#but anyway I guess this is a bit of a lab compilation

[romanticize-until-you-drop]

2024-03-07

There’s really nothing like being a science student: that feeling of both drowning in work and stress but also somehow enjoying it at the same time.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Congratulations on 5k

Could you do 6 and 16 for Orm if he's not allowed Steve.

.⋆｡Dosage｡⋆.

Orm Marius x plus size reader

You get stuck babysitting the Ocean Master, you should’ve guessed that he would stir up some trouble

Warnings: sex pollen so little bit of dub-con, mention of tranquilisers and death, Batman not being helpful, swearing, no smut but nudity and implied smut

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You wondered what you did to warrant this terrible punishment. The lab was silent, your music having been forcefully turned off by your employer an hour before and you were pinned to your seat by the icy blue eyes of your charge. 

Babysitting, that’s what you had been reduced to. It’s not like your three PHDs could be put to better use than making sure Arthur’s brother didn’t wander off and get himself into trouble. You rationalised that you could deal with it fine as long as he kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself but evidently the ex King of Atlantis had a serious staring problem and it was so much more distracting than if he had been chatting your ear off.

Sighing heavily, your head dropped between your shoulders and you pulled your glasses off your nose. “Do you really have to stare at me the whole time like some kind of fucking vouyer?” Orm huffed, finally looking away and giving you a chance to observe the Atlantian.

There was no doubt that he was beautiful, with a chilled jaw, perfect skin, fluffy blond hair and a body that would rival Michelangelo’s David but as soon as he opened his mouth, all that beauty melted away. He was arrogant and entitled and for some damn reason he refused to let you work in peace.

“You should be honoured to be in my presence human.” Your eye twitched in annoyance. Breathe Y/N, breathe. You told yourself. You crossed your legs and shot Orm a look that would’ve had Batman shaking in his boots.

“Just- find something else to do and let me work, please.” He raised a dark brow at you but nodded anyway. His muscles rippled beneath the compression shirt he had been given upon his arrival to the tower. You forced yourself to look away and back to your work. “All I need is an hour and then we can find something productive for you to do.”

He hummed noncommittally, which you were perfectly fine with. 

The lab settled into a blissful silence and you were finally, thankfully, able to really plug into the data analysis that you had been putting off. Occasionally, you could see the disgraced prince out of the corner of your eye as he wandered around the lab, his hands clasped behind his back. He could follow directions well, you would give him that.

You didn’t mind the company, now that he was not staring at you like a fucking creep, in fact he was quite comforting considering you spent most days in complete isolation save for when Batman needed yet another project completed. 

Just as you were reaching the final compiling, Orm’s voice rang through the lab as if he were commanding his people. “What the fuck is sex pollen?” Your entire body seized with fear and as you turned your chair to face him, time slowed.

His large hand had turned one of the many labelled specimen jars in the open cabinet at the other end of the lab, the cabinet that you had forgotten to lock when Bruce had barged in earlier. Your eyes widened almost comically as the delicate jar tipped and the neon pink dust gathered to one side. Orm tried to grab the sealed beaker but the glass was already rolling off the shelf.

Your hand was already moving towards the contamination shut down as the container met the solid ground, shattering immediately. 

The pollen exploded outwards, coating everything within 2 metres of the impact point in a bright pink dust. Orm coughed and tried to wipe it from his skin, but the pollen was already soaking in, quickly making its way into his bloodstream. 

The lab doors slammed shut and the industrial strength locks clicked into place. You yanked a medical mask from your workstation and quickly tugged it on as you rushed towards Orm, whose face was now flushed. His chest was already heaving with laboured breaths and as you drew closer, you could see the sweat collecting on his brow.

“Hey, I need you to listen to me very carefully right now.” His gaze snapped to you and you held up your hands to show that you weren’t a threat. “We can fix this, we just have to work together. Understand?” He nodded his head and you sighed in relief.

“I need you to strip off your clothes, the longer you’re in them, the more pollen you’ll ingest. And then I’m putting you in the decontamination shower until I figure out how this is going to fuck with your fishy DNA.” You expected some fight out of the prince but he followed your directions to the letter, his eyes staring intently into your own. 

You were thankful for your mask concealing your face as he pulled off his shirt, exposing the toned muscles of his stomach. You swallowed thickly, heat defiantly pooling between your thighs as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked them down. Evidently, Atlantians didn’t wear underwear. He leaned closer to you, his nostrils flaring. 

Orm’s eyelids fluttered as he let out the most erotic groan you had ever heard. “Fuck, why do you smell so fucking good?” You hated to admit it, but your knees buckled at that. Swallowing down the whine that threatened to spill from your lips, you pulled yourself together.

“O-okay now, into the shower.” You nodded your head towards the stall in the corner of the lab but Orm remained still. His breathing was quickening and his pupils were blown, leaving only a sliver of blue around the black. You stepped in that direction but still, he refused to follow.

“Goddamnit.” You muttered and grabbed his muscular shoulder, forcefully yanking him to the stall and quickly shoving him inside before he had a chance to refuse. You locked the door, knowing that there was no possible way for him to drown himself, and started the auto decontamination.

As soon as he lost sight of you, Orm gave a shout of protest and slammed his fists against the door. “No! Come back!” The glass trembled with the force of his blows and if it weren’t for Bruce’s tendency to make everything strong enough to hold Clark back for a minute at least, you would have been scared of it shattering.

You carefully walked backwards to your desk, your eyes locked onto the shower which was now running but it was doing nothing to hinder the man inside. In fact, his efforts to get out doubled as the water hit his overheated skin. “You’re mine!” He screamed and a crack appeared in the glass.

You snatched up the phone that directly connected you to Bruce, pressing it to your ear as you continued to back up. As soon as you heard his gruff voice, you shouted at him. “Orm ingested that sex pollen shit from Ivy, what the fuck do I do?”

There was a pause and for a second you thought the line had dropped. Then he sighed heavily into the receiver. “Fuck. The antidote you developed won’t work on him since he doesn’t have any human DNA and his body won’t burn out the pollen fast enough before his system overheats.” Silence settled between you as the solution dawned on both of you at the same time. “So-“

“So I’ll have to help him through it or he dies.” You finished his thought for him.

“I’m sorry kid.” Then the call cut off. Orm threw his body at the door and another crack appeared. You had a choice here, there was a tranquiliser in the drawer of your desk that could put down Flash, you could wait for the door to shatter and use it against the raging prince. Or…

Your mask dropped to the floor, along with your shirt and pants. His shouts had now devolved into unintelligible growls that only served to make your inner thighs even wetter. By the time you reached the shower, the frosted glass now resembled a spider’s web and you were completely bare.

You hit the override switch to the side of the stall and the screaming stopped. The damaged tracks groaned as the door slowly opened, revealing you to Orm once more. “Take what you need, I only want to help.” 

The air was knocked from your lungs as strong arms grabbed you and pulled you into the shower with him. Cold water washed over your naked body though it did nothing to lessen the fire between you. A moan was forced from your lips as Orm ducked down and buried his nose in the crook of your throat, pressing his hard body to your soft one.

His chest rumbled happily as he inhaled. “I will not be gentle, I cannot. But once this curse has passed, I will treat you like a goddess, a queen.” His tongue licked up the column of your neck until he could rise to his full height once more. “You will experience pleasure like never before, my claim will be laid upon you.”

