#anyways i think i cooked with the shading here... i love proving to myself i can use color without a digital program

[arielluva]

university girl antenna...

[beauty-and-passion]

Time to talk about the flower shirt

You read the title. Time to talk about this.

This is the infamous flower shirt Thomas put on in his store and, since the fandom is the fandom, everyone started to speculate about those flowers.

At first, I didn’t want to do it. They’re just flowers and other people already talked about them, so what could I possibly add to the conversation?

But while I was writing about Orange, I had to talk a moment about the orange flower. It was supposed to be a small parenthesis, just a couple of words about that.

But then I looked at the other flowers and what other people told/not told about them and how some didn’t find Patton’s flower... so here I am, adding my two cents to this theme.

You needed it? Probably not. Well, I’m writing it anyway.

So let’s take a closer look at those flowers and see each one in detail:

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Roman: Red rose

Should I really explain why it’s perfect for Roman? Red roses are the universal symbol of love. Basically in all cultures red roses symbolize passion, true love, romance and desire. Also, according to this website, even the shade has a meaning! In fact, the deeper the red shade is, the stronger is the passion.

And even the number of red roses has a meaning! In this case, we have only one single red rose and that "represents love at first sight, or if it’s coming from a long-term partner, they are saying “you are still the one”.”

You know what that made me think? About Thomas telling Roman “You’re my hero”. A perfect symbol that he was “still the one” for Thomas.

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Orange: Lantana camara

This is an incredibly peculiar flower.

Lantana Camara symbolizes severity and rigour. And this alone can be analyzed in all possible ways, but there are other interesting details about this plant I think it's worth mentioning.

Lantana is toxic for livestock, such as cattle, sheep, horses, dogs and goats. According to Wikipedia, previous studies suggested it could be toxic for humans too, especially the green unripe berries. However "other studies have found evidence which suggests that its fruit poses no risk to humans".

Lantana is a freaking invasive plant. In some areas, it's so predominant, to reduce biodiversity, because its presence "can significantly slow down the regeneration of forests, by preventing the growth of new trees". Also, as if this isn't enough, this plant can also produce toxic chemicals which inhibit other plant species.

Lantana has also a great adaptability, that helped it to be so invasive: it can live in a wide range of different environmental conditions, it can survive long periods without water, heck it's even resistant to fire. It's not a plant you can underestimate. Like Orange, I assume.

But Lantana isn't just an invasive plant. Lantana has always been used for medical purposes, because it showed good antimicrobial, fungicidal and insecticidal properties and its extract helps against respiratory infections and ulcers.

Also, since it doesn't have many pests or diseases, lantana became a common ornamental plant. It even attracts butterflies!

In other words: isn't that the perfect plant to symbolize the double nature of a dark side? It can be a threat, change the environment, destroy and even kill. But it can also be a medicine, something useful, something beautiful.

Whoever Orange is, Lantana camara tells us that, whithout a doubt, he’s a dark side.

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Janus: Sunflower

Do you think Janus isn't perfect enough as he is? Do you think there's not enough husband material in the snek?

Well, you’re wrong and the sunflower is here to prove it.

Sunflower symbolizes loyalty, adoration, longevity, vitality, worship. Now add this up to the sunflower’s behaviour and how it follows the sun... and you’ll get Janus. Janus literally acts like a sunflower: Thomas is his sun and everything Janus does is for him. His whole existence is centered around Thomas.

But we already knew that, because it's the same message that shone through his playlist. Everything about Janus tells us how much he adores Thomas, from his canonical behavior in the series, to his playlist, to this flower.

Oh, do you need another proof that this is flower is perfect for Janus? Some societies use sunflowers as religious symbols. Ah, some good ol' reference to religion: it’s like being in his playlist all over again.

And, of course, sunflowers are used for a variety of reasons, like cooking oils, skin care and so on. Even the flower says self care.

This man is perfect.

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Remus: Green chrysanthemum

Here's another interesting flower.

Chrysanthemum symbolizes death and it’s the typical flower used for funerals. And I thought this was its universal meaning. It was perfect for Remus just like that.

But then I found out that Europeans use chrysanthemums for funerals and to honor the dead. This flower actually has a whole lot of meanings, some completely different from this.

In China, for example, chrysanthemums are associated with wealth, prosperity and long life. Also they're symbols of new life and reincarnations, so they're the perfect gift for old people or newborns.

While in Japan chrysanthemums are symbols of power and royalty. And that's even more fitting for Remus, because he's a Duke, so he is royalty.

But chrysanthemum also symbolizes friendship - and not just "a friendship", but a meaningful one. It's a symbol of loyalty, devotion, romantic/platonic love and, in general, positive energy. It's a flower with an incredibly strong meaning, so it can't be given too lightly.

And this makes it even more perfect for Remus. It's a flower with a huge plurality of meanings, it's both associated with life and death, it's powerful and it's royalty.

Also, you can eat it. Isn't that the perfect Remus flower?

(On a side note: please notice how chrysanthemums and sunflowers are both associated with joy, loyalty and devotion. I would have never considered "joy" a common trait between Janus and Remus while loyalty and devotion... well, they both care about Thomas and his career and they both work for him despite not being accepted, so I can see why those are common traits.)

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Patton: Nemophila

Surprise surprise, this flower wasn't easy to find. I’ve never heard of it, so I had to search among endless lists of blue flowers, hoping to find one that would perfectly match the one on the shirt.

And that’s how I found nemophila.

First of all: nemophila is also known as "Baby Blue Eyes" and it's an extremely rare color to find in nature. It’s very famous in Japan, thanks to the Hitachi Seaside Park. Open this link: it’s a literal sea of blue and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Of course, it attracts people every year.

Nemophila represents prosperity, congratulations on success and victory. Not the first things you would associate with Patton, right?

Well, while I was searching more informations about this flower, I found out this website about the essence of Baby Blue Eyes and the passage I quoted down below has the exact same words you can find on that link:

With its pronounced affinity for water, the Baby Blue Eyes flower essences addresses qualities of tender sensitivity, innocence and trust associated one’s early childhood relationship to the father, or other significant masculine figures that are in some way disturbed.

Very often the father was absent, or there was a lack of support or genuine presence. The Baby Blue Eyes type attempts over time to cover this wound of vulnerability with a false “hardening,” such as emotional distancing, mistrust, cynicism or spiritual alienation. It is a flower that can be equally helpful for men or women, although it is especially needed for many men who struggle to become strong, by disowning their pain.

So nemophilia’s essence has qualities associated with childhood, to the father figure and attempts to “repress” and hide emotions.

That’s Patton. That’s him, period. The childhood-related emotions, that are linked to Patton’s longing for “a simpler time”. The mentions of a father figure - who migh be absent or showing lack of support (like, idk, suggesting you should die so your friends live?). And the attempt to “cover the vulnerability” doesn’t remind you anything? Like the Nostalgia episodes?

This flower is Patton.

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Logan: Blue petunia

I would like to say, from the bottom of my heart, a huge "FUCK YOU" to this flower, because I spent TWO DAYS searching all the blue flowers in the world and all possible variants, asking myself why this goddamn flower looked so familiar and why it was so hard to find. Blue isn't even a common color in nature, so why couldn't I find it?

I've learned more about blue flowers in these two days than in my entire life. I've searched among flowers I never saw before, like glandora diffusa, leschenaultia and omphalodes verna. I was so desperate to consider this flower a new species, with the petals of a bellflower and the corolla of a morning glory. I even found a goddamn chinese variant of the morning glory that was somehow similar but not that much and why, WHY this was so hard to find?!

And then, after two days and a lot more desperation, I remembered: my dear friend @reptilianwithscallions​ told me about a post they made, regarding this shirt and the flowers. Maybe they had some idea about Logan's flower?

Well, let's all thank my saviour and this post, because otherwise I would've kept searching until the end of my days.

Long story short, Logan's flower is a fucking blue petunia.

And it's a very peculiar choice, because petunias have multiple meanings, several of which can be contradictory.

In general, petunia symbolizes anger and resentment. It reminds someone that you're still angry or disappointed by their actions and you haven’t gotten over the things that caused these feelings.

Oh my, I didn't know we were back in Logan's playlist. It's basically what he kept expressing towards Thomas with his songs: that he was angry at Thomas for his decision, that he doesn't approve that Thomas hasn't "a real job" and so on. Petunia is a flower that screams passive-aggressive, so it's perfect for Logan.

But petunia's meaning deeply changes, depending on the color of the flower. And while petunia in general symbolizes anger, a blue petunia is a symbol of peacefulness, intimacy and deep trust, shared between two or more people. It's so wholesome, because the deep trust reminds me - again - of Logan's playlist and how it ended: no matter what, he and Thomas are always best friends.

Also, petunia flowers have even a secret meaning behind. Since they’re also gifted to new neighbors or to people who have just moved into a new home, they represent a perfect welcome and a way to express affection and kindness to others.

You’re lucky to be so wholesome, you tricky flower.

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Virgil: Perennial Geranium

Geranium is a confused flower.

Some of the other flowers have conflicted meanings, but not as much as this flower. These are the most common meanings I found:

Folly or Stupidity

Gentility and kind nature

Clever minds

Ingenuity

Melancholy

Perfect gift for a bride

You can gift it to someone with whom you have planned a meeting 

You can gift it to someone with whom you haven't planned a meeting, just to make them feel welcomed

True Friendship

See? It’s confused.

Aside from jokes, this variety of meanings is due to its great diffusion: since geraniums grow everywhere, every culture gave them a different meaning. And sometimes these meanings depend on the situation too.

Awww, isn't it perfect for Virgil? He can be good and bad at the same time. Anxiety can be bad for Thomas and detrimental for his life, but it can also be the alarm Thomas needs. It depends on the situation.

And, just like geraniums in general symbolize positive emotions, happiness and friendship, so Virgil is in general a good guy. All he does is for Thomas' wellbeing, not against him.

And this is confirmed by the vast use of geranium's essential oil. It's one of the most popular and it has a ton of properties: anti-viral, anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, anti-depressant, decongestant, relaxing and so on. Just like our Virge boy can be incredibly useful under the right circumstances. (Did someone say "Flirting with social Anxiety"?)

Also, geraniums are simple, humble flowers that usually grow outside, but then we take them and make them part of our homes. Once again, it’s Virgil: he's an outsider, he's humble, he talks bad about himself - but Thomas and the others took him and made him part of the famILY anyway.

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Thomas: Cherry blossom

I searched this flower everywhere and the only one that looks like the one on the shirt is the cherry blossom. Why did Thomas make a cherry blossom with eight petals, when they all have five? I have no idea. Is this a different flower, maybe? Maybe, but I’m done: I've looked at enough flowers and I don’t have any strength left.

As you probably already know, cherry blossoms are extremely important in Japan. They're beautiful, they're everywhere and they're meaningful.

Why? Because cherry blossoms are considered the perfect metaphor for human existence. When they blossom it's a pink ocean, a party, people go to admire them - but they’re short lived, because in two weeks, the blossoms start to fall. It's just like human life: a small, rich, glorious parenthesis in the void. Something little and precious that ends soon.

But cherry blossoms also symbolize rebirth, optimism, hopes and dreams. When they bloom, it means springtime is coming and spring has always been associated with renewal.

That’s a very good choice for character Thomas. He’s basically a cherry blossom, the whole series is: something that reminds us how beautiful life is, how multi-faceted, how important. Just like Thomas' single being encompasses seven different sides of himself, so life presents a wide range of choices, of aspects, of flavours. All beautiful, all worthy of appreciation, no matter how different they can be from you and your experience.

And this becomes even more important, in relation to the passage of time and the transience of life. Because life is short and, after that, there won't be any more time to appreciate anything.

In addition to that, I would like to point out how the theme of passage of time is something we already saw in the series. And not just one time, but several. Since the first season, we have episodes all around the concept of growing up, growing old, not being a child anymore, becoming an adult. And the last Aside keeps going in this direction. It's clear this is a big theme and its connection with the cherry blossoms proves it.

But why is the flower so different on the shirt? Because Thomas wanted to mess up with us? Probably. Almost certainly. Once again, thank you Mr. Sanders for making me question everything.

The floor is (figuratively) yours now: if you have any other information, thoughts or opinions, feel free to share them.

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@willpowerwisps @royalprinceroman @reesiereads @mudpuddlenl @shelby-711 @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @sweetkirbi @whatishappeningrightnow  @effortiswhatmatters  @atlasistryingherbest @bella-in-a-bag  @doydoune  @miasheer  @forever-third-wheeling @mishanthropist  @corndot @payte @mcang3l  @geekyapollokid  @kawaiipotatuh  @hypnossanders  @idontreallyknow24  @imcrushedbyarainbow  @simplyapannightmare  @patton-cake

@riseofthewerewolf @frog-candy-bee @bosspotato01  @rosesandlove44 @methaley @sololad  @firey-alex  @sashootkahoot​ @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan  @croftergamer​ @misty-the-girlflux-mess​  @thedevilseyes​  @arya-skywalker​  @csi-baker-street-babes​ @queen-of-all-things-snuggly

@virgildarknessdementiaravenway​ @mishanthropist​  @dracayd-universe​  @unknown-artworks​   @lonelyfangirl453​  @starlightnyx​ @alienvamp-hesitantflowerface​ @stubbornness-and-spite​  @alittletoo-extra​ @averykedavra  @iloveeverytjing123 @bookedforevermore @joyrose-fandomer @anachronismes @the-cloud-14  @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl​  @grayson-22​  @softangryfuckingdepressed​ @theotherella​  @boopypasta​ @nevenastark​ @varthandi @floofyconfusednerd @nothing-worth-mentioning @mikalya12 @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside  @coldbookworm  @orchidstanslogan  @snixxxsmythe  @frog-candy-bee  @holleratyour-buoyancy @alexowlndra  @fadingbagelbananapatrol  @our-bloody-mari666  @cxsmospooks @we-need-more-empathy  @riverraysong

[iceiclehorned]

Continued from here

@nekasu

Ei may have done some horrible things in the past, but she intended to hold a higher standard for herself as an Archon born anew. She would not hurt Neka by any means, nor did she have the intention of killing him. She cared about him, despite not showing it very well. After all, he was there when Makoto reigned and he was loyal to her until the very end. Now that is what she appreciated about him. Her sister meant the absolute world to her and she never would’ve thought for a second that Makoto would not have been here today. Slowly, she was accepting the facts and moving on, remembering her sister in various ways to keep her memory alive.

The Electro Archon did not want Neka to assume that she was going to use him to balance out her emotions. Rather, she kept her mental image clear. While part of her liked the idea of having the cute Kitsune by her side, the bigger part of her had decided he deserved freedom. She would eventually show him the new Inazuma the same way the traveller showed her the new Inazuma. She would also introduce him to dango milk! So many different things began to rush into her mind at once that it was difficult to keep a mental note of.

Would Ei be against settling down with Neka? … no, not at all. Though, it would take a lot to get her to admit that. While she did not think that she would be … able to satisfy him as a partner, she had read her share of romance novels since her day out with the traveller. The notion that two men may fight for one damsel or do big, extravagant things to impress someone they loved … Ei was pretty certain she would be able to do that much for him. She did heavily doubt that anything between them would spark that way due to his … distaste toward her, anyway. Yet she could not stop her brain from wondering.

Neka’s teasing had caused her face to go slightly darker in colour from the cute shade of pink it had been before, and she could not do anything to hide it. “W-well, if that’s the way you wish to go…” stammering, she had lightly pushed his head back into her chest, though it was gentle and she had meant it playfully - Ei was just … new to the process of teasing and fun. She was nowhere near Miko’s level, and she often wondered why he would not choose Miko as a mate. She was fun and beautiful, wasn’t she? “Ahem … no, no it would not be me cooking. I am against cooking anything myself, though I can make tea.” She pridefully spoke, almost happy that she was capable of doing something in the kitchen.

It was not like she was not capable of loving another, she had just locked her heart away for too long. Besides that, as her main focus had been to get stronger, it never crossed her mind that she could feel anything other than grief and determination. While grief was the worst possible thing she had to endure for many years, she had now learned to open up her heart. This was thanks to the traveller and Miko, though more so the traveller. If it were not for them, she would not have opened up her plane of euthymia. She hoped that she would be able to open her heart completely to Neka and prove to him that she was capable of being … a suitable Archon.

The way he stared into her eyes had captivated her. She had almost lost her soul to those eyes. Beautiful, bright and .. hypnotic. She gently brought her palm to his cheek and continued to watch him, brushing her thumb back and forth to soothe him. “Beautiful…” Ei very quietly muttered without realising. My, those eyes were capable of bringing almost anything out of her. He looked so … peaceful. The Neka she had known from before. Her heart continued to race in her chest, and no matter how hard Ei tried to fight it, it would not stop.

[retroknightx]

hypmic headcanons

since nobody on my instagram appreciates me, i’m going to put them here, and it’ll be like a master post i can add onto that way anyway (which is convenient for me, because i keep adding on… yeah, it’s bad lmao. my notes document can only take so much) all of it will be under the line so you guys don’t just have a big ass post clogging your feed! to whoever my 4 followers are

starting with fling posse…

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Ramuda Amemura

He’s trans.

He has a superiority complex to hide his inferiority complex.

He also likely has a little bot of a god complex… Just a tiny bit… Not to the point it’d endanger his life, but to the point he can never admit he’s wrong (I suppose this can also count as the superiority complex).

He also has a little bit of a schoolboy crush on Dice… that has lasted far longer than he’d ever like to admit – not that he’d ever admit it in the first place – and he gets jealous over Dice.

He started his whole thing with girls, whatever it is, as a power trip, which also explains why he likes to cause so much chaos.

Since he used to smoke, he started candy as a way to stop smoking and it slowly replaced his smoking habit (as I have yet to see him smoke otherwise, but keep in mind I’m not far into the manga and mostly I’m going off the ARB story).

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Gentaro Yumeno

All writers are perfectionists (I’d know as one).

He’s probably very particular about the details and doesn’t like doing things without a plan.

He’s the lyric write for Fling Posse’s raps and does not enjoy making up lyrics on the spot; however he can if he must – This is also why he carries the book everywhere.

I honest to god don’t feel like he’s of this world and whatever his actual form is (irony in his rap name?), it scared Ramuda enough to create Fling Posse, so here they are.

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now for the dice ones… it’s gonna be long!

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Dice Arisugawa

He is, unfortunately, very oblivious to romantic approaches – especially from close friends such as his division members, for he’s been with them for so long that he can never imagine them falling in love with him.

He has abandonment issues/a fear of abandonment because his mother left him.

Speaking of his mother, Dice likely knows how to do “noble” things because he was raised by a politician; i.e. how to play piano and stuff like that.

Adding on top of that, I feel like Dice has an accumulation of many different skills from being all over the place – He learned how to do card tricks by watching others, and he probably learned bird calls from spending time with Rio.

He undoubtedly has ADHD (as a person with ADHD myself, you cannot tell me I am wrong)!

He’s well aware that’s he a leech, but he can’t stop himself because the addiction is stronger and he feels terrible about it; it’s why he often begs instead of anything else that would fit his character more.

He’s a very talkative person and often rambles to get his thoughts organized.

He doesn’t like being put into awkward situations or forced into silence because he is used the buzz of a casino and a busy city.

Relating to the ADHD canon, Dice puts his life on line not only for the thrill of it, but to keep his mind off of thoughts, and it’s also why he gambles; so he can focus on one thing.

He is numb to change because he’s a gambler.

He is very good at adapting to a new environment.

He doesn’t like being looked down up and that’s why he started gambling; to prove that he’s worth something.

He uses humor to cope if he can’t get his mind off of things with the thrill of gambling.

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Extras (Fling Posse all together)

Dice has weird limbs, so clothing fits him weird, and Ramuda started making clothes for them because of that.

Ramuda chased after Dice after he stole his signature parka and the Fling Posse star was embroidered on later by Ramuda after the formation of Fling Posse.

Ramuda likely pulls whatever strings he has access to to make life easier for his division members (not that it stops them from getting into trouble, that is).

Gentaro spends a lot of time away when writing and likely forgets he’s even alive during those periods, so his division members make sure he’s still taking care of himself when he gets like that.

They all piss each other off, but in a platonic love kind of way.

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moving onto matenrou! my favorite division <3

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Jakurai Jingui

Oh, my poor man’s so tired. He just needs a long break and a spa day; speaking of this, he likely doesn’t ask for help often – it’s the messiah complex he undoubtedly has.

His hair is too long for him to be taking care of it himself, and it definitely looks in fantastic condition, so he definitely takes good care of it – I just don’t think he takes care of it himself; I think he enlists the help of his division members (as I headcanon that Matenrou is in a poly relationship).

Jakurai’s matureness can sometimes get in the way of other things, such as emotional moments, and he can come off as cold or distant when he doesn’t mean to come off that way.

Unlike the other divisions, Jakurai wanted to really separate from his past, and that’s why he named his division Matenrou instead of reusing something from the past. He also probably doesn’t like talking about the past.

His hair is naturally silver, but the lighter shades that are nearly white underneath was caused by stress.

He gets cold quickly, which is why he always keeps the lab coat on, and it’s also why he wears a turtleneck.

Jakurai does live in the same apartment as Doppo and Hifumi, but he’s always so busy that he often can’t get there, so he ends up sleeping at the hospital; he also has a separate apartment of his own that’s closer to the hospital if he has free time, but he’s not off work/off work but still on call.

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Doppo Kannonzaka

Man, the first thing I thought when I saw him was that he has a choking kink. Enough said. He also likely has a praise kink.

If he didn’t have social anxiety and wasn’t so busy, he’d also probably be going over to Rio’s camp a lot. I think it’s because he’s so overworked that he doesn’t care about what’s in the food; as long as he gets it.

He’s probably passed out from exhaustion more than once and just got used to it.

Despite all his problems, he definitely wants to be known and he wants his name out there; he wants to be just like the other two and he definitely looks up to them already, but he aspires to be them.

He is so thankful for his divison members and he’s glad that they accepted him.

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Hifumi Izanami

Hifumi is a classic case of “fake it till you make it”; I really don’t know how he became one of the most popular hosts in Shinjuku, but it’s definitely about the fake confidence and the jacket is a comfort object for him that allows him to have that confidence.

He cooks all the time for his division members and he uses the catches from fish all the time, too. He even brings the lunches to their works for them.

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Extras

Since Hifumi’s always out so late, the others make sure he has everything he needs for whenever he wakes up and sometimes they wait for him.

They’re all in a poly relationship and I refuse to believe anything else; I mean, have you seen those “my room” dialouge in ARB? Fruity.

They probably all love to cuddle whenever they get the chance because they can’t do it often.

They definitely set up one day of the month for all of them to just be together.

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buster bros time!

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Ichiro Yamada

This may just be the Ichiro simp in me, but I think he has a very nice tummy that’d be nice to lay on; like a soft one if that makes any sense to anybody other than me.

He’s a very friendly person and if you’re close friends with him, he’s definitely loyal; he’d be willing to drop anything to help you kind of loyal, like he is to his brothers – all that, except the willing to die part.

I think he gets flustered easily and doesn’t know how to respond to compliments. That’s also probably the Ichiro simp in me.

Although he has to stop his brothers from ripping out each other’s throats all the time, he’s very proud of them and of their achievements, no matter what they are. He’s willing to praise them even for the tiniest things to make up for his absence in their lives.

He probably has a terrible sleeping schedule, but he could probably operate on pretty much anything. Two hours of sleep? That’s not an issue for him; he’s used to it.

He’s likely a cheapskate when it comes to himself, but when it comes to his brothers, he spares no expense if he can.

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Saburo Yamada

He has a superiority complex. I mean, just look at how he acts with Jiro – that’s enough proof right there.

He got into hacking and all of that computer stuff because it was interesting to him; he’s probably pursuing a career in it, considering just how good he is at it. I feel like he’d make a good white hat hacker that tests your website security, like Alma in Va-11 Hall-A.

Call him a library, because he holds grudges for years.

I think he just likes picking arguments because he think it’s funny and there’s nothing better to do when you’re stuck with your brothers (as somebody with a sibling myself, I can attest to that).

