN ANYWHERE ONSCREEN FOR LIKE SIX EPS STRAIGHT. we see him run in and out of rooms but never see a straight shot of him running TO anywhere. WHY?

then there's the fact that the overarching plots are bad. the characters are split into two factions that don't interact at all. iris having time sickness could be cool and interesting and there's lots of potential for interesting character work there, but instead of making anything happen they have her sit on a couch and not touch anything in case she erases it from the timeline.

at one point she literally GOES MISSING and barry just. DOES NOTHING?? im sorry, fuck whatever else is happening, you know if iris disappeared he'd be tearing the city apart looking for her but all that happens is cecile is like "omg barry i can feel that you're sad, what's going on??" and he's like "iris is missing, im worried about her." WHAT!! THEN FUCKING LOOK FOR HER YOU DINGBAT!! i've said this before but s1-4 barry would absolutely beat the shit out of this version of himself if he found out about this

and don't even get me STARTED on caitlin and her almost husband, the skeleton fire demon who eats grief---again, this had the bare bones (pun intended) of an interesting plotline; a meta that feeds off people's grief could actually be really powerful and interesting to explore, but he's a magic skeleton from another universe who tricks her by pretending to be her dead husband so it's just stupid. at one point the characters like "why are we doing this plotline now, 7 years after ronnie died?" and i'm like yes, why ARE we? because again, having caitlin fall prey to the manipulations of a malevolent force that feeds on grief would actually be very topical and interesting if it had happened in, say, s2, when ronnie had just died for the second time. if her grief was fresh and raw and painful it could be conceivable that she'd be desperate enough to go "well i thought he was dead once and he survived, maybe he did it again", and cling to that, allowing herself to be tricked into believing this evil sentient flame skull was really ronnie. but it's been SEVEN YEARS and she literally just got a new boyfriend who has no personality and who we never see again, so it doesn't make any sense and i don't care. also the show keeps trying to convince you to care by having caitlin go "ronnie was such a valuable member of the team, you knew and loved him!!" and it's like... did we though? did we really? he's never made a big impression on me personally. the only character who was close to ronnie and actually knew him was cisco and he's not here. they added a few flashbacks and a proposal scene to try and make us care more about the caitlin/ronnie relationship but they didnt do anything for me because i was too busy staring at danielle's terrible wig. like babes that is NOT what caitlin's s1 hair looked like, did you even try

the skeleton fire demon stuff is actually kind of enjoyable to watch at times purely because it's so fucking ridiculous, the whole thing is a trainwreck, so i did somewhat enjoy getting to make fun of it but JESUS CHRIST IT'S SO TERRIBLE. HOW DID THE SHOW FALL SO FAR. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 3/28/2023

At my old job, one of my big job functions was taking someone else's code and trying to figure out why they got one answer when they ran it on their system and we got a different answer when we ran it in the operational environment. This was often a long and painstaking process and among the worse parts of it was going to status meetings and announcing that I worked on it all week and found 5 bugs and none of them were the one I was looking for. Literally, no one was ever once disappointed in me for this because a) that's just how this work was and b) everyone knew I was good at it and if I was stuck it was because it was hard, but also, it sucked for me, personally.

Anyway, these weekly updates are starting to feel like that, where it's like "yet another week of not finishing the fanfic." I don't really mean to be pessimistic about it, because I actually feel like it's going decently well, it's just that the progress is not happening in any kind of linear or predictable way.

I made it most of the way through the editing and rearranging phase I was in last week. I still have about 3 scenes at the end that are unfinished, but I decided to put those off for the time being. I've mentioned before that this isn't really a story about events, it's a story about a time, so there's a beginning and an end and some stuff happening in the middle, and right now I'm trying to make the stuff in the middle feel like it's going somewhere and is not just a random collection of scenes. I've actually been thinking about the story when I am not actively working on it, which was hard to do earlier on. I've got a much better idea of what each of the characters is going through and I've been rearranging and adding scenes to try to punch up some of those themes. (The reason I left those last few scenes until later is that I need those to sort of wrap things up, and I can't wrap until I know what I'm wrapping, y'know?)

If you put a gun to my head, I could finish the thing in a day or two, but it would be kinda shitty. Every day, I work on it and it gets a little less shitty. There are definitely bits of it that I like. I hope to eventually get to a place where it's not shitty, or at very least, I'm out of ways to improve it.

I like to be done things and I have to remind myself that sitting with my work is good and important and also the point, like I write for the experience of writing and for my own mental health, not for churning out stuff, it's not like I get paid or anything. Also, I've worked on this fic for a really long time and it's a story that's important to me and I want it not to suck. I am, however, very very very sorry to all six or however many of you read these updates and sigh heavily.

Also, I kinda have a lot of other stuff going on. One of the effects of living under late-stage capitalism is convincing yourself that all the stuff that you do that's not paid employment, like grocery shopping and helping people move and running a child's health form to the doctor and back and doing taxes and driving the dog to chemotherapy all don't count and so I feel like I never do anything and am pathetic, but I actually do kind of a lot of things.

I realized yesterday that it was the 27th and I had not really drawn anything all month, so I started drawing a thing and I rushed through it a little, because I was mostly doing it so that I didn't have a blank space for March when I do my year-end retro, but then I realized I didn't want to put something that sucked there, either. (by rushed, I did spend, like an hour or two on this). I do have a few more days in the month, so maybe I can keep working on it.

I am pleased to report that I Made A Good Cake for Mr. P's birthday. It was an Almond Tres Leches Cake. It wasn't exactly pretty, but it was tasty. I made two modifications to the recipe. (1) It was just for our family, so I halved the recipe. I cooked the whole thing in one 9x13, and cut it in half widthwise and stacked the two halves. This worked out great, would recommend. (2) There was a comment on the recipe where someone said they used raspberry preserves instead of apricot and I did that, too, because Mr. P prefers raspberry.

This was definitely one of the nicest sponges I have ever made. I did a really good job whipping the eggs, if I do say so myself. It baked up nice and tall and had great flavor. If I made this again, I would consider using fresh raspberries and cooking them into a compote instead of storebought jam, but the jam was fine, actually! It was chilled from being in the fridge, and I think this would make a really nice summer desert. Both Mr P and Polynya Jr rated it among my Top Cakes. (Polynya the Smallest did not care for it, but it's simply not possible to please all the people in my house at the same time). The cake also gets bonus points for using some of the almond flour AND cake flour that I already had in my pantry from previous projects.

Oh, yeah, the childrens' spring break is next week. 😬

I almost forgot! We also went to the arboretum to see the cherry blossoms and we also visited our friends the koi. LOOK AT THIS BIG CHONK AND THEIR ENTOURAGE.

This wasn't even the biggest chonk there, it's just the one I managed to get a picture of.

[dumbangrypuppet]

I need to build more on Kake. Like. Yeah I have his backstory kinda vaguely done, and sorta how he acts, but I wanna go deeper.

I have vague ideas for each of the things i'm listing and I'll get into those later but for now I'm listing them

AA

I need to figure out what sort of job he'd have. Where does he live. What does the house look like. Does he "work from home" in a sort of way like Simon? How did they meet?

Well. Here's my thoughts:

For a job...?

Kake is an artist. Ranging from Ceramics, to canvas, just about anything. Like. He's a strange little man whose only memories the past thousand years were dreams, and now he's been awake for 12 years, maybe he'd make some amazing or unsettling art. Plus he has six arms, you cannot tell me that wouldn't be useful for painting or sculpting. I can't count the amount of times I'd be in the middle of sculpting something and wishing I had more hands. Or trying to paint something and wishing the same thing.

I feel like he'd like more hands on work. And the relaxing kind. He could sit for hours and just sculpt. He loves it. If you tried to take him to do something that requires more heavy lifting or physical work, he'd probably get exhausted quickly. He works at a desk or sitting most of the time, he doesn't do a lot of cardio.

Where he lives/what does his house look like/does he work from home...?

Well. Sorta. Yeah.

I've always kind of liked to design buildings in my head, but if I try to put it on paper it doesn't look right. I like to think he'd have a large house. One he lives in alone, but is filled with paintings and art he's made over the years, and he does have spare rooms for people to stay in if they want to come over, he just... doesn't have many friends. (Literally only knows Finn and Simon. Finn is always adventuring, and he's too shy to ask Simon if he wants to hang out because he thinks he'd bother him)

I think Kake would live in some sort of building that doubles as his house and his studio. It's always clean, despite having art projects all over. He thinks he's too messy, really it's all just clutter. He struggles with trying to get his art pieces sold (specifically ones he just does on a whim). Not because they don't look good, but because sometimes the feelings he had when painting them are so personal, and it feels like he would lose a piece of himself if it was gone. Hes already lost so much of himself and who he used to be, what if it happens again?