And you could only nod as his large warm hand gripped your knee tightly, bringing your plump leg up to wrap around his lean hips. “Prepare yourself for your king.”

DC Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv

DC

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8 @honkytonkbabe @certifiedhunter @qardasngan

[eriquin]

The Prophetic D&D Game Part 3

part 1, part 2, compilation post

The unsatisfying conclusion of the first session.

Their characters made their way out of the city, and he had them fight a small pack of wild animals on their way through the woods just to get them used to their characters. 

“Isn’t it kind of weird that my paladin uses an axe instead of a sword?” asked Mike. “I mean, I guess it’s a step up from the spiked club that was on his fake character sheet, but it’s not very elegant.” 

“You know what he should use?” Dustin said. “Not a club, but a spiked mace. Still two-handed, though.” He mimicked swinging it like a baseball bat.

Mike snorted. “Yeah, you’re right! Hey, Eddie, any chance I can change my weapon out for a spiked mace instead of an axe?” 

“You can look for one back in the town center. Right now you’re out in the woods...” He rolled some dice and pretended to check the results. “... And you don’t see any. Did you want to head back to town to change out your weapon?” 

Mike rolled his eyes. “No, the axe is fine. Let’s keep going and see if we can find Quinn at that alchemist’s house Jeff told us about.”

They made their way to a hidden house near the lake. Eddie described it as looking a bit run down, possibly abandoned, and that the garden out front was overgrown. He had his players search the house, and they peppered him with questions about what they found in each room. It was dusty, but with some areas cleared away like someone had been there relatively recently. They found the cellar with the alchemist’s lab in it, but this was dirtier and even more abandoned than the rest of the house. 

“So we don’t find Quinn anywhere in the house?” Lucas asked. “Are we sure we’ve checked everywhere?” 

“Is he hiding in any of the bigger furniture?” Dustin asked. “Or under the bed, or behind the curtains?” 

Eddie snickered. “Yeah, you can go check behind the curtains. They’re not long enough to reach the ground, but you pull them aside anyway to make sure that Quinn’s not hiding there.” 

“I guess he’s not here,” Mike said. 

“Wait a second.” Gareth crossed his arms. “You said he had a garden? How big?” 

“Hm, did I?” Eddie picked up some dice and rolled them for fun. “Pretty big. Looks like it extends behind the house and towards the woods.”

“Okay so, are there tools for working the garden in the house somewhere?” Gareth asked. “Like, rakes and hoes and stuff?”

Jeff giggled. “Yeah, did we find any hoes?” The younger boys started laughing along with him.

“Christ, you’re all so juvenile,” Eddie said, burying his face in his hands and ducking his head behind the DM screen to keep them from seeing him laughing. His face was red when he picked his head back up. “So, you’re looking for tools, you say?” 

“Gardening tools,” said Gareth. “Don’t just say something like ‘you spot some in the mirror.’” 

“Damn it.” Eddie snickered. “No, you don’t find any gardening tools in the house.” 

“Okay, so...” Gareth looked around the table. “We should go looking for where this alchemist keeps his hoes.” 

The boys started laughing again, but soon they settled down and started exploring the woods around the building. Eddie let them discover a locked shed and spend some of their time picking the lock before finding no one in it. Then, when they felt even more frustrated, he rolled some dice and told them that Dustin’s character had noticed a path from the shed down to the lake. The die he rolled had been just to figure out which character saw it first. 

At the lake they found a worn out old boathouse, with lots of places to hide. They had their characters start poking around, and Eddie asked them to describe what each one was doing. When Mike and Dustin said they were investigating the boats, he schooled his face to try to hide his glee. 

“There’s one small boat, ready to be launched. How are you investigating it?” 

Mike and Dustin looked at each other. “What’s it look like?” Dustin asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Like a rowboat, covered up when not in use.”

“So, someone could be hiding underneath the cover?” Dustin asked.

Eddie raised his eyebrows and picked up a handful of dice to roll ominously in his hand. “Are you going to lift the cover to check?” he asked.

“You do it,” Dustin said to Mike.

“No, you do it,” Mike said back.

“You’re the paladin.”

“You’re the... You know what? Does the rowboat have oars?” 

Eddie bit his tongue to keep from grinning. “It does indeed have oars. One is lying on the floor in front of you.”

Mike nodded. “I pick up the oar and poke at the cover, checking if there’s anything under there.”

“And while you’re doing that,” Eddie said, turning to Lucas. “Sadie has been digging around behind some crates on the other side of the boathouse, and has found an area that’s clear of dust. There are some pieces of butcher’s paper there, like the kind you’d find wrapped around rations.”

Lucas took the bait. “Oh, cool! Hey guys, I found something! Someone was here.”

Eddie turned back to Mike, who had been looking over to Lucas. “Mike, call high or low.” 

“Oh, shit,” Mike said. “Uh, high.” 

Eddie rolled some dice. “Well, while you’re distracted by Sadie’s shouting, you’re still poking at the boat with your oar. Suddenly!” He jumped up and grabbed onto Mike, pinning him to his chair and making him shriek. “Someone flies out at you!” 

“Oh shit!” Mike and Dustin said in unison. 

“Mike, you are pinned to a wall with something sharp held to your throat. What do you do?” Eddie grinned down at Mike, who looked completely flustered.

“Uh, um, uh,” Mike said. He swallowed hard and glanced over at Dustin. “Help?”

Eddie let go of him. “You’re still pinned, though,” he said as he sat down. 

“Who is it?” Dustin asked. “Is it Quinn?”

“Well, he’s filthy and looks like a scared animal, but yes, it’s your friend Quinn.” Eddie said. “He looks like he’s about to slit Joe’s throat.” 

“Oh shit,” Dustin said. “I’ll try to talk him down.” 

“And if that doesn’t work, are we gonna fight him?” Gareth asked. 

Dustin shrugged. “I mean, it’s just Joe. He’s our meat-shield. He can probably take it.” 

“Hey!” Mike yelled. He looked indignant. 

Eddie was still grinning. “Is this all in character?” he asked. “If so, you should know that the knife to the throat will count as an instant-kill shot in this case. Joe is basically helpless.”

Mike’s eyes grew big and he turned to pout at Eddie. “I didn’t even get a chance to react! You can’t just kill me.”

“Better hope Gaten can talk Quinn down, then, Joe,” Eddie said with a face full of fake sympathy. 

Dustin rubbed his chin and appeared to think about it. “Okay, so Quinn knows me, right? He’s not completely feral, is he?”

They had a quick discussion about appealing to Quinn’s better nature, and Dustin rolled well enough to let him know that they were all on his side and didn’t believe that he had murdered someone. It was a short jump from there to convince him to not murder someone now, and drop the knife. 

While Mike complained about his character being at the mercy of the story, Dustin and Lucas encouraged Eddie to tell them what Quinn had seen. He went into character, standing back from the table and acting out the scene. The rest of the players got up as well, with Dustin coming close to play the part of his concerned halfling. 

“Her body just lifted into the air,” Eddie said. “And then she just hung there, in the air... and her bones started to snap. And her eyes...” He paused with a little gasp,and he got a haunted look on his face. His pupils constricted and he rocked back on his heels. He said, voice cracking. “It was like there was something inside her head, pulling...” He gasped again and opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out.

Dustin reached out and touched Eddie’s arm, and the older boy yelped and fell back onto his ass. Everyone else jumped back as well, and the spell was broken. 