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Jiro Yamada

Anger issues. Yep, that’s it. That’s the headcanon.

Man probably goes dumpster diving to see what kind of treasures he can find; his room is probably full of that kind of junk.

He probably has greasy hair. It doesn’t matter how much he cleans it, it’s just greasy (as somebody with the same issue, go clean your pillows Jiro).

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Extras

Ichiro has to hold Jiro back from just punching Saburo all the time.

God, somebody save Ichiro from his siblings; with how much they bicker, he probably has taken so much ibuprofen to stop headaches in his life that he should be considered dead from an overdose.

Despite being assholes to each other, they all help each other out – Saburo helps Jiro with his work, Jiro helps Saburo with whatever he can’t do, and Ichiro takes care of the rest. It’s the only thing keeping their bond together.

---

mad trigger crew, my beloved.

---

Rio Mason Busujima

Rio’s very stoic and that often doesn’t break, so it’s very rare to see a smile on his face. He has different smiles for different things too – there’s the business one; one so he doesn’t look as intimidating, and the actual genuine smile that’s very rare to see, but it happens when somebody appreciates his food.

Rio’s not good at understanding emotions and it takes him awhile to process emotions; he goes quiet in these moments and it can be confusing for those who don’t know him, but once he’s thought everything out, he’s very smart about responding.

He’ll never fully adjust to a life outside of the navy and military.

Opposite to Dice, he finds the buzz of a city to be too distracting for his thoughts and he enjoys his solitude, but he doesn’t mind company at all.

Due to how his unit was broken up, he refuses to abide by H law and keeps his gun on him. Even Rio can be spiteful. However, he mostly uses it for hunting, which is why he’s so far out in the forest.

He definitely has a lot of scars and that’s why he often wears his fatigues; he doesn’t wana come off as off-putting. His cards without the jacket did him so dirty. Of course he’d have scars from fighting in World War 3.

He can come up with strategies on the spot and is a very quick-thinker when it comes to combat.

Despite how ruthless he is when it comes to rap battles and being an ex-navy, he’s actually a very gentle soul.

I feel like he’s asexual, but homoromantic.

---

Samatoki Aohitsugi

He only uses the bad guy persona as a way to be left alone, but he’s actually a very kind person.

Despite being a yakuza, he actually abides to the H law and it’s probably only because of Nemu (however, this is only based off of the anime, so I can’t say for certain, but I haven’t seen anything in the manga disproving otherwise yet).

I just feel like he eats a lot throughout the day. I can’t explain this one, but he has the vibes.

He also knows how to cook quite well himself, and he does it for his division members sometimes.

---

Jyuto Iruma

He’s very cocky because he knows he can get away with things; I mean, he’s the authorties, why wouldn’t he get cocky about what he can do? However, it’s somewhat annoying to Samatoki.

If he wasn’t a gay bastard, Samtoki and Rio probably would’ve been arrested long ago. Thankfully for them, he is a gay bastard.

He likes looking good no matter what; it helps his confidence, so he dresses up to go out anywhere.

His glasses are probably just reading glasses.

He likes spending money on expensive things.

---

Extras

Samatoki and Jyuto are in a relationship. They’re so fruity that I’m sure I don’t have to explain this one.

Samatoki doesn’t approve of Rio dating Dice at all and it’s only because of Jyuto that Dice is still alive.

Rio is pretty much their marriage counselor; he has to constantly deal with them bickering, so of course he is. He’s pretty much the adopted child to save their marriage.

---

Ships

Riodice

Samajyu

Poly Matenrou

---

i will likely make a separate post for the ship headcanons because this will be much longer, but i think this covers all of them anyway, so here you go. enjoy.

[mi6-cafe]

THE FINAL DRABBLES ARE IN!

COME READ THEM AND DECIDE WHOSE IS THE BEST, BETTER THAN ALL THE REST!

But first, what was the prompt again?

Our writers had to use the phrase “be careful what you fish for” in their 300-word drabbles verbatim. 

See the drabbles below the line and VOTE!

(Image description: James Bond off on a fishing expedition)

But how, mods, how do we vote? you ask.

Step 1: Read the drabbles, making notes along the way.

Step 2: Pick three favourites and vote for them in the VOTING FORM while adding feedback for others if you so choose!

Step 3: Profit! (Because it’s all anonymous and even the writers you didn’t vote for end up getting your lovely feedback and it makes them so happy!)

You have until Sunday at 8:59 9.m. PST/11:59 p.m. EST/3:59 a.m. UTC to cast your vote.

Now, come READ&VOTE! (You can also read on wordpress for nicer formatting)

#1

Title: Compliments Author: sunaddicted Warnings: explicit flirting Summary: Q wasn't expecting to hear such a compliment

Seeing Silva bent down over his computer still sent a thrill down Q's spine; despite the fact that the man had become a more or less permanent fixture in Q-Branch, it didn't mean that the adrenaline kick he got out of facing the former rogue agent had gotten any weaker.  

"That's some of my best work."

"Is it."

Q swallowed as he went to stand by the other man, peering down at the lines of code that Silva was studying with the kind of keen eye that made Q squirm, feeling naked even when Silva was looking at his work rather than directly at him.

Though, what was his work if not an extension of his being?

"Are you fishing for compliments, Quartermaster?"

Saying his title in such a caressing and satiny voice should have been made illegal. "Do I need to?" Q tried to ignore the hint of neediness in his voice, even as the flush he could feel blooming up his neck surely betrayed him. He couldn't help it: in his life, he had only met a man who was his equal - better, he had only met a man who could code circles around him, pushing him to do better; to think faster; to outgrow himself. It was exciting.

Raoul slowly turned around, a smirk already painted on his lips. "You have a great arse I would like to bend over this sturdy desk of yours."

"Wh- what?!"

The blonde bent down, lips ghosting against the shell of Q's ear in a caress that was barely there. "Be careful what you fish for, Quartermaster," Silva reached down and closed his hand on the other's hip in a steadying manner, fingers digging into the jutting bone there "You never know what kind of compliment will get thrown your way."

#2

Title: A Fine Kettle Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: LIke shooting fish in a barrel, really.

"This isn't what I had in mind when I said I needed an exit," Bond groused as his feet squelched in his ruined shoes. He'd never get the stink of fish out of this suit. He'd be lucky to scrub it off his skin.

"Well, you know what they say, 007. Be careful what you fish for," Q said, snorting at his own joke as Bond groaned.

"Don't even start, Q," Bond growled. Well. Tried to growl. If it came out as an amused whine Q was polite enough not to call attention to it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Q said primly. "I found you an exit and left your adversaries floundering. You didn't even pull a mussel."

"I've endured torture more pleasant than—"

"Stop your carping; you’re giving me a haddock."

Bond inhaled slowly. Exhaled.

"What will it take to make you stop?"

"You'll have to shell out more than a few clams."

"Q," Bond begged. Yes. Begged. And yet, he knew that if he were standing in front of a mirror right now his reflection would be grinning. Q's jokes were terrible, and his puns were worse, but hearing him so lost in his amusement was a glorious thing.

"Bring all of your gear back for a start. No losing or breaking anything just for the halibut."

"I'll do my best," Bond promised.

"And dinner."

"I beg your pardon?" Bond asked, shocked. He'd been asking the Quartermaster to dinner for weeks.

"You need time to mullet over. That's fine. Just let minnow."

"Yes, Q. Obviously, yes."

"Excellent. I'm thinking sushi."

Bond couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. He could hear Q's smug grin.

"Just squidding," Q said, then hurried to add, "About the sushi. Not about dinner. And dessert. And afters."

"Afters?"

"Cuttles."

#3

Title: Retrieval Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: Q knew it had never been about her

Q came upon Dr Madeleine Swann serenely fishing from the riverbank. “Got one,” she announced, before handing the rod to him and walking away. Bemused, Q tugged, and the fish leapt from the murky river into his hand, scales flowing like water to engulf his entire arm. Face to face, it gave him a toothy grin.

“Be careful what you fish for,” it snickered as the trees around him exploded with gobbets of blue flame. Q dove into the river to escape and was dragged deeper, drowning, webbed hands holding him tight.

He flailed awake to a bed stained green with murky water, strands of river weed draped about. The windows were wide open, moonlight making the wet marks on the floor glisten.

“James?” he whispered. There was no answer. Not since James had taken the damn car and driven off. But there had been enough clues.

----

He took the river road, heading north. Every bridge was washed-out, every access to his destination blocked. He finally came upon an old-style ferry, its raft drawn along a heavy cable strung across the river.

The old raftman eyed him, then shrugged. Halfway across, the raft slowed as if hung up on something. The ferryman cursed and stamped his boot on the boards. As the raft drifted free again, he gave Q a wry look. “Hope you know what you’re about, lad.”

----

The waterhorse waited for him at the loch edge, burning eyes watching him warily as he approached.

“I never believed you left for her,” he said, tangling his hands in the wet mane. “And all the warnings of all the fair folk in the world couldn't keep me away.” He swung astride and held on. “You can either drown me or come home with me, James. It’s up to you, now.”

#4

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: Alec is just trying to have a nice vacation. James has other plans.

Alec is fishing. He’s taken some much-needed vacation time after a knife to the leg on his last mission, and he’s chosen to go to Jamaica, in part because of how James’ face falls when he learns Alec is going without him. James loves Jamaica. Alec, for his part, loves having anything that James can’t have. The sky is blue. The ocean is a beautiful shade of blue-green. Alec lets his line dangle down into the warm water, and leans back in his boat with a sigh of contentment. And then the peace of the summer day is shattered as the water erupts, and a black-clad figure in scuba gear surges up out of the sea, gasping, and clambers into Alec’s boat, almost upsetting it. Alec’s hand flies to his gun, but before he can draw it, the diver pulls off his mask and reveals James’ familiar face. James is bruised and bleeding, and he gasps out, “Near miss. Good thing you were here.” “What the hell are you doing here?!” Alec demands. “I’m on vacation, James!” “Underwater base,” James explains, pointing down into the depths of the ocean. “Spying on our submarines. Blew it up and escaped.” “How do you do it, James?” Alec says, acidly. “How is it that no matter where you go - no matter where I go - there always seems to be some madman with an increasingly improbable scheme gunning for you? Can’t I have one vacation to myself?” It’s not James’ company he minds. It’s that this was supposed to be something he could take away from James. A chance to one-up the always charming James Bond. “Well, Alec,” James said, leaning in with his charming smile. “You know what they say. Be careful what you fish for.” “I hate you,” Alec said, with feeling.

#5

Title: Dare to Wish Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: A very nice welcome-home.  

"Are you going to put away that blasted machine?" Bond asked, not even looking away from his skilled cooking.  

"Hm?" Q hummed distractedly, not ceasing his typing.  

"Your laptop, darling," Bond complained, making 'darling' sound more like a demand than an endearment.   "Hm." The typing never faltered.  

Bond reduced the heat on one of the other pans that he was juggling on the stove. "I was gone for over a month," he grumbled. "I even dared to hope that you were looking forward to seeing me again."  

Q smiled, and the typing slowed. "One minute, and I'll be all yours, and yet you'll still be giving your attention to our dinner."  

Bond couldn't help but grin. "What's so terribly important anyway?"  

"Oh, just some matter of national security that I'd like off the table before we eat."  

Bond laughed. "Bare feet, unbuttoned shirt, and saving the world. A marvel, you are."  

"One step up from working in my pyjamas," Q quipped.  

Bond sighed. "I'm never going to live that down, am I? What about the incident where you basically plugged Silva into our network?"  

Q pulled a face. "That was... my first week as Q, and I desperately wanted to prove myself, and I may have-"  

"Q," Bond interrupted. "I won't let you live it down, but I'm not holding it against you."  

Q smiled. "Thanks. I do, on very rare occasions, get insecure."  

"There's no need. Everyone knows how brilliant you are. And there's no need to be fishing for compliments."  

"Not tonight. I'm just... fishing for affection."  

His typing instantly stopped when a small box of unmistakable shape was put in front of him.  

Bond caught his eyes and smiled. "Be careful what you fish for."  

Q's breath stuck in his throat, and his eyes lit up. "Never."

#6

Title: A Fishy Companion Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Bond makes friends with a merman

“Bond,” said the creature, his tone quite serious.

Bond merely grunted as he continued to mend his nets. He would not even look at the creature as he swam around him in the shallow water, his movements graceful. A bloody merman, for god’s sake. He’d found him tangled in his nets after a fishing expedition some way from the island and the merman, having been rescued, refused to leave Bond’s side ever since.

Now he queried: “Why is the fisherman so stingy?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,” said Bond brusquely.

The merman replied, “Because his work made him sell-fish.”

Bond closed his eyes briefly. He’d been a double-O agent— a bloody good one— once upon a time. So long ago, it seemed. Retirement on this remote Caribbean island, in a wooden house with its own small pier, had been something he’d dreamed of, until retirement became more like exile and solitude gave way to loneliness.

Until this.

Bond found himself smiling despite himself as the merman persisted, “Why did the fisherman start doing drugs?”

“I don’t know. Why did he?”

“Pier pressure.”

The merman was beautiful, with dark hair and large green eyes that gazed into his rather owlishly. For reasons of his own, he’d named him Q.

Bond looked away. “I think I need a massage,” he said, wincing as he flexed his biceps.

“Have you heard about the Sauna that serves food?” Q piped up. “Their specialty is steamed mussels.”

“Why you—” Bond laughed before he could stop himself. “I ought to have left you in the nets. That might have made you less talkative.”

The merman swam up to him and settled his head boldly on his lap.

“Be careful what you fish for,” said Q, smiling.

#7

Title: Go Fish Author: soufflegirl91 Warnings: adult humour Summary: Q Branch tech must be recovered no matter where the double-ohs lose it.

“Another bloody spoon,” Bond complained, releasing it from the magnet and tossing it on the pile building up at his feet. “How do people even lose spoons in a lake?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the same way you lose proprietary weaponry?”

“Q, for the last time, I didn’t-”

“Can we get any closer to the middle?” Q cut him off, tapping a few times on his tablet screen. “Maybe if we start at the deepest point and move outwards?”  

Bond sighed, dropping the line back into the boat with a clatter. He pulled the engine cord, and with a roar, they were moving.

“THIS SHOULD DO,” Q yelled over the din.

Bond brought them to a stop, but Q didn’t wait for the engine to die down before continuing:

“I’VE ACTIVATED THE HOMING BEACON. THE LAKE’S DEEPER THAN I’D LIKE, BUT I SHOULD GET A SIGNAL ONCE WE’RE-” the engine died down with a final splutter, leaving Q yelling, “DIRECTLY OVER IT - oh.”

“You don’t get out on the water much, do you?” Bond quirked a grin at his flustered Quartermaster, flinging out the line on the starboard side.

“I wouldn’t have to get out on the water at all, if you didn’t go throwing away rocket launchers like they were crisp packets. Bond, what are you doing? I haven’t got a signal, yet.”

“Signal or not, I’ve caught something.”

Bond pulled on the Q-branch reinforced line, trying to reel it in. Whatever the line had caught, it was heavy. Finally, his catch cleared the water line.

He stared.

“Is that a tentacle dil-?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Q cut in.

He giggled. Giggled. Bond had a terrible feeling he knew what was coming next.

“No. Don’t you dare say it.”

“Be careful what you fish for!”

#8

Title: Do I Really Want To Know? Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: none Summary: Mallory contemplates a recent mission and the behavior of agent and Quartermaster.

Mallory hadn't gotten to his present position without understanding the value of differing approaches to acquiring information. There were circumstances when a simple question was all that was required. There were others when a figurative bludgeon was necessary. That was more often the case when he had someone dead to rights and just wanted an admission. But when something was more delicate, a search for something he suspected but hadn't been able to prove, he needed the skills of a wily fisherman tricking a trout out from under a rock to rise to the bait.

It was unacceptable that his Quartermaster and 007 had gone off coms for eighteen hours. True, the mission was completed, but Bond's bad habits seemed to have rubbed off on Q. Interviewing both had been useless. 'Yes', 'no' and 'equipment failure' were the sum of the responses. Utterly respectful but complete obstruction from both.

They were hiding something and he was worried. Certainly, disloyalty was possible but he had thought better of both of them. There was a chime from his computer and he glanced at the incoming message from accounting. “Can we have some clarification on these charges, please? Uncertain whether these are mission related.”

Mallory scanned the receipts. A moderately expensive hotel suite, room service, and a concierge fee for a trip to a chemist. All charged to one of Bond's aliases. On impulse he called the hotel. Five minutes later he ended the call and stared at the phone. Well, better than treachery certainly but still, Bond and Q? The concierge had found the couple charming and was sure they were a couple. Be careful what you fish for. Now what was he supposed to do? Better that they hadn't admitted anything. He didn't have to act if he didn't officially know.

#9

Title: Shark Bait Author: Venstar / 1amvengeance Warnings: violence? People dedding Summary:  what would you do for those you love?

Bond swam to the ladder access of the dock. A creak of the boards and he froze in place. He swung himself up, his movement was swift and deadly. The guard dropped as suddenly as he had appeared. Bond rolled him into the water. Through the mist, he could just barely make out the tip of a fin. He smiled. It was cold, calculating, and lacking in teeth.

“Almost there.” Bond smiled as a soft breath was let out over comms. “Were you worried?”

“About you or my mortgage and two cats? Because if you live, then maybe M won’t find out about this.”

This time Bond’s smile was wide and bright. “I’m glad we agree then.” 

Bond cut a slit through his wetsuit until he could see his skin underneath. Slightly tan with a smattering of darker freckles. Was that a new mole? Maybe he should have it checked out. Too late. Blood welled up from where the mole had been. He grimaced.

“Bond? What are you doing?”

“Chumming the water.” He heard Q’s sharp intake of breath at the sound of him re-entering the water.

“Bond. This is the worst idea on the list of bad ideas.”

“I know what I’m doing, Q. Moving in, now.”

Silence from the other end as Q listened to him work. He slid through the water, coming up just under the opening of the warehouse. He pulled himself out, his eyes on his targets. He spared one glance for his lover, hoping that Felix could keep the two men distracted enough for him to...yes...to do that. The two men were tossed cut and bleeding into the dark water behind him. Their shouts of surprise turned into screams of pain and terror.

"Be careful what you fish for." Bond murmured, smiling at Felix.

#10

Title: Witnessed Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: James observes Q's methods. It pays off. Q is flexible. He can play an agent like a fiddle. Any time, any place. He knows exactly how to approach his agents — something James is rather impressed by. He'll let them stew for half an hour when necessary; he'll cosy up to them, all charm and innocence; or play up the socially inept IT intern. Sometimes, he gets mean. James particularly likes that part of Q. Whichever it is, though, Q's got them all wrapped around his long capable fingers. James can't look away. He hears from 002 about the 'banger of a DnD game' she apparently raked in the loot for. He also learns about the Deck of Many Things. It's surprisingly accurate for whatever happens next.

009 loses a chess match and gets equipped with a tractor instead of the Jeep he'd requested, although it goes 300 mph and has multiple cannons attached.

005 fails a coin toss and gains a squirt gun full of holy water for her mission at the Vatican. With a quirk of a smile, Q suggests Russian Roulette to Alec. He wins, but just barely.

Q equips his agents with the bare necessities, but unlike his predecessor, they all have to earn the goods. Q's gambling and James is determined to get his own. Q, ever the gentleman, asks what he's willing to play.

"Let's Go Fishin'," James tells him and just for a second Q looks startled. James' lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"Be careful what you fish for," Q tells him, voice low and enticing. James leans forward, distracted.

"I win," Q says, eyes alight with excitement.

"It's a draw," James corrects, hoping his exhaustion won't show. Q's gaze grows sharp.

On his next mission, James finds an exploding pen in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

#11

Title: To Fish or Not to Fish Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: Someone is sending weird presents to Q. He needs to figure out who that someone is.

The mug was ugly. Big, brown, and with a ceramic trout holding a plate “I fish you very much!” engraved in bold letters. It wasn’t the only thing that had been anonymously sent to Q for his birthday this week (other items included cheap chocolate and a teddy bear).

“This is getting ridiculous. Who would give me something so hideous?”

“You know what they say – be careful what you fish for!”

“That’s… not what they say.”

James smirked, obviously happy with himself.

Q continued: “Can you at least pretend that you’re jealous? It used to be you, sending me obnoxious gifts!”

“Don’t act like you thought it was romantic now, you hated it.”

He did. But he still had all the awful trinkets that James had sent him from missions before his retirement. They were displayed in his office, he couldn't force himself to throw them away. Maybe he was sentimental, after all.

“Perhaps it’s from a criminal who wants to infiltrate the MI6,” Q wondered.

James laughed. “I can guarantee you that it’s not a villain, the gifts are indeed from the heart.”

Of course he had something to do with it!

“And you can’t just tell me?”

“Nah. Let minnow when you figure it out!.”

“James, this was a terrible pun, even for you.”

“It’s not kraken you up?”

Truly not.

The question was who could send him these kinds of gifts? It seemed that they weren’t from some admirer either, seeing as James didn’t feel threatened. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Oh my God!”

Suddenly he knew. And it was horrifying.

“It’s from my mum.”

James grinned: “I love that woman. She understands that fish puns are fin-tastic!”

With horror, Q realised that against his better judgment, he had ended up marrying his own mother.

#12

Title: One Hell of a Strange Fish Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: none, just lols Summary: Fishing at lake Erie can be more exciting than you think. 

Felix sighed happily as he sat on his little bench in his little boat and let his mind wander. Bliss like this was hard to come by. A weekend of fishing, peace and relaxation was awaiting him and there was nothing that could spoil it.

Just as he’d finished the thought, a sudden tug at his fishing rod almost made him topple over the rim of his boat. Felix caught himself and cursed, put his feet down and with all his strength, he started reeling in the gigantic fish. It was putting up one hell of a fight. Gritting his teeth, Felix pulled and pulled, until, with an almighty splash, it broke the surface and screamed, just as the hook zinged past Felix’ ear.

Wait… Screamed?

Felix blinked.

“What do you think you’re doing, you bloody idiot!!” the man, not fish, exclaimed and ripped his diving mask off. He glared daggers at Felix, who still stood poised with his rod in hand.

Then the man frowned. “Felix?” he said incredulously.

“James?!”

“What on earth are you doing up there?”

“Me?! What are you doing down there?!”

James huffed, paddling against the water. “I asked first.”

“Well, I’m on holiday.” Felix held up the evidence. “Fishing trip. What about you?”

“Assignment,” James answered simply.

The mental image of a mushroom cloud above lake Erie filled Felix’ head. “Hell. Should I be worried?”

“Not particularly,” James said. “Anyway, should get going. Nice chatting with you.”

“Hold on, James, what –”

“Next time… Be careful what you fish for!” James called out, shoved his mouthpiece back between his teeth and submerged.

“Did you just…” Felix began, but James was already gone.

With a sigh, Felix let himself fall back into his seat and rubbed his forehead. They had to stop meeting like this.

#13

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Merc / the moon of mercury Warnings: none Summary: sometimes Bond prefers not to talk about his missions.

“Now you’re just preening,” Q says, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “Fishing for compliments. Really, Double-O-Seven, must you always make such a show of everything?”

Bond shrugs and finishes straightening his tie, not bothering to argue. He had been admiring his own reflection on the window of the newly painted DB10.

“Quite a dashing image, if I do say so myself. That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s the Geneva Motor Show, no one’s going to take me for a collector if I don’t look the part. What do you think?”

“I’m not the one you need to convince. All I care about is that you get the job done and bring back my car in one piece.”

“Why so grumpy, Q? I’d hoped you’d at least extend the sentiment to my person besides the car. And maybe wish me good luck? I have a feeling this one won’t be easy.”

“Bollocks, you’re going to seduce her, get the intel, and spectacularly blow things up. All of which you invariably accomplish every time. So, off you go and lay your bait. But please, do me a favour and think of the poor car while you’re at it.”

*     *

Q is right. The rich widow falls for his charms, spills her secrets, and buildings explode. Even the Aston survives. A success, all things considered.

Still, it takes him a week after returning to London to face his Quartermaster. The ugly love bites have faded and the overwhelming stench of perfume is nothing but an unpleasant memory. But Q has recordings of the events that went down in her boudoir, and Bond knows for sure he won't let it go.