(I'm pretty sure he would figure out during his 12 years of consciousness that his "memories" were actually just dreams and he didn't know any of the people he was talking about. That they probably weren't even real in the first place. Could you imagine how sad that is?? To realize that every memory you had wasn't real? Just dreams you had while asleep for 1000 years, and you have no idea who you used to be?? Anyway.)

This one's a bit off topic from the thought it's for, but I feel like Kake's hands would be super soft. This is because he does take good care of himself, and when working with clay, your hands will dry out if you don't take care of them after. Lots of lotion. He hates when his hands feel rough, they easily catch on certain fabrics and such. (Kake is autistic because I'm autistic and I can't make a neurotypical OC even if I wanted to) so thus, Kake would have a variety of lotions kept in the bathroom, they all smell nice. He likes nice smells.

Any furniture or carpet or blankets and clothes he has are sensory friendly. If you have a specific fabric that makes your skin itch when you touch it, you'll never find it at Kake's. Because again, since his house doubles as his studio, the whole thing is about being able to focus more on your work and interests when you're in a safe and comfortable environment.

That being said, there have been times where he accidentally spills paint on his favorite fuzzy slippers and he cries about it.

How did they meet?

I feel like Finn accidentally came across Kake on an adventure. I mean. Like. Kake was sleeping in a cave for 1000 years dude. Probably didn't look so good. Finn probably helped Kake adjust to society for the most part. The people didn't surprise him at all and neither did the world. (Again, Kake has been dreaming for 1000 years. Probably thought of some weird stuff) first couple years into consciousness, Kake would drink at the candy tavern, and mourn his "lost love" (Morgause from the tales of King Arthur.)

Here's where we go into the first meeting between him and Simon.

Simon is initially interested in Kake because "woah, a dude from before even my time? I wonder what he knows about!" Cause he's a nerdy antiquarian. They drink together and converse, and Simon pieces together that Kake might be a little crazy, or just drunk. Because Kake spews nonsense that has nothing to do with history, it sounds like a dream.

They start as acquaintances from there, then eventually make it to friendship. Through the years, Simon helps Kake realize "oh shit, my life as I knew it's not real? Well, I'm not gonna cry about it, I'm gonna make art instead!" (And then proceeds to channel every single sad feeling and thought into his art)

Since we don't really get any idea where Simon's GOLB idol comes from, and assuming how it breaks in the intro and the show, my brain wants me to think it's ceramic. And with that thought!!! I'm taking!!! Creative liberties!! For my own selfish gains!!

I think Simon commissioned Kake to make him the GOLB idol. (Kake would have done it for free he's gay, but Simon insisted he pay Kake for his time)

Anyway!!! Here's all my thoughts for now!!

This little bug man and the sad little antiquarian are helping me through my struggles.

[lonesomedotmp3]

cactus, nutmeg, papyrus :)

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

I kinda want start learning more about stop motion and puppetry after watching pinocchio but I haven't actually done that yet aside from watching the behind the scenes stuff soooo I will say heidegger and social conformity which is the last thing I did at uni before break started... and obviously fuck that man and it's important to keep context in mind when analysing his work but I did find the way he writes and the points to discuss were the most interesting they've been this term... 💔

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

at my uni space i have very little going on except 1) my metal cowboy violinist (the BESTIE i have posted abt him on here before) and 2) various horror merchandise ie. my crotchet leatherface with a little plastic chainsaw, a killer klowns poster that watches over me while i sleep, the official film poster for child's play 1988, and a nightmare on elm street sign :) movie genres i am soooo normal about!

at my parent's house it's like. what if your 13-16 year old self threw up everywhere and in the years after you never cleaned up you just kind of stepped around it. so many middle grade books it's unreal. so many books it is UNREAL i am under fucking under attack frankly!! I've got raven cycle redbubble poster, a simpsons guardians of the galaxy poster i ripped out of a comic literally six years ago alongside my stack of simpsons comics i've never parted w because ???, a spiderman homecoming holographic poster. spongebob poster. spiderman funko pops. an abandoned simpsons calendar that's still on march of 2021. I think there's a captain america poster hidden under the bed somewhere. i'm looking around NOW like what the fuck is happening here i have an OVERWATCH POSTER on my wall?? anyway. there's a little foray into various cringe sprawling parts of my childhood 🖤 most importantly both places have noooo style and a dedicated wall for my cinema and concert tickets hashtag slay <333

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

read your mind by sabrina carpenter... i have been insanely annoying about emails i can't send recently but that's not MY fault that's because it FUCKS. i adore the way this song begins so calm and quiet and then just throws you into it 🫶 it's just fun to listen to!! and i don't want to say it but i'm an honest guy so i will anyway. that happened to my buddies merlin and arthur!!!!

[yourfriendanniefish]

it's not even the "oh well there i am with the (2nd most) massive beard" that makes it weird. a lot of it is just "oh well yeah i guess it would be weird to look up old photos of a place you used to work and then actually see yourself from up to a decade ago." and yes, that is weird. and sure, the beard part is a little weird, too (i say, idly scratching the weird halo of stubble i still have because i don't have quite as much money as when i started laser and now it's been like six months and like wouldn't it be awkward at this point to go back and anyways), but again, that's just the passing of time— a passage that just happens to include transition in it. i don't really mind seeing that.

it is weird thinking about the intersection of strangers' lives into my own. wondering what these invisible people were thinking when they snapped a photo of me. that's almost interesting, though, or "cool," even.

the thing that started it was thinking about the job i had before this one, though. here, i found a picture of me taken from that one, too:

that's the thing that keeps coming up... that idea of "oh yeah i guess i've worked in coffee a long time." and the twin thought is "fuck i need to get out." it doesn't "mean the same thing anymore," whatever that itself means. i used to put stock in caring about the product, of how it looked and tasted. i put stock in different shops, who did what best. i used to give a shit about it all. i don't, now, for a lot of reasons— one, because it never really mattered (though i don't think it's necessarily bad to take pride in your work, just don't be an idiot and/or a dick about it). two, because the industry ruined my life. i say that a lot, mostly about two different men in the field, and i think people often perceive it as a joke. but it isn't, quite.

okay, so like, i helped open a shop. the first staff meeting, the first training day, the owner read part of carl sandburg's "chicago" poem and he cried. we all thought "wow, here's a sensitive man who believes in the city," and man, it was 2011, i kind of believed in it too, or at least i wanted to. so we all threw in behind this man, and behind the shop, and the word "family" got used, like "we're a family here," that absolute poison. and our relationship got weird and close in the sense that he would (literally) say "sometimes i think of you as a son [sic] (and indeed, that's sick)," and it didn't strike me as odd because he'd taken on this bizarre paternal role in my life, too, and i liked that because i believed in the shop, in the business, in the product, in the coffee. then rahm emmanuel started coming in, and the boss jumped at his heels, and one day rahm said "hey i'm having a meeting with bob mariano tonight, should i give you guys a shout" and then the next day we had an order to put our coffee in every mariano's grocery store in the city of chicago and everyone came in on our days off to bag coffee because we believed in it, but we all knew something had changed. then because of the mariano's head start we got our coffee into whole foods because rahm let us skip some steps and then the owner fired his sales man, who he'd known for 30 years, because "he wasn't doing enough," even though he'd gotten us every client until the mayor walked in and gave us a store for free. then we started pushing back at the whole "the mayor is our best friend," like, i'd just come from a shitty shop run by two racists on the southside and watched first hand what happens to a community when you shut down the mental health clinics (which rahm had just done) and i wasn't really a fan of the guy, but the owner pushed back at us, and it made this big rift, and he started lashing out at us when we'd have concerns, because we weren't a family, we were his. and then one day, i came in to work wearing a dress (which, even in 2011, was absolutely not unusual), and the boss tore into me, on the floor, in front of customers, "really? today? with this shit today?" and made me change out of it because "we have an investor meeting," and then he left to go drink a bourbon across the street and the customers said "hey what the fuck was that" and i said "thanks" and then two weeks later someone said another coffee shop was hiring and i quit, and on my last day the owner didn't even come in. he never said goodbye to me, after two years in which he, again, literally, said "i think of you as a son." and then a couple of years later i saw his main investor in a bar wearing a MAGA hat, and the final puzzle piece clicked the fuck in.

but i got a job at a better shop! it was a real shop! it was fancy, but goofy, and it took the coffee seriously, and it felt good to do that! i was a part of the chicago coffee scene! i did it, i won, i could feel like i was doing something cool and good and i was proud of it (oops that's a sin). and i worked at this shop for like, five years, and the definition of "coffee scene" changed, and chicago changed, and i didn't stop to think "do i want this to be a forever job?" i just thought "well, it's a job you can take anywhere," and also like... i was, what, 24 when i got into the career (it's not a career)? what was i supposed to do? i graduated into the fucking recession, what the fuck else was i supposed to do?