Gareth, who had hit his shin on a chair, said, “Jesus Christ, Munson. Why do you have to be such a freaky good actor? Scared the shit out of me.”

Eddie got to his feet and brushed himself off. “Yeah, yeah, hold on,” he said. “I got too into it. I started seeing her bones breaking and stuff.” He shuddered.

Lucas let out a nervous laugh, and glanced at Dustin and Mike. Jeff’s laugh was less nervous. “Stop dropping acid before planning D&D games, man,” he said.

“Good advice, my friend,” Eddie said. He took his seat back on his throne, and everyone else came back to the table. He took a minute to settle in, looking through his notes and fidgeting with his rings. 

“So...” Dustin said, looking around the table. “What happened next? What else did Quinn see?”

Eddie looked up. “Uh, yeah. Right. He says that after that, she fell to the floor. He panicked and ran away. He doesn’t remember seeing anything else.”

Mike leaned onto his elbows. “Did he see any weird dust? Or ash in the air?” 

“Nope,” said Eddie. “None of that.” 

“What about flashing lights?” Dustin asked. “I mean, like, did the torches go out and then come back on? Or was he using magical lights in his home?” 

“He did have magical lights in his house and they did go weird, but he was more distracted by the girl dying and he doesn’t remember exactly what happened to them.”

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas nodded at each other. Jeff spoke up next. “Why was Lady Grace even there?” he asked.

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Why was she associating with a lowly bard, you mean? A fine question,” he said. He gave the group a tight smile. “She was there to purchase illegal substances.”

“Quinn’s a drug dealer?” Dustin asked, sounding scandalized, while Gareth coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like ‘Mary Sue’. 

Eddie tossed a pen at Gareth’s head and turned back to Dustin. “Yes, my little friend. He was peddling the wares of the very same alchemist who owns his hiding place. He even dabbles in alchemy a little himself. Does this change your opinion of him? Do you think he’s a murderer now? Are you going to turn him in, Gaten?” 

Dustin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m just surprised, that’s all,” he said. “He never told me about this, right?” 

“It would have been in your notes if he had.” 

“It doesn’t matter though, right?” asked Jeff. “Do we believe him about the way Lady Grace died?” 

“I mean, he sure sounded truthful. And traumatized,” Lucas said. 

“Yeah, way to be emotionally scarring there, Eddie,” Mike snarked. 

“Thank you, Wheeler. I try.”

“How do we tell if he’s telling the truth?” Dustin asked. “I mean, he’s a bard. He’s good at spinning stories.” 

“Roll against your wisdom,” Eddie said. Dustin rolled well, so he said, “You get the feeling that he wishes he was not telling the truth.” 

“Great. So we’re dealing with someone who can kill without a trace,” Lucas said. 

“Well, it is a murder mystery,” said Gareth. He turned to Eddie and asked, “Was there any magic going on? I mean, Quinn’s a bard, right? Did he sense anything? Detect any spellwork?” 

Eddie rolled some dice and decided to cut them a break. He steepled his fingers and peered at his players over the top of his DM screen. “Quinn tries very hard to focus,” he said. “He didn’t cast any spells, but he knows magic when he sees it. He describes the way the lights in his home dimmed, even though they were enchanted by powerful wizards. He also remembers there being a strange aura to the place, though he couldn’t place it exactly. He says it felt like there was someone watching it all happen.” 

“Like it was some kind of sick game,” Mike said. “Or... Wait, can I see the history sheet again?” Dustin handed over the papers with the background information on them, and they all waited as Mike scanned them. “Here it is! Noah, the sorceress’s twin brother, used to say it felt like the demon was watching him. Maybe it’s him again!”

“But we banished the demon,” Lucas said. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, but... This has to be a clue, right?” Mike looked at Dustin.

Dustin got a faraway look on his face. “The torches are reacting but there’s no ash in the air. It’s like he’s only halfway back. He’s reaching out from where he’s been banished and attacking people.”

“Interplanar magic is a psionic thing,” Gareth said. “We already knew the demon had psychic powers. Stands to reason that he’s expanded them after his showdowns with Millie.” 

Jeff grinned, his braces glinting in the light. “A psychic attack from beyond the veil,” he said, waving his fingers in the air. “That’s spooky as hell.”

“And the guards will never find it, because they’ve been kept in the dark about the demon even existing!” Dustin clapped his hands together.

“Okay, are you all saying this in character?” Eddie asked.

“Yes!” Dustin cheered, slamming his hand on the table. “We’re all in this together.” 

Eddie gave him a tight smile. “Because Quinn has no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, shit,” Mike said. “We have to explain everything.” 

“Should we?” Jeff asked. “Isn’t there a nasty penalty if we tell the wrong person?”

Lucas and Dustin shook their heads together. “Quinn already witnessed it. The demon is basically framing him for the crime,” Dustin said.

“Yeah, he deserves to know,” Lucas added.

Eddie held his hands out at them. “Then what is your goal? Are you trying to bring him into your merry band of brothers?”

“And sisters,” said Gareth. “Lucas and I are playing chicks, remember?”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t be sexist,” said Lucas.

Eddie ignored them. “Or will you convince the poor fool to flee for his life while he still can?”

“I think we should give him the choice,” Jeff said. “Lay it all out for him and let him pick.”

Mike shook his head. “He’ll choose to run,” he said with a sideways glance at Dustin. “Bards are all cowards.”

“Oh screw you, Mike,” Dustin said, giving him a shove. “Don’t bring past game bullshit into this.”

Mike and Dustin bickered until Eddie threatened to treat their argument as if it was in character. The group agreed to tell Quinn the whole story and give him the choice of joining them or fleeing for his life. Eddie offered to let them role play describing their whole history, but the three freshmen looked over the notes one more time and said they’d rather skip past that. 

“All right, fine,” Eddie said. “I suppose it’s getting close to time to wrap this up. I’ll allow it.”

“What?” Gareth exclaimed. “What are you talking about? We haven’t even scratched at the mystery of this. What kind of a one-shot is this?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “I never said it was a one-shot, Gare-bear. I said it came to me in a dream.” 

“You said it’d take, like, one or two sessions,” Gareth countered. He pointed his finger accusingly at Eddie. “We haven’t even met Natalia yet and you’re just stopping?”

Eddie grimaced. “Well... I think we all know how good I am at estimating how long things take.” The rest of his players groaned and slumped back in their chairs. It was a nice kind of disappointment, because it meant that they were really engaged with his story. He waved his hands at them dismissively. “But whatever! You all describe what happened in your past adventures to poor, unlucky Quinn and he thinks it’s all batshit insane. But he also thinks that what happened to Lady Grace was insane, too, so he agrees to help you in order to clear his name. Meeting adjourned. We will pick this up next time.” He started gathering up their character sheets and all his notes.

“Wait, is this what we’re playing now?” Mike asked. “I thought we were going to start the Cult of Vecna.”

Eddie hesitated. “Ah, you’re correct. If Grant can make it next time, we’ll go back to the Cult of Vecna campaign. We can pick this one up again the next time that someone’s missing. Sound good?”

The other players agreed, and as they packed up their dice and books, they chatted about their theories for what was going on.

Tagging @weirdandabsurd42 by request.

[cinnamonest]

Albedo idol girl darling thoughts M A N I F E S T E D

----------

Well, to be entirely honest, he thinks the whole idol thing is a little dumb.