Unfortunately, his foresight proves right.

“Be careful what you fish for,” he quips the moment Bond steps in, dissolving into laughter.

#14

Title: Look at the Bright Side Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: none Summary: The Quartermaster's job is never easy.

When Bill entered the office, it was dark and quiet. Q sat slumped, painted pale blue under the light of the computer screen.

“Q?” Bill whispered, unsure what he stepped into.

Q looked up, blinking slowly.

“Bill. What are you doing here?”

Bill approached the desk, turning on the lamp. Q flinched from the light, like the sleep-deprived vampire that he was.

“It’s midnight, Q.” Tanner sighed, taking in the wide eyes and the dark shadows under them. “Bond came back hours ago. Why are you still here?"

Q blinked. Bill could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Christ.

Q pushed a glass bowl from behind the screen. The water inside sloshed wildly from the sharp movement, stirring awake the creature inside.

“It's a... fish?"

“Bond brought it,” Q said. He glared at the fish like it's the source of all of his problems.

“He got you a fish?”

“No,” Q said, eyes narrowing. “He brought back the micro-sized, water-proofed, indestructible hard drive made especially for this mission, containing all the stolen information M asked for."

Bill glanced back at the fish. The fish, who had very sharp teeth inside its slightly gaping mouth.

“Is the hard drive -”

“It's inside the damn piranha!" Q hissed, smacking his head on the table.

Bill couldn't help it.

"Be careful what you fish for, huh?” He said, earning a sharp stare from under the dark mop of curls.

“At least he brought back the equipment this time,” Bill said, smiling apologetically. “Come on, you won’t get anything done by glaring at the fish.”

Q sighed, heavily, but took Bill’s offered hand and stumbled to a stand.

“At least it’s not a komodo dragon this time,“ Q said, as they stepped into the empty parking lot.

Bill couldn't help but laugh.

#15

Title: Cracked Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: n/a Summary: Bond and Q bring down a villain and have a few laughs.

Waves lapped at the sand, offering a gentle, rhythmic backbeat to the sounds of a madman’s island base crashing down in flames.

Bond and Q stood side by side on the beach, each sooty, disheveled, and soaked to the bone. They were sporting various bumps and bruises, some scrapes and burns, but they were pleased with themselves, nonetheless. It had been a grueling few days’ work, filled with more fire, gunplay, and close encounters with sharks and other sharp-toothed marine life than Q was usually comfortable with, but they’d done good work. Yet another villainous plot soundly foiled.

“Well,” Q sighed, “I suppose it’s true what they say.”

“What’s that, Q?” Bond asked idly.

Snickering preemptively, Q answered, “Be careful what you fish for.”

The expected eye-roll and long-suffering sigh never came. Instead, Bond’s expression went curiously blank, before a smile cracked over his face and he began to laugh. It started as a small chuckle before morphing into true, shoulder-shaking amusement, and Q’s own smile slid away in alarm. The joke wasn’t that funny – not that Bond ever laughed at his puns to begin with.

“Oh god, did you sustain head trauma while I wasn’t looking?” Q demanded, his fingers twitching towards Bond’s scalp.

Bond shook his head, still chuckling lightly. “I’m fine, Q. In fact… I’m fintastic.”

In spite of the suspicious anxiety churning in Q’s chest, he couldn’t help it; the pun was so terrible, so ill-timed, so entirely out of place, that Q had to laugh. “Oh, that’s it,” he gasped between giggles, “you’ve finally cracked.”

“I’m fine, Q,” Bond said again, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Q’s smiling mouth before giving him a small shove in the direction of their getaway boat. “Now let’s get out of here.”

*****

GO VOTE!

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 9

Chapters: 9/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

On a Tuesday in the middle of November, not long after Gerry's 28th birthday, the three of them eat dinner at Gerry's flat, as they often do these days. Jon cooks for them and after, Martin and Gerry wash the dishes and debate the book they both just finished reading.

Jon has been twitchy all evening, so they leave him to read his own book in peace.

He wanders in at one point, leaning against the counter. "Gerry, do you know what day it is?"

Gerry looks over at him in such a way as to indicate that he really doesn't.

"Our six-month anniversary?" He tries.

"No," Martin pipes up, "That's not for weeks yet."

Jon and Gerry both look at him askance. "What? Your boyfriend starts dating another man, you remember the date. I can't believe you two don't know." Martin says as if that about covers it.

"Nevermind that." Jon snaps, and even with his previous moodiness, the others are taken aback at his blunt words and even harsher tone.

"Something wrong, Jon?" Gerry asks quietly, leaning against the opposite counter to Jon and crossing his arms. His tone suggests what he actually wanted to say was 'Do we have a problem here, bitch?' but he manages to reign the actual words in.

"I want to know why you left without saying goodbye." Jon's words are filled with a multitude of frustrations, none of which are actually conveyed in his limited words.

"Yesterday?" Gerry asks, incredulous. "You were asleep!"

"No! Not yesterday." Jon snaps back. "When we were younger. It's been ten years today since you disappeared off the face of the planet."

"Oh," Gerry responds quietly, his defensive posture dropping. He leans his hands back on the table behind him, bringing his shoulders up around his ears. It’s a rare display of confident, edgy Gerry trying to shrink himself.

"I thought we were, you know. Together. Then one day you were just gone! As if you had never existed. Your mother wouldn't tell me anything at all, just sat there smirking at me, said that you were gone and she didn't know when you were coming back, or if you were ever coming back. Which you never did, actually." Jon has been pacing, his voice rising with each new word until the final words are shouted accusatorily into the space between them.

Gerry knew Jon had wanted to talk about this since the day he walked in the library and back into his life. He had waited, been patient, and Gerry had put it off in the hopes that he would never have to choke the words out. Now, that patience was obviously over, and he knew he owed Jon this explanation.

"We were together Jon. I loved you."

"So why? What did I do so wrong, that I got to wake up one day and find you gone ?" Jon's voice has become desperate, and they can all hear the tears that he is trying to hold back.

"Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong. We weren't perfect, but we were always so good together. I... I had to get out of there. And I couldn't leave any clues behind, so I couldn't tell you anything, because it wouldn't have been safe for either of us." Gerry reaches towards Jon to soothe him, but he flinches away and Gerry doesn't pursue him.

"I don't understand." The tears have come, and Gerry desperately tries to hold back his own when he sees them.

Martin had up until that point been standing resolutely in the corner, trying not to interfere in their pre-Martin argument. At the advent of tears, Martin moves to stand at Jon's back, gripping his shoulder for comfort. Gerry looks bereft and Martin holds out a hand to get him to come closer as well. They huddle all together, both Jon and Gerry taking comfort in Martin's steadiness.

Gerry leans into Jon, sliding his hand around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so sorry, love. I've never forgiven myself for just disappearing on you. I thought about you every day."

"I love you," Jon whispers as Martin rocks them both gently. "But I need to know."

"I love you too." Gerry shuts his eyes and wishes more than ever to erase his shitty legacy of pain and blood.

*

Martin drags them to bed and offers to leave them alone to their talk.

"Please stay," Gerry says, grasping his hand. "You both need to know, and I don't want to have to talk through this twice."

So they all pile into Gerry's bed together, sitting in a vague circle like teenagers at a slumber party.

As Gerry starts to talk, Martin drags him over toward him and begins braiding his dark blue hair. It's both an offer of physical comfort and affection (easily Gerry's main love language) and a simple way of letting him off the hook for eye contact.

With Jon staring at him quite intently, Martin doesn't think he needs any further pressure.

"Jon, you-" He starts and then halts abruptly. Jon reaches over and grasps his hand, attempting to further ground him. "You remember my mother. I know you saw how, how just off she was. Manipulative and controlling. By turns demanding and completely uninterested in me. One day I would be free to run wild for weeks at a time, the next she would have a meltdown if I wasn't exactly where she wanted me, every second of the day and night." Gerry blows a breath out, shuddering at the memory of a particularly bad incident with a vase that had left him needing several stitches over his left eye.

"Well, she wasn't always like that. I remember her being a pretty good mom when I was young, if distant. She was always far more interested in being a wife than a mother, and she loved the way my father adored her.

“When I was 7, my father was blinded in an accident at work. I remember the day the phone call came. She spoke very calmly to the hospital, before hanging up the phone and shattering every picture frame in the house." Martin is finished with Gerry's hair and simply leans into him, offering silent comfort. "He coped okay with his new disability actually, and I liked helping him learn the world again with no sight. My mother never recovered from her initial breakdown though. She was angry and petulant that she needed to help and support him for the first time in their entire relationship and became more and more unhinged over the course of a year.

"One day I came home from school to find a puddle of blood soaked into the floor of the living room. She said there had been an accident and my father wasn't coming back. She hit me for the first time when I cried. She told me that I was a man now, and tears were for useless girls and disgusting… Well, you get the picture."

Gerry pauses and glances between them. A few tears have started to run down his face, but he doesn't seem to even notice them.

"We moved a few days later, and that was all I ever knew about my father's death until I was eighteen, almost ten years later. I'll spare you the horrid details, but as I'm sure you've already guessed, she murdered him. She explained very, very graphically what she had done with the body, and that she would never be caught, no one would ever think to blame her, even if anyone could ever prove that he was dead at all."

The words hang heavy in the air between the three of them. Gerry feels the comfort of their touches, but can hardly stand the affection anymore. He gets up off the bed and goes to look out the bedroom window, arms crossed and posture hard.

"Then she looked me right in the eye. And she told me that was exactly what would happen to Jon if she ever caught me with him again."

Dead, cold silence fills the room.

Gerry turns back around to find them both watching him. "So, I packed whatever I could fit into my duffle bag, and I got the hell out of dodge. I ran. I ran because I couldn't close my eyes at night with seeing your face white and cold and covered in blood and," he breaks off and takes a shuddering breath, covering his eyes and sinking to his knees. "And I couldn't stand that she would hurt you because of me. That all your light and potential would be ripped away from you in blood and pain and nothing I felt for you could make even the risk of that worthwhile."

He lifts his head to look up at them, where they’ve moved to the side of the bed towards him. “And do you want to know what the worst part is, actually? I can’t get over the idea that even though I haven’t seen Mary Keay in 10 years, the ghost of her demons lives inside of me. That I'm really just… Her. That one day my mind will snap and I'll be a danger to you both and I'll be the one hurting you, just like she hurt him. And then I'll just be the same monster who has always haunted my dreams."

Martin and Jon exchange a heavy look. They can scarcely believe that Gerry had endured so much and yet is still… Gerry. Happy, flirtatious, loving Gerry. Gerry, who fills their lives with colour and spontaneity, always showing up when they least expected him, pushing himself into their gravity and asking for space in their lives.

Despite the rather violent nature of Gerry's confession, it doesn't change anything for either of them. Things are not yet settled between them, but they curl around Gerry on the floor and they cry together over shattered innocence and sacrificed futures, and Jon promises himself that he will never let Mary Keay come between him and Gerry ever again.

[oikaw-ugh]

can i have some cute fluffy hcs with oikawa and kuroo taking care of an s/o who is sick (since thats what i am— fhdjsjdksk LOL) thank you bby love you

HALLO, SOPH! JUST SO YOU KNOW THIS GOT ME NERVOUS HAHAHAHA And ur so pretty I'm: soft >=]]]

Oikawa and Kuroo taking care of an s/o who is sick

a/n: Truth to be told, I find it awkward writing fluff for characters I love HAHAHAHHA so this got me 👁️👄👁️

Also, I'm not gonna bullet it because I feel like it ✨✨✨

Oikawa Torū

Shameless plug: I created a fic similar to this. You can check it here.

Oikawa is a very passionate lad. I mean, have you seen him? Have you seen how frustrated he was in middle school because of Kageyama and how he was so disappointed because he and his team didn't make it to the nationals? And the way he legit flew overseas to be better and to prove his self?

Girl, if that's not passionate, then I don't know what that is.

So! Given that he's dedicated himself into his favorite sport, I think he's the type who actually knows how to take care of a sick person. 'Cause I think being an athlete also corresponds to injuries and surprise sickness (honestly).

Let's say you get yourself a fever one day and you call Oikawa, telling him you won't be attending classes today because you're sick. Now that worries him and he wants to skip classes as well so he could take care of you in which you protest because it's you who is sick not him.

I mean, I'm the type who still goes to class even if I'm bleeding because of a stab in the gut. 👁️👄👁️ Kidding! Unless...

So he has no choice but to attend classes anyway. But that does not stop him from taking care of you!

Like, he instructs you what to do on the phone. He'd tell you to look for specific medicine on your medicine kit, would tell you to go check your temperature for him. He'd also ask if you're parents are around to cook for you and if not, he tells you to order takeout if you feel too tired to move.

During classes, he'd take note of the time."Ah, it's been 3 hours now since Y/N drank her meds. I'll check up on her after this subject." like that.

He'd take the breaks after every subject an opportunity to call you and to check on you, reminding you constantly to drink this, check that, don't do this and yada yada - we get it, Mom.

After class, he has to go to his practices and everyone - especially the 3rd years, would immediately sense that nothing is wrong-LIES! THEY IMMEDIATELY SENSE SOMETHING.

I feel like Oikawa is definitely the type who does not want to get distracted during practices. Like, he'd be the type who takes it seriously so he gets rid of his phone and he'd ignore his fans for a while.

So when Iwa sees Oikawa checking his phone as he warms up, Iwa immediately understood that something must've happened or stuff. He'd approach him asking if everything's alright and Oikawa's, "Oh, it's just that Y/N is sick."

After practices, Oikawa is hyped to leave! On his way towards the station, taking the route towards your place, he'd call you and he'd tell you about his day. He would also share some of the things you missed in class. Sharing you random things, honestly.

"I'm almost at the station. Do you want to eat something? I can buy it for you!" He'd ask you on the phone even if he's already inside a convenience store.

I'm sorry it's not that cute 😌✨

Kuroo Tetsuro

Have you seen his sense of responsibility? If not, I did!

The way he coolly handles Nekoma? ✨✨✨ I love it! I feel like he could be a good parent.

So when he came at your place at his free weekend, and he sees your complexion paler than your usual shade, your eyes drowsy, and your fingers slightly shaking as you opened the door for him, he immediately knew you were sick.

He'd guide you to your bed, tucking you in and would 'tease' you about getting sick. But I know for sure it's all just for a show! He's actually very concerned.

"Who gets sick at 2020?" He joked, "Where's your thermometer again?"

You're just there, sitting while looking at Kuroo mess your place. We all know this man is capable of doing things but you didn't really expect him to be good at nursing.

He's there like, "I take care of myself, you know?" When you look at him oddly because he can do stuff.

The whole day is spent with just Kuroo taking care of you. I mean, I guess. You both watched movies together, with you laying on your bed and Kuroo probably beside you or probably sitting on the edge, entertaining you with his ridiculous remarks and stuff. He’d also check on you from time to time. You wouldn’t notice but he’d peel off his eyes from the screen to see if you fell asleep or what. 

If not the movies, then I think YT videos! (I’m sorry I feel like I’m just writing this based off of my domestic routine HAHAHAH). Casually caressing your face, or checking your forehead. He’d also make sure the glass of water beside you is always full so he leaves you from time to time.

I also think Kuroo is a decent cook! So he can probably cook you porridge or chicken broth. You’d just be staring at him at the table while he cooked on your stove.

Okay, irrelevant but imagine Kuroo just staring at the pan, waiting for the food to boil, his right hand holding the spatula while the left is on his waist. Idk. That sounds like a cool sight to see :]]]]

He’d clean the dishes while talking with you. He’d share random stories because you’re not really in the mood to be talking and all that so he understands. The stories he’d share are probably just about Nekoma or Science facts or about his fascination for dogs.

Basically, Kuroo would become your nanny the moment he knows you’re sick. So when he had to leave because it’s getting late, he’d hug you (even if your sick is contagious!) and would remind you for the nth time when to drink your meds, what to do and to sleep early!

Even when he’s on the train, he would call you again in the disguise of ‘teasing’ you but in reality, he’s actually trying to check on you.

“What? Already missed me?” he joked.

“Kuroo, it was you who called.”

“I just had to call you because I feel like you’re missing me already. Anyways, are you on your bed now?”

IT’S SO SHORT BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ASBDASBHFHBADFAJF

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

This Christmas - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 3)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar? 

Read these first    Prologue     Part 1    Part 2

**

It was now morning and you stared at the blank document in front of you. You have now written the first twelve chapters and you’ve hit a wall. A big, huge fucking wall. You had been trying to write now for well over an hour and you just couldn’t come up with anything. You made a few notes as to what you wanted to happen, but figuring out how point a leads to point c… you were blanking.

You finally decided to take a break, sneaking inside the house and making breakfast. It was still quite early, so you thought it would be nice to do the cooking while you were staying there. You searched around for ingredients and pans you would need. Of course, there was something on the very top shelf you couldn’t reach. You sighed, standing on your tippy toes, barely able to grab it. You just needed a few more inches and you would have been able to get it.

However, just before you decided to go and grab a chair, you felt a heated weight pressed against you and a tattooed hand grabbing the item for you.

“I see you haven’t grown much since we were twelve,” Harry smirked in your ear.

Goosebumps covered your skin while your face heated up, “Fuck off,” you smirked back, pushing him off of you.

You turned around seeing him standing there wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants and some crazy bed head.

“New style you’re going for there?” You smirked, walking past him and over to the counter.

“I still haven’t heard a thank you,” he pointed out.

“Thank you for being a foot taller than me, so that you could reach the flour for me,” you joked.

“I believe you should be thinking my Mum and Dad for that,” he winked.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “What are you doing up this early anyway?”

“Jet lag,” he shrugged.

“Right,” you said. “So, what part of the world did you travel from this time?”

You poured out each of the ingredients while Harry watched you.

“LA,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right, the movie,” you said, nodding. “How’d that go?”

“It was great,” he said. “I loved it.”

“Any spoilers?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Netflix special,” he said, leaning up against the counter. “Congrats on that by the way.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “And I would totally give you spoilers but nothing is going on with it yet. They’re still casting some of the characters.”

“Speaking of, I’m hurt you didn’t offer me the starring role,” he joked.

“And make your head even bigger, no thank you,” you giggled.

“Well, I mean I do seem to have an awful lot in common with your main love interest,” he pointed out.

You froze, staring at the mixture in the bowl, trying to figure out what the next step would be. However, your hesitation pretty much proved he was right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you squeaked.

“I’m just teasing you,” he smirked, knocking your shoulder with his. “But you have to admit there are a few similarities.”

“Your point?” You asked.

“No, point,” he said. “Just dropping a hint on the next time Netflix comes your way, I’m available.”

“Wait… is The Harry Styles coming to me for a job?” You gasped. “Is the bank account drying up that quickly?”

“Ha. Ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Since you’re going to make fun of me, I guess I’ll just go back to sleep and let you make pancakes all by yourself.”

“That was the plan all along,” you pointed out.

“Okay then… I’m going,” he said, staring at you.

“Okay, then go,” you smirked, shooing him out.

“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You know you want my help.”

“You can put the flour back on the top shelf,” you told him as you finished mixing the batter for the pancakes.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the rest of the ingredients and putting them back in their proper places. As he did this, he caught himself glancing over in your direction. His gaze dropping down the length of your body and back up again. You were wearing leggings and a large jumper with the sleeves pushed up. Your hair was yet again in a messy bun with strands of hair sticking out around your face.

The real reason Harry was awake so early wasn’t purely from jet lag, but from having a dream about you. The last few weeks, you had been on his mind more than usual, but ever since seeing you again you were all he thought about. More specifically, he thought about the time he walked in on you in the bathtub the other night. He thought what it would have been like to join you to feel your skin against him.

And there he was again, thinking about you. He really needed to stop or else he was going to have another problem.

“Harry!” You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah, what? Sorry,” he said, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“You okay over there?” You asked. “You kinda spaced out for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, great,” he said as his face blushed a shade of pink.

“Can you heat up the veggie sausage?” You asked.

“Sure, sure,” he said.

You looked over at him as he fumbled around. You held back a giggle as you watched him. While you were finishing up the pancakes, your mind started to wander into the thoughts of if mornings would always be like this if you and Harry had ever given a relationship a try. You may never know in real life, but this was your little glimpse into what could have been and you weren’t sure if it was a good thought or a bad one.

**

Later that afternoon, you finally managed to write and finish an entire chapter. You still weren’t where you wanted to be, but progress was progress at this point. It was around lunch time, so you were just finishing up getting ready to go out with Harry. You weren’t sure what was on the agenda, but you were looking forward to it. You also made a mental note that tomorrow you needed to visit your mum for a bit because it was kinda rude that you were spending time with Harry and Anne when you told your mother you were going to be working the whole time.

Which you were, most of the time, but you still needed to go see her. Anyway, while you were getting ready you received a text from your editor asking about how things were going with the book.

Hey, Y/N! Just checking in to see how things are coming along.

Hey! Things are… going. I am writing and I’ve gotten quite a bit done in the last few days. Once I’m finished with the first fifteen, I’ll send them your way, sound good?

Perfect. I can’t wait to see what you came up with!

Let’s hope you still feel that way once you’ve read them. Ha!

After a few more texts back and forth, you double checked yourself in the mirror before grabbing your coat and heading out to meet Harry. You didn’t have to walk very far because he was already out the door of the main house, carrying a few bags with him.

“Um, are we taking a road trip for lunch?” You laughed.

“Nope,” he said. “But we do need some essentials.”

“Food better be included in that because I’m starving,” you said.

“It wouldn’t be lunch without food,” he said in a duhh tone.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, where are we going that we need all of these essentials, whatever that means.”

“You’ll see,” he smirked. “Now, let’s get going.”

The two of you walked out of the backyard and walked towards the walking trail that connected to the end of the street. The walk was filled with silence from the two of you, but it was refreshing. Any awkwardness that started out between you was now creeping away and everything felt like no time had passed.

It was strange really, but then again it was you and Harry. About twenty minutes later, you and Harry arrived at the nearby park, where he placed the bags on a picnic table. He took out a blanket that he used to cover the table in two shorter ones to place on the benches connected to it. Next, he took out containers of food filled with fruit, sandwiches, and crisp spreading them over the table. Finally, he took out some drinks before looking over at you.

“Lunch is served,” he smirked holding his hand out.

“Wow, you really went all out, didn’t you?” You laughed sitting down on one side while he took a seat across from you.

“Eh, I figured this was better than going into town,” he said.

“Do people still come up to you here?” You asked, popping a strawberry in your mouth.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time things are pretty chill and people just want to chat me up, see how I’m doing. And then others, usually the younger generation are the ones who are a bit more… uh… “

“Annoying? Bothering you?” You added.

“Basically, yeah,” he nodded with a laugh.

“One… hearing you say the younger generation really makes me feel old,” you laughed. “And two, how do you get used to random people just coming up to you like that. Occasionally, I’ll have someone say hi to me… but that’s very rare.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It comes with the territory I guess.”

“I guess you have been dealing with it for over a decade,” you said. “Which is still hard to believe.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “I still can’t believe it and I’ve lived it. There’s so much I’ve already done that sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m only twenty six and still have a lot of life left to live.”

“You’ve definitely done and seen more than most people our age,” you nodded. “Is that why… you tend to spend more time with other uh… celebrities because they understand that part of your life?”

Harry sighed, putting his sandwich down as he thought over his words, “In the beginning yes. I had all these thoughts of who I was supposed to be, or where I was supposed to be or who I was supposed to be seen with. I kinda lost myself and what I wanted to do in it. Like I used to think I had to live in LA because that’s what everyone did when they made it, but now I can’t stay there more than a few weeks at the most.”

You nodded, taking a bite of your own sandwich in response.