i liked the fancy job. i took it too seriously. i made a lot of friends. i met some lovers. i got in fights. my idea of the city blew up and expanded into some adventurous romantic beast. it was cool to work there. i became cool. but the job slowly stopped being? or, it started being exhausting, too exhausting to be fun anymore.

then we had a staff meeting. like, a normal one, except the city had decided to torrentially downpour. like, weird even for summer in chicago kind of downpour, like, really wild rain. and we sat and laughed, even as there'd been a lot of tension recently (and here's a little bit of why— we'd had trouble keeping new staff because there were a lot of people who'd been there a long time who were terrible people but had made the job their personality in such a way as to make it not matter. we (though, i promise, not me, i was the only person advocating for our new staff against the genuine abuse they were experiencing) couldn't keep staff because they were getting bullied off the team, and it made it, you know, tense). but we laughed together at the staff meeting, we joked about the time we'd had a staff meeting and one person managed to make us talk about "we need more vegan donuts" for over twenty minutes. then the owner said, in his "i'm an awkward man-child" way, that he'd sold the shop. he'd sold it to a local chain. he'd sold it to a white rapper with a ton of money who already owned a dozen terrible shops in town that survived on name recognition alone. and the new owner came in and for whatever reason decided that the first thing he wanted to tell us was that "nothing will change... well, i'll have to start taxing your tips, haha," and we all went "uhh." and then the next week he told our managers to pick four people to fire. i had an opening shift, and afterwards i went downstairs to nap like i always do, and he brought our manager down there to spend a literal hour berating her, telling her how much he hated her, getting bizarrely personal about it, culminating in "well, i won't fire you, but i think you know what you have to do," and i remained frozen as i listened to her weep as he walked back up the stairs. she didn't quit, because the rest of us told her not to, because that would piss him off. it didn't, he just fired other people instead. last month he told my new boss that he wasn't interested in buying us, and that the shop i used to work at "meant nothing to him." i heard this and i thought of everyone he made cry there.

and i went to work at our new cafe, which i'd been excited to do, but the new owner didn't want it— it had been in the works when he bought us out, so he had to buy it too. but he just wanted the roastery attached to it, so he just cut all the ad budget and let the shop close. they kept it open literally just for me for an extra two months, because i was about to move out of state and the people who still had any power left wanted to be nice. and that was nice. but i still felt like i was walking away from a ruin. i had been in chicago's coffee scene for almost a decade by that point, and what had it got me? this stupid, worthless thing i used to care about got wrapped up in capital twice while i forgot to notice it was happening.

i moved to albuquerque and tried to get a coffee job in its nascent coffee scene and i showed people my resume and they looked at it and said "i don't know what these places are," and i thought "wow, what have i done with my life," and i wound up getting a job at a cafeteria under a school behind a hospital. it didn't matter what the coffee tasted like there. no one cared. no one does. it's just coffee.

and now i'm back in chicago, and the guy that bought the shop i liked and ruined it and the guy who called me "son" and made me change out of a dress are merging their businesses. the city's coffee scene is run by a monopoly now, and i'm closer to 40 than i am 20 and i'm still making coffee because i forgot to learn how to do anything else, and it doesn't even matter anymore, and i'm not proud of anything i do anymore, because idiot men who wanted money ruined it for me, and i forgot to notice that it was bad.

and now i can stay up too late before going to work at yet another coffee shop and look up photos strangers took of me on yelp of a time when i was happy to be there. okay.

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

[navelgazed]

How are you sure you‘re endo? /Gen

Oh lol! I'm not lmao I'm quoigenic, but nobody cares because if you're not traumagenic you're an endo

My opinion on our origins: could be trauma, could not be trauma, but due to my adhd and bad memory and propensity for mistaking dreams and insisted stories as memories there is literally no way to tell for certain. Like, I could swear I had a memory and when I brought it up, i was told it happened before I was born. I have something I thought was a memory that never happened and very little to no actual memories that feel like memories before the age of six. Most of it just feels like dreams. And frankly, I'm not super interested in trying to figure it out, because it would literally just stress me out more trying to figure out what's real and what's something I dreamt or imagined or got told happened so much I imagined it. It's not actually interfering with my life.

And like, AFAIK my system first 'happened' in 2011, involuntarily. We have theories about stuff that may have happened before that, but like. We have no way of confirming any of it due to the above. And I don't think it would enrich my life to know?

Right now, what's most important is how we're functioning, how we can help one another live our life now, how to heal from the trauma we know about--as far as I can tell, nobody really connects to trauma except maybe my repressed southern Baptist upbringing, but everyone else is just kind of There. And like I said, I don't know if they're even connected or if I made up that connection after the fact and I'm not that interested in figuring it out.

I mean, what would it help? I know about my trauma and I've been in therapy for ten years and on antidepressants. I am so much better now just being out of my parent's house. I'm not interested and I don't care to lose myself in trauma speculation when I feel more normal and mentally functional than I have basically ever. Low bar to clear, but hey.

Anyway sorry you probably didn't need this much information but like *shrug* thought I might as well put it out there

[dangermousie]

Heelo mousie! Love your blog! Do you mind recommending some of your favourite Chinese BL novels or shows?

I've seen the untamed and read it. I'm currently reading heaven's official blessing and I saw the donghua. Anything other than these two?

Awww, thank you!

Novels: I am gonna be lazy and literally copy/paste the entire danmei section of my top 10 web novels post (except MXTX’s stuff since you are already reading it.) Let me know if you need help finding any of these.

Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor   antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both  as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men   always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be  friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest  parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is  also finding the middle path between their two very different  philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or  dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and  setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period  setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with  character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our   protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant,   sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s  servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as  we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and  occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named   Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers  and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both  out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely  likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two  take up farming, get involved in  the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

The Wife is First - OK, this one did not make my top 10 web novels but it’s a sweet, fun gay cottagecore fest. Our ML, a royal prince, and his spouse, a smart if delicate aristocrat, keep house, eat noodles, play with their pet tiger, make out and spoil each other rotten, while occasionally fighting battles and outwitting their court enemies. It’s so very mellow. That couple redefines low drama - they are both nice and functional and use their brains. It’s as if a nice jock and a nice nerd got together and then proceeded to be wholesome all over the place.

I mean, the set up could be dramatic - our ML the prince, lost his fight for the throne and is about to be killed. The only person who stayed loyal to him is his arranged husband the aristocrat guy who ML never treated nicely since he resented marrying him (marrying a man in that world is done to remove someone from the ability to inherit the throne.) And yet the husband stood by him not out of love but beliefs in loyalty blah blah. Anyway, he transmigrates back into the past right after their wedding night and is all “I got a second chance OMG! I don’t want the throne what is even the point? I want to live a good long life and treat the only person who stood by me really well!” And he proceeds to do so to the shock of the aristocrat who had a very unpleasant wedding night and generally can tell the man he just married would rather eat nails than be married to him. But soon enough (no seriously, it’s not many chapters at all) he believes the prince is sincere blah blah and then  they get together and they pretty much become cottagecore goals.

In terms of dramas, I only do period dramas (or novels) so I am not the person to be able to recommend any modern BLs. There is a flood of upcoming (hopefully) period BL dramas but it’s relatively thin on the ground now. The two I will recommend is Word of Honor (which is AMAZING) and Winter Begonia (which I just started watching but which owns me already.) I have a tag for both - the one for the former is huge and I cannot recommend either strongly enough. I’ve heard good things about The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, but I am not big on mysteries so haven’t watched it for myself.