For someone like him, at least. He's a PhD student in his final semester, lots of work to be done and all that. So, you know, he's a responsible, accomplished adult. Not the kind of person who gets into "that stuff," as he calls it in his head.

Nor does he even know how he encountered it... He just takes the occasional break from work to mindlessly open whatever app first pops into his vision and scroll through the feed. He's never watched anything like it in his life, so he's not exactly sure why he gets recommended some idol girl thing, and even less sure why he taps it without really thinking. Probably one of those videos that gets recommended to everyone. Well, can't be that, it doesn't have that many views... Probably loosely connected to some video game he's searched before or something. He's familiar with idols and what they are, and the subculture surrounding them, but he's never really cared about it.

Honestly, it's kinda pathetic that a bunch of grown adult men get so obsessed over these girls, he thinks as he watches. He's seen the type. Lonely, asocial dudes, most definitely virgins whose only female attention in their entire life is their mother, well into adulthood with no real social group to speak of.

...Not that he's much better off, but he hasn't quite sunk down to their level. The only reason he doesn't talk to people much is because they're busy, and he's even busier. He managed to make a few friends in undergrad years. Well, study partners who mooched off his notes since he was one of the top students, but same idea. They were people he spoke to more than once, which is what constitutes a friend, right? And for the record, one time in high school a girl in his class said she liked his hair. He hasn't changed the way he wears it since. Whenever he's sad, he thinks about that compliment from 10+ years ago, and it makes him feel a little better. But now, he's constantly slammed with work and research.

And his acquaintances are also all busy. He sees notifications every now and then from social media he never checks. Everyone is getting married at this stage in life, both friends and even other PhD students in his department. Not that he's ever been invited to a wedding, he just overhears a lot of conversations, sees notifications of posts. And he will too, eventually. He just has to finish up his degree, and then... Meet a girl. Well, that's actually the second step, step one would be finding out how to go about meeting a girl. He's... Never done it before. Probably does not happen sitting in the research lab at 11:30 pm on YouTube. He's talked to one of the other PhD students who's a girl before. And only stutters sometimes. He was even able to look her in the face while he talked to her once. That's a good start.

Ok, so maybe he is a little bit pathetic, but not as bad as... These guys. Reading the comments of the video actually make him feel a little better about himself, because frankly, they're kinda wild. The worship and fawning over girls is one thing, but they even have timestamps referring to various members like "she's super cute here!" Or "you can kinda see her thigh at 3:12!" Etc etc. Yeesh, creepy. And they get into comment fights over who is the best member, as if it even matters. It's fascinating in a human-social-experiment sort of way, the manifestation of a subculture and how humans interact with each other. On and on it goes, hundreds of commenters. He pays more attention to the comments than the actual video, but the song is kinda catchy in that annoying sort of way, and the girls are cute, just kinda... The typical thing he'd expect from idol groups. But the building will close soon, so he taps back to home screen and swipes the app closed.

Unfortunately, the algorithm remembers.

And he's not certain why he clicks the next one either, the following day. The lunch breaks he takes are usually pretty rushed. Not that he has specific class times at his level of academia, but he likes to get his work done. He intentionally eats either a bit later or earlier than the lunch crowd to avoid crowds and interactions. Finds a nice secluded little table tucked away. So when he opens it back up, what do you know, several more videos get recommended. It's absent minded when he taps on one, the kind of numb-brained entertainment every modern person indulges in, videos you wouldn't really be interested in but just watch because they're there.

Ok, this is really creepy. These dudes have made compilation videos of close ups of each specific girl. It's the same group as the video he saw before, same little lewd costumes. Admittedly the girls are kinda cute. He can kinda understand the appeal. But he's not like those guys, he would never become like, obsessed with them.

The song is actually really catchy. The kind of mindlessly addictive, repetitive pop music that's the same four chords over and over, each song is so similar you can't really tell them apart, but it gets stuck in your head anyway. This group has... nine members. Who needs that many singers in one group? It's not like a band or anything, they all just sing and do their little choreography. Guess that's a form of talent, even though he doesn't really get it.

Some of the groups he sees in recommended videos are cute and wholesome, and while this group is cute too, there's a very... Blatantly intentional lewdness to their poses and costumes. A hypersexualized sort of cuteness. Clearly marketed at lonely losers who have nothing better to do with their time than obsess over a girl who will never even know they exist.

He taps another video.

So many compilations, yikes. He has to give the guys credit, they're insanely loyal to the individual member that they decide to fixate on. Oh, and they even make official figurines and posters for these girls, that's... Something.

And a few days later he can kinda recognize the girls. They have color themes, you know, identical costumes except each girl's is a different color. This lead one is red, this main backup is blue, etc etc. Lots of bright colors. Kinda hurts his eyes to be honest.

And he's seen compilations of every girl except... The pink one. The pink one is always kinda off to the side. Well, these groups do have their favoritism, there's apparently one or two lead singers in all of the major idol groups, and the rest are basically backups and dancers. Still, a lot of dudes get super devoted to the non-main girls. So yeah, he's never seen a compilation for the pink one... He can't always exactly remember which one is which but now he's seen enough to know the other girls' names. He's not sure what hers is though. So he googles it and gets the name.

Wonder why she doesn't have as many videos...? Oh, it's because she's the newest member. Only been around a few months. There's... A whole board dedicated to the group, which he's getting this information from. Wow, pathetic. What kind of person spends their free time browsing a forum for an idol group? Well, he's just doing it to find information, not for fun or anything. He was just curious. Now he knows and he can forget about it and never look at anything related to them again... after he types her name and group name into the YouTube search bar and checks the results out, that is.

Oh, so they do have some compilations for her, just not many. "(Name) thigh compilation." Fuck, these people have no limits to how creepy and pathetic they can get, he thinks... as he watches the video. Ok, admittedly there are some good thigh shots there. There's a comment. "At 4:26 you can see her panties." Pathetic. They're not wrong though. Just to be sure, you see, he tapped the timestamp, and you can, in fact, see them. Stripes. Cute.

But he still has to do his work. Can't get too invested in watching mindless videos all day. He's got a thesis to work on.

That makes him curious, though, he thinks as he goes about his research. Do these girls go to school? Do they like, skip college, or do they join some kind of performing arts school or...? So he googles it. He can remember the pink one's name now, so he just finds her Wikipedia page. Oh, so she joined right out of high school and has been in various groups ever since.

Wait, various groups? So she has more groups she's been in? What are those? Before he typed her name into the search along with the group name, but if he just searches her name he gets... A lot more content from earlier years. Huh. Didn't know some of them did group-hopping like that.

Still, no education. Must be all smiles and body and no brains. Guess that's all you really need. Yeah, looking at that whole act they do... All giggly and childish and lewd... She's probably not too bright. At least she's pretty and sings nice. And the thighs are rather good. Smooth looking. They have a sort of jiggle when she jumps up and down on stage. The thigh highs they make those girls wear have that nice little dip where the skin is compressed by the fabric. Like... right there at that closeup. He takes a screenshot.

It's readily available, he's already seen the video and knows the best parts, whereas searching for porn would take time. The sooner he can get the daily stress relief out of the way the sooner he can work on his thesis. So this way is faster. That's why he's jerking off to the thigh video and not taking the time to look for porn. Plus, it makes him cum faster. Which it probably shouldn't since it's just thighs, but... Probably has something to do with the tease of it all maybe. That makes sense.

Or maybe it's that cute little giggle he can hear at some parts. She smiles and jumps and spins and laughs.