“I don’t want to say that’s what happened with us,” he started. “But I can’t lie either. The truth is, I don’t know what happened, really. Things got overwhelming and I just... “

“Stopped calling?” You finished for him.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I’ll admit, when our friendship kinda just ended… I was pissed. I was hurt. I hated you for a good little bit. I was jealous whenever I saw you out with other friends or at all these exclusive parties. I thought I wasn’t good enough to be in your life anymore. Like I was the past and that’s where I was supposed to stay,” you whispered. “But then I realized, I was also to blame. The phone works both ways and I never tried to call or text you again. I could have tried one more time and maybe that would have been the time and we wouldn’t have lost years out on our friendship.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I would have still been an ass and everything would have stayed the same.”

“Guess we’ll never know, huh?” You asked.

“Good thing that’s in the past, right?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled.

**

You and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon at the park talking about everything. It was like you two were trying to make up for all the years you hadn’t talked and in a way you two were. When you were done talking, you walked along the park, which quickly turned into a little game of running around and jumping on his back, just like old times.

By the time you both headed back home, it was getting dark. Houses covered in Christmas lights lit up the night sky and the two took a bit of a detour looking at all of the decorations. There were times you caught yourself looking at Harry more than looking at the different lights and decorations set ups. Your head and your heart were having a severe disconnect at the moment.

Your head was trying to be all logical and warning you about letting your guard down. Old feelings you had previously suppressed were slowly coming up, but your head kept trying to push them down. Your heart, however, kept fluttering whenever he would laugh or your hands would slightly brush up against one another. After a bit, you found yourself clenching your fist because the want to grab his hand and lace his fingers with yours was becoming unbearable.

If only you knew, Harry was feeling the same way. He glanced at you, smiling to himself as he watched the lights glowing over your skin. Being with you today further proved that he was in love with you. He realized then, he couldn’t hold back his feelings from you much longer and he didn’t want to, he had to get them out.

Harry stopped all of a sudden looking over at you, “Y/N…”

“Yeah, H?” You asked, turning around to look at him.

“I-” he started.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“I-I,” he stuttered out. “I’m really glad we’re doing this…. Reconnecting… and shit.”

“I am, too,” you smiled.

Harry forced a smile, mentally kicking himself in the ass for chickening out as the two of you finished the rest of the walk back to the house.

**

Uh oh! Who do you think will be the first one to finally admit their feelings?

Find out in PART 4, posted tomorrow at Midnight CST. :)

[xsteriism]

Too Good to be Bad

Chapter One: Trouble is Cooking

by celestial-irondad 

1, 225 words 

1/?

based on @funkylittlebidiot’s chat post about ironstrange

edit: click on the chapter title to read it on ao3!!!

----

There are two sides to Dr Stephen Vincent Strange. On one hand, he can be holed up in the Sanctum Sanctorum for weeks on end, just reading book after book after book. He’ll have a bitter cup of tea, no sugar, right beside him as he reads in his rocking chair, with the polluted air of New York City penetrating into his living quarters. 

On the other hand, sometimes all he wants to do is to bring chaos to the lovely New York City. He usually has a plan ready whenever these episodes happen, something to spice up the petty lives of the Avengers. For example, Stephen’s currently in the Avengers’ quinjet, tied up like some rope bunny, on his way to the Avengers’ Compound. It may not seem like it, but everything is falling into place. Stephen’s capture was planned, his trip to the Compound was planned. He’s going to destroy the Compound from the inside and these measly superheroes won’t even see it coming. 

Of course, Stephen made it slightly difficult for the Avengers to capture him. He’s not a complete idiot. He fought with whoever was present for about an hour, only showing off the simple spells he had learnt. Nothing more was needed with these superheroes. He could have gone on, too, if it weren’t for the fact that he had a time schedule to keep. 

The moment the Compound comes into view, Stephen is momentarily winded from the sheer beauty of it. The architecture is breathtaking and whoever designed it deserves a golden, gleaming medal. But before he can make a comment on it, he’s carried into the building by one very strong Captain America, who doesn’t seem to break a sweat. 

‘Did I not gain weight?’ Stephen questions himself internally. ‘All I had been doing this past month was eat, sleep and shit. Surely, I had gained some weight?’

He doesn’t dwell much on it because he’s forced out of his thoughts when he’s unceremoniously dumped into a very hard wooden chair. He groans at the ache growing at his rear end, cursing at the existence of magic binding ropes. He sighs soon after, his mood quickly turning sour. This was supposed to be a fun little excursion, a break from being cooped up in the Sanctum Sanctorum for the past two months. Why did the Avengers have to ruin everything? What kind of sick joy did they obtain from this? All Stephen wanted, was a little explosion, a small firework celebration as the Compound burned.

“Is the interrogation part going to begin?” The sorcerer drawls, looking utterly disinterested, even yawning to prove his point. The Black Widow steps forward threateningly, with her knives gleaming in the light before she’s promptly stopped by Captain America. 

The doctor smirks. Is it this easy to rile these heroes up? 

The Black Widow stabs her knife into the armrest of Stephen’s wooden chair, looking dangerous. “Here’s how it’s going to go. We’re going to ask some questions and you’re going to answer them.”

Stephen raises his eyebrows and closes his eyes as he nods. These superheroes are cute if they think he’ll spill all his secrets just because they asked him to.

“What are the sorcerer’s plans?” Captain America asks arms crossed over his chest, trying to look more intimidating, obviously to no avail. Stephen just looks even more unimpressed, if possible. 

“Oh, mine?” He asks back, looking around as if deep in thought. “Hmm… I don’t really know. I was planning to make myself a nice cup of tea after this, but I think that may have to be postponed.”

The Black Widow drags her knife along the length of the armrest. The doctor glances at the action, not bothered in the slightest. It would take much, much more to successfully instil fear into him. Her little tricks may work on the normal people she usually interrogates, but not Stephen. Really, is this the best she could do? Stephen is the Sorcerer Supreme and he feels slightly offended that the Black Widow thinks she can scare him by just using mere knives. 

Please, he’s seen scarier in his dreams.

“What is the—” before Captain America can finish repeating the same question, the door to the interrogation room slides open. And the sorcerer finds himself out of breath for the second time that day. 

Stephen is absolutely sure that the man who walked into the room is not of this world. He’s wearing the tightest black shirt that clings to his body in the most delicious of ways, complementing his muscles beautifully. His sweats are too loose for Stephen’s liking, but well, he can’t win everything, now can he? The man has an oil stain on his perfectly sculpted face, smudged right below his eye, right on his cheekbone, highlighting it. His lips are quirked into a stunning smile, his hair a lovely shade of brown. Stephen isn’t quite close enough to see the colour of his eyes, but he’s sure they are also as enchanting as the rest of him. 

“Hey,” the ethereal man says, pausing at the sight of Stephen tied up. He pauses a little too long, eyeing the villain up and down, clearly liking what he sees. “Oh, hello to you, too. Anyway, stop by the lab if you want your suit patched up, Nat. I have some upgrades in mind, too.”

Oh, his voice. Such an angelic sound. The sorcerer thinks he can listen to it forever. Forget being cooped up in the Sanctum Sanctorum reading his ancient books, Stephen wants to be cooped up in this man’s room. 

The doctor kicks Captain America in the shin, uncaring that he doesn’t get a dramatic reaction. “Wait, what? This is your boss?”

The man in red, white and blue frowns, unfolding his arms. “What? No? Tony’s not our—”

Right at this moment, a golden portal appears, blazing as Wong steps through it. The assistant falters at the sight of the people gathered, but quickly casts a spell that shields him from the rest and casually starts to untie Stephen. The Avengers are in a state of shock, but before they can move, Wong seizes the opportunity to momentarily paralyse them. Their faces are varying degrees of shock and fury when they realise what happened, but before they can shout, Stephen speaks.

“Why have we been wasting our time with these idiots,” Stephen cries, pointing to everyone in the room, besides his angel, “when this being has been roaming around the halls of this building? Oh, Vishanti! This has been a colossal waste of my time!”

Wong mumbles an incoherent reply, before speaking up. “So… I’m guessing we won’t be blowing the building up today?”

Stephen looks at Wong incredulously, rubbing his sore arms before using a little spell to knock the occupants in the room unconscious. He catches Tony right before he hits the ground, cradling the body close to his chest as if Tony was a delicate piece of china. The rest of the Avengers drop to the floor like sacks of potatoes, creating ‘thunking’ sounds that make Stephen smile.

“Of course not, Wong,” Stephen rolls his eyes, hoisting Tony into his arms, carrying him bridal style. “Let’s go back to the Sanctum. We’ll blow this place up another time. I have important things to do, now.”

----

hello! i hope you enjoyed this little fic! maybe i’ll write a second part to this, who knows? anyway, please reblog if you liked it, give me some comments? 

*this is my first time writing ironstrange and i dont usually write romantic ish relationships (im hermit crab irondad, not hermit crab ironeveryone), but i hope its good enough..? 

thank you @technically-a-little-dragon for beta-ing this fic and for getting me to write for the marvel fandom again i dont really know who to tag, but since i always tag you... @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @jaijaiwriter @hollandrecs 

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Five

i still don’t properly understand how this website works but slowly,,, i am learning.

also if ur enjoying this au please like/reblog bc it rlly helps me out ty x

wc; 2649

A month had passed since Yeosang took you under his wing, and he (thankfully) hadn't decided to kill you.

Although the trip to harvest the sand mandrakes often made you think otherwise.

Despite that, Yeosang had been patient with you as you grew accustomed to his lifestyle. Oddly, he trusted in you immediately, sharing with you secrets he wouldn't dare tell other strangers.

"I'm a mage," he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. "You see those blue lines? They're called veins, and our blood runs through these."

You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was.

"In mine, flows blood as well as chaos," he explained. "Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you're taught by the right people."

Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm.

"But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it." Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before.

He had grinned at you then, proud that his magic had impressed you. He didn't get to show off his magic often; most people would trade his life and talent for money in a heartbeat.

Except now, Yeosang wore a frown as you pleaded with him.

"Why can't you teach me any magic?" you beg. "You said yourself that anybody can be taught! By the looks of it you're well up to the task!"

You follow him like an excited puppy, bouncing along behind him and pawing at the back of his shirt to get his attention. Yeosang had his back turned to you, intent on finding the wolfsbane he had been asked to find before you arrived in his life and threw it slightly (majorly) off balance.

"I said no, Iris" he murmurs, keeping his eyes on the mossy ground.

You weren't sure where Yeosang had gotten the name 'Iris' from, or why he started calling you that in the first place. It certainly wasn't your name. Not that you had ever told him your name. He had never asked, so you assumed he didn't want to know. Either way, you didn't care, nor did you find it particularly important, so you let him call you whatever he pleased.

"Why?" you whine, grabbing the bottom of his cotton shirt and pulling it. "What harm can it do to just teach me a little magic?"

He sighs harshly, and turns to face you. Scowl evident, he shoves a handful of wolfsbane into a basket and grabs you firmly by the shoulders.

"I said no. Do not make me repeat myself. Do I make myself clear?" His eyes burn into yours and guilt washes over you; you hadn't meant to make him angry.

"But-"

"I said," he growls. "Do I make myself clear?"

You stare up meekly into his eyes, seeing the same flashes of firebolts from his veins, now crashing around his pupils. You nod, not uttering a word. Yeosang lets you go with a soft huff, and heads back up towards the house. If you'd have known he would get so angry with you, you wouldn't have pestered him so badly.

A few more days pass, and neither you or Yeosang bring up the incident in the woods. You, in fear of angering him again, and you assume Yeosang just didn't want to mention the subject at all. Maybe it was a sensitive topic for him? He acts like it never happened, resuming teaching you how to cook various stews and soups, testing you on the properties of sage and echinacea.

"Echinacea... helps burns?" you hazard a guess, Yeosang's face contorting to an expression of pain informing you that once again, you were wrong.

"Echinacea helps colds and flu." he corrects you with a sigh.

Frustrated, you hurl your notebook down onto the desk in Yeosang's study, crossing your arms and exhaling harshly, much like a horse. His study was as breathtaking as the rest of his house. It was smaller compared to the main, circular room and had no windows. With no natural light, Yeosang had strewn luminescent mushrooms across the ceiling and draped them all over the walls. They were long and thin, but the heads and stems shone bright in tones of seafoam green and azure blue. They made the room glow a strange, ocean mash of colour, often making Yeosang look as if the ocean floor had sprouted atop his head, dyeing his neutral blonde locks with a very startling sea themed concoction.

The room had an earthy smell, as did the entire house. You theorised Yeosang either had an addiction to growing plants in his house, or plainly a plant addiction. Still, the air throughout his home was always immaculately clean, so you couldn't complain about the slight dirt smell, or the soil that was always clinging to your arms and legs.

"I'm no good at this, Yeosang!" you cry. "I don't know why I bother!"

You glare angrily at the wooden planks of the floor, blinking back frustrated tears. You desperately wanted to prove to Yeosang that you were capable of learning something worthwhile. After all, your survival depended on it; why would he keep you around, feed you, house you, protect you, if you couldn't offer anything back to him? More than that, it actually gave you a purpose, something more than just stealing your way through the game of life. Here you were, handed an opportunity to learn and, provided you were any good at it, use the skills to help people in the future instead of stealing the products of other people's hard work and determination.

You're dragged from your thoughts by Yeosang crouching down at your figure sitting on his desk chair. He softly places his rough hands on your knees and offers a rare, but soft and caring smile.

"You'll get the hang of it ,Iris, don't fret. I failed my alchemy exam five times before I finally passed it." His eyes crinkle at the corners when he hears your quiet laugh at his comment.

"Only an idiot would fail five times," you quip. "What happened to three time's the charm?"

"Charm is a load of bullshit," he remarks. "Everything is decided by fate, you know that don't you?"

You nod in response. Everybody knows your destiny is your destiny. It can't be changed, altered or avoided. You wonder if magic has any effect on destiny. After all, before meeting Yeosang you had no idea magic was real in the first place, so really the possibilites could be endless.

"Does magic work on destiny?" You ask the golden haired mage.

Yeosang leans back on his heels, glancing up at the glowing fungi as he ponders his answer.

"Yes and no," he admits. "No magic can directly change, or redirect your fate. But magic can delay it, sometimes quite significantly"

"How so?"

Yeosang lets go of your knees and with a grunt, falls back so he's sitting on the floor in front of you.

"Are you familiar with Virgil's Aenied?"

He takes your silence as a 'no'.

"The Aeneid is an epic poem, centered around a single man named Aeneas, whose destiny is to discover the land that would become Rome. There's a lot that goes on inbetween," Yeosang explains. "but Juno, the goddess of love and marriage, despised Aeneas, and did everything in her power to make sure Aeneas would never be the catalyst of Rome's foundations."

"But Juno couldn't stop him from doing that, could she?" You connect the dots fairly quickly, and Yeosang nods.

"Correct. Even the gods have to abide by the laws of destiny. Jupiter himself unravels the scrolls of time and fate, and nobody can change them. But what Juno did succeed with, was delaying Aeneas as much as possible. Setting him back years and years from the destiny bestowed upon him from the very beginning, at the sack of Troy."

"Do the gods powers count as magic though? You're not a god" You think aloud. You think you catch a wave of offense wash over Yeosang's face, but it passes so quickly you can't be sure.

"In a way, I suppose you can view it as a divine type of magic, magic so powerful that people on our realm couldn't possibly wield it without certain death, or other circumstance..." The mage stands up, bones in his knees cracking as he moves.

"Anyway," he continues. "My point was that your destiny is exactly that. It's been written in the stars since the very dawn of time, and you physically cannot escape it. You may delay it, but the time will come where you will have to fulfill your role in destiny's prophecy. The first step to that though, my young student, is passing your alchemy exam!"

You and Yeosang spent the next couple of days pouring over his hand-written notebooks, reading and re-reading his scrawled handwriting and weirdly endearing drawings. Him presenting you with various herbs and smoking liquids, making you guess what they were used for and forcing you to eat and drink the gross ones when you got the answers wrong. You hated it, but his method of teaching was rather effective.

"We're going to have to make a trip into the city," he tells you one gorgeously warm afternoon. "I've run out of primrose and the only source I can get it is the kingdom."

Yeosang hadn't taken you to the kingdom of Ateez yet, nor had he visited there since your arrival, but the way he spoke about it terrified you to your core. He refused to go unless he needed to, no pleasant day trips or lesiurely strolls. For him, it was dangerous.

"The King has a special band of witch-hunters," Yeosang explained to you as he grabbed his brown satchel and coin purse. "Of course, they're just referred to as 'guards', he wouldn't want rival kingdoms knowing he was explicitly prejudiced towards anybody." he spat.

"Have you met the king?" you ask quietly, handing him a notebook with a list of items you needed to purchase.

Yeosang notably hesitated.

"Yes... he helped me a lot. He gave me this land, and in return I occasionally do him favours."

"I thought he didn't like mages?"

"Hatred for magic kinds is rooted in fear," he turns to you. "Whether or not you like a mage, it is always better to have one on your side, as opposed to having one against you."

"So if the king likes you, why are you so worried about going to the kingdom?"

Yeosang wedges a soil brown hat onto your head, pulling it down over your eyes.

"He doesn't like me," he corrects you. "He merely tolerates me because I posses something that may prove very useful to him one day. Anyway, enough questions, small one. We have plants to buy!"

---

You wished Yeosang had told you just how long the walk to Ateez was before you agreed to go with him. Technically you didn't have a choice, but still. You'd been wearing 'tailored' versions of Yeosang's clothes (tailored being he had ripped the excess material off), as your own were ruined beyond repair during the storm. They were too big for you even still, the sleeves of his white cotton shirt coming past your fingertips and copper breeches almost hanging off you if not for the makeshift belt, (wine red ribbon Yeosang used to bunch flowers together) tied around your waist. As grateful as you were, his clothes were weighing you down and making the journey painfully longer.

"We're almost there, Iris!" Yeosang calls back to you. He was wearing an outfit similar to yours, except his actually fit and suited him. He was extremely good looking, you'd admit. What with his piercing cobalt eyes and effortlessly wavy hair. You wondered why he had been alone before he met you, and for what reason.

You turn your attention to where Yeosang was pointing and felt your stomach drop immediately. It felt as if a pit had opened at the base of your torso and every one of your organs was being sucked into the abyss. Despite the uncomfortable feeling seeping throughout your body, you felt compelled towards the miles of kingdom below you. You could see almost the entire kingdom from your position on top of the hill. You realised too, that the western side was situated on the edge of a cliff, with your best friend, the ocean, waiting readily thousands of feet below. You felt uneasy thinking about the drop.

Between the bottom of the hill and the gates of Ateez, was a vast stretch of forest. Towering oaks bundled together like a poor family on a cold night, protecting one another with what little comfort they could provide. You didn't want to imagine what creatures lurked in the woods either, having a hunch that they wouldn't welcome strangers into their habitats with welcome arms.

"We don't have to walk down this hill, do we?" you gulped.

"No," Yeosang said. "We can just jump."

You stared at him.

"Of course we have to walk down it, Iris."

You both began the everlasting descent down the hill. Luckily, a dirt path had been stamped into the grass by plenty of other people making the same journey as you.

No matter how much you tried to push down the growing feeling in your stomach, it wouldn't go away.

You could hardly explain the feeling either. Like your intenstines were lined with the prettiest hydrangeas, and somebody was tugging at the flowers with the strength of a thousand horses, but regardless of how hard they pulled, the roots stayed firmly put.

You surveyed the kingdom, the endless rows of tiny houses and roads, the pathway up to the gates of the castle and the grand towers standing in the castle grounds. On the highest part of the city, towards the east, was the most important building of all; the castle itself. Overlooking the entire of Ateez which stretched out for miles.

"Once we reach the bottom of this hill," you ask. "Won't we have to walk all the way to the gates?"

Yeosang glances back over his shoulder at you, pushing his wavy blonde hair out of his face.

"No, they have horses and carriages that take people to the city, thank the gods."

After approximately 3 decades, you and Yeosang reach the bottom of the hill (more like a mountain, you think). Yeosang guides you over to a line of carriages, attached to the biggest, bulkiest horses you've ever seen. The ones you'd seen back at home were simple, baggage carrying horses. Nothing compared to these absolute monsters. Your companion hands the coachman of a carriage a handful of coins, and you both clamber into the back.

Throughout the journey, the hole in your stomach continues to expand, growing deeper and wider that you're surprised it hasn't totally consumed you. The closer you get to the kingdom gates, the more and more nauseous you feel, the beating of your heart and pounding in your head keeping perfect time with the canter of the Shire horse pulling you along.

The second cog, hand-crafted but not yet complete, waits patiently. He cannot continue welding it until the next steps are taken; until destiny is fulfilled. Until then, he sets the half-finished cog on his workshop table, then he too, sits patiently. Fate is a waiting game, and everyone is a pawn to fate.

Chapter Six

[drarryruinedme7]

Trans Harry!

Hey nonny, thanks for this ask. It took me a while, but I hope this makes a little bit of sense. 💕

Drarry (Harry-centric) | Rating: T | Lenght: 2,3K | Tags: Trans (Genderfluid) Harry/Harriette, mention of sex, pronoun bracelet

Friendship isn’t always a picnic. Going through trauma together can separate people, but life always finds a way to bring close again those meant to be and Ron and Hermione will now have to learn to get to know their old/new friend Harriette.

I’m Not (Just) Harry

Harriette hurried down the stairs of Grimmauld Place, trying to finish tying her braid as the doorbell kept buzzing. She opened the door with a hand still holding the end of the braid, to find Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville standing in front of it, strained smiles on their faces.

“What…” She froze on the spot. She hadn’t heard from any of them in three years, always dreaming of a possible reunion but… it seemed too good to be true. None of them ever reached out, not even when The Prophet wrote those articles insinuating that ‘Boy Who Lived and Death Eater Boyfriend Planning to Take Over the Ministry’.

Maybe she was hallucinating? Hesitation coursing through her brain, she raised a hand and poked Ron’s cheek; it seemed real.

Ron’s eyes widened and then he snorted, shaking his head. “Erm, Harry? I know we…um.”

“Oh, for Circe’s sake, Harry, can we come in?” Hermione’s voice was soft, wary, exactly how it was when she had to talk with Ron after a quarrel. Except that this time it was toward Harriette.

“I’m not Harry.” It was out of her mouth before she could even think about it. Well, better this way. They had the audacity to show up at her house after three years of silence and what, expected to be immediately welcomed?

Ginny crooked her head with a fond smile on her face. She probably thought Harry was completely pissed off. “Oh, really? And who are you?” Neville snickered next to her.

She shook her head. “I’m Harriette.” And left the braid to show them her bracelet: it was light blue, pink and white, the trans flag. They probably had no idea what it was anyways. On it her pronouns: she/her.

Ron sucked in a breath as Hermione’s mouth dropped open. It was Ginny who recovered first. “I’m sorry Har-Harriette. We had no idea…”

Harriette opened her mouth to reply, to tell them to come in, when a familiar body pressed against her back, Draco’s scent reaching Harriette’s nostrils, pouring calm in her.

Draco’s drawl was soaked in his smirk. “Wow, what do we have here? Two weasels, Granger and Longbottom… as I live and breathe.”

Neville’s cheeks tinged a light pink, but when he spoke, Harriette recognized her brave friend. “Hi, Malfoy… Draco. Harr- Harriette, I know we didn’t call ahead, but… we wanted to speak to you. It’s been so long…”

Harriette nodded, shifting to the side to let them come in as Draco breathed in her ear, “Are you sure it’s alright?” 

She turned, landed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Yes. They’re here in any case. We might as well listen to them.”

Once in, Harriette lead the way to the kitchen, inviting them to take a seat, pouring hot tea with milk for everyone. Draco sat next to her, sipping his tea. “So?”

Ron looked into his mug and then at Harriette. His eyes were shining, his fingers restlessly scratching the mug, a nervous gesture he never lost, then. “Harry…ette.” He quickly added, blinking a few times, opening his mouth and then closing it again. “Oh Merlin, I don’t know how to do this, I’m so sorry. We… okay, we’ve been idiots! Big, shiny idiots, who turned your back because you… you… fell in love with Malf-Draco. That was stupid but we were…”

“Mourning?” Harriette interjected, a smile appearing on her face. “Listen guys, I know. The War just finished, and I went and fell in love with an ex-Death Eater, a bully who treated Hermione like shit for years, posh, spoiled brat—”

“You know, I’m right here.” Draco pouted annoyed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Harriette snorted and reached for his hair, stroking it lightly. He looked pleased enough and closed his eyes under Harriette’s touch. She resumed, “But he has also flaws, of course.”