In terms of the upcoming BLs, the ones I am most looking forward to are Immortality and Winner Is King, but The Society of the Four Leaves also looks promising.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Here's the headcanon-ficlet-thing I promised! Actually, sorry, it's only HALF of my idea. This thing got MUCH longer than I intended and I've decided it would be easier to just chop this whole thing in two. If I ever send another headcanon, it'll either be much shorter than this or I just won't use anon. Anyways, the death of Dick's parents had just been so SUDDEN and I started thinking, "What if Dick had some separation anxiety when he was younger that just... Never really got resolved? His parents were gone, just like that, and Bruce literally risks his life every day. That couldn't have helped my made up conflict either, I imagine." Hope you enjoy! (1/13)

When Dick first arrived at the manor, he'd just been so GLOOMY. Even after Tony Zucco's arrest, he moped around the living spaces and never seemed happy with how spacious the manor's rooms were. A handful of times, Bruce and Alfred had caught him crying in the emptier wings by himself, but they had never really been sure what to do with the kid other than feel guilty. Sometimes (rarely), Dick would seek one of them out for a hug or SOME form of comfort, but it never seemed to be enough to truly make him feel better. It was no secret that Alfred and Bruce were not the most affectionate people in the world, and Dick had come from a very loving place. It was just another new thing to adjust to in his already new, unfamiliar life. Then Dick wanted to be Robin, full time, and neither Bruce nor Alfred could really say 'no.' Dick still wasn't happy- not for a while- but eventually, his mood started to improve. (2/13)

Maybe that was why no one initially found the boy's habit of waiting by the manor doors alarming. It was one of the places he visited more frequently, and Alfred originally assumed it was because he liked hanging on that specific entrance's chandelier more than the others. However, as the weeks passed, it became obvious that it was just a place Dick liked to hang out when he was waiting for Bruce to return from work or patrol. When it began nearing six thirty, the time Bruce's work hours ended, Dick would set up his homework or drawing paper on the floor and work just to the side of the doors as he waited for them to open. Sometimes he'd even hold a handstand or stretch for however long it took Bruce to come home that day. At first, Alfred didn't know what to make of it. But, watching the way Dick's face lit up every time Bruce knocked at the door, the old butler figured the small habit couldn't do any harm no matter how strange it was. He was just happy the boy wasn't still brooding. (3/13)

Bruce also noticed how Dick always seemed to be waiting for him after work, but ultimately didn't find anything concerning about the observation. Sure, it was a little strange to have such a large reminder that he was an actual guardian now, but he reasoned with himself that Dick would grow out of it after a certain point. He decided to just let the boy be and life carried on. Besides, he wasn't Dick's only person of support; Bruce had caught Dick watching Alfred work in the kitchen on a number of occasions with a concentrated look on his face. Without a doubt, the boy was finally starting to adapt to the manor's way of life. (In all honesty, Bruce had probably been too busy being relieved over the old butler's existence to judge whether or not any of his new ward's behaviors could be considered alarming.) (4/13)

As Dick grew more and more relaxed overtime, neither Bruce nor Alfred put much thought into his other developing habits. For instance, as Robin, Dick always made sure to check in with a quick "Are you still there, Batman?" over the comms everytime the line went quiet for more than ten minutes. Bruce would occasionally warn him not to call in when they were on stealth missions, but Dick never quite seemed comfortable with leaving the line COMPLETELY dead whenever they left each other's sight. On those missions, he'd sometimes blow softly into his comm unit, and Bruce would have to make some subtle noise back so as not to completely worry the kid. Dick even seemed to develop certain behaviors around charity events and galas; for example, he would always hug Bruce's pant leg at the beginning of the events and would only let go once he was made to socialize. Despite the fact that it soon became apparent the kid was far from shy, the habit always took place without fail, to Bruce's perplexed amusement. Maybe the kid just hated Gotham's elites? (5/13)

More and more little habits flew under the radar as everyone still seemed to be adjusting to the new lifestyle. Occasionally Bruce and Alfred would pick up on something seeming a little off, but at the same time, Dick finally looked happy. Really, a few weird displays of affection here and there were FAR from their concern so long as Dick's days of endless distraught were over. And so, once Dick finally- and TRULY- settled into the manor as his new home, a bunch of odd behaviors just seemed to be swept under the carpet and ignored. On the unavoidable nights where Bruce got injured in the field, there was no missing how the habits seemed to rise in intensity, but by then... They became the everyday normal and were never addressed. (6/13)

(The Justice League found Robin's behavior more bemusing than anything. Dick was still in the habit of obsessively checking the comms when Batman, on a rare occasion, asked for backup. "Check in, Batman?" "Still scaling the perimeter. We might not catch any activity tonight past a few petty thefts." "Alrighty. And, uh, Superman! Status update!" "Nothing going on up here either, Robin." "Okay!" Ten minutes passed and the boy's voice crackled back to life on the comms once more. "Is everyone still okay?" After that one particular patrol, Clark had sent Bruce a questioning look. "He's nine. Of course he's worried." Clark didn't push it- or anyone else for that matter.) (7/13)

It wasn't until Dick turned sixteen and started looking to be more independent that his behavior finally set off a few alarm bells. His check-ins had turned more snippy over the years when Bruce and him got into fights, but they never really stopped. The arms clinging to Bruce's pant legs at galas were instead replaced by a friendly hand on Bruce's shoulder, yet Dick's presence had never really left his side- only growing more flighty and uncertain as he got older. When Dick did his homework, by then in his last year or two of highschool, it was no longer on the floor but instead in the dining room closest to the manor's entrance- still started at around five or six just like when Dick first arrived at the manor, and still fit to Bruce's work schedule. It occurred to Alfred that a few of Dick's behaviorisms probably should have been checked out a while ago. (8/13)

"When you were Master Richard's age, you were barely home. It's normal for teenagers to want a bit of distance and alone time, but Master Bruce, he only stays after school for club activities. The rest of his time is either spent partoling around the city or helping YOU. I'm worried whether or not his behavior is healthy." Bruce had contimplated these words before giving his own thoughts. At the time, he and Dick's working relationship as Batman and Robin was becoming a bit more strained, but he still KNEW Dick. "I'm not sure, Alfred. He says he's happy with the friends he has, and he's always been relatively well behaved... Could it be that this is just routine for him?" Alfred disagreed and so the discussion continued. However, any plans they made to adress the situation were cut short when Dick got shot in the shoulder. (9/13)

Bruce tried not to feel guilty about firing Dick and then kicking him out of the manor. A little space would be good for the boy, right? For as long he could remember, Dick had always been just around the corner. It was safer this way. He ignored Alfred's angry, dissapointed gaze and Clark's furious demands to explain what the hell he'd been thinking. Batman didn't need a Robin, and Dick would be fine without Bruce. (Bruce would be fine without Dick.) Later, on patrol, there was a second where the comm crackled to life. Before anything could happen it got shut off again, and before Bruce knew it, Dick's check-ins were gone. Batman didn't need Robin. (10/13)

There was no missing Dick's sudden change. With the Titans, Dick's mother henning got turned up to an eleven. Dick was always somewhere in the tower helping someone, and no one could miss the way he was practicaly always asking if anyone needed anything. Missions and patrols ran mostly the same, but it was much more often that Dick could be found staying up late at night, going through evidence on cases he was working on. His friends did their best to be understanding, but there was no hiding the fact that Dick needed help. Real help. They urged him to talk about what was wrong, but even Dick seemed to be at a loss for what he was going through. "I mean, I got kicked out! What else is there to say?" He yelled one day. Roy tried to reason with him. "But there's MORE to it than-" "There isn't." "Dick, you've been acting off for months." "And I'll be FINE in a few more! I'm always fine. Stop worrying." (11/13)

Eventually, they did. After a few more missions, it was as if nothing ever happened. Dick worked as he normally would and he started running off to do his own things rather than hover around other people's projects. He still gave off a sense of brokeness but by then there wasn't much that anyone could do. There had been one week in particular, though, that things just seemed to... Shift. Dick had just discovered that Bruce adopted another kid in the newspapers and there were sightings of another Robin. For a second, he seemed furious, and they all remembered feeling VERY concerned for what the guy might do. For four days straight it was if he was too angry to talk. On the fifth day, Dick disappeared. He wasn't seen again until the next morning. "Dick, are you alright?" Something visibly settled in him and just like that, Dick was fine again. Still overbearing, but fine. (12/13)

Okay! That's all I have so far since I don't want to spam your inbox with any more text blocks for one idea. You probably noticed that this first part just goes over more HOW Dick behaved when he was younger. The second part to this will focus more on everyone realizing that Dick had some repressed trauma going on, and the consequences it's had on him for never adressing said trauma. (Also Bruce, you shouldn't have kicked your teenage son out of the house. That didn't help.) Some of Dick's coping mechanisms when it comes to dealing with Bruce will probably also be questioned, but with the time away from Bruce, don't worry- Dick will be more obviously independent. He knew he wasn't in the best place. I'll send you the second part whenever I get done with it, which shouldn't take too long. Thanks for being excited to read my head canon and ideas! (13/13)

hey babe. this is,,,,,,oh my god. i love it so much. well actually i hated it because it was full of angst and it made me feel emotions and AGH. but also i loved it and god i can’t wait for the next part. you have NO IDEA how much i need the next part.

also, can i just say? the fic portion itself (2-12) is 1.7k words long. with a little editing, this could be a full fledged fic you can post on ao3. you absolutely don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, that’s just an idea i’m throwing out there.

dick with separation anxiety sounds so so plausible, because that abrupt shift from living in a circus to wayne manor of all places must have been QUITE the shift. i really loved how you touched on all these different habits and quirks dick had growing up, and how those bled over into different relationships in his life. and i can’t wait to see how you resolve it.

and i have one more thing for you. this isn’t really the same idea but it’s got somewhat similar elements: i read a fic a while back about dick being touch starved. it seemed up your alley, and anyone else who liked reading this incredible drabble, i think you’ll enjoy reading it! touch starved by envysparkler.