...It makes him wonder what she'd look like crying. Scared. Whimpering. Covered in bruises and bite marks. The contrast between that state and the one on the screen. The process and the things he could do to get her from one to the other. Yeah, he realizes, it's that thought, rather than the happy giggling on video or tease aspect, that makes him cum.

He's aware that his... tastes... are a little on the fucked up side, but hey, there's plenty of bastards out there far worse than him.

One day he discovers she has social media platforms. He... Doesn't really have any. He doesn't have Twitter or Instagram or any of that but... He downloads the app and makes an account for each. Just to follow her. Ooh, they even have the option to get a notification every time she posts... That's good. Otherwise he might check too frequently. He sets a special sound effect for notifications for her socials. The first few times, you see, he would get super excited when his phone went off, only to be disappointed when it was just a work email. Thus, he made the separate sounds.

He wouldn't say he has a favorite, that sounds really cringey you know? He just... Likes her more than the others. ...Dammit, that's what a favorite is. Ok, maybe he has a favorite, that's not that bad. He's not obsessed. He hasn't bought any merchandise at all or anything, especially not member-specific merchandise. Which they do have, because he visited the store page for a while and spent all his willpower physically restraining himself from buying something. It's not that he's biased, he just thinks she's objectively better than the rest of the group. Which can be backed up with evidence, anyone with eyes could tell by watching the performances.

As to what specifically draws him to her... he's not certain, to be honest. Maybe it's because she's the least appreciated out of the group, new and all. The less popular one. Or maybe her personality... She seems so sweet, even though he knows it's probably just an act for the fans. Or maybe just those thighs. That's also a valid possibility.

He cracks and buys some of the merchandise. Only about $300 worth. But honestly, he gets more invested into just printing out pictures of you. Pasting them onto the wall above his desktop. It keeps him going when the nights are hard.

But he refrains from ever commenting on anything. Some of these losers are just... so embarrassing, he can't stomach the thought of being associated, even if it's just an anonymous comment online. It's still pretty... Distasteful. He still browses the boards every day. You're his lock screen now. And home screen. And also your solo is his ringtone. He only sets his phone on sound when he's alone at home, though, when he's at work he puts it on vibrate. He... doesn't want anyone hearing that. No offense. He has some appropriate amount of shame, unlike the other bastards.

And the girls probably know that most of their fans are these kind of loser men, right? She'd probably be surprised someone nearly graduating with a chemistry doctorate is sitting around watching these dumb videos. Is that more or less pathetic? He thinks less, hopefully.

In fact, the other fans kind of irritate him. They're really cringy and annoying and it gives him secondhand embarrassment. And something... Deeper. Something about seeing the comments upsets him on a visceral level. It's gross. Sure, he's grateful for the dudes who sit around and make a list of timestamps for upskirt shots and the like, but... It kinda bothers him, feeling like there's some other dude out there sitting around, watching these long videos with his gross eyes and recording the times of shots that get him off. It feels gross. But more like... A violation against you. Sure, your group is very blatantly sexualized and intentionally risque in clothing but... Still, it feels wrong for someone to go through and get to see all of that.

Well, someone else. It's ok for him, since he's not a gross degenerate like the rest of them. He does genuinely see himself as... Above them. You know how like, back in the day, how the nobles used to sit around and watch plays from the far back while the peasants gathered around the stage? It's like that. He's not a gross loser or a NEET or anything like that. He's got a life. Well... Not a social life, but he's doing better than them, at least he has a degree, and soon a higher degree, and a job. He has a lot of things they don't. Basic hygiene. Student loan debt. And uh... Well, he's probably more pleasant to interact with, at least he's not gonna be frothing at the mouth like an animal if he saw you in real life. He would certainly freeze up, but that's preferable, isn't it?

And one day there's a video circulating in the idol community - not that he's a part of it or anything, he just keeps getting the dumb videos and watching them for mindless entertainment - where some girl group had an attempted kidnapping. Not her group, but some other group. The video has gone viral. Some dude tried to rush the stage and pull one of the girls away. Apparently the cops found he had an obsession with her.

What an idiot. If you're gonna kidnap someone, put some effort in, jeez. It's not hard to figure out how to do it right.

If that were him, he wouldn't be that stupid, he'd just look for an interval where she's alone. They have those solo or breakout group songs where some of the girls are backstage, just get her then. Memorize the concert schedule, wear something over your face, chloroform her, and stuff her into something and walk right out. Easy.

....

He catches himself in the thought and realizes that might have been a bit creepy, but he was just thinking in terms of hypotheticals. If he was the kind of crazy to do that, that's what he'd do, that's all.

He's always enjoyed entertaining strategic thoughts, really. He's had a couple fantasies about how he would commit murders of this or that person before, and he's never murdered anyone, so thoughts don't lead to actions. He just... Really doesn't like those people, and the fantasies help him... Deal with it. He just likes to strategize about methods, and how he'd get away with it... Stuff like that. Actually, he's convinced it's a very normal thing, but no one wants to admit it. Everyone has detailed murder fantasies every now and then.

Which is why this is no different. He's just strategizing because it's fun. He has no intentions of doing anything for real. He just plans out the details like a game. And tells himself to just never think about it again.

Until one specific night that he's staring down at his screen. Lying in bed. He should be asleep, he needs to be up early tomorrow but... He's just checking to be sure he's reading this correctly. You're coming to his town? He wouldn't think so, since it's not too big, just your average college town. But still, you'll be right here, right in his general vicinity, not far away at all.

Not that he'd ever actually go to such an event. No way. He hates crowds with a passion. He hates loud environments even more. A concert is like his worst nightmare. Besides, knowing the general audience of your group, it'll be a bunch of sweaty NEET dudes who haven't showered in a month and haven't crawled out of their house in even longer. No thank you.

But.

That's when the thought pops back up. It's been a few months since that night he had that strategizing fantasy, and, well, he tried to forget it but... It kinda lingered in the back of his mind. And now it's back in full force.

He shrugs the idea off. It's crazy. He'd never actually do something like that. It was just a fantasy.

...But he could get away with it if he wanted to.

He's not scared or anything, no, he's confident in his strategizing. He knows he could. Totally. It's foolproof. There's no need to carry it out to know that, besides, what would he even do with you?

Well, he's pretty certain he does know what he would do with you. He's watched that thigh video maybe a hundred times now. And even if he won't admit it, he's jerked off to the exact same fantasy for like, several months.

He doesn't really... Think about it. Just kind of slips into subconscious actions. Autopilot. One click and well, there goes $400 on an amp case. His eyes gaze over the dimensions... And then there's your height on the Wikipedia page... Yeah... That should work. He gets it sent to the address a few doors down just in case, and snatches it from in front of their door, but he finds himself backpedaling. What the hell is he doing? He would never actually go through with this, what a waste of money... But he still opens it. Sets it beside his front door. Tests the wheels to make sure they work.

He knows how to make chloroform. He doesn't need YouTube tutorials (unlike a certain someone else), he knows exactly how to do it, even alternate methods besides the usual acetone and bleach combination - so long as you end up with the same chemical makeup, it's all the same. He just goes with the traditional way though... Doesn't really know why he does it. Just mutters as he stares down at the concoction wondering why he wasted his time... But he pauses before pouring it down the sink, and instead puts it in a container and keeps it on the counter. Your weight is on Wikipedia too. Taking into account your height and weight you would need about... Yeah, a very specific amount to knock you out for about three hours.