Harriette looked at his friends, at their rigid poses, their wary eyes. “It must have been difficult for you to accept it. I know it. It hurt because you are… you were my family. But I understand you and I’m not angry with you.”

Hermione sniffled and that’s when Harriette realized she had been silently crying, clutching the mug in her hands. She wiped away the tears with a hand and took a deep breath. “Harr-Harriette, we’ve missed you so much. We know… Luna, Dean, Seamus, they’ve all stayed friends to you and I… Every day, I wanted to call you, to-to see you, but… every time I thought it was too late, I had fucked up, we lost each other. But…”

“What she’s trying to say—” Ron interrupted her, placing a hand between her shoulder blades, stroking her back with his thumb. “—is that we want to get to know you again. You, with Draco, you, Harriette, you… our friend. We miss you.”

Ginny and Neville were nodding alongside, Ginny looking directly at Draco. “You still stole my boyfriend.” Rising an eyebrow, defiantly. Smiling, shaking her head. “And I’ve been a hypocrite. I knew things didn’t work between us Harry, um, Harriette. I just… I was hurting. I thought you were my person and. Yeah.”

“Is anybody addressing the fact that I’m here?” Draco gestured towards himself in a theatrical manner, rolling his eyes. 

Harriette laughed, happy that someone mitigated the mood. “We could never forget it, love.”

Everyone laughed, the tension in the room vanishing a bit. It was Draco once again to dissolve it. “Do you want to stay over for dinner? We have some friends coming, I’ve got a promotion at work, you know.”

Neville lightly clapped his hands. “Congratulations Draco! Well, why not? I can cook my special cookies.”

Harriette nodded, smiling. She looked at Ron and Hermione, an understanding look passing through them. No matter the years they’d spent apart, they still were her family.

—-

Pansy arrived less than an hour later, the disbelief of seeing Harriette’s friends melted away as Neville started paying her compliments, one after another, making very clear to everyone he found her ‘incredibly changed from school’, ‘so clever,’ and ‘that blouse looks fabulous on you.’

After accepting Neville’s compliments with a predatory grin, she turned to Harriette, surveying her. “Harriette! You’re still like this? Everyone will arrive in an hour!” Pansy gestured at her clothes and face, rolling her eyes. “I always have to step in, don’t I?” She Accioed her make-up and sat on the couch next to her, started applying her make-up.

She was putting her mascara when Harriette looked at Ron, smirking. “Wipe off that expression from your face Ron.”

His cheeks turned an alarming shade of red, his freckles almost disappearing, mixing with his blush when he spoke. “I! It’s just… you… why the make-up? When? How? I mean…” Hermione’s elbow in his ribs startled him and he abruptly stopped talking, looking mortified.

Pansy rolled her eyes, finishing to apply a deep red lipstick on Harriette’s lips. “You sound incredibly transphobic, Ronald; may I suggest you take a deep breath and count to 10 before speaking? The majority of Harriette and Draco’s friends are gay, one of them is trans as well, you may want to watch your tone.”

“Oh, leave him alone, Pansy. It’s all new for them, I get it,” Harriette said, finally finishing tying her braids and smiling at her friends, now gathered around her. Draco approached her and sat next to her, caressing her jaw with a finger.

It was true. It was all new to them, and they were there, finally open to listening to Harriette, finally there for her, and she wanted to make them feel part of her life again. Smiling, she started talking. “See, the thing is that after the War I felt so fucking lost. I had no clue what my life should have been because, because… there was no one to tell me. I mean,” Harriette took a deep breath, Draco stroking her cheek helping her stay calm. “Since my first year of life, I was never actually free, was I? The Dursleys, they… abused me. I know this now. I had no voice in my life and then I came to Hogwarts and yes, it was great. Except that… I still wasn’t free free. I lived only to save my arse from Voldemort and then to save everyone’s arses. I… never had the time to discover myself. Like, could I sing? Could I draw? Did I like hot chocolate or tea more?” A sob escaped her — she was still going to therapy, learning to deal with her past. Talking with her old friends, the ones that knew her when everything was out of her control, was proving to be difficult.

Pansy hugged her, wiping away the few tears stuck in her eyelashes, careful not to smudge the mascara. Harriette looked up, towards Ron. After all these years, having him back seemed like a dream and she sighed in relief. His eyebrows were knitted together but Harriette could see in his eyes he wanted to understand, to listen to her, to be there for her, finally.

Draco squeezed her shoulder and asked, “So, do you like hot chocolate or tea more?”

Draco’s irony helped once again to improve the mood, making everyone laugh and Harriette’s heart lighten.

“You know I don’t like hot chocolate! Well… In the end, turns out that I didn’t even know anything about my identity and my sexuality. Eventually, during our eighth year, I discovered I was attracted to Draco, a boy. And what a boy. Ex Death Eater, spoiled, bully—”

“We’ve already been there, thank you!”

“—and yeah, we ended up together. As you all know. Most people disliked us, and me, for loving Draco, but… now things are settling. The world has learned I have my own life, apparently, and I can do the fuck I want with it. And Draco, we’ve been together for three years now and I couldn’t be happier. He’s helped me through all this discovery, you know?” Harriette closed her eyes, gathering the courage for the next part. When she opened them again, she saw all her friends looking at him with genuine curiosity, smiles, fondness, patiently waiting for her to continue. She found in their eyes the strength to go on.

“Now I… go to therapy. I uncovered certain memories with my therapist and discovered that, well, I don’t always feel exactly like a boy and… this is me now. Not — not always, just… at the moment is… something I’m trying to understand better. That’s why I have the bracelet. You’ll meet Steph later, she’s trans too. I don’t know what my future holds, but right now I’m… Harriette or Harry, depends on the period, and I need, I need people who can support me in this.”

“Oh, Harriette…” Hermione was suddenly in front of her, crouched at the foot of the couch, taking her face in her hands. “We’ll be here for you, I promise. I love you and I think it’s wonderful you’re finally living your life, and not the one that others want or think for you.”

“Yeah, you’re my best mate, you’ve always been. I’ll try to be here for you, Harry or Harriette or whatever else.” Ron got up from his seat to go hug Harriette too and soon Ginny and Neville joined them.

There was no need for a lot of words: they grew up together and even if they’d be separated for three years, they still loved each other, they still cared for each other.

When all of their friends arrived and were socializing in the dining room, Harriette took a moment alone, observing them all together from the atrium, dancing with the music, chatting, eating. Ron was embarrassing himself in a wild dance with Steph, Neville and Pansy were shamelessly snogging on the couch, Hermione, Ginny, Blaise and their other friends were playing truth or dare, laughing, kissing, singing. 

Harriette sighed, contented to have them all back in her life, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek. A warm body again appeared at her back, embracing her in a tight hug. Draco kissed her neck, whispering to her ear, “Are you alright, love?”

She nodded, fearing that opening her mouth would bring a vale of tears.

“I told you they’d be back in your life.” He smirked on her neck, tickling her.

“Shut up,” she muttered, already half-hard in her pants.

Draco sneaked a hand lower, brushing it on her bulge. “You didn’t tell me you were still thinking about your gender. It’s been months since you started wearing the ‘she’ bracelet, I thought…”

Harriette bucked her hips forward, pushing her bulge against Draco’s hands, moaning at the touch. “I… don’t know, Draco. I still… it’s complicated. There are days when all I want is to wake up without my cock, my beard, but… other times I like it, I… love having sex with you giving attention to my c-cock…”

“Like I’m doing right now?” Draco’s voice was low, sending sparks down Harriette’s spine. His hand slipped inside her trousers, gripped her cock, giving a slow tug.

“Merlin, yes.” Harriette was already meowling, bucking against his hand to get more. “B-but we, this is your party, w-we should…”

“Fuck until dawn? I agree.” Draco took her hand and tugged to bring her away from the party.

Harriette snickered, following him, muttering under her breath, “Not exactly what I meant, but well, who am I to say no?”

—

Thousands of times thanks to my betas/sensitive readers @primavera-cerezos, @everyoneinspaceisgay and @zopno. ❤️❤️❤️Tagging @bblgumbby, @inevitabledrarry and @secretlycrazyhummingbird. ❤️

[pffbts]

↳ bts: the way i see them.

―author`s note: this is a rough characterization which might not all be the real thing. literally, the longest thing i wrote here. even though it was exhausting, i can say i`m proud of myself. i hope you understand my pov for each and every one of them. and if you want you can tell me which one caught your eye the most in my ask box! anyway, happy reading, lovelies!<3

 ―seokjin

you`ll feel like the luckiest person, i swear.

as if that`s the home you need.

because seokjin is a homebody, as much as i`ve witnessed him to be.

he`ll always cook―yes, that`s his number one business.

he`s not going to let you come any closer to the kitchen or the gas or the microwave even though you continue to plead him that it`s alright and that you can at least make him a nice cup of tea or coffee once in a while.

in return of that he will tell you to treat him with tea or coffee at some fancy café, thus involving the investment of your credit/debit card.

now to the good part: pyjamas shopping

ever heard of that? no, i guess.

but it`s like a free item, or like a compulsory item/characteristic that comes with dealing and having seokjin in your life.

he loves his pyjamas, that`s his ‘loml’

probably owns too many for you to steal and he won`t even notice, i guarantee you.

people usually go for window shopping at some fancy store but kim seokjin will forget about window shopping and enter into the store to buy bear printed pyjamas.

if he`s in a good mood, he`ll probably buy you some too.

he`ll always end up calling you from the other side of the store in that loud, childish enthusiastic voice to see if the pink suits him or the baby blue one.

“which one do you think i`ll look good in?”

“jin, it`s not a suit. just get something that`s comfortable for you.”

“yahhh! i want to be presentable to you. choose one!”

against your wish, he`ll end up buying three sets of pink pyjamas.

you wanted the blue one, btw.

now to the best part of the century: guitar obsession.

literally, i feel like there are not many people who know that seokjin, indeed self-taught himself the guitar during the wings tour.

i, myself was so happy to see that.

he looked so calm and himself when he played it.

tbh if you ever hear him once playing it, you`ll be obsessed.

you`ll drag his guitar every time and request him to play it.

seokjin will be literally standing in his towel, his upper body still wet after the a nice warm shower and you`ll be sitting on your bed telling him to start playing.

your reason: “you look hot. now play me some sexy songs.”

seokjin doesn`t know why but you`re his cutest lil shit.

you never fail to make him laugh out loud or fall in love with you harder than the last day.

sometimes his ears would go red if he continues to stare at you for more than two minutes.

he gets flustered too soon and ends up gathering his composure after too many loud bursts of whining.

seokjin is the type of person to take care of our food supplies, he will not forget to pick you up from your workplace/college on time, never fails to make the most delicious tiffin.

like who even needs canteen food and fancy decorative restaurant food when you have none other than kim seokjin to take care of you.

he`ll be a little savage sometimes but that`s okay―it`s his way of loving you.

 at the end of the day, keeping you happy and content is his only business.

―yoongi

uncharacteristic at its finest.

no doubt the reason you`ll fall in love with him genuinely would be because of his uncharacteristic smile―those savouring gummies on display for you to eye feast on.

he`s the kind of person who will be the reserved and shy ones during the first couple of meetings but then as they open up like turning pages after pages in those story books, you`ll end up putting your palm up against his mouth to stop him from continuing his further liberal and capitalistic jokes.

the reason you`ll end up never leaving him because he was holding your hand all the time.

strangely that`s a very cherry on the top situation you can ever encounter with min yoongi

this man, however poised he is, never fails to make you feel special and it`s not like making food for you or arranging your clothes.

but rather he will look into the tiniest details and whenever you`ll scrunch your nose at that eye shadow shade, he`ll jump in from the other side of the room―his thousand dollars headphone around his neck like those three dollars chain (you know what i did right there, yes bye.) and tell you that you look beautiful nonetheless.

you`ll end up having a no make-up look and he`ll still never waver to look at your direction all the time.

 he`s just that kind of person―never underestimating the real you and always silently curious of what it is that makes up to you.

the most fun part with yoongi will be napping―yes, i understand that`s the dumbest thing i ever said but see what i`m trying to imply here.

you`ll never be bored because he `ll find some reason to make you feel less bored.

he`ll throw different ideas about how he wants to nap and what he wants to do.

you`re glad that one of that idea actually worked aka napping in different countries.

but it`ll be six hours with snacks spread in front of both of you and yoongi would be lying on the sofa talking like a drunk yet a sane person and you`ll be munching onto the lays while discussing a serious topic of napping.

a very peculiar person but unusually a good peculiar, you see.

for most of the time, he will not give any effort and just silently let you know that he loves you but when he gets loud, boy, does he get loud.

he`ll end up writing 349873897483 songs about you and you`ll never get bored of them cause they`re made with love.

he compares his love for you like poetry―literally liberal poetry.

i`ve no idea how he does that but that man―*sigh* you should be blessed you met him, held him and talked with him because i don`t think you`ll ever regret loving that one man. 

  ―hoseok

hmmm, first of all, figures, sun, laughter.

those are the three things that define jung hoseok of who he is.

also, another word―the much need glucose of my scorching Indian summer days.

alright, that was a phrase.

anyway, hoseok isn`t an easy person.

i can assure you that because the people who laugh a lot, talk a lot and are loud af 24/7 are the ones who hide the most.

it`ll take a lot of sad movies, a lot of sad memories to erupt at the same time for him to tear up.

i guess no one will fucking forget mama 2018.

hoseok isn`t an easy person but he`ll be the easiest one to talk to first.

it`s the understanding part that will take a while. but all that is in the insides.

let`s start with the outside―that is, his bright side.

he`s a dancer, so obviously he`ll be the energy in-between both of you.

sometimes i don`t know why but having him around you will feel like as if he`s transferring bit by bit of his energy into you and soon, you`ll find yourself swaying with that, swaying and moving with him.

that`s where your freedom of laughing freely starts, you`ll throw your hands in the air while he`ll be quick to hold onto them tightly and make you twirl on your own.

he`ll make those sounds as if putting the bgm to shame.

tbh having jung hoseok in your life is like living a constant life on a reel with sounds providing the perfect synopsis to your actions.

he`s like tunes you`ll never end up hating but nevertheless love to hold onto.

hoseok isn`t much of a work freak.

but he`ll be there to make things helpful for you, like if you need help with some stuff―he`ll be always up for some hand.

of course, you won`t have to be worried about the neatness of your room.

he`ll always end up putting things at the right places by the start of your week but will be expecting to meet with a mess of what you`re by the starting of the weekend.

but he doesn`t mind.

seriously, he doesn`t. yes, he does get frustrated but that`ll only show at the point when you both are in a stable relationship with each other. in the beginning i guess, he`ll exhale loudly, sigh a lot while arranging your stuff but he`ll not complain.

even though he`ll nag at the stable point of your relationship, he`ll just try to put things together inside you―sometimes changes are good, right??

also, the thing about hoseok is that―his temper fluctuates a lot.

but just like i said before, he won`t show that much often, not until he`s too much in this ride with you.

if you, by any chance break that tight and taut shell of his then he`ll breakdown a lot.

he`ll let you take a stroll inside his mind and especially his heart.

he`ll start getting raw with whatever he`s going through. but he`ll continue to assure you that he`s still the same happy guy whenever he`s around you

the reason, i guess, he doesn`t show these insides of his is because he doesn`t want you to feel down. he doesn`t want to become a different set of sadness on top of your own.

he wants to keep things neat, bright and vibrant for you.

he would rather be the brightest thing in this room of yours than the moon that gets overshadowed by clouds on some frequent occasions.

to conclude everything, he wants to live happily and he wants you to live happily before both of your time fades away.

―namjoon

*sighs*

a calming yet chaotic person striving hard to let you know that happiness exists in the saddest places on this earth.

yep, that`s what namjoon is.

keeping up with namjoon is difficult because he doesn`t blend in with every situation.

he likes to keep that distance you can`t see with naked eyes.

it would take a few moments for you to understand that this guy isn`t always what he let people show.

just like hoseok, namjoon has two sides of himself but for namjoon`s case, he lives in his insides rather than outsides like hoseok.

he keeps things real, and to do that he writes a lot.

a whole ‘mono’ exists to prove that point.

forget about his use of auto-tune here and there in the songs of that playlist and just go through the words.

he makes you think even though you don`t think that often and he`ll make you google things up to understand the depth of the facts he stated.

he keeps things simple.

from his clothes to his mind―he hates complicating things and that`s such a beautiful thing i can never fully describe you.

he hobbies are simple too―going for casual walks and visiting non-historical places aka parks, lake sides, river sides.

cycle is his best friend. #KimDaily is proof.

physically through a stout man, he doesn`t carry himself like that.

i`m going to say this again and again until you slap me hard but namjoon is a simpleton―he keeps thinking too simply that words don`t get stuck and gets overflowed through his hand.

i personally, relate to that.

but he`s overthinker―strange combination, i know but he thinks and complicates things a lot which makes him frustrated and so he writes a lot.

that`s the exact reason he`s always the one who contributes to the music making of Bangtan a lot more than the other three writers (hoseok & yoongi)

he runs out of words―yes, namjoon do runs out of words. if you watch some of his interviews, he stops and thinks what word to choose at that certain situation.

and you want to know why? because he has too many things at the same time in his mind and sometimes he can`t even pinpoint on single syllable over the other.

keeping up with namjoon means keeping up with his philosophical side too.

you`ll probably end up woke till 4 in the morning because human emotions are a mind-blowing concept to discuss with kim namjoon and sure it is! when it involves namjoon, it`ll always turn out to be the best thing to talk about.

namjoon`s source of entertainment isn`t for everyone.

for me, i think it`s perfect.

library dates? fuck, that`s better than sex.

to love him is to love him with your insides because this man doesn`t believe in the outsides of that person.

he prefers to dwell in the insides and pull out the string which will become the next topic of debate for both of you.

he`ll keep you on your toes when he finishes a book because then he`ll tell you everything about the characters which you, yourself couldn`t find.

he`ll tell you about things you never knew and you`ll realize that he`s by far the best thing after google.

he`s the nerd that is handsome, strong and had beautiful hands which are soft like feather.

so hold onto them tightly and don`t forget to give him his kisses.

―jimin

park jimin, you beautiful creature.

first of all, thank his parents.

listen, this man is the epitome of love.

he has always been that hard-working kid at the front of your class, never getting distracted. always loving what he does at that moment.

his parents are supportive of what he does and he never discourages them.

instead he saddens himself by degrading himself.

nothing makes me happy than knowing that he is in a better place of mind now, that he calls himself cute this days, that he loves the word ‘lovely’ too much.

 that he says, ‘i love you’ too aggressively in English these days.

i think smile suits him better than those smexy sunglasses, right?

talking about sunglass―btw, just like seokjin`s pyjama obsession, i think jimin has a knack for buying too many aesthetic coloured sunglasses.

you`ll probably end up buying too many of them too if you ever go out with him.

he`ll always make sure you`re getting enough share of food and everything necessary to survive in life.

he`ll always look out for the time you spend overworking yourself and drag you to take a rest.

but when you do the same, he`ll be like ‘babe, no worries. see i`m so strong!’

he is the kind of person i fucking need in life.

the kind of person who listens and doesn`t stop himself from crying along with you.

he`ll always lend you that undivided attention, that unshared shoulder to lean onto.

he`ll pick up the pieces for you and give you the time and space.

never will he once try to invade a space inside you without your permission.

though a flirty type of person, he is serious too.

he knows when to draw the line and the reason he is like that maybe because he loves skinship a lot.

yep, even though i`m not a big fan of skinship, park jimin sure makes me wonder what`s it like to cuddle for three hours with the loml.

thank you, jimin, now i`m depressed.

i don`t know about kinks that much but park jimin 3873873% has a praise kink.

and sure why the fuck not.

he`s after all a very beautiful, god-like person from inside and out and you better give him some love while passing by the street beside him.

100% shirt guy aka my type.

99.9% of the times that i`ve seen jimin, he`s always wearing light coloured or pastel shaded shirt and boy, he looks so good in them.

he looks better when his hair is half-wet and it`s messy.

he looks more beautiful when his face is bare and his eyes don`t have that perfect eye shadow.

his eye smiles. f u c k.

you`ll end up squeezing his face 23.5 hours a day and he won`t mind because he likes the way your skin feels against him.

also, just like hoseok his temper is very similar too. so i won`t explain much on that cause it`s too similar for me. like, no wonder whoever made them roommates, they know what`s cooking.

you`ll probably end up staying up another night with him watching too many cat videos. it`s thing that come in the whole package so you really can`t avoid even if you`re not a cat person.

on a serious note: the more you give him, the more he`ll cross the boundary of love. he`ll make you overwhelmed and thirsty with the needs.

he`ll not stop until he gives his all to you.

he`ll want you to keep going on with your life even though he knows it`s hard. he`ll give you his voice, his shoulders, his chest to rest for a while―to make you distract, to let you think of nothing but the warmth that radiate through his shirt.

he`ll probably end up loving you more than what`s meant to be and you`ll always end up thinking what did exactly you do to deserve such a precious human being.

―taehyung

i`m really tired but he`s my ultimate bias, the loml so here we go.

wow, i`m already blushing.

anyway, let`s go!

kim taehyung is the perfect definition of loving some fictional character so much that you want them to be real.

he`ll do the most animated stuff in real life and you`ll question your eyes.

but he`ll prove you wrong.

he`ll walk up to you, put on a simple snapback cap and a simple white/black t-shirt and boom! he`s the boy next door or the senior in school you`ve a crush on.

he stops everything from spinning around you and never hesitates to be honest with you.

for me he`s the most inside person ever. more than both namjoon even.

like namjoon can be vocal about his thought a few time but taehyung―no, at least i`ve not seen him much often.

even if he does, he will not talk much about himself.

he`ll try to sidetrack the conversation and make it about more of the others than of his.

taehyung dwells with the insides that continues to remain a secret to me.

if you think about it much harder, we basically know nothing about him apart from his little hobbies.

but the few things that you`ll end up encountering with him are: reading too many manga/comics over time and comparing the number of aesthetic earrings of each other.

taehyung`s wishes and habits are innocent like even though he`s a completely different person on stage.

but we all know that.

it`s because that`s a stage and you can`t just reveal the roughest patches of your character to a whole audience waiting to feed their insatiable hunger.

even though he likes investing in clothes and accessories, he does it to distract himself.

he`s the kind of person who doesn`t go out very often stays up inside his room with a jar of mixed fruit jam and bread on top of the bedside cupboard to diminish the sudden hunger while he`s binge-watching the newest anime.

he`ll end up listening to too many songs at the same time because he`s in that mood.

the one thing i love about him is that he loves to remember the little things that people usually forget about each other or the moment they`re living in.

he`ll remember the feelings, the way his heart swelled up when he looked at you, or the way his mouth wavered when he couldn`t scold his favorite character for doing something foolish.

he loves the little things and for me even though he looks into those details he never judges them.

he will respect you and never discourage you to be what you really are.

he will expect you to do the same thing in return.

dates with him will involves―too many junk foods, too much time to spend in museums and learning the names of capitals, too many time spent in loose clothes.

he`ll always be the type of rather buy clothes online than going store to store for that perfect fit.

also, apart from seokjin, i think taehyung is another homebody.

maybe that`s the reason he knows where to draw the line and never cross what he shouldn`t.

even though he`s a homebody, he isn`t much of a help with household works but tbh that doesn`t even matter.

if you want you can be the mess together. if you want you can spend a whole day cleaning while laughing at each other`s stupid mishaps.

i think those days will turn out well if you resonate enough with him because he`ll make sure to gift you the same resonance.