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Hey, I'm doing good too. Just normal amounts of stressful stuff right now. Just moved to a country I've never been to before but can't complain, things are not as hard as the last time I did this so. Thanks for asking! Yeah, I saw you posting about some pretty scary health issues before, I'm glad you came out of that alive and hope you're healthier now!

The nerve some people have! Haha I know I would be pissed if people were questioning my intelligence like that especially after a couple of drinks in haha. Though I do like taunting people when I play group games, I'll be like "don't need to try that hard guys, you're gonna lose anyway" just to mess with them or just call people sore losers if they accuse me of cheating haha (they're probably right on the accusations tho). People get real mad sometimes it's kinda funny. 😂

Omg literally laughed out loud reading this! Hahaha, how did you manage to fall over a road sign then end up in a ditch? lol omg hope you didn't get hurt too bad 😂 I was trying to downplay my drunken escapades but since you shared yours I should tell you my worst one:

I was at this summer street party at night and got drunk on something made out of tropical herbs and cachaça (which is about 48% alcohol), drank 3 and a half bottles of that like it was apple juice, made friends with a bunch of strangers in a bathroom queue (who tried to talk to me weeks later but I had no idea who they were), had to be held by my best friend while I peed (mostly missing the toilet), fell in the middle of the street and scraped my knee, threatened this boy who was helping me walk and told him not to try anything funny or I would beat him up, then dragged my friends to the beach and left them shortly after to go make out with my ex, came back with lipstick all over my mouth and chin and when my friends asked what I was doing I said I was just talking to my ex and they were like NO YOU WERE NOT, hahaha then I kissed all my girl friends on a dare and we danced under the full moon, then I told my best friend I had to puke so she took me to the ocean but I changed my mind and happened to step on a dead turtle on the way back and started crying bc of it, but last month my best friend told me it was a rock I had stepped on (I believed it was a dead turtle for 7 years!). Had the worst hangover of my life the next day. ✌️✨

Ah I'm happy you liked it! I've never listened to Six musical before but it sounds fun! I can see why you like it haha made me want to dance around my apartment 💃. And hey if liking musicals is your thing then it's great, I'm sure Hozier will understand if he's not your top artist of the year. 😋 Here's my "damie" Pinterest board if you or anyone else wants to check it out, totally recommend making one if you're a visual person like me!

https://pin.it/UcHVlkq

Oh I could talk about Dani and Jamie forever I think. I love the beast in the jungle speech too and it's so painful to watch, VP delivered that beautifully, but I have to admit I'm always a crying mess from episode 1 when older Jamie starts reciting that song about being sad while waiting for her lover to return, this show is fucking cruel I hate it and love it at the same time hahaha. Omg your mom 😂 but I mean it's truly an honor to be compared to someone like Dani, no? She's really great even if she needs a little help haha (don't we all).

Aaah you're amazing! Thank you so much, I'll read this pirate AU soon!

I used to draw a lot, really loved doing it when I was a kid as I said before, and all throughout adulthood too but I haven't done that in almost a year now bc I've got a bit of a case of burnout I guess, it just takes a lot of effort to do it when it shouldn't be like that at all. I used to do fanart too, for other fandoms. Even made one for Dani x Jamie but ended up not liking how it turned out haha. I've got a lot of respect for writers and fanfic writers also! Yall can make words make sense in really interesting and beautiful ways, build worlds so enthralling I can see them vividly in my head. Writing is such an incredibly fascinating skill to have! And I guess the most important thing is that we enjoy doing these things right? Even if we think we're not particularly good at it.

Anyway, have a lovely weekend! 👋✨

Good I'm glad you're doing great but sorry you're dealing with stressful stuff!! Hope living in a new country goes well for you I'm so jealous that you've lived in different countries I'd love to live somewhere else even if just for s few years!! Awwh thank you so much I definitely came out of it alive and am feeling so much better now thank you I mean I do some pretty ditzy things so when people say it to me it's pretty deserved sometimes, I'm secretly smart and people just don't expect it so I never mind too much haha I might have to start saying the things that you do and just taunting them over it I mean, I usually do win even when they make me answer different questions so I will definitely have to start saying things like that to them Haha I love that you're just like "yeah they're probably right in their accusations" I agree seeing how mad some people get over games and stuff is funny (it's me I'm people I hate loosing games depending on what it is and I am very competitive) So it was very dark and all we had for light was my roommates flashlight on her phone but while we were walking home a friend of ours that lived else where kept texting her to make sure we were still safe (my phone as dead at this point) so while she was texting him her flashlight was facing down and someone had moved this road sign to the footpath and it was on that sits on the floor so while I couldn't see it I walked into it and fell over it but while I feel I grabbed hold of it and flipped with it and fell in a ditch with it on top of me... I was fine and was just laid laughing while my friend looked down at me and in the most northern accent ever just said "get up you dickhead." and helped me off of the floor and then asked if I was okay... and I was so it was all good!! Haha 😂 I love this drunken story that sounds like one hell of a night and is a roller coaster from start to finish!! I'm sorry you thought you had stood on a dead turtle for 7 years though, someone really should've told you that it was just a rock!! But that sounds like my kind of night!! I love nights like that... stories that will last a life time... the only down side is the hangover... luckily I have only ever had one hang over in my life and it wasn't the morning after the road sign fiasco... I felt surprisingly good the morning after that haha 😂 It's such a good musical it's about Henry VIII wives and I just love everything to do with his wives and that musical is so much fun and actually gives a little insight to the lives the six Tudor queens had away from Henry and with him because at school we're mainly just taught about him which sucks!! I loved the Hozier song and am definitely gonna have to listen to more of his stuff!! I love musicals so much I mainly listen to musical soundtracks at the minute- usually, Legally Blonde and Six on repeat haha 😂 Ooo thank you I will definitely check out this Pinterest board thanks for sending it to me!! I could talk about them forever too... since watching Bly Manor my niece has been asking me so many questions about it and I am more than happy to talk to her about it haha!! The beast in the jungle speech just breaks my heart every time I relate to it so much and VP just delivers it so beautifully!! Oh yeah now I know at the beginning that it's older Jamie I am just a wreck the whole show is just so beautiful and heart breaking at the same time I LOVE IT!! Even though it makes me sob- I keep putting myself through it!! I mean, yeah I was happy that she said it Dani is great but it was the way she said it... my mum can be something else sometimes... she said she thought Dani was like me the first time she does the accent when she says "I've fallen quite in love with London" because I just randomly do accents a lot too but it was the way she was like "She needs help... but I like her she reminds me of you" I was just like... "Should I go get help?" I still don't know the answer to my question about if I need help or not but I mean I probably do need it You're welcome I really hope you like it!! It's a

great fic I love it!! Yeah I get that if stuff starts taking too much effort and burns you out you're not gonna wanna keep doing it so it's understandable that you stopped!! I think fan art is great and I really would love to be able to do it myself but I just don't have the skill it takes!! Awwh it's a shame you didn't like the Dani x Jamie one you did I would've loved to have seen it!! Honestly there are so many talented writers out there and when I read their fics I am just in awe of the worlds they have built and the stories they have created we are so blessed in this fandom to have so many amazing writers and so many amazing fics out there Oh yeah definitely its important to enjoy what you do!! I know I love writing and love writing fics for Dani and Jamie so I think I'll be doing it for a while even if I'm not great at it haha Awwh thank you very much I hope you have a great weekend too!! ☺️

[softroaches]

Hi.

My name is rose and to be blunt, I am a walking pigsty. I hate my hair, I hate my skin, I hate my face, I hate my clothes, I hate my bedroom, I literally hate everything about myself. I'm sick of feeling so bad all of the time, so I've decided to make a change. Problem is, I've tried to change SO MANY TIMES before and either given up, or completely forgotten about it. This time, I'm going to make monthly progress videos in the hope that if I can see progress, I will be more motivated. I'm also splitting it up into categories rather than just a generic "be better", because more specific goals are more achievable or something.

The first one is hair. My hair is a complete mystery to me, k sometimes it's a poofy mess, sometimes it looks pretty ok and then I wake up the next day and it's ugly again. My scalp has also been really itchy recently, and I haven't got a clue why. I currently use Asda anti dandruff shampoo (I don't have dandruff but it helps with the itching) and Shea moisture conditioner, and I wash my hair every other day. I do use scalding hot water which isn't good for my hair or skin, so I definitely need to work on that. My dream hair would be something like cher from clueless or chuu from loona, and I want to grow it longer. I also need to figure out what hairstyles fit my face, because usually I just leave it how it is and I hate it.