The concert day draws closer and closer and he can't sleep very well. His mind keeps running what-ifs. Just, hypothetically, what if he did go through with it? What then? What would he do long term? How would that all work out?

Well, you'd probably hate him for a while, right? But that changes. Stockholm syndrome sets in. He would know, he had to take Psych 101 back in undergrad, and the professor talked about it for a full 10 minutes, so he's basically an expert. It's been like, 7 years since then, but he still kinda remembers it. He remembers that it's supposed to set in at about 2 weeks, and solidify with time. If the captor is nice, that is, which he totally would be. ...Maybe not in bed, but most of the time. He would be nice to you, and you would start to like him. Besides, they said Stockholm syndrome set in faster if the abductor has good qualities, so, he could also reason with you, remind you that you're lucky you got abducted by someone with money - or, well, he will have money once he graduates! - and isn't some ugly gross slob. He's clean and neat. Sorta... He'll clean up all those dishes that have been sitting there a few days now, pick up all those clothes off the floor... Ok, now he's clean and neat. And, uh, what else would girls care about... He's smart. He's pretty sure he can say that with confidence, if nothing else.

Ok, so, it would work. He could... Keep you kinda... Tied up here... If you started complying within that two week period, he could get you up and walking before atrophy set in. You'd probably have to get used to the lifestyle... Right now he's kinda on a budget, but, he can get you things to keep you occupied... And so, yeah, it could work. It's simple, just keep you with him and isolated for a few weeks and uh, you'll transform into some kind of hypersexual obedient cumslut and never want to leave. That's... How Stockholm syndrome works right? Maybe he should have paid more attention in that class... Oh well. He never liked psychology.

So the day draws nearer and nearer and he starts really getting into the right... Headspace. It's a sort of manic state that he's in. Operating without really thinking, all inhibitions removed by simply refusing to think about it. He lets the subconscious take over and do all these little things to prepare, until finally that day is tomorrow. And then he kinda snaps back to full awareness and questions, again, what the hell is he doing? He can't just... Kidnap a person! Normal people don't do that... It's illegal, he'll get caught, it'll ruin his life and....

What life does he really have to ruin?

That's the thought that sort of solidifies the decision. He realizes why he's even on this path in the first place. Sure he's got a lot of academic accomplishments, but his life is... Rather empty. He doesn't really have anyone. Maybe that's why he's slowly become... Consumed by this obsession that yes, he's now willing to admit to himself is indeed an obsession. It's kinda slowly taken over his everyday life without him even noticing it was happening. He's... Kinda miserable. And very lonely. And... If nothing else... This one girl makes him feel kinda happy.

... Which is why he's going to go through with it.

And he slips back into autopilot, ends up standing outside the building. It's every bit as loud and headache-inducing as he knew it would be. Ugh. He can't wait to get out of here. If this doesn't work, well, he'll be forced to turn around. The plan is a very simple one, actually... Act like he's supposed to be there. And he does. Dresses in all black like stage technicians do, dragging his big amp case behind him, holding a bunch of cords from random things he grabbed in his house, and tries not to look nervous, keeps a neutral face and walks straight forward and... He slides right in. The security guards off to the side don't even bat an eye.

And then he has a moment of "well, I didn't expect to get this far." Pauses. So uh... what now? Well, probably should find you first. He memorized the setlist, so he knows when you'll be off... And alone. Right now there should be three of the girls backstage. It's pretty easy to find where you are, but he's paranoid that the amp case is too loud as he's dragging it around. It's necessary, though. And then, finally, he stumbles upon the room... Opens the door, half expecting to be immediately stopped, but... He can just kinda waltz right in here, some open backroom, a person here or there coming through, a lady that looks like a makeup artist doing something over there, and an actual, real tech guy over there... And over to the far back corner... Oh. That's you. He takes a moment to revel in the sight, unable to move or even breathe, and has to mentally prepare himself before moving forward. He's... Not sure exactly what to do at this point... It's kind of perfect, to be honest, there's no one around you, and you're right out of sight, where he could turn the corner and not be seen. But he's not sure how to... Approach? He thinks about it as he walks, but again, autopilot is on in his brain and he's just numbly walking forward. Does he just... Keep walking until he's right at you and just... Or...?

And a miracle happens. You hear someone coming and you turn and smile and ask are you the tech guy here to fix my mic? You point to the little microphone attached to your face. They told you someone would be coming to fix it before your next song. You presume that's him, since he's dressed in all black like all the other stage techs. He hesitates a moment, wide eyed, but then nods. Yeah, that's him, he says. His voice cracks when he says it. It's kinda cute.

You smile at him. It's wide and sweet and genuine and it almost makes him pass out on the spot. He has to swallow for a second before continuing.

But, uh, he can't do it right here he says, because fiddling with it could disrupt the uh, frequencies, cause that really shrill sound you hear sometimes. So, um, come over this way a sec, over in this dark corner of the studio conveniently out of the view of all people and security cameras. You don't know how any of that stuff works, so you trust him, it's his job after all. So you get up and straighten your little skirt out - wow those are even more revealing in person - and walk over it the dark corner where he's waiting and... it's the last thing you remember.

He does a quick look left and right to ensure no one saw you collapse in his arms, but sure enough, this area is empty. You fit into the amp case with ease. Just curl your body up and pop the lid on. Wait, can you... breathe in there? Well, it won't take long to get outside. He just rolls the case right out the door, right past the guards again, and no one stops him, no one suspects a thing. Puts the case in the backseat, opens the lid, does a quick check go make sure you're breathing alright. So he props it open by keeping a book in between the case and lid as he drives home.

Once he does get home, he just does the same thing he did before - close the lid, roll you into the elevator and up the stairs and into his place, looking back over his shoulder over and over. And once he gets you inside he just kinda... falls to his knees. Shivering. Disbelief. Because holy shit he actually did it. He actually went through with it and it worked. He sits there and stares at the case and - oh, fuck, gotta open it again for you to breathe. Actually, he might as well... take you out... when he first shoved you in, he was so high on adrenaline he didn't really process any of it, but now... he almost can't bring himself to take you out. That means he has to, like, touch you. He's gotta take a moment to mentally prepare for that. So he does. Deep breaths. And finally, with trembling hands, pulls you out, carries you on shakey legs over to the bed and sets you down.

You know, you're a lot... Smaller... Than you looked on screen. Sure, he knew your height and weight but... somehow you still seem so much smaller than he expected. That's good. Will make everything a lot easier, since you're easier to restrain. And your thighs. They're... so soft. This is so much better than the video. They're so... fleshy and warm in person. Perfect. And wow, that skirt thing is... scratchy. Actually, up close, that whole outfit thing you wear looks super uncomfortable. It probably is. ...Well, guess he now has a reason to take it off.

The rest of your skin is... also fleshy and soft. Warm. Your face... chest... stomach... everything. Your tits are really cute, too. It occurs to him that all those rabid commenters on all those boards and videos would probably kill to be him right now, pinching and squeezing at your nipples. He's seeing something they will never see. It gives him an ego boost, to be honest, makes him feel proud to get a sort of one-up on them. He gets you naked, but refrains from pulling your legs apart. He probably... wouldn't be able to control himself, and he's aiming for some self-control right now.