―jeongguk

will he ever stop being the cutest brat in the whole world?

i personally, don`t want him to stop.

jeon jeongguk, you mastermind of weightlifting.

first of all, being with him mean he`ll definitely use you as a weight lifting object or like being the weight which he can keep up with.

meaning, out 5/7 days in a week, you`ll end up half-asleep at 4 in the morning while sitting Indian style on top of his back while he does push-ups.

he`ll let you sleep for those extra hours later on though.

i mean he grew up well with seven characters inside him.

so basically you`ll find all of them inside him.

being with him is like being with seven men at the same time but jeongguk has his own flavour too.

even though he`ll act like his hyungs, he`ll have you a taste of his own at that stable point of your relationship with him.

first he`ll show you his fun side, his strong muscle side but then as times passes, as seasons come along with the progress of your relationship with him, he`ll show you the bigger picture.

the bigger picture that is him sitting his purple coloured studio listening to the saddest love songs, trying to write the happiest lyrics, eating too many foods as occasional mukbangs.

he`ll end up crying a lot and you`ll end up becoming his side pillow most of the time.

but it`ll be too overwhelming on your side because he`ll become the small spoon and you`ll feel like you`re holding the whole solar system in your arms with hot and cold combined.

like taehyung, he liked storing memories but for him to notice the details takes a while because he`s still a kid and innocent and most importantly, impatient.

he`ll roll the clip for the tenth time and then he`ll realize the detail and when he does, boy, have you seen that smile?

ugh, my chest hurts.

for him, catching details come with the person who holds them. for example, have you seen the way he looks up to namjoon or like how he always gives jimin special attention.

he knows who needs what but he waits for his chance.

sometimes as for his young age, he sure does jump onto the conclusion but that`s just childish and you shouldn`t take that side of him seriously.

clearly, he`s joking.

but jeongguk knows where to joke and where to not.

for me, gguk is the one among all the seven who possess the most flaws.

he has a lot of rough edges and he needs some polishing on that.

but that`s acceptable. he`s literally watching six different types of human being all the time and he`s clearly confused unknowingly whom to completely follow.

so i feel like at some point in his 30s, jeongguk will become what he really is.

for now, he`s young and the youngest of his group so he`ll be okay.

he`ll grow up strong and be the best boy in the world.

so yes, give him the love he needs and never let him stop from showing his true colours because i`m sure, he`s something more than what meets the eyes.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Bonding Moments

Summary: After a hard day at work, Naomi bonds with an unlikely ally.

Pairing: Mentions of F!MC x Ethan, but mostly F!MC x Aurora friendship

Word Count: 3k+

So...this story took a completely unexpected turn and I think I’m going to add a part 2. But as always, let me know what you think!

Naomi really thought after a disastrous intern year that she’d have a handle working on the diagnostics team with Ethan. But it was hard, much harder than she anticipated. The tension in the air, the lingering glances, the unspoken words, the blurred lines that they constantly tiptoed, it was all becoming too much to handle.

It all came to a head on a fateful Friday. Naomi was having a really shitty day. On top of being exhausted from working over 19 hours straight, she and Ethan had been running tests on a patient—a 13 year old gymnast named Anna—all day, only to find out that she had an inoperable tumor growing on her spine.

This wasn’t the first patient Naomi lost, but it hit her harder than most. She barely made it out of Anna’s room after delivering the bad news before she started crying.

“Rookie?” Ethan started, catching her by the elbow.

“Sorry.” Naomi wiped her eyes hurriedly. “Sorry, just give me a minute, I’ll pull myself together.”

“Come with me,” Ethan said, his grip still on her elbow. He gently lead her to the privacy of his office, where she fully broke into sobs once the door was closed

Naomi sank into a chair and let her tears flow freely. What was the point in trying to stop them? Ethan slid a box of tissues in her direction. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I usually don’t cry, but I can’t help but feel bad,” Naomi continued with a shuddering breath. “She’s just a kid. She has her entire life ahead of her. Or had. She’s supposed to be getting ready for high school, and meeting new friends. And she and her parents put all of their trust into us and we failed them. I failed them.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. You did everything you could, but unfortunately this one is out of your control.”

“I still feel horrible.”

Ethan rounded his desk and crouched down next to Naomi. “I get it, I really do. When Delores died, it felt like a hole in the earth opened up and swallowed me. And I felt hopeless. It always hurts when there’s nothing we can do, but you can’t bog yourself down with guilt.”

Naomi knew Ethan was right, it still hurt. A lot. “I feel like there should be something I can do.”

“Right now, all you can do is make her as comfortable as possible, should she choose to stay here. If not, you let her go and live her life.”

They fell into a heavy silence, Naomi trying to regain her composure and Ethan rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. Naomi found herself relaxing. Her cries subsided, tampering down into a quiet whimper and the occasional hiccup.

“You think you’ll be okay for the rest of your shift?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. It’s almost over thankfully.” She just had to get through the next hour without incident and she was free for the next two days.

Ethan reached out and swiped at Naomi’s cheek, catching the tears that had fallen. He leaned forward and placed a kiss at the crown of her head, his lips lingering there. Naomi sighed and leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut. His hands were warm and his cologne was so intoxicating, she felt herself getting dizzy in his presence. All she wanted to do was lean forward and kiss him. It was too much. Too much closeness, too much intimacy and she was getting overwhelmed.

She abruptly pushed her chair back and stood up. “We need to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Ethan, what are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I appreciate you comforting me, but we can’t do this. You put up a wall, you wanted boundaries, you wanted to keep this professional. This isn’t professional. So, you either want to be strictly co-workers, or not.”

He wished he it could that simple. He wished that his feelings for the stubborn and infuriatingly amazing resident were that black and white. “Rookie–”

“I’m in love with you,” Naomi confessed. “And I can’t keep doing this with you, these fleeting moments of intimacy. If I’m being honest with you, it’s torturing me.” 

Ethan felt like he had been hit with a semi-truck upon hearing Naomi’s words. All of the air had been sucked out of the room. 

“And I don’t know if you feel the same way or not, because of this push and pull we have going on. One day, I feel like we’re making progress and the idea of us maybe being together seems feasible, and then there are days where I feel like I’m interacting with a complete stranger. So for my own sanity, I need you to respect the boundaries you put in place. Please.”