The second category is skin. In theory, I have a skincare routine but in practice I only do it every other day and end up rinsing my face and rubbing on moisturiser most days. As a result, my skin is really congested and also itchy? It sucks. On my body, I have eczema, and it's really itchy and horrible. It looks orange and just odd? All I use on that is the shower gel and moisturiser prescribed by the doctor. My parents offered to take me to a dermatologist once because it was so bad, but that sounds expensive and I do think it'll go away by itself at some point.

Category three is health. Health has never been something that's super important to me, and I end up spending all my money on crisps and chocolate bars. I'm a vegetarian, but I am also quite picky so I end up surviving on tomato soup and quorn pies. I am also basically allergic to exercise, and I wish I didn't always get out of breath when I run. I know that most of my hair and skin issues would be hugely helped if I was healthy, so I really need to fix my diet and stuff. I also carry a lot of fat in my face, and I really wish I didn't have a double chin.

Environment and organisation is my fourth category, because my room is a rubbish tip, which I decorated when I was six so some of the design choices are... interesting. All my stuff seems to get stained or dirty, and my schoolbooks are all over the floor. I want to get new school supplies, and keep them nice, and I am also swapping rooms with my sister and redecorating it at some point over the next year. Here is kinda what I want it to look like.

Makeup is next, I'm pretty terrible at makeup. Anything that looks good in my bedroom mirror ends up looking messy or just strange when I look in the mirror at school, and I have to try my best to clean it up. I really want to learn how to do makeup that is flattering and not too obvious.

The sixth category is clothes. My wardrobe is basically just whatever is wearable from primark at the moment, and I live in leggings and t shirts. I'm not working with much of a budget here, but I'll put some pictures of clothes I really like. I also want to find my style, and not be so terrified of wearing anything that isn't jeans.

The last category is hygiene. This is super embarrassing but I don't always brush my teeth when I should, I usually can't be bothered to epilate my legs and sometimes I forget deodorant. I'm also super paranoid that I secretly have really bad breath and I don't know about it. This is kinda obvious but my goal for this is just to be clean.

I hope this doesn't come off as vain or something... actually, I don't care. It's too embarrassing to post anywhere right now, maybe I will when I'm 18 and I think this is really cringey and funny, but for now it isn't gonna happen. Anyway, I don't have anything else to add so see you December 31st.

(written December 17 2020)

[quidfree]

hi! hope you're well and that you're having a good day:) I absolutely adore LMV - I genuinely think it's the best fic I've ever read. anyway, the point of this ask was that I was wondering whether you had any thoughts about sirius as a godfather? like, was he suited for the job, did he actually do a good job... idk, maybe you've answered that question before, in that case, sorry! and ofc don't stress abt answering:))

this is so nice of you ty!!!

ive never talked about dogfather sirius, actually!! what an interesting pair of questions.... i would have to say a qualified yes to both?

was sirius suited for the job: personality-wise, maybe not entirely (raising a child alone in the event of jily deaths would have been Rough, and he’s not exactly a stable parental unit, not to mention he would have spoiled harry rotten), BUT he has the most important prerequisite, which is undying love and loyalty for the potters and for harry, and that means he would have done everything in his power to be a good parent figure to him, which is what really matters, so. not to mention that jily realistically weren’t contemplating he would have to be godfather alone for the majority of harry’s life- with jily around he could have been just The Coolest Godfather Ever instead of harry’s first living parental figure who didn’t treat him like shit.

did he actually do a good job? i would say a resounding yes. bearing in mind he was stuck in azkaban for twelve years (let’s not get into that), we only actively see him godparent harry for three years (plus when he was a baby). obviously baby harry was spoilt v much by his dogfather; what we see of sirius + teen harry also speaks favourably of him, i think. ok, little bit of a rough start what with the unhinged prisoner vibe, but the FIRST thing sirius does when free is go check up on harry- and he keeps tabs via crookshanks etc once at school, knows his interests well enough to send him the firebolt, and he values harry’s opinions enough to not murder peter on the spot despite his thirteen year revenge vendetta. obviously, the fact harry is the spitting image of someone sirius hasnt seen except for in his nightmares for over a decade doesn’t hurt, but he’s just so awkwardly sweet to harry afterwards- when he offers harry to come live with him, expecting him to refuse and completely understanding of it, it’s so endearing (and it always broke my heart how excited they both were about it- i bet sirius was thinking about another time a potter asked to live together). and from the start sirius ALWAYS speaks to harry like a whole person, not a child to be kept in the dark (which, if everyone else had done, looking at you dumbledore...)- the speech he gives him before he escapes is so important for harry to hear, especially from someone who knew his parents. sirius is always so careful to tell harry things about james and lily. now, it’s not that sirius treating harry like an adult would be ideal on its own, and i do think in part the issue is that he skipped his entire childhood and harry looks so much like james, but i also don’t think sirius actually treats harry too much like a grown man, apart from slipups- just like a grown teen. he advises him against threats, tells him the edgy backstories harry SHOULD know (and no other adult ever wants to tell him), looks after him as best he can (HE LIVES IN A CAVE EATING BONES TO LOOK OUT FOR HIM), listens to his teen melodrama. even when he’s fucking up by encouraging harry’s risk-taking i don’t think he’s treating him like an adult- he’s treating him like a *marauder*, because at that age, that’s what he or james would have done; being able to make informed choices is what sirius would have wanted at his age. i don’t think molly or sirius necessarily have the better argument- both make good points; sirius gets what harry wants and molly gets what harry might need even if he doesn’t want it, but that makes perfect sense- molly is an older woman who’s raised seven children, and sirius is in his early thirties and lived with kids for (1) year. james and sirius were order members by age /eighteen/ and sirius was in azkaban at /twenty-one/- he was basically a kid HIMSELF before he got put in the torture prison. i always found it so unfair that literally none of the other adults ever mention the debilitating mental issues he must be suffering from- remember the lifelong PTSD hagrid got from a MONTH there???- and that’s without even mentioning dumbledore’s purposeful exacerbating of them. not to say that mental health excuses poor parenting, but sirius both /isn’t a parent/ and really does very well at filling that role anyways, on the whole, so i think he can be cut some slack for once in his life. harry loves sirius SO MUCH and sirius loves him right back- and sirius teaches him some of the most important lessons in the whole series, even if he himself never managed to learn them- lessons that i really think shape the adult harry becomes, and the kind of lessons his parents might have taught him. so overall i’d give him kudos- and considering the absolute bullshit he’s living through, with james and lily dead, azkaban sucking the light out of him for over a decade, peter running free, and dumbledore QUARANTINING HIM IN THE HOUSE WHERE HIS ABUSIVE DEAD MOTHER IS (?!?!), i would say he does a stellar fucking job.

anyways harry & sirius’ relationship is so important to the series- even the GP was upset when sirius dies in OOTP, largely because everyone could see how bad it hit harry. that scene in dumbledore’s office? oof. they just care about each other so v much and we were robbed of a lifetime of sirius as harry’s absolute fav adult. if sirius had held onto harry that day- if dumbledore hadn’t decided to place him with abusive bigots for a plan which would only pay off by OOTP- i honestly think sirius would have outlived the series. because with harry he’d have been less unhinged by grief, able to testify properly, gotten support from other order members, not gone to azkaban- and with harry he would have had a reason to live. thirteen years of raising harry would have made harry the snarky little fucker he is at his core by age eleven, confident and happy and very good at quidditch indeed; thirteen years would have made sirius as whole as he can get. they would have patched things up with remus. there’d be no OOTP tragedy of errors. sirius would have punched dumbledore at some point. harry would have sent a pic of him and his new friends over week 1 of hogwarts and sirius would have punched through a wall and then calmly strolled over to hogwarts and taken ron’s pet rat over to minerva mcgonnagal, where unspeakable things happened to it. he would have gently butted heads with hermione (but won her over via crookshanks if nothing else) and gotten on very well with ron; snape would barely have been able to be such a dick to him because sirius would have gleefully sent him howlers for every minute of his day until he cracked. lucius on the school board terrorizing the other parents? not on sirius “billionaire heir to the toujours pur line” black’s watch- he’d happily invest even more obnoxious wealth into the school fund to get first call, not to mention lucius’ imperius excuse would not get very far with sirius around. “who’s nicholas flamel? we can’t ask adults- we’d get in trouble with the teachers and our parents are either muggles or wouldn’t know- oh wait nevermind, sirius, who’s nicholas flamel?” no more expelliarmus-ing for four years; harry Trained Duellist By Age 11 more like. dobby the house-elf? oi dobby sirius is family too- now spit it all out, won’t you? chamber of secrets? yeah, sirius knows what that is. parseltongue? yeah, sirius is familiar, and fuck those other kids for being weird to harry about it, does he want to come home for the holidays? weird creepy diary? oh, sirius’ family will have Magicke Moste Evile around somewhere. book 3 is just Harry’s Holiday: The Book because there’s no sirius subplot. you think snape would have dared treat remus the way he does with sirius hovering around paying half his checks? i think the fuck not. you bet your ass they had box seats for the whole of gryffindor house at the Quidditch World Cup. barty crouch? yeah, sirius knows THAT asshole- and remembers his son. catch harry whizzing through all the challenges minus the nerves ahead of time while sirius and remus do half the investigating for him. yule ball? no sweat, just go with ron; that’s what james and sirius would have done. if the maze went the way it goes in the books, “moody” wouldn’t even have been able to drag harry off without sirius intervening. and sirius “ptsd” black would have been The One Person who Got harry’s feelings in OOTP- not to mention sirius Skilled Legilimens black could have coopted that shit from snape and gotten harry up to scratch. sirius-raised-harry would have given umbridge twice as much shit. no kreacher lying here- and harry has sirius’ mirror anyways. so no massive drama in the ministry, and no suicidal recklessness / desperate first taste of freedom on sirius’ part means no veil incident even if they got there. hence book six through seven going Quite Differently. sirius shows up book six to be DADA teacher, why not. him and remus think it’d be funny, and besides he’s petty enough to steal the job from snape. move over firenze, new hot teacher in town. half the books are avoidable.