So he waits. Breathes deep. Restrains himself with every ounce of willpower he has. It occurs to him he has no fucking clue what he's gonna say to you. Unfortunately, that thought occurs to him as you're starting to twitch and mumble, so, he doesn't have too much time to think. Oh, fuck, you're not restrained... well, he bought some duct tape and handcuffs and blindfolds off of amazon too, so he quickly puts those in place as you're starting to wake up, and then finally, you come to full consciousness -- that telltale jerking at the restraints, the muffled little cry of confusion and fear. It's kinda hot to be honest. Well, fuck, very hot actually. You're so scared. It gives him a rush of power. Said rush goes straight to his dick.

He's got a mixed twist of guilt and arousal at the whole thing, but... he's still trying to have some self control... and if you start begging and pleading and crying, it would be too much. Oh, no, not that it would be too much in terms of guilt, no no, just that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from fucking you if he sees you cry. So he leaves the restraints on for now, so he can't see your face emote.

Then, he does something really, really mean. He knows it's cruel, honestly, it's just... so cute. What that is, is that he does nothing. Says nothing. He goes about his work, typing away, knowing you can hear, but doesn't say a word. He knows you're awake, he just wants to see how long you can sit there scared out of your mind before you finally make another noise to draw his attention. Right now, he thinks, you're probably debating, you're probably questioning whether you should keep quiet and make him think you're still out or make a noise... but eventually you will. He can see you trembling. You're probably thinking so many horrible things right now, wondering what will happen, what he'll do to you... it fills him with a sort of sadistic glee that overrides the guilt it comes along with. Sure, the guilt is there, but fuck, he could almost cum just watching you shiver, and that's more important.

And you finally make a noise. A little whimper. He stops typing, and swears he sees you tense when he does. And when he stands up, walks over to you (making sure to stomp hard and walk slow for extra effect, watching the way you curl in on yourself with each step he takes), and stops right in front of you. Finally, tells you not to scream. He's gonna give you water, ok? You nod. And, surprisingly, you don't make any move to scream or anything, you let him give it to you. You don't move a muscle besides your shaking and sucking the straw and swallowing the water. You must be really scared of him. He knows that's technically not what he should want, but... it feels nice.

He spent that time of silence coming up with what to say to you. He says that for now, you're going to stay right here. Don't ask questions. Don't make any attempt to escape. If you really need something, tap the headboard until he hears. Understand?

You're... Surprisingly receptive. You give a twitchy smile and stammer out an o-okay. He's almost pleased, but quickly realizes what you're doing.

You've been trained for this, you see. This kind of thing is attempted rather frequently in the industry. You received training for this situation - comply, don't fight, prioritize your safety, because in 99% of these cases, the missing idol is found and recovered within 48 hours. So you do what you were told to do -- smile, pretend you're ok with it, don't do anything to anger your captor.

He knows that too. He doesn't do much in that 48 hours, in fact, he even tells you he's waiting to "see what happens." He knows he can't control himself very well, so he stays in his living room for the most part and works on research, it might be pointless if he's in jail a few hours from now, but oh well. Sleeps on his couch. He offers to feed you, but you say you don't feel good. He understands.

See, in his mind, if he gets to fuck you once or twice and then be hauled off to prison and never touch you again, well, that would be actual, literal torture, so much so that never fucking you at all would be more bearable. So that's why he forces himself to wait now. He feels like he can't breathe, he's so nervous, like any moment police are going to come knocking on his door. Every little sound makes him jump. He can't sleep.

But 48 hours pass and... nothing happens.

He breathes a bit easier. Finally dares to go online, which he's been avoiding, and check on your situation... Oh, wow, social media has exploded over your disappearance. But... They have no leads. Nothing. Says she basically vanished out of thin air. Situation is, quote, "looking hopeless." Huh. He did an even better job than he thought he did. There's videos from loved ones begging the captor to let the girl go, offering to give him money even. A lot of money. But, you're more valuable than any monetary measurements could ever conceive. And he's happy. It really worked out. Everything went right, and for once, he has something that really, really makes him happy.

Likewise, the 48 hours are even more torturous for you. You start out telling yourself it'll be fine. Hopeful. But that hope in your chest slowly, gradually dies out as you realize you've hit the 48-hour mark. Even for a normal missing person, you've always heard that if they don't find them within 48 hours... the chances of ever finding them goes down significantly. But, that's because they're usually dead, right? And this guy won't kill you, so, your chances are better, right...?

He comes back after that 48 hours and finally, for the first time since you woke up, crawls onto the bed, touches you, grabs your hips with his hands. Tells you that, well, they haven't found anything yet and it looks like they aren't going to, so you're officially his now, and he's no longer worried. You should accept it. It'll make things easier for both of you if you do. You'll get adjusted in no time, you'll see.

Unsurprisingly, you're a bit less compliant than you were when you had hope. You whimper and and struggle, but it's really weak. So much so it's cute. You ask who he is. No one important, he says. Just... A fan of yours. You can hear clothes shuffling. He doesn't waste time, he's already waited two whole days suffering, so he gets his dick in you pretty quickly. Manages to make you cum. It horrifies you and kinda surprises him too to be honest. You must kinda like pain, huh. Well, that works out well.

As time goes on, what hope you had left dies completely. Weeks pass. You realize they're not coming for you. In an attempt to get you to accept it, he even shows you that you've been replaced. They're rather quick to fix the absence. They have a new girl in your spot by the end of the month. He quickly realizes maybe he shouldn't have told you, from the way your face falls and you get all hysterical. Sorry. It's the way the industry is. Don't worry. She's not even half as cute as you.

He shows you the announcement when they close the investigation, too. This also earns a rather hysterical response, but he thinks it's important you see it, so you can finally come to terms with your fate, the way things were always meant to turn out. He gets a bit frustrated. Just accept it. It's not that hard. The sooner you do, the happier you'll be. It's for your own good that you accept it.

And you do. Try as you might. You begin to make conversation. He's the only source of interaction you have. You learn about him and his life. You become invested in it. You start to cum more easily. When he's sitting on the opposite side of the bed typing away, you find yourself slowly wiggling your way over and pressing yourself against the warmth, and he certainly doesn't mind. You ask him about his research just to hear a voice talk.

And sometimes you sing. It's absent minded, soft and quiet, when you have nothing else to do. He likes that a lot. You get sweeter. Nicer. Fight less. It does take a bit longer than two weeks to set in fully. But it does in the end.

He can't be with you 24/7, as much as he would like to be, so sometimes he has to tell you to just hang on a little while. Be good and sit still for just a bit. He'll be back soon. Just give him an hour. You're just really distracting and, well, his progress report is due tomorrow morning.

And you keep getting upset over the new member, bring it up a lot... It must have really bothered you, huh. Well, don't feel bad about being replaced. To him, nothing could ever replace you... you're still his favorite.

[pomrania]

I asked for breeds of dogs to draw as pokemon types, and here they are. Some are more recognizable than others, both in type and dog breed, and some look better than others, and some were easier than others; but it was good practice.

Below the cut, there’s my running commentary throughout the process, preserved for posterity. Basically it’s just me complaining about things, but if you want to read it, that’s your decision.

WHY DID I THINK I COULD DO THIS, this was artistic hubris.

Okay, look up a compilation video for the first breed on the list, that should provide a good point of reference.

Heh goldies are funny doggos.

Okay this isn't actually so bad once I get into it.