“Of course.” Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Naomi ignored his apology. She knew he truly felt sorry, but it didn’t bring her any solace. “I’m going to finish the rest of my shift. See you around, Dr. Ramsey.” And with that, Naomi scurried out of his office, not even bothering to look back.

~~~~~

And now here she was a few hours later, curled up in a throw blanket, eating a pint of ice cream at the kitchen island, The Notebook playing softly in the background for the millionth time. The apartment was quiet, thankfully. All of her roommates went bowling downtown, but she wasn’t up for it. She just wanted to wallow for the evening.

She heard a set of keys jingle and a few seconds later, Aurora walked in, a large reusable grocery bag in her hand. “Oh! Hey, I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Hi,” Naomi greeted. Aurora dropped her bag onto the kitchen counter, and pulled out a few avocados, limes, an onion, garlic, cilantro, tomatoes, a bag of chips, and a few jalapeños. “Making guacamole?”

“Yeah. I’ve been craving some for the longest.”

“Cool.” Naomi didn’t say anything else after that. She just silently watched as Aurora washed her hands and meticulously prepared all of her ingredients. The girl was methodical in everything she did.

“You can taste test if you want,” Aurora offered, as she was mashing everything together. “I’m biased because I think everything I cook tastes amazing, but it’d be nice to have an outside opinion.”

“Oh, you do not have to tell me twice.” Naomi grabbed a chip and dipped it into the guacamole. She devoured the chip in on bite. 

“Well? Do you think I’m missing anything?”

“It’s perfect,” Naomi said, grabbing another chip.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Aurora smiled. “Thank you.”

“You should’ve told us you could cook a lot sooner,” Naomi continued. “Sienna’s getting burnt out as our resident chef.”

“Well, I can't reveal all of my magic at once. I like to keep an air of mystery around. Hell, you weren’t even supposed to find out, I thought I was going to be home alone tonight,”

“So did I. You didn’t want to go out with the rest of the roomies?”

Aurora scoffed. “Please, they wouldn’t want me there anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I get it. I’m tolerated because I pay rent, not because you guys actually like me.”

“You don’t give us the chance to know or like you.”

“I wasn’t liked from day one.”

“You thought we weren’t going to like you or were just going to kiss your ass from day one, and because of that, you came into last year with a major chip on your shoulder.” Aurora opened her mouth to retort, but she quickly closed it once she realized she didn’t really have a defense. “You came in on the offense, claws out, snipping at us, don’t try to deny it.”

“Fine.”

“I get it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. I don’t talk a lot about this, but my grandfather was one of the first African American judges to serve for the federal district court in Maryland. My dad is an attorney, my mother runs a nonprofit in DC, my uncle has his own dental practice, one of my aunts teaches international politics at Georgetown, and the other is getting a PhD in clinical psychology at Northwestern. There’s absolutely no room for slacking in my family. It’s success, or nothing.”

“Wow. Impressive lineage, Valentine.”

“Trust me, I know what it’s like to come from an extremely high achieving family. I get what it’s like striving to be your best and having to go the extra mile to prove yourself in a country that looks down on black women. And I’m sure it’s not easy being the niece of one of the best surgeons in the country, a tidbit I tried to bond with you over on our first day, but you rebuffed me.”

Aurora’s cheeks got hot and Naomi could see them turning a light shade of red. “My first year of medical school, people only wanted to talk to me because I was Harper Emery’s niece. Hell, even the professors were kissing my ass. It’s not easy knowing who’s your friend and who’s using you, but it is easy pushing people away. And on top of that, I had her breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. It’s hard trying to carve out my own path.

“We didn’t care about you being Dr. Emery’s niece, well, I didn’t at least. Jackie might’ve had a hang up, but she would’ve gotten over it. The point I’m trying to make is that you need to let your guard down, just a little bit. And if you don’t, I’ll tear it down myself.”

Aurora laughed. “Is that a threat, Valentine?”

“More like a promise. I have a knack for breaking through people’s rough exteriors.”

“Through annoying stubbornness?”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to take a bit to get used to.”

“But it’ll happen.” 

Aurora rolled her eyes and ignored Naomi. “I got tequila too. Do you want any?”

“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you lead with that? I love tequila!”

Naomi ran to the other side of the kitchen, and rummaged through the cabinets until she found two shot glasses. Aurora produced a bottle of Patron from her bag and poured the shots. She also cut a few slices of lime and slid a salt shaker across the counter.

Naomi licked the back of hand and sprinkled a bit of salt onto the skin. She held up her shot glass and clinked it with Aurora’s. “Salut!” She licked the salt off of her hand and downed the shot in one swoop. Then she grabbed a lime wedge and sucked it.

“Dang.”

“I was the queen of body shots back in college.”

“And that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Aurora quipped. 

Four rounds of shots later, the ladies were still in the kitchen. The alcohol had completely lowered their inhibitions, and they were currently laughing over a bag of tortilla chips.

“You know what we should do?” Naomi started. “We should do face masks!”

“Do you have any?”

“No, but I can make one.” Naomi’s eyes scoured the kitchen, until they landed on a few extra avocados Aurora bought earlier. “Perfect, avocado and honey masks?”

“Avocado and honey?”

“Don’t judge. It’s a tried and true recipe of mine. Guaranteed to make your skin glow.”

“Fine. Do your worst.” Naomi got to cutting the avocados, while Aurora watched. “So, we know the reason I didn’t go bowling with everyone, but why didn’t you go? You’re like, the leader of this little motley crew.”

“Wasn’t in the mood. I had a...trying day.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m all ears.”

“One of my patients is dying. She has an inoperable tumor, and she’s only a kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I nearly had a meltdown in the hallway, but Eth–Dr. Ramsey pulled me into his office and I cried it out there. And then things snowballed.”

“How?”

Naomi took a deep breath. “I’m swearing you to secrecy. I invoking Super Serious Roomie Confidentiality. What is said and seen in this apartment, must stay in this apartment.”

“Fine, fine, I promise not to say anything.”

“Do you pinky swear?”

Aurora stuck out a pinky and interlocked it with Naomi’s. “Pinky swear.”

“So...I slept with Dr. Ramsey.”

Aurora didn’t say anything for a long time. She just stared ahead at Naomi, almost as if she was looking through her. “I’m sorry, what? Is the alcohol playing tricks on me? Did I hear that correctly? You and Dr. Ramsey?”

“Yes.”

“What? Like….wh...how? What?” Aurora shook her head. “Naomi, I’ve never been rendered speechless before. Wow. You’re sleeping with Ramsey?”

“Slept. I slept with Ramsey, past tense.”

“Oh my god, I knew you were his favorite intern in our cohort, but–”

“No, don’t do that. I didn’t sleep with him to get a leg up in the competition. He wasn’t even working at Edenbrook when it happened the first time.”

“The first time? You slept with him more than once?”

“Twice. We slept together twice.”

“This just gets better and better. Was is...good? Is he good? Did he go down on you? Did you do it in his office?”

“Aurora!” Naomi snapped. “Stop asking questions!”

Aurora held her hands up in mock surrender. “You opened the floodgates! You can’t drop a bomb like that and expect me to not have questions. So spill, at least tell me what happened?”

“The first time was a few days before my hearing. We had spent a lot of time together, bonding over working on Dr. Banerji, and I was there for him when his friend Delores passed away. It had been building and building and building, and we almost slept together in Miami, but he stopped it.”

“What?”

“He said it wouldn’t be ethical since he was my attending and I was competing to be on the diagnostics team. So we had to carry around the weight of what almost happened, on top of our Banerji secret. And then he quit. He left Edenbrook without any regard. I was very confused and heartbroken. But Jackie and Sienna told me to reach out, so I went over to his apartment, and we had a huge argument, and then we had sex.”

“And I thought it was the end of us hurtling past each other,” Naomi continued. “I thought it would be the start of some type of relationship, but Dr. Emery gave him his job back. So we had one more night for the hell of it. And then Dr. Banerji promoted Ethan to head of the diagnostics team, and he gave me a spot on it, to our shock. And dismay. Now Ethan is my direct supervisor, so we’ve been trying to act like nothing happened. But it’s hard to do that, because we keep having these moments.”

Naomi couldn’t help but think of all the time she and Ethan spent together. Bonding at the baseball game, watching over little Ethan in the NICU, him taking her to the opera and then making out with her, her making him her (world famous) hangover helper. All of it. All of those big and little moments are what made this hurt so much more. “I wish I could say it was just sex, that he was a guy and I was a girl and we just wanted to fuck each other. I mean, we did, but—”

“You’re in love with him,” Aurora concluded, staring at Naomi with rapt attention. “And now that I know everything, it’s written all over you.”

Naomi blinked hard, trying to will away the tears that were threatening to fall. “I am. I even told him that today. It’s the reason I didn’t want to go out with everyone else.”

“You know what I think?” Aurora asked rhetorically. “I think guys are stupid. You have to lead them to the water and shove it into their mouths.”

“What?” That managed to get a chuckle out of Naomi. “That’s not how the saying goes, at all.”

“The point I’m trying to make is you need to give Ramsey an ultimatum. March right into his office and say, ‘I love you, and I think you love me too. So fuck ethics, and let’s stop playing around and give this thing a real shot, or don’t ever speak to me in a non professional capacity ever again,’ plain and simple.” Aurora gasped. “Call him now!”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“He could still be working. And I don’t want to have such a serious conversation over the phone.”

“Stop being such a baby, Valentine. Man up.”

“I’ll talk to him eventually. I want to do it with a clear head. And I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him.”

“Don’t rehearse a grand speech. And don’t wait for the right moment. Life is messy, there will never be a perfect time to do anything.”

Naomi knew Aurora was right, but she was scared. “Okay, no more talking about Ethan tonight. It’s face mask time.”

Aurora poured them both another shot. “Geez, Valentine, your life is like a soap opera.”

“Oh please, Grey’s Anatomy wishes they could supply this type of drama,” Naomi teased.

“You got that right.”

Naomi went back to mixing the ingredients for the face masks, while Aurora sat patiently. She had never done things like this when she was younger, so she didn’t know what to expect. 

The front door opened and in walked all of their roommates, plus Bryce and Rafael. They were talking and laughing animatedly, but that all stopped when they saw Aurora and Naomi together in the kitchen.

“Hey guys!” Naomi greeted cheerfully. “How was bowling?”

“I kicked major ass,” Bryce boasted. “But that shouldn’t shock you.”

“Oh please.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “He was alright.”

“Jackie, you got like, 3 gutter balls in a row,” Bryce said. “As long as I was better than you, I consider it a victory.”

“So what are you guys doing?” Sienna asked Naomi and Aurora, pivoting the conversation in a new direction.

“Eating guacamole, getting drunk,” Naomi replied. “Making avocado face masks.”

Bryce gasped. “Face masks without me?” Everyone turned to look at Bryce. “What? You think my face is this perfect without a meticulous skincare routine?”

“So you two have been hanging out together?” Jackie prodded. “All night?”

Naomi nodded. “Yeah. Guys, Aurora is a roomie now. She’s one of us, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. She’s part of the gang. We got off on the wrong foot, we misjudged her, she misjudged us, but we’re putting it behind us.”

Aurora sighed. “Look, I’m...sorry. I didn’t give you guys the best first impression of me. I’ve been a lone wolf for so long, and I’m so used to being used and judged because of my last name, I shut people out. I don’t trust easily, which is something I’m willing to work on.”

Jackie visibly deflated at Aurora’s admission. “I guess I didn’t really think of it like that. I was so wrapped up in the competition, I just thought the worst of you, and assumed your aunt was pulling strings. Which was very unfair of me.”

Sienna nodded. “And we didn’t didn’t make matters much better. We stoked the flames every chance we got.”

“So can we all call a truce and get along?” Naomi suggested.  “We’re roommates and coworkers, we might as well make the best of the situation.”

Aurora nodded. “I can do that.”

“So can I,” Jackie agreed.

“Us too,” Elijah added. “Welcome to the gang, Aurora. We do Sunday brunches, and go to extreme lengths to make each other happy.”

“Awww guys,” Bryce cooed, miming wiping a tear from his eye. “This is so beautiful.”

“Shut it, Lahela.”

Bryce ignored Jackie, and stretched out his arms. “This calls for a group hug.”

“No,” Aurora deadpanned.

“You’re a part of the gang now, Aurora,” Sienna said. “We hug it out.”

Everyone crept in on Aurora, pulling her into a very tight group hug. After a few seconds, she spoke up, “So how long do these group hugs last?”

“Just enjoy it, Emery.”

A few seconds later, everyone untangled their limbs and stepped back, giving each other personal space.

Naomi clapped her hands together. “Okay, everyone get comfortable. We’re doing face masks and tequila shots!”

While everyone was settling in and getting comfortable for the rest of the night, Naomi felt her cell phone buzz a few times. She dug into the pocket of her sweatpants and pulled it out. She had 3 new text messages, all from Ethan.

Ethan: Naomi, usually I would never text, but I figured if I called, you might not answer. I just want to say I’m sorry. I never want you to feel any type of hurt or pain, and I especially never want to be the cause of it. My feelings for you are extremely complex yet, very simple at the same time, and I know it feels like I’m jerking you around, but that’s just because I’ve never been in a situation like this. I thought if I pushed you away, the feelings would go away, but that’s not the case. What I feel for you is all-consuming and all encompassing, and it terrifies me.

Ethan: Sorry, if it seems like I’m rambling right now. I’m writing this in a rush because if I think about it for too long, I might lose my nerve and backtrack. 

Ethan: What I’m trying to say is I think I love you, too.

Naomi’s eyes widened at the last message. “Well fuck.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Such a Tired Way to Die

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble is a request from @suchatinyinfinity who wanted a story about Logan. Her mistake was that she let me choose whether to use Oblivion/Simplify Logan or The Bottom Logan. So guess which one I chose. I was thinking about doing more with that story line, so I took the opportunity to go a little deeper. This is the story of Logan’s backslide in the first six months after rehab, heavily influenced by the song All These Little Cowboys by Cory Branan. 

Warnings: drug use, addiction 

Word Count: 1,209

He spent the first day back asleep, his body giving out from sheer exhaustion and exposure to the sun. Collapsing onto his mattress, he repetitiously and incoherently mumbled to himself, tired eyes trying not to close, fearing the nightmares that he couldn’t separate from reality. But it was just another losing battle for Logan Delos. He’d lost to William, both in and out of the park. He’d lost to his father, playing right into what Jim had said about his brief stint with being on the straight and narrow- “it won’t last.” He’d lost touch with you, he’d lost respect for himself, he’d lost his goddamn mind. What was one more loss? Closing his eyes, he fell backwards into darkness, down where his demons lived; down where they welcomed him by name with venom dripping from their insidious grins. 

The second day greeted him with a blinding headache, still not fully hydrated from the three days he’d spent cooking under the unrelenting sun. Every inch of Logan’s body was covered by blistering, peeling burns, and even the softest shirt he owned felt like sandpaper rubbing against his raw skin. The shower that morning had been as excruciatingly painful as the one he’d been given immediately after he was extracted from Westworld by the emergency crew. He felt nauseous and weak, and just the thought of eating anything was enough to make him sick, appetite turning to ash. It felt like withdrawal. It felt like it did when he was drying out the first few days in detox. He had he shakes, the sweats, the uncontrolled, racing thoughts, the feeling of failure, the anger, the absolute and endless notion that he was alone. But he was meeting with his father for the first time since he’d been found with his hands bound and his horse dead, so he swallowed it all down like a pill- dry, no chaser, stuck in his esophagus until something else came along to push it down.

Thick black shades covering his eyes, he struggled to walk down the short hall to Jim’s study without pain. Each step sent shockwaves of ache up his legs and into his back; brought memories of circling vultures, biting flies, scorching sand and frigid nights to the forefront of his mind. But he put one foot in front of the other, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of not making it down the hall. 

Logan dragged a hand through his long hair, scrubbing it down over his freshly trimmed beard before raising it to knock on the ornately carved door that he’d knocked on countless times in his life. “Come in,” that borderline sinister brogue called from behind the dark wood. He had one chance to tell his side of the story, and from his father’s tone and those two words, he could already tell that it would fall on deaf ears. He tried to swallow that pill, still lodged in his throat, but came up coughing instead, turning the knob and entering Jim’s lair. 

“Logan. Fuck, look at you.” Jim shook his head, eyes full of embarrassment and disgust, leaving no room for pity and certainly not one iota of love.

“I’d rather not.” Logan tried for his signature sarcasm, but in his cracked, dry voice the punch was lost. He crossed the room to sit in the chair across from his father, easing painfully down into it. “You know William did this, don’t you?” 

Jim’s face contorted grotesquely as he scoffed. “Oh yes, two seconds in and it’s find someone to blame, pin it on William, you can’t be at fault, right Logan? You’re never at fault.” 

“That’s not true and you know it. I’ve taken my share of blame, Dad.” The sarcasm hit like he wanted it to, and he felt the smallest sense of victory in those three letters. 

“Tell me, Logan, how did William do this? Because as he tells it, you were the one who went off the edge, you were the one left him alone to go play you’re fucking games when you were supposed to be showing him the ropes. You know, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with something so important. And look.” He spread his hands in front of him, Cheshire cat smile splitting his wrinkled, gnarled face. “I was right.” 

Logan felt a humorless laugh tumble from his chapped lips. He shook his head slightly, ignoring the dizziness. “He’s a lunatic. You can’t let him marry Juliet. He’s a sick fuck. If he did this to me think about what he can do to her.” 

Jim stood then, palms flat on the large desk. “He can steer this company in the direction I want it to go. He can make billions for Delos. He can do what you can’t, and he’ll treat your sister just fine.” 

“Just fine. Well I guess that’s the best one of your children could hope for, huh, Jim?” He was grateful for the glasses, eyes close to watering from the pain he was in and the reality check that always came from speaking with the man before him. “I don’t know what I expected.” He laughed again, coming undone. “I should have known better. You only care about your investments. Even Juliet is an investment, and William’s the return. That’s right, isn’t it?” He stood, nodding and sending his brain bouncing in his skull. “I’ll talk to Jules myself. I’ll-“ 

“You’ll do no such fucking thing. Your sister and her fiancé aren’t here anyway. She thinks you stayed back to fuck whores and shoot cowboys, and that’s all she’s gonna think, because I want you gone. I’m giving you until the end of the day, Logan, then I’ll have the staff escort you out.” He shook his head. “I told you it’d never last. I won’t have you tear down all I’ve built with your weakness.” With that, he left his son alone, a finality in the slam of the door. 

Logan stared into the large mirror that took up one side of the room. He looked like shit and felt ten times worse. He thought back to what Juliet had told him before his trip with William: “you’re not ready, Logan, it’s only been six months. You’re not ready for that place.” But he’d been desperate to prove her wrong, to prove Jim wrong and to keep the upper hand on his soon to be brother in law. I should have listened to you Jules. 

Six months. He’d had six clean, sober, hard fought months since Juliet had banished you from his life and made him check into a rehab treatment facility. But those six months went down the drain as he rummaged through his father’s liquor cabinet, coming up with Jim’s most expensive scotch, and with just a quick message to an old supplier, he had everything he needed to gain entry into that pit of despair where nothing hurt and no one expected anything but death from him. His father said he’d have until the end of the day. So he found his favorite lounge chair - the one facing West with the view of the sunset- and waited to see what end would come first, his or the day’s.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity  @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @ymariejp @songtoyou @skwriddle @thesumofmychoices @obscurilicious @ilkaeliseb @belladonnarey

[clayton-hill]

Surprise Emoji Face || Claycie

Tagging: Clayton Hill & Grace Lee When:  February 23, 2019 Where: Clay & Elliott’s apartment Notes: Gracie surprises Clay for his birthday! That he nearly forgot about that took place the day before. (unfinished but cute!)

Gracie

Gracie looked down at the bright yellow blob of a cake on the counter in front of her in despair. It was supposed to be one of those heart-eyed emojis -- an in-joke just for Clay -- but it looked more like a deconstructed sunflower had exploded all over the kitchen. The chocolate cake itself wasn't burned, at least -- but the two layers were wobbly and a little off-center, listing dangerously to one side as the bright yellow frosting smeared to the other. She looked down at the picture of a perfectly formed emoji cake on her iPad and sighed. No wonder Elliott had taken one look at it and excused himself quickly to his room -- he was probably trying not to hurt her feelings by laughing out loud in front of her. She had half an hour before Clay was supposed to be home, and THIS was not going to do at all. The cake was a mess, and she looked like she'd been to war with a mixer, with icing smudged across her chin and an unfortunately placed cake batter handprint low on her own hip, not to mention the pots and pans and bowls and spatulas and broken eggshells littering the counter... For a moment, Gracie considered crawling under the kitchen table to cry, and maybe when she came back out everything would magically be better again.

Clay

It was one of those rare days when he was able to leave a site early. The guys finished the drywall sooner than expected and he decided to reward them with an earlier start to their weekend. Forty-five minutes wasn't exactly that much of a difference but it was one that would give him more time to shower and get ready for his date with Gracie. Was it a date? He assumed anything they did now would be seen as that. Even when they were still in that awkward place with where they stood with each other. Clay's truck parked in it's assigned spot and he went upstairs and down the hallway to the apartment, one that was only he and Elliot for the most part with El off staying with Steven now. He still didn't know if she was keeping her things here or what was happening. Clay opened the door and smelled something different. Was Elliot burning one of those candles? The ones his mom likes? "I'm here." he called out as he closed the door and went into the living room. His keys went into the bowl and he was about to step into his bedroom but his eyes went to the kitchen and something didn't seem right. There were pots and pans on a visible part of the counter. "You baking, Elliot?" he called out to him.

Gracie

The door opened, and Clay's voice echoed through the apartment, and Gracie froze in the kitchen. She looked up over the counter, her eyes wide and for all the world like a deer caught in headlights. He wasn't supposed to be home until eight! She was supposed to have more time! More time to do what, she wasn't sure, but maybe just to have her little mini breakdown and then clean up and run down to Bri's bakery and see if she could buy something not a disaster for Clay's birthday instead."Um." Gracie managed, and her voice didn't seem to be cooperating with her, either. "Elliott's not here right now? I think he's in his room. I scared him off. Sorry?" she called back meekly.

Clay

That was not Elliot's voice in the kitchen and Clay cocked his head to the side and neared the kitchen slowly. "Grace? I-" he stepped into the bright room and his eyes rounded. "What happened in here?" He didn't know what to focus on. There were the pots and pans that he noticed before, but there was a mess, as if a bakery exploded in here. His eyes went to her and the icing on her chin and the fact a handprint that must have been cake batter was on her hip. She did this. She went through all this trouble. For him. "Is that my birthday cake?" he asked, eyes on this yellow mold nearby with black and red frosting that he assumed was some design. "I can't believe you did this for me instead of buying a cake. That's what most people would have done. That's what my mom would have done." He was smiling big, real big. So big that he hoped that it would make her do the same.

Gracie

Gracie looked at the monstrosity on the counter between them and grimaced. "Um. I tried? It... doesn't look very pretty," she admitted. "It was supposed to look like this -- because of the masks, you know?" she said hastily, and thumbed her iPad on and turned it to show him the picture. "But the layers are lopsided. And when I tried to pour the frosting, it sort of... slid off to the side? And I'm not very good at drawing with icing, so it looks... kind of drunk." She gave him a weirdly hopeful, toothy smile that was more grimace than anything else. "I don't think it tastes bad, though? I probably should have stuck with buying something from Bri, honestly, but the directions on the box just made it sound so easy..."

Clay

As she went into her explantation about what happened, mouth going a thousand miles a second, Clay neared the cake and took the iPad from her hands to compare the two. It didn't look anything how it was supposed to be and he, still with a smile, set the iPad down and looked at her. "I love it, Grace. You didn't have to go out of your way to make this for me and yet you did. And you made it something unique. Very much how we are." Clay bent down and kissed her lips, something he'd never done with her before or even expected to in that moment.

Gracie

Gracie froze again, too shocked do anything but stare up at him for a moment. Did he just...? She reached up and touched her mouth with her fingertips, as if he'd left an imprint behind to prove that that did actually just happen, and blinked up at him with wide eyes for a moment. The spatula she'd been clutching clattered to the countertop as she dropped it and reached up to snake one hand around the back of his neck, going up on her toes to pull him down into a proper kiss (and damn the man for being so tall anyway).

Clay

There was a sound of something hitting the counter and before he could check to see what it was he was pulled into a kiss by her and Clay actually bent his knees to rid some of that height difference for her. It felt nice to finally be kissed by her, hell to actually kiss her, too. That this back and forth with their talks and plans and get togethers, that to show her that she actually touched his heart in such a way with her actions...it was perfect. Clay pulled back and looked down at her, before he moved to place his thumb on her chin and wiped the icing away. "Did you get any on me?" he joked, pretty sure he must have at least a small smudge of yellow somewhere on his face.

Gracie

"Oh my god," Gracie breathed, giggling slightly as she reached up and swiped at a thin streak of icing on his jaw. She licked it off of her thumb absently, her cheeks burning at the way he was smiling at her. "Um. Happy birthday?" she said, biting her lip just to keep from kissing him again.

Clay

There was a small head shake after she wished him a happy birthday. "I felt bad I didn't tell you about it before. When I saw how much it meant for you to know. But I'm glad that it happened because it meant we were able to have this moment." Clay placed his hand on the counter and accidentally brushed part of the cake with his fingers and he looked down at it partly covered in the yellow frosting. "Is that what you planned to do for my birthday, if you had known?"

Gracie

Gracie groped blindly for a paper towel to wipe his fingers clean -- god, that shade of yellow wasn't even natural in icing, was it? -- and tittered nervously. "Um -- more or less?" she admitted. "I probably would have... prepared a little better. Read some recipes. Watched some YouTube videos. Maybe taken a baking class." She bit her lip again. "Possibly gone with little emoji cupcakes with different faces on them. But that seems -- kind of ambitious, in retrospect," she admitted ruefully as she took his hand to clean the unnatural frosting off.

Clay

When he smiled there was a clear difference to it, something that might have shifted now they they both kissed. Which would be weird to admit out loud but it was as if some unknown tension magically vanished and he was back to being himself while the equivalent of heart eyes filled his own as he looked at her talk. “You would have done all that? For me? I mean, I see the lengths you’d go to with this alone but to take a class to learn how to bake a cake.” The yellow lingered on his skin and he eventually went to the sink. “Do you want to put candles in it? I can get Elliot and we can sing happy birthday. Or you two can. Would be weird to sing it to myself.”

Gracie

Gracie twisted the towel in her hands as she hovered near his elbow. "I'm a really, really bad cook -- and baker, apparently -- and I would have wanted to try," she admitted. "I always kind of thought I should, but there wasn't really a reason to? But -- now there's a reason," she added, looking up at him shyly. She crossed her arms over her chest nervously and glanced over her shoulder where Elliott had retreated. "Should we bother him? He put up with me wrecking your kitchen most of the day, which was really nice of him, but you should have more than just me singing to you," she nodded decisively.

Clay

He turned the faucet off and turned to look at the towel in her hand, water dripped from his fingers into the sink. “I think he’d be okay with being a part of this. Also I don’t think you scared him away.” Clay laughed and looked back at his hands. “Think that towel is safe to use on my hands or is there yellow icing on it?” He questioned as he looked at all the things in the sink. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t cook or bake either. I live off restaurants and fast food.��

[ellawritesficssometimes]

My Save Year -USUK (ch. 3)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12554533/1/My-Save-Year

Two days later…

Monday:

I was sitting at the front desk in the library, pawing through a files folder as I balanced a corded phone between my ear and shoulder.

"Yes, everything is fine," I sighed, annoyed at having to repeat myself. "I'm starting my third week here already. You know me, I've already developed a daily routine. I feel comfortable now. Hell, I'm so busy, I don't even feel stress anymore. I can't afford to."

Coping by using sarcastic puns? Check.

Midterms were around the corner, so most of my time was spent preparing for them well in advance. Grades were how I proved my self-worth, not to others, but to myself. I had nothing else going for me but my smarts.

"That's good to hear," Alistair grunted on the other end of the phone. "Even so, I just wanted to check in with ye again. Have ye made any new friends? Are ye eating properly? And don't ye dare lie to me, Artie. Ye ken full well that I'll come down there to romp yer skinny little arse if ye are."

I smirked and closed the files drawer shut. It emitted a satisfactory metallic thud.

I spun in my swivel chair and pushed off towards the desk part of the station so that I could smugly drum my fingers against the wooden surface.

"Actually, I have. Five total. Well," I corrected myself. "Three of them are more like acquaintances that I just so happen to share classes with. As for food? I've been trying, really I have. My roommate is even more ruthless than you are, like a hawk. He's resorted to force-feeding me because of my apparent lack in key nutrients."

Alistair laughed gruffly. "And here ye were at the beginning of the year, bitchin' and whining about having ta share a room with someone. It looks like it did ye a lotta good. I'm glad…and surprised. Since when has my wee little brother been so popular? I'm impressed. Nae, I'm proud and impressed."

I faltered. "The people here are…surprisingly nice. It's not like back home, where people's brains are even smaller than the limited geography. I've also noticed that, ah, there's a lot of diversity amongst the writers here, and I'm not just saying this because it's an international academy," I stumbled awkwardly.

Thankfully, Alistair knew how to address the subject without either skirting around it or directly addressing it. I flustered easily; he knew my boundaries of what I was okay with discussing.

"Artists are like tha'. Yer all either depressed, gay, lonely, bitter, or all four. Oops, looks like I just came up with half of yer biography," Alistair teased before changing the subject. "So, have you written anythin' lately? You haven't sent me somethin' for quite a while now."

Alistair was the supportive mother figure in my life. He overcompensated in our true mother's footsteps by taking interest in my hobbies. I only ever trusted Alistair to read my writing.

"Ha ha, very funny," I replied dryly. "Hmmm. I'll send you something soon. I have many assignments due in the coming weeks. I could always use another set of eyes to catch any mistakes."

"Yep."

"How are things in Scotland?" I asked.

"Good, could be better. My flat isna the best, but I'm making do. Mum called yesterday by the way…"

"Oh?" My stomach sank.

"She asked me to tell ye somethin'."

I didn't say anything, which prompted Alistair to tell me anyway.

"She asked me if yer coming back for Christmas… ye don't have to, though!" he blurted out. "I'd understand if ye didn't want to. Artie, I already told em' that you'd be coming home to my place for the holidays. That's the plan. It's up to ye if ye to change or stick with it."

I grit my teeth, swallowing sourly. "That's rich," I snorted bitterly. "You can tell her to fuck right off, along with the rest of them. They just don't want to look bad when I'm not there in front of the other relatives. I'm not going, not again. I don't want to go back, and no amount of guilt-tripping will ever make me. What nerve they have, honestly."

There went my relatively good mood.

My family may not have been physically abuse, but the belittling and constantly critical atmosphere was toxic for me. There were all just so passive-aggressive, it would drive anyone in my position insane. My other brothers would always hip-check me if I was in the way and would also make snide comments when I wasn't around. Mum was miserable, and Dad was just an angry bigot not even worthy of a description.

They didn't want me there, and I was sick of them pretending that they had accepted me for who I was. I haven't forgiven them, especially for the stairs incident with Patrick…

I'll repeat myself again: I wasn't going back. They had already done enough damage.

"I thought ye would say that," Alistair sadly stated. "Don't get me wrong, ye have every right to feel that way. I wasn't keen on going either if I'm to be perfectly honest. I'll make sure to relay the message for ye. No need to cause any more fights."

"Good, because I was definitely looking forward to us attempting to cook, only to give in after almost burning down the building and ordering take-out as a consolation meal," I mused, intending to lighten the mood. It worked.

After that, the conversation shifted to more trivial topics. I elaborated on school, my job, the many ghosts, as well as how strange the entire campus made me feel. I didn't mention the library's rooftop; I hadn't thought of it as very important.

My break was over quicker than expected, and I had to hang-up. It was odd how lenient and patient Alistair was being with me, as opposed to his usual stubborn, worry-wart self. I soon understood why he was acting as such when he said his goodbyes.

"I haven't heard ye be this happy in a while, Artie. I don't ken what's happening there, but I sure do hope that it keeps up. Take care, lad. And don't forget to call me, more than just one day a week if ye can. I'm always available when it comes to yer well-being, just make sure to keep the time in mind if ye do happen to catch me by surprise. Anyways, I have stuff to do, so I should probably let ye go. Best of luck on your midterms. Oh, and I love ye, very much, ye snobby brat."

I smiled. "I love you too, you hard-headed oaf," I retorted. "I'll speak to you again soon."

"Wha-?! Did you just say it back? Who are ye and what did you do with my bro–!"

Shocked, I hung up the phone.

"What in the bloody fuck was that?" I asked myself, feeling my face heat. The last time I had said something like that to him, I was no older than eight. My God, this school was turning me into such a sap.

No matter, I still had work to do. We had just gotten a whole new edition of textbooks to register into stock from the history section. Straightening both my blouse and posture, I set out to do just that.

It was four PM when Matthew came back from his last class of the day. My classes on Monday ended at noon, so I covered the middle shift. Technically, I was only hired to work on weekends, but I was slightly behind on my work as an assistant, so the administrators let me do an extra shift here and there to make up for it. The campus was privately run, so funding and payroll was never an issue.

Besides, the amount of books and files I had to keep track of was insane, near impossible even. I was also in the library most days, save for this weekend as a minor exception. I think you know why, but we'll get into that later.