[phobiadeficient]

hey!!! I've been a fan of your work since your long running speeding bullet fic started! ur writing has been really inspirational to read, and I've fallen in love with the style of prose you use. would you consider doing something with stockings or the like with speeding bullet? love, the tea anon

thanks tea anon!! dude that’s been a fuckin while then huh sheesh dude thanks for stickin with me. this is a longer one for not as much nsfw but hey it happens

-

Scout knew he had good legs, alright? He already knew that. They were on the same page about Scout’s absolutely killer legs. Fuckin’ fantastic. What he didn’t get was why Sniper felt the need to add something else to the mix there. Why mess with perfection? It was a little insulting.

The only reason he was even considering this was the fact that Sniper had, first of all, asked very nicely. Gone to the effort of buttering him up over it and everything. Brought it up when they were out to eat—not anywhere too fancy, because they didn’t like too fancy and there wasn’t anywhere like that nearby anyways—and been real sweet about it. And second of all, Sniper had mentioned in passing, not naming any dates in particular, that it was his birthday fairly soon. And third…

Well.

He was sat on his bed, looking over the dumb things, late at night when he was pretty sure nobody else was gonna come by and try and bother him. And man. They were like, high quality. And it wasn’t like Scout would actually know or anything, he didn’t have a ton of experience with that sort of stuff, but they looked like they must’ve been expensive.

He rubbed the material of the stockings between his finger and thumb, amazed at the smoothness of it. He remembered being a kid and fucking around with all the coats and hats and stuff they had lined up next to their door in the winter, and really hating how itchy the lace on his mom’s scarf was, even just against his fingers, but these were soft. Really soft. Soft and smooth and…

Sniper wasn’t really the type to blow through money on stuff. Even out of the food he bought to stock his camper, the only name brand stuff he had was the soda he kept for Scout and this one specific brand of beer. He was always wicked careful with money, so careful, and that he clearly spent a real pretty penny on this one thing that he wanted Scout to just wear once to try it out and that Scout might’ve said no to…

Scout looked down at his legs, bared by the shorts he’d put on to sleep. And in his own head he’d managed to land on indignance that Sniper apparently didn’t think they were good enough on their own, their being damn great and all, but… these were too nice for him. The muscle definition he had going on was straight up insane. But his legs were pretty hairy, overall.

Scout’s facial hair grew so slowly it might as well not be growing at all, it taking a solid month for him to even get proper stubble through how light his hair was, but he owned a razor anyways. He went and grabbed it, and headed to go take a late night shower.

An hour later, back in his room, he was stood looking in his mirror, legs now very nice and smooth (except for one or two places around his knees where he’d knicked himself a bit but no big deal), in a pair of briefs and holding up the stockings in front of himself trying to visualize how they would look.

Okay. So they were fuckin’ nice. They were gonna look great. He was pretty sure the second Sniper walked in and saw Scout sitting around in these, he was either going to cream himself on the goddamn spot or do that real nice thing where he pinned Scout down and growled all kinds of filth into his ear until Scout creamed himself on the goddamn spot. They were gonna look fuckin’ good.

But the briefs were fucking up his look. Like, they fit good and everything, but standard navy briefs with really expensive stockings? He was putting three thousand dollar rims on a hatchback, here.

He walked over to his dresser, started digging through.

And, okay, the panties weren’t his, first of all, he didn’t buy them or anything. They were from back when he was super into the dating scene, when they were stationed near enough to a bigger town so that it was an option. And he felt a little bad that he didn’t even remember the girl’s name that they belonged to, but it wasn’t like he’d stolen them or anything, she’d just left it behind and he figured, hey, why the hell not. It wasn’t like the shitty motel needed them, probably had a stack of the things in the back room or whatever. And maybe he’d see her again and be able to give them back. (He absolutely hadn’t.)

But they were black like the stockings, and the girl had been like, about his size—maybe a bit bigger actually, at least roundwise, because when it came to girls maybe he had a little bit of a type—and he was pretty sure they’d fit him, just seeing them next to his briefs in the drawer.

He pulled them on, and the stockings as well for good measure, and went to stand in front of the mirror.

They actually fit pretty good. He had to kind of mess with how his dick was sat, and where the waist of it was supposed to be, but once he got everything situated, they fit good. And they weren’t quite as bombshell fancy as the stockings, but still damn nice.

His gaze drifted up, landed on his dog tags. The clasp was kinda twisted around towards the front, and he fixed it. His hair was kinda wet and messy from the shower he’d just taken, and he brushed it into better order with one hand, smoothing down the places where it tried to be weird, mussing it a little.

And, okay. He wasn’t a short guy or anything, he was pretty average, maybe an inch or two on some guys, even a little taller-looking just because he had good posture. But Sniper was like, six foot three, and his boots gave him almost another inch. It was ridiculous.

And some part of Scout figured, hey, dressed all nice, looking really good, it would be nice to be tall too.

The heels were from a Halloween costume a few years back, when he’d done a fun bit and spent the few weeks before the part going on about how his costume was gonna be from Bonnie and Clyde, and everyone ragging on him that he would never be able to pull off Clyde for a laundry list of reasons, and then when the actual day came he showed up as Bonnie. It was hilarious—at least to a few of the team. Spy and Medic thought it was really dumb. But a few of the mercs and Miss Pauling had all laughed, so it was totally worth it.

And he still had the heels. He’d lost most of the rest of the costume—he was pretty sure he still had the sweater?—but he definitely still had the heels. They’d been expensive and simple enough that he figured he could reuse them some other year for a different costume.

They’d blistered like a bitch when he’d tried to break them in before the party, but he’d messed with them enough that he wouldn’t literally die when he had to wear them all night for the party itself, and now they were comfortable, and made him a solid few inches taller.

Made his legs look even nicer, too. And when he stepped over to the mirror again after putting them on, they made a real nice click against the floor. Hm. Damn, dude. He gave himself a spin, a twist back and forth, and damn. Damn.

He looked fuckin’ good.

Okay. So Sniper was absolutely right. The stockings were a great idea. He was aware that he was already pretty hot shit, but seriously. If he saw a person this attractive in public, he wouldn’t even be able to talk to them. Like, legally. He’d walk up and be like “hey what’s up” and then they’d probably have like a bodyguard or something who would step forward all “no autographs” and like, call him buddy but in the way that meant he was about to get his neck snapped. That hot.

He’d never really thought of the word “prettyboy” as an actual insult, it was only really an insult for guys too macho to appreciate a different kind of aesthetic, but he’d never really gotten any kind of feeling in particular about it being stuck to him. But now? Boy was he pretty. And he was kind of super into it. Confidence boost, like the one time every billion years when he actually got Uber’d because Medic was popping it anyways because he was about to die and trying to retreat and hey, might as well buff Scout since he was literally the only other person in a hundred foot radius.

He was totally gonna fuck up Sniper’s whole week with this. He was gonna break Sniper with how good he looked. Dude was gonna have a heart attack and drop dead. Holy shit.

The next day he went over to visit Sniper before breakfast and all but demanded that Sniper make time for him that evening. And all through battle he was at the top of his game, moving like a maniac and wreaking absolute havoc on the field. He got a clap on the back from Engie on the way off the field, a friendly bump on the shoulder from Demo, and at Soldier’s usual daily “be better at your job” lecture to each individual teammate, Scout found his laden with pauses as Soldier tried to think of anything he did that was even a little less than top notch.