I wasn't surprised to see Matthew carrying a platter of sandwiches in his hands. "Feeding time again?" I joked. I still found this whole situation ridiculous. It just didn't make any sense to me. A spirit eating food? I had never heard of something so preposterous.

"Oui, ah, yes," Matthew stuttered. "Egg salad is never a favourite in the staff room. I figured I wouldn't let them go to waste."

Matthew opened the plastic wrap covering the platter, offering me a sandwich. "They're pretty awful, but knowing you, you've only had breakfast today, huh?"

The Canadian knew me well. I didn't have a very large appetite, anxious or not. I either ate a lot or didn't eat at all, there was no in between. Although, the reminders I had set on my phone have helped. Throughout the day, I had many snacks, but none of them were meals – the downside of being dirt poor.

I accepted the sandwich, smiling politely as I took a small bite from it. "I don't see anything wrong with it," I shrugged.

"It's plain and processed," Matthew deadpanned. "I swear, you have such a strange taste in food. You'll eat anything, just like the ghost. Speaking of which, have you had a chance to look at the camera footage?" he asked, noting my disheartened expression. "Spooky, right?"

"Something's definitely funny about it," I replied. "Perhaps it's just the lighting, an optical illusion that makes it look like the food is disappearing. The cameras are old too. I still stand by my theory that a student is taking advantage of the free food."

Sue me, I was lying through my teeth. I didn't want many people to know about my abilities. Francis knew, and that was more than enough. Thing is, when I looked at previous camera footage, the food didn't just disappear. A dark and shaded pixelated spirit was in fact taking the food. It's just a pity I wasn't there to actually witness this, since the camera didn't possess the same sight as I did.

"Arthur," Matthew rolled his eyes. This was something we often bickered about now. "My family's been doing this for decades. There's a spirit here, many of them, but this one has the most personality. Keep denying the obvious if you want, but this library is very clearly haunted. Now, if you excuse me, I have a real-life ghost to feed. If I take too long, sometimes it gets impatient and knocks over books. One time it knocked over an entire shelf."

"Mhmm, sure," I hummed dismissively, a playful light in my eyes. "You keep telling yourself that."

"I will," Matthew huffed.

"Good."

"Bien."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Hitting your head on Friday must have made you even stubborner. As if it wasn't already hard enough to get through to you," Matthew shook his head in disbelief.

The bruise at the back of my head throbbed a little at the reminder. I told Matthew that I had taken a bad fall on Friday, not wanting him to worry about me too much. Francis already did enough of that. I couldn't walk two feet without the Frenchman offering to hold my arm in support.

I had a minor concussion, that's it. Waking me up every hour of the night was more than unnecessary. Stupid patronizing frog. Don't even get me started on refusing to report the incident to campus security…

"Perhaps it did. I wouldn't know," I shrugged, prompting Matthew to leave with a thoroughly 'done' expression on his face.

When Matthew was out of sight, I rolled my chair over to the computer and opened the camera feed. I clicked on the specific one that surveyed the fiction section on the fifth floor. The food was always placed on the study tables there.

I spied on the Canadian, watching him place the sandwich platter in its usual spot. I shamelessly flipped through cameras, making sure that he was far out of hearing distance before I put my plan into motion.

I was going to stake out the spirit. I had done enough readings over the weekend to spare myself some extra time. I also may or may not have refused to leave my dorm room because of Friday's incident. All right, I did.

I had avoided visiting the rooftop because I didn't want to see Alfred. Now that he knew who I was, I couldn't bear to face him again. I didn't want his pity, nor did I want myself to believe that we could become chatting partners again.

He'd seen me in a very sorry, very pitiful state. I just knew that he would never look at me the same if we saw each other again. The problem was, I needed to investigate that rooftop, but he was always there. This mess just made everything more complicated than it needed to be. It was also bizarre how Alfred had just left without another word, but then again, I wasn't going to complain.

Moving on.

Hopefully, this stake out would answer most of my questions. I had very little patience monitoring the cameras; this plan was my only way of physically seeing the spirit, rather than just a fuzzy, pixelated blob on a screen.

Forget waiting, I wanted to know what it was. The uneasy feeling I got whenever I came here was beginning to drive me mad, like a pestering fly that wouldn't stop buzzing in your ear.

And so, that's how I found myself squatted behind a bookcase, phone digging into my hips due to the tight jeans I was wearing. I eyed the food platter, devotedly intending to stay for hours on end if I had to.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I muttered to myself. "I won't hurt you, I promise. If anything, I just want to help. And here I thought I was stubborn…"

One hour later.

"Oh for fuck's sakes, I'm not going to bite."

Two hours later.

I stretched my back and neck, shifting my position into something more comfortable. I was leaning against the bookshelf now, occasionally looking over my shoulder, only to come up disappointed with the view of the still empty study area.

I was so used to the quiet that when my phone buzzed, I gave a sharp yelp in response.

Turns out, it was just Francis wanting to know if I had started plotting out my Creating Writing assignment. Our Russian professor, an alumnus at the school, was back to teaching here again. Apparently, we were immensely lucky to have him, since he didn't like staying at the campus for more than a year.

Lucky my arse. We had a 20,000 word one-shot due at the end of each month. The professor was out of his bloody mind! It was only a matter of time before I burnt out – a person only had so much creativity and sanity in them, after all.

I couldn't be bothered to answer Francis. I would do so later if I remembered to, which wasn't very likely if I'm to be perfectly honest. It got to the point where I had to turn off my phone to prevent him from blowing up my inbox. God, was he ever insufferable.

The time I spent waiting had almost passed the three-hour mark when a distinct creak and subsequent thud echoed across the area. Immediately, I turned around, eyes locked on the nearest study table.

"Easy does it," I mouthed. "I just want to see who or what you are…"

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST?!" I screamed, jolting upwards only to bang my head on the bookshelf.

My vision blacked out briefly as I reached out to cup the back of my now much sorer head. My vision swam, blurry, before focusing on a startled pair of blue eyes and shiny spectacles, glowing from the fluorescent lights above.

"A-Artie?" Alfred crouched down. "I'm sorry if I startled ya. It's just, I haven't heard from you since, well, you know… I thought I would find you myself. You did mention that you worked and studied here."

"I did, did I?" I groaned, glaring at him through tears. "Couldn't you have found me like a normal person, and oh, I don't know, not sneak up on me?"

Alfred didn't say anything. He looked like he wanted to reach out to see if I was okay, but given my short temper, he knew better not to.

"Stop looking at me like that, I'll be fine. And it's Arthur!" I blurted out. "How many times do I have to tell you that?… Fuck it, I don't even care. I-I should probably get going now." I stood up abruptly, wanting to get out of here as fast as possible.

"Arthur, wait!" Alfred called out when I turned my back on him.

Hesitantly, I turned around, defensive scowl already in place. My eyes bugged out as I took in his hulking height. He was several inches taller than me, albeit lanky. Of course, he was still wearing the same brown bomber jacket and folded jeans, blond hair stuck up in a messy muss. In his right hand, he gripped onto his notebook, and on his back, he was one-strapping a brown leather rucksack.

"What?" I wavered, shy to establish direct eye contact for too long.

"I'm, ah, sorry that I left you hanging like that. I panicked and didn't know what to do. It's why I went running off to find someone else to help out…"

"You found my roommate. I hate my roommate," I sarcastically spat.

Alfred nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh. I didn't know. He seemed nice enough, I guess," I trailed off.

"Is that all? I have to be somewhere."

"Don't lie to me, Arthur. I haven't known you all that long, and yet I can still tell when you're lying. You wear your emotions on your face. You don't just look troubled now. You look embarrassed and I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't. Is that why you haven't come on the roof these past few days? Because you thought I wouldn't accept you for who you are?"

"…Can you blame me?" I whispered, throat constricting. "You saw what they did, what they said. It's repulsive. I'm repulsive…"

"BULLSHIT!" Alfred exploded. When I flinched, he lowered his voice. "That's total bullshit, you hear me?! Don't say such things like that. It only gives those assholes free reign to do whatever the hell they want! You're better than that!"

I inched away from Alfred, hurt crossing over my expression. "Look, if you came here to yell at me, then you may as well just leave. I don't need this right now."

"Arthur," Alfred repeated. "Look man, I'm trying," he paused, taking a deep breath. "I want to be your friend, I really do. It's just hard standing here watching you beat yourself up like this. It's not right.

"Thing is, my anxiety does this weird thing where when I see someone in a similar position to me, I become strong and confident all of a sudden. My sister calls it this 'hero' persona. I don't really care… I'm not trying to be your hero, but I can't just stand around either. I came to talk to you."

I sighed. So that's why he was here. He was pushing aside his shyness to see if I was okay. Sweet, but unnecessary. A waste of his time if you ask me. "You don't have to, I'm fine."

"You weren't fine when I found you that night," Alfred interrupted. "Did you call campus security on those bozos? Maybe there was a camera that caught their faces. They deserve to expelled for what they did, a rotten bunch if I've ever seen one," he seethed.

"I didn't call anyone. I just want it to be done and over with. What happened, happened," I remarked curtly.

Alfred's jaw dropped. "You're not going to try and find them?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"But you can't! It's not right!"

"Perhaps, but it's what I want."

Alfred's shoulders slumped. "I can't believe it. I mean, if it's what you really want, fine. It's not what I would do, and it makes me really angry that those criminals are going to get away with something like this... still, I can't force you to do something you don't wanna do."

I looked at the ground, unsure of myself. "Was that all you came here for?"

"No, you invited me to join you in the library sometime, remember? I'm taking you up on that offer. Call me old-fashioned, but I don't have a phone, so this was my only way of finding you. I also, um, want to tell you something," Alfred admitted.

I shrugged. I was too tired and flustered to argue. A seat sounded nice. "All right, I don't see why not."

We sat at a study table, across from one another. Alfred had to pull out his chair as his legs were too long to fit underneath. He kept fidgeting, with both his hands and his feet. The way he clicked his ankle was annoying, but I didn't have the heart to tell him to stop. He was pushing himself out of his comfort zone, for me. He was reaching out – who was I to discourage him from doing so with some useless, petty comment?

After some time, Alfred looked up, smiling out of nervousness. "What you said earlier really bothered me, ya know that? You shouldn't have to feel ashamed of yourself. Do you think I'm repulsive?"

"Of course I don't think you're repulsive!" I snapped. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Alfred gave me a blank stare. "I could say the same thing to you. Don't you get it? No one should ever say such horrible things about themselves because once you say it, you really believe it, and it's not true, okay?!" he breathed deeply, calming himself.

"Let me rephrase myself, dude," Alfred continued. "Would you call me repulsive if you knew that I liked guys too?"

"Y-you do?" I asked, lips trembling. My ears buzzed, unable to process this information.

"Yes, I do. Gals as well. Now answer my question."

"I don't have to rephrase anything," I answered. "I've never thought of you as repulsive. I judge people by character. You haven't given me a reason to think that, so no, I don't find you repulsive."

"Why can't you apply that same logic to yourself then? If you call yourself repulsive for being gay, or at least liking boys, then I want you to look me in the eye and call me repulsive too. Go on, do it."

"I…can't."

"Why not? Do it! If it's so easy to say it to yourself, then say it to me!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anyone to ever have to experience what I have!" I croaked.

"Then why beat yourself up, Arthur? Don't become another bully, to yourself nonetheless. I'm not going to lie and tell you that this world and that you yourself are perfect. But that doesn't give you a reason to hate everything either! You're not repulsive, it's how you think that's repulsive! Don't become like those bigots! It'll only make them win!"

I raked a shaky hand through my hair, fisting it. "I-I…don't think you're repulsive."

"I know, but you need to know that you're not either," Alfred said softly, cerulean eyes possessing an indescribable wisdom to them.

"Damn it," I sniffed, wiping at my eyes before tears could spill. "I know I'm not repulsive, but I can't help but believe it sometimes."

"Love and being yourself is never repulsive, as long as it doesn't harm others. My Ma and Pops didn't understand that, but my, ah, sis does. I grew up in the South. My family, they're really religious. For so long, I had to hide who I was. I had crushes on both boys and girls, but could only date girls. At least, not in public. What I'm trying to say is that it's not worth hating what you can't change. There'll always be support, and there'll sometimes be backlash. It doesn't mean you have to accept it or that it's right. Society sucks, but it doesn't mean you have to believe that you suck too. Gosh, that sounded really dirty," he finished, smiling nervously.

"That must have been tough. I can't even bear to imagine it," I whispered.

"Yeah, well, I didn't live there all the time. My twin, Amelia – I think I told you about her – anyways, Amy and I went to boarding school in New York. We grew up in a pretty progressive area. It was there that I found out more about myself. I met a guy…"

Alfred's eyes widened in pain. I didn't know whether to stop him or let him continue.

I resorted to the latter in fear of scaring Alfred away.

"We really, really liked each other. It's just hard when you're forced to be afraid of loving someone. It really got to me. When I close my eyes I can still imagine how pretty his eyes were, a rare, indescribable violet. He was always so worried about what other people thought... he stood me up because of the rumours going around about us. Afterwards, all I could do was blame and hate myself.

"It's not worth it, Arthur. It really isn't. I learned that the hard way. Either way, I still had that experience, horrible as it was. But you know what? At least I got to do what I wanted to without having what others thought about us hold me back."

"I'm so sorry," I said hesitantly.

"Don't be. The point I'm trying to get across is that it's pointless to regret things, especially something unchangeable like your sexuality. Heck, if I don't know how hard it can get at times. I've only ever wanted things to get better. Moving here, it was a fresh start, even if I had to leave my only support system behind. But now I have you, huh? So how about you start seeing yourself like I do: a normal guy who's too hard on himself."

I nodded. "This was…too sweet for words, Alfred. You didn't have to tell me all that, but I appreciate it. You're right, about everything. And yes, you have me now. I consider you as my friend."

"No, no I did. I didn't just want to tell you this, I had to," Alfred said, taking off his glasses. I let out a sharp intake of breath when I saw that he was crying. "Back then, I grew tired of hating myself, for thinking that I would never be happy. Seeing you feel the same way now, it just breaks my heart. No one deserves this. You can't help it, all right? Things may never turn out in your favor, but don't you ever give up. You will find that someone who will accept you for you, it just may take some time. But once you do find that someone, the rest of the world don't matter after that."

"Crap," he whimpered. "I was the one supposed to be cheering you up. Some friend I am. I wanted to make you feel better."

"Hey," I chided, reaching into my pocket to pull out a wad of tissues. "You sound like you've had it much worse than I have. And don't be silly, you did make me feel better. It's reassuring that we have so much in common, truly it is. Please, don't cry. We both can't be messes, now can we?"

I reached over to hand Alfred a tissue, backing away slightly as he looked uncomfortable with getting so close. He accepted the tissue gratefully, blowing the tip of his nose, which was now quite red.

"I can't promise you that I won't think like this, but what I can guarantee is that I'll try not to. Like I've told you before, it'll take time to re-wire years of negativity. Now come on, smile for me," I felt my heart skip a beat. Where was this coming from?

"You cheered me up, now it's my turn. Where's that dopey, grinning smile, you yank? The smile that can brighten just about anything? How about this, I'll go get us some hot chocolate from the staff room, and when I come back, we can do our work together? You know I won't talk, so you don't have to worry about me messing up your writing mojo."

Alfred looked up at me, incredulous before a wisp of a grin began to creep onto his face. "That sounds awesome! I would love that. Thanks man, you're the best!"

"I should be thanking you," I corrected. It was almost adorable how excited he was. Who knows how long it's been since he's been able to share a moment like this. To me it was just a warm drink, but to Alfred, it was a chance to enjoy himself with someone who accepted his quirks, someone he felt he could be himself with.

We were both overcompensating, trying to make the other feel better…

We both knew what it felt like to be unhappy with ourselves.

Just as I was about to leave, Alfred surprised me once again in a brief, but still ever meaningful display of braveness. It was a simple gesture, but to him, it meant so much more than that.

"Arthur, I never got to introduce myself properly. I-I think I would like to do that now," he flushed, cheeks pink.

"What?"

Alfred held out his hand. "Don't make this awkward, dude. I want to shake hands with you."

"Oh…" My stomach flopped. "Yes, yes, of course. Are you… are you sure you want to though?"

"Yeah man. I trust you completely."

"Very well. Nice to meet you, Alfred Jones," I reached out for Alfred's hand, slowly, waiting for him to grab my hand first.

In reciprocation, Alfred reached over the table, shaking slightly. With a determined huff, he clasped his tanned hand around mine, swallowing it. His hands were that of a bear's, or, at least pretty close to it.

"The pleasure's all mine, Kirkland," Alfred grinned, revealing a heart-warming smile that showed off all his teeth. I had to look away in fear of getting both blinded and embarrassed. He had a way of looking at someone that just made them feel so special. What did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful expression from him?

Alfred gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, breathing out with a shudder. "Wasn't so bad."

I gave him a blank stare.

"I'm talking about my shyness!"

"I know," I mused. "It's just fun to get you worked up."

"Hey!"

I stood up and turned my back on him, grinning the entire trip down to the staff room on the first floor.

When I came back, Alfred and I sipped our warm beverages in a comfortable silence. He wrote down ideas in his notebook, tongue wagging out as he did, and I picked out a random book to read.

Occasionally, he would look up at me and grin like a total goofball. Still, it was hard not to smile back. When he was in a good mood, it was contagious. He radiated, a glow of comfortability surrounding him, protecting him.

I too would find myself staring at him, only to look away when we established eye contact. It was thrilling, watching the way how he pouted his lips in thought, long lashes feathering his strong cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

I was beginning to fall in love with Alfred Jones. Too bad I absolutely couldn't let that happen.

…

The next day

…

I was attending a Creative Writing lecture, or, what remained of it. Prof. Braginski was going through the syllabus again to explain a specific assignment due at the end of the month. However, he couldn't get through one sentence without being interrupted by loud bangs from either the auditorium's ceiling or the walls.

Prof. Braginski cleared his throat, trying not to look frazzled as he adjusted the white scarf wrapped around his neck. The man was in his mid- fifties, a hulking giant with pale blond hair, indigo-almost-purple eyes, and a strong nose.

"Ahem, as I was saying, you will all have a 20,000 word one-shot due at the end of each month. This month's theme is something that inspires you. Whether it be friends, family or the heavily-used cliché theme of love–"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Lovino, Gilbert, and Antonio jumped slightly, sitting to my right, as did the rest of the class save for Francis and myself. Unfortunately, the Frog realized that night classes weren't ideal if he wanted to go out with his friends, and ended up changing most of his classes to conveniently fit the same schedule as mine.

Prof. Braginski paused, waiting to see if there would be any other noise disruptions before continuing. The class was silent, unnerved by the persistent bangs echoing across the amphitheatre. Fifteen minutes passed since the lecture had first started, and yet, hardly anything had been discussed.

Francis – who was sitting by my left – and I exchanged wary looks as the professor began to appear more and more distressed. Rumour has it that he was an extreme introvert and didn't like staying at this university for long, despite having received an education here. Something traumatic happened here to him many years ago, and he only taught out of politeness, going against his wishes.

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked, a faint ringing sound bristling at the tips of my ears.

Something wasn't right. My stomach flopped with inexplicable feelings of anxiety, dread, and hurt. They seeped into my entire being, doing everything to make my mood miserable. Immediately, I recognized that this was all a spirit's doing.

Francis must have noticed this too because he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, rubbing his forehead frequently. Channelling these emotions was a common symptom for spiritual communicators. In fact, I could already feel the beginnings of a migraine form in my own head.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Prof. Braginski inhaled deeply, rustling the papers in front of him out of nervous habit. "Perhaps there is the construction going on? Leaky piping?" he proposed, slipping into broken English, his voice in an even thicker Russian accent than before.

"How can it be construction or leaky piping if the whole building is shaking?" Gilbert bent over to whisper to Antonio. "It feels like the entire roof is going to cave. And, I don't know about you, but I didn't see any cranes on my way here. Damn, I bet you anything this building is old enough to collapse on us at any given moment. Eh, at least I won't have exams to worry about," he teased nervously, using jokes to compensate for his own unease.

Antonio's eyes widened, just about breaking into tears. Lovino turned sharply and began to hiss at Gilbert for upsetting Antonio.

Another ten minutes passed before Prof. Braginski ended the class early, instructing us to check our emails tonight, as we would likely be changing lecture locations – again.

None of the students complained, eager to get out of class early. Meanwhile, Francis and I stayed back in solidarity, stiff in our seats.

Gilbert stood up, looping his backpack over his right shoulder. "Man, this is so awesome! Maybe if we're lucky, he'll cancel the whole class altogether. Free credits, am I right?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a large chug from his coffee, needing the caffeine to be able to cope with the idiocy around him. "The amount of optimism in that statement is hopeless. Of course he's not going to cancel the class, you knuckle head."

Gilbert pouted.

Lovino faltered, nudging a frozen Antonio's shoulder like a prying mother. "Up you go, bastard. Class is over, didn't you hear?"

Numbly, Antonio stood on the promise that Gilbert and Lovino would take him to their favourite study room. Secretly, they all knew the campus was haunted, but didn't want to make the idea seem real. And so, the thought of ghosts haunting the classroom went largely unacknowledged.

Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino began to pile down the aisles, only to turn back when they realized that Francis and I hadn't left our seats.

"Fran, aren't you coming?" Gilbert asked. He didn't bother to ask me. The four of them had no idea where I disappeared to after class, only knowing that I preferred being alone when I studied.

"Non, I'm going to stay here."

"With Arthur?" Antonio cocked his head to the side, incredulous.

"Oui, with Arthur. We, ah, both have a love for investigating things, isn't that right Arthur?" Francis mused, lightly elbowing me in the rib-cage.

It took a lot of willpower not to punch him in the throat. "Yes, that's right," I played along with the lie. "We're going to try and figure out the source of the noise. I'm sure there's a rational explanation for them. Honestly, you people always over-react and come to the most ridiculous conclusions."

Gilbert shrugged, adamant on leaving the classroom. He was still spooked by the wardrobe incident, even if I had ruled it off as something non-paranormally related. "Suit yourselves, weirdos. If you get murdered by Bloody Mary, Toni and I call dibs on your room. It's bigger."

"But of course. If that happens, I'll be expecting you three to plan my funeral and bury me in great fashion," Francis joked, grinning as the two friends and the other who denied being their friend but actually was left the auditorium.

As soon as we heard the front doors shut with a thud, we stood up from our seats and piled down to the podium at the front of the room.

I began to pace back and forth, closing my eyes, hoping to get any hints of the spirit residing here. Once again, I got nothing but the same emotions as before.

"A-ha! Got you!" Francis cackled, grabbing my shoulders out of nowhere.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!" I roared, jumping in fright. The Frog still hadn't learned his lesson from before, that ass.

Francis laughed and bent over to hold his knees, blond curls swinging. "Desole, I just had to. The look of constipation on your face was priceless," he said, straightening his posture. He then wiped a tear from his eye.

I glared at Francis, considering grabbing the meter stick by the front chalk board. There would soon be two ghosts here if he wasn't careful.

"No one asked you to stay back with me," I growled. "If you're going to be a cocky twat, then you may as well leave. I have a full schedule, one that doesn't involve putting up with your constant bullshit."

Acknowledging that he had pushed me too far, Francis raised both hands in surrender. "All right, all right, jokes aside, let's help this spirit. Although, I thought we were having a bonding moment. We both knew we would stay back without having to tell each other. It's adorable, non? How in tune we are with each other?"

"I'll repeat myself again, Frog. Focus, or stop wasting my time."

Francis's shoulders slumped, bored that he couldn't poke fun at me anymore. "Oui, oui, je sais," he muttered.

"Pardon our intrusion," I spoke up, "but, if there is anyone else here in this auditorium, please speak up. We are spiritual communicators and have no other intentions but to help you cross over to the other side. You don't have to be afraid that we can see you. I assure you, we mean no harm."

"What he said," Francis purred. "I can sense much stress and fear from you. Let us make it all go away."

"What are you, a spiritual prostitute?" I snorted. "You sound like you're trying to seduce it into bed."

"Am not!" Francis gasped.

"Are too!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The ceiling shuddered and creaked.

"Hello?" I whispered, a bit frightened from how violent the sound was. "I'm sorry for my friend, truly I am. He's a good guy once you get around his ring of obnoxiousness. I won't argue with you like I do with him, promise."

"You're such a miserable grouch, mon dieu! I'm half convinced you're possessed by a bitter 80 year-old-man," Francis growled, walking up to me, a sneer on his usually languid, dreamy face.

Even though we were the same height, I straightened my shoulders and jabbed an angry index finger at him. "Now you listen here! Just because I'm not letting you waltz right into my life with opened legs, doesn't mean you have to be so immature about it. I told you this from the beginning. I'm an asshole. Stop pointing out the obvious, and let's just get this over with, Christ! Either deal with me or leave! I won't repeat myself again!"

"Ohonhonhon!" Francis cracked up, a pervy expression on his face. "Open legs, huh? What an interesting choice of words."

"It's a saying, you tart. No need to get literal!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Oh look, you made it angry."

"Moi? I did no such thing!"

Francis and I both fell silent when the sound of heavy footsteps pattered against the back of the auditorium. No one was there when we looked over our shoulders, however.

"What in the-?" I spluttered. "I'm starting to think we're dealing with a poltergeist. It's the only explanation. It's likely just messing with us."

I'M SORRY! PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME!

A voice, unmatchable to anything I've ever heard before, screamed in my mind. Judging by Francis's equally petrified and intrigued expression he had heard it too.

"Q-quoi? We're not leaving, we're right here?"

"Idiot, this place isn't being haunted by an active ghost," I concluded, all of the pieces fitting together. "It's a memory. Something here must have triggered it into existence again. The bangs will stop eventually, there's nothing more we can do."

"Ah… I see now." Francis hummed in understanding.

When a person died, fragments of memories often spread and attached themselves to objects or places meaningful to them. Someone here must have triggered the memory by thinking or saying something, likely on accident. I'd give it a couple days before the memory faded away again.

The problem was, despite the lingering memory, I had no idea if the actual spirit had passed on or not. Spirits lived in different planes of existence. Most times, they didn't realize they were dead and lived their lives normally, creating sounds that those alive would consider to be a haunting. This occurrence, however, was just a memory replaying itself. It wasn't the spirit themself.

Just as Francis and I prepared to leave, Gilbert, Antonio, and Lovino poked their heads into the classroom. I deadpanned upon realizing they had been standing outside in the hallway this entire time.

How much did they know?

"So…" Gilbert drawled, stumbling into the auditorium again, red eyes wide in apprehension. "What the hell just happened?" he put ever so eloquently.

Francis and I glanced at each other, not wanting to reveal too much. You never knew how someone would react to this kind of news. It was the bad, ostracizing reactions that prevents us communicators from telling people about our abilities.

Antonio ended it all by bluntly blurting out what the other two were thinking. "You guys can speak to ghosts? Ay! That would make a lot of sense. I knew you saw something in that wardrobe, Arturo!"

"I sure did," I muttered to myself, solemn at the thought.

"Honestly, what the fuck is even happening anymore?" Lovino followed Antonio and Gilbert into the auditorium, still hesitant as the bangs quieted, but didn't exactly stop.

"Oui," Francis stepped in, since it was obvious I wasn't going to say anything. "We are known as spiritual communicators, or mediums to put it more simply. There is no reason to worry. There are no spirits in this room."

"Ja, we heard. You said something about a memory. Anyway, I'm freaked the shit out, but also strangely excited?" Gilbert grinned. "Why did you bozos hide this from us? You're like real life ghostbusters!"

"Because normally when you tell someone this, they get weirded out," I countetred.

"Everyone here is strange, I honestly don't give a fuck about who or what you are so long as you're not an asshole. What just happened is enough evidence in itself, so you don't have to worry about us not believing you either," Lovino sighed, looking done with life. Same.

"Like Lovi said, you were already weird to begin with," Antonio smiled obliviously. "Honestly, we would have accepted you two either way. Now I feel even safer knowing that you guys won't let any scary demons possess us. My parents didn't want me coming here because of the rumours of it being haunted! They can sleep sound now!"

Lovino smacked the back of Antonio's head. "Idiota! What did I say about being rude to people in person?"

Antonio whined.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was still ogling at us 'mediums' like a child. "Hey, Fran? Do you think you could get in touch with my Gramps? He had a bunch of funds in the bank, but no one can access them because there's a shit ton of security locks. Can you? Huh? Huh? Oh gott, please man. I've been wanting to buy a new car for so long now, but that stingy old fart's accounts aren't supposed to open up for another year. I'm dying here!"

Gilbert's poor choice of words completely triumphed over mine.

"Imbeciles," I shook my head, shoving past Antonio to leave the auditorium.

"Where are you going?" Francis reprimanded, pausing his mini morality lecture with Gilbert. "We still have much to explain."

"I don't have to explain shit!" I called over my shoulder. "I've experienced enough stupidity for an entire week. I need time to recover the brain cells I lost."

The clack of Lovino's dress shoes were quick to catch up with me. "Agreed. Oi, let's get some coffee, my treat?" he offered.

"Sure, why the hell not?"

Before Antonio could join us, Lovino rudely shut the auditorium's door in front of the Spaniard's face.

I couldn't help but laugh.

…

Jittery and anxious already, the coffee I had with Lovino offered no aid in calming my nerves.

As always, after class I found myself in the library, sitting at the front desk even though I wasn't on shift. I was flipping through the cameras again, going over last night's footage. The ghost always came to snatch the food when I wasn't around – it was infuriating.

Matthew, still caught in my lie, found it funny how I was trying to find a rational explanation for the food's disappearance.

"Still scanning the footage, huh?" Matthew mused as he entered the library. He shook his head, soft curls falling out of his eyes as he draped a casual arm over the front desk. "You're so predictable, Arthur."

"I can't help it," I responded. "I'm a very routine-orientated person."

"I can tell," Matthew smirked. "So, come up with or find anything?"

"No, nothing at all," I groaned.

"I'm telling you, this library is the most haunted place on campus. For decades, my family has dedicated themselves to taking care of it. Are you really just going to discard everything they've seen with their own two eyes? Or how about me? I've seen things move without anyone touching them."

I rubbed my temple. "It's all either bollocks or hearsay. I'll believe you when I see it myself. Although," I paused, contemplating my next few words carefully. "I checked the records. It really is unbelievable how many students have committed suicide on the rooftop here. I didn't know this school used to double as a boarding school for high school students either. The information was so well-hidden. It's like the Deans went out of their way to hide it."

Matthew's eyes became sad. "You didn't know that? And yes, very true. The high suicide rate was a huge reason why my grandmother starting hosting a homework club here, actually."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. I remembered him mentioning something about losing a relative in a tragedy like this, but I was having a hard time connecting the dots.

"Oh," Matthew smiled sheepishly. "That relative of mine, they went to the boarding school, but that's completely unrelated. Basically, the club was founded to prevent more suicides; there hasn't been one here since, so I think it's safe to say that it's been really successful in its objective. The homework club offers a safe place for struggling students to come together and make friends. We help each other out and just talk, you know? You're always welcome to join too if you want. I'm sure you've seen the posters. We meet on Fridays here on the first floor."

"That's a wonderful idea," I admitted. "No one wonder it's done so well. But, I'm afraid this is the first I'm hearing from it."

Matthew looked disappointed; he had a talent for living under the radar. "Well, it does have its drawbacks," Matthew sighed. "Recently, I've been tutoring this German guy. His writing is decent, but he still refuses to accept that he can't use the word awesome every two sentences."

"I know someone very similar," I bitterly remarked. "Writers who can't accept criticism just aren't cut out for the field I suppose."

"Eh, I'll get through to him eventually. He's actually a pretty good guy once you brush past his ego."

"Best of luck to you then," I smiled faintly, standing up from my seat.

"Going to the rooftop… again?" Matthew asked, somewhat pensive.

"Yes," I flushed at the reminder. Alfred was my friend, nothing else. I could still enjoy spending time with him.

"There's a wonderful pair of benches and the scenery helps my muse. I always come up with the best writing ideas there. Besides, I'm not the only one who thinks that way. I have a friend I usually sit and chat with," I rambled, overcompensating with my explanation because of the strange look Matthew was giving me.

"That's good, I guess," Matthew shrugged. "It's just a bit odd, considering…"

'Yes, yes, I know," I filled in for him. "It has a depressing history and what not. Still, that shouldn't stop other people from enjoying it."

Matthew smiled. "You're right. Sorry if I seemed judgemental there. I didn't intend to be."

I laughed. "I've experienced far more judgemental things in my life, lad. No worries."

I left the front desk. "See you later," I said, waving over my shoulder with my knapsack haphazardly draped over my left shoulder.

"Take care," Matthew replied back.

When Arthur was out of sight, Matthew pursed his lips, watching the stiff posture of the Brit with narrowed eyes.

"He's definitely hiding something from me," the Canadian whispered to himself. "…I just hope he's okay."

To be continued...