He felt good. He felt real good. And when he got back to his room after showers and pulled on the outfit, sweatpants and a t-shirt over top, heels packed into his bag with a few more essentials for sleeping over (because he felt good enough that he had a feeling there would be a couple rounds over the course of the evening, and he didn’t wanna trudge back to base after all that), he still felt good, felt incredible even. Sniper wasn’t even gonna know what hit him.

He got to the camper, kissed Sniper in greeting, and Sniper was in high spirits as well, maybe picking up on Scout’s good mood. He allowed himself a long feel up the back of Scout’s shirt, and Scout grinned at it, glancing Sniper up and down.

“Hey,” he started in, pausing where he’d idly been working at Sniper’s buttons, the top few popped open. “Remember that thing you asked? When we went out to eat?”

Sniper’s eyebrow rose. “The outfit?”

Scout nodded, grinning all the wider. “Yeah, well, I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” he said, head tilting a little to one side, “and I figured I’d try it on, see how I’d look and all. And I liked it, so…”

Sniper’s gaze was intense.

“So, I put it on,” Scout said.

Sniper’s hand shifted to hold onto Scout’s thigh, pulling Scout in and against himself as he did so. “Is that right?” he asked, other eyebrow rising to match the first.

“Yeah.” He pushed on Sniper’s chest. “But you gotta get outta here for a second so I can show you. I wanna do this right.”

Sniper shrugged, disconnecting from Scout, doing the buttons of his shirt back up in a few efficient movements. “Would a few minutes work?” he asked, picking his hat up and putting it on.

“Yeah. Like, five minutes,” Scout agreed.

“Awright. I’ll knock before I come back in,” he said, and stepped outside, closing the door behind him with a parting wink.

Scout closed the blinds and stripped quickly, kicking off his shoes and putting the heels on instead. He fixed his tags in the mirror, combing his hand through his hair a few times fretfully.

Okay. He looked good. He knew he looked good. He looked great. Really hot. And he totally had this.

A glance at the little clock next to Sniper’s bed. Two minutes had passed.

Okay, so he was a little nervous actually. Sniper didn’t have a full length mirror, so he just sorta had to lean on the table to pull the stockings up to just the right place on his legs, had to twist to get a good look at himself, had to hope nothing was crooked because it was kind of hard to tell. And then he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to be when Sniper came back in—standing? Sitting on the table? On the bed?

A glance at the clock. Three minutes.

He leaned on the table, feeing a little tense. Okay. So he thought he looked good. But suddenly Scout couldn’t help but wonder if Sniper was going to think he looked good. Was all of what he was doing… too much? He’d only asked for the stockings, and here Scout was, heels and stuff, and maybe Sniper would just take one step in the door and laugh. And maybe Sniper wasn’t even actually sure he liked stockings, and just wanted to try something new. And now Scout was trying way too hard, and was going to seem ridiculous—

Four minutes.

He hadn’t planned for this. His sleep clothes were just a pair of boxers and the shirt he’d worn over in the first place, he didn’t have something less dumb to change into, especially not considering the track record they had with clothes getting dirty, and even if he took all the stuff off Sniper would probably want to do something to make sure he didn’t waste his evening, and… and there wasn’t time to change now anyways. He laid down on the bed, hand over his face, trying desperately to feel less stupid, to put on a game face for when Sniper came in, to not look like a complete and utter wreck.

He was such an idiot.

A knock at the door. He managed something like a “come in”, and forced his gaze to stay facing the ceiling when he heard it open, even as he managed to pull his hand down, folding his arms behind his head.

Silence. The door closing, firmly, and locking. “Holy dooley,” Sniper practically gasped, and Scout swallowed hard, couldn’t help but glance over. Sniper’s jaw was hanging, hat in his hand at his side.

He wanted a little bit to curl up and hide. He didn’t, just looking at Sniper.

“Stand,” Sniper tried, but his throat was dry, and he needed to clear it before he tried to speak again. “Stand up.”

Scout felt a tremor in his hands as he followed the instruction, absolutely on fire. Sniper stepped forward to meet him after a few seconds, holding him out at arm’s length, gaze catching on all sorts of things as he looked down, down.

When he finally looked up to meet Scout’s eyes, it was with a grin. “Felt like being tall, aye?” he asked, teasing.

“Maybe,” Scout said, a little defensive.

“Gorgeous little thing,” Sniper murmured, threading fingers through his hair against his scalp and pushing Scout’s head down anyways so Sniper could press a kiss to his temple, his chuckle reverberating through Scout’s chest. “Feels almost like I ought to be paying you. You look too nice to be standin’ around in a cramped little place like this on purpose.”

“You can pay me by not makin’ fun and not tellin’ anybody I wore this,” Scout murmured right back, leaning in to bury his face in Sniper’s neck.

“Darl, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” Sniper asked, a smile on his voice.

“I’m annoyed,” Scout corrected, even thought he wasn’t. “You’re lucky it’s almost your birthday.”

“I really am,” Sniper agreed, hand down on Scout’s thigh, toying with one of the tiny little bows, much further within his reach with the heels. “Mind if I lay you out and get a good look at you?”

“Fine,” Scout said, halfway to a sigh, and sat down on the bed. Before he could turn and lay down, Sniper was pushing his legs apart with a hand on either knee and kneeling between them.

He picked up one of Scout’s legs and lifted it to place it over his shoulder, turning his head to nose at the intricate patterns of the lace. He hummed, satisfied and pleased, eyes falling closed as he placed kisses scattered randomly across the expanse he had available to him.

Another chuckle, muffled into skin and thin fabric. “Oh, darl, I’m not making it ten minutes before I fall apart on you if you’re in this,” he admitted, flashing a half-apologetic half-hungry look up at Scout.

He felt his breath catch. A few seconds to collect himself enough to respond. “Well, as long as you’re good for more than one round,” he teased, only slightly wavering.

Sniper didn’t give a verbal reply to that, just starting in on a mark up above where the lace ended on Scout’s thigh, thumb drawing circles against fabric with one hand as the other set to work patiently starting to pull off his own clothes

He riled Scout up past the point of forgetting how embarrassing his outfit was and right up into desperate, into trying to touch himself and Sniper leaning up to pin his arms down, grinding slow rolls against Scout’s ass, boxers dulling the feeling down to just the push and pressure of it, until he was outright begging for Sniper to get on with it. Sniper yanked the panties down and off of him and sucked him off slow and patient, indulging Scout in two fingers only when he begged for them, and he hadn’t had eyes on the clock or anything, but he spent himself down Sniper’s throat in something like five minutes flat.

Sniper made a sound of discomfort when he finally sat up, rolling his shoulders. Scout got up on his elbows, fixing him with a look of confusion somewhere under the contentment, watching him trying to reach a hand to his own back, wincing hard.

“You okay?” Scout asked, starting to frown, sitting up fully with the help of shaky arms.

“Think the bloody heels got me,” Sniper grunted.

Scout caught sight of his back and his eyes widened. “Jesus,” he said, “turn around real quick?”

Sniper did, and Scout’s eyebrows shot up.

There were a series of marks along Sniper’s back, some of them scratches, mostly just sharp lines. It looked like Sniper had whacked himself on a table corner by accident, except a good five or six times and only along his back. Scout felt his face flush. He knew once in the past Sniper had complained about Scout having knocked him on the back pretty hard, but he hadn’t really considered the heels being a problem.

“Oh god,” Scout managed, leaning forward, brushing a thumb along one of the worse ones and being a little alarmed at the fact that it was bleeding. “Uh. You’ve got a first aid kit in here, right?”

“Scout,” Sniper said sternly.

“I—I’m gonna be honest, I knew this outfit was probably really gonna fuck with you, but I, I didn’t think it’d… this isn’t what I thought,” Scout managed, face burning hot.

“You fuckin’ drongo,” Sniper growled, swatting at him loosely and moving to dig through one of the cabinets.

“Sorry,” Scout tried, and meant it.

“Just—right, put a sheet on, lord knows I won’t be able to take care of this if I’m looking at you in that,” Sniper directed, giving him a sidelong glance and up-and-down to illustrate, and Scout did so without protest, dragging the sheet from the bed up around himself loosely, covering up to about his ribcage. “Care to help, darl?”

“Yeah,” Scout agreed. “And—and I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him, hands pausing for a minute.

“Like—“ Scout fished through his mind for something he could offer to make up for the mood being abruptly ruined. “Like, I’ll buy the next pair of these.”

“A whole set, maybe?” Sniper asked, joking now, eyes front.

“Sure.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, and he groaned, finally fishing out a first aid kit and standing up. “Cripes, mate, don’t get me thinking about it,” he warned, handing it over and sitting between Scout’s legs, turned away from him. “Need to clean these up before anything else.”

“Sure,” Scout repeated, and pulled a sanitizing wipe from its package. “Alright. This is gonna sting.”