FUCK HOW DO YOU DRAW HINDQUARTERS

Okay I remember what beagles look like, this video is a good refresher; I slept with a stuffed toy beagle when I was a kid, I got the general stuff down.

HOW THE HECK DO I MAKE THIS INTO A GHOST-TYPE

So I guess I'm going with ghostly extra wagging tails, sure why not.

A dragon-type borzoi, okay, these dogs already look like dragons, this should be easy. ...words spoken just before disaster, I know it.

Heheh them doggos got long snoots.

What was that heraldic unicorn pose again, that should work well for them....

This looks just like a dog and not like a dragon-type DAMMIT.

Next is CORGI hell yeah! They're so hecking CUTE, and I know I won't be able to draw them to their full adorable, but at least I'll have fun watching the reference video.

This seems to be coming along well.

I wasn't planning on colouring them, but I might have to, to get the markings shown properly. But that will be AFTER I've done everything else.

Flying-type samoyed! I love samoyeds, they're so FLOOFY. Well actually the person suggested air-type, but euh.

Okay I have a good idea for this one. Don't know how well it'll turn out, but that's art for you.

Okay yes this is adorable and I love it.

Most of what I know about rottweilers, is that pretty much all of them that I've met, have been aggressively friendly, like "knock you over in an effort to lick every square inch of your face" aggressively friendly. Not really sure how I can convey that, or how I can show a rock-type, but that's what "trying things and seeing what happens" is for.

Oh frick I'm gonna have to draw 3D geometrics for the "rock" stuff ain't I.

Hm a "geode" type design might be cool; I'm prolly not the best person for that, but I'll bloody well try anyways.

Aaand I hit a major block, what even POSE do I use for this. Gah. Welp, when in doubt, go for the most basic stuff possible. Can I do better than that? Yes. WILL I do better than that, right at this moment? Probably not.

Rotties are big chonks aren't they.

Hm. Okay this doesn't necessarily look very "rottweiler", but it DOES cover up a bunch of my mistakes in anatomy, and I've always thought this style looks cool.

...I think I'm just going to skip "fighting-type boxer", since I'm willing to bet actual money that someone has already drawn that, it's just so obvious. And also this was one of two suggestions, so I don't feel guilty about ignoring that person (because I didn't ignore them).

Labs are like the most "generic" looking dogs I can think of, how am I gonna do this cool?

Two compilation videos later, I don't even have a CONCEPT in mind. The best idea I have is something playing off of a snowman, but that's literally it; those words, no image.

Heh, maybe one jumping in the air with a dopey expression to catch a snowflake? Seems a bit complicated, but I'll think on it.

Huh I don't think I've ever drawn a dog chasing their own tail before. It's a good exercise in posing and "okay if this motion is being made, how would the limbs move". Still frustrating though.

But how do I make it ICE-TYPE?! At least I have some vague ideas for the next one, but that's for ONCE I'VE FINISHED THIS ONE.

...I'm at a loss. I'm going to look up ice-type pokemon for some inspiration.

So it seems to be mostly shown in colouring, WELL THAT'S NO HELP TO ME.

Screw it I'm going basic as hell. ...or maybe just STUPID as hell, because I decided to draw a dog wearing skates.

This was the worst of all of them, but it's DONE now.

Maltese doggos already look like fairies, but I've learned from the borzoi one, that this just makes it HARDER. (They sure are hecking adorable though.)

They're just little puffs of fur! How can I make them look distinct?

Oh yeah there's also the "show" grooming they can have.

Some vague ideas, but I'll also check the list of fairy-type pokemon for inspiration.

Okay I'm just going to go full Baby as that seems to be the general trend.

This just looks like a regular maltese.

That's not MUCH better, but it's SOMETHING, and that's the end of the list so woot I'm done.

[lovelyirony]

@kimannhart all you ask is yours! presenting: avengers hide and go seek 

It first starts when they’re talking about the games they used to play as children. This involves quite a bit of “guess which game was normal and which one did Clint play in the circus.” 

It ends with Sharon and Tony mischievously mentioning that they used to play hide-and-go-seek in the dark all the time. 

“It’s the best,” Sharon says. “And part of the reason why I get high marks in my stealth.” 

“You have the highest marks of the academy because of hide-and-go seek? In the dark?” Natasha deadpans. 

“Yes.” 

“Let’s play.” 

Natasha volunteers to be the “seeker.” 

“Oh come on, we’re all gonna be found in ten minutes,” Clint whines. 

“Not if it’s tower-wide,” Steve suggests. “Or at least, floor-wide. Maybe two floors.” 

“So then it’s this floor and the floor above-wide,” Natasha says. “And I’ll find all of you. That’s a promise.” 

“Is it?” Tony taunts. Natasha pokes her tongue out childishly. 

She counts to eighty-five, and the Avengers disperse around the tower. Many think they have an unbeatable spot. 

But none have met Tony and Sharon. 

Tony and Sharon used to compete against each other during Christmas breaks. Sharon learned that the best spot to hide is in the wide open. You blend in with the furniture, with the surroundings? No one thinks of you for a second. 

Tony, on the other hand, loves the unexpected. 

(He also purposefully decorates his house with very wide, framed paintings for this exactly purpose. Or at least, close to it.) 

- 

Natasha easily finds Bucky first, who didn’t even try as to hide. He hid underneath the kitchen table bench. 

“Child’s play,” Natasha hisses with satisfaction. 

“That’s the whole point of hide-and-seek,” Bucky says. “Besides, I was just getting to the good part of my show. Thank you for finding me. See you soon.” 

“Give me any hints?” 

“A good spy doesn’t need hints.” 

“A great spy knows to ask anyway,” Natasha counters. 

Bucky sighs and jerks a thumb to the lab. 

She thinks that she’s finding Tony. After all, the lab is like his paradise. There are tons of nooks and crannies to figure out. 

Too bad she only finds Steve halfway behind one of the larger armors, and he’s a dead giveaway with his breathing pattern. 

“You analyzed my breathing pattern? Why?” Steve says. 

“In case.” 

“In case of what?” 

“You need a clearance level of twelve to access that particular bit of information. For now, tell me which way Clint went.” 

“I don’t know. Bruce headed for the garden.” 

- 

Bruce is found lying in the middle of a dense group of flower bushes. Honestly, she nearly missed him. 

He’s asleep. 

Natasha gently kicks him with her foot. He rolls over, giving her an unimpressed stare. 

“I found you.” 

“And I’m still lying here. Go find someone else. I bet Clint is in the library or some shit.” 

“Hmph. I almost didn’t find you. Who lays down on their stomach to nap? You’re leaving yourself vulnerable.” 

“Natasha, be a dear and remember who else you were gently kicking in the ribs.” 

“Hi Hulk,” Natasha says. “Sorry.” 

Bruce’s eyes flash green for a moment, a glint of amusement in them. That’s enough for now. 

- 

Clint and Thor are both in the library, although Clint managed to fit himself into a suit of armor and Thor just decided to hide himself under a rug. 

“I’m disappointed in you,” Natasha says. “Now help me find Sharon and Tony.” 

- 

It takes them two more hours to find them. Sharon and Tony absolutely do not mess around, and it shows. 

Tony was literally in the bar. Sitting where the sink was, posing perfectly to mimic the gigantic portrait of himself behind him. 

“Pays to be a recovering alcoholic, losers!” He says, clambering down from his spot. 

“I wish that wasn’t so sad, but I also wish you hadn’t used the association psychology trick to make me not look in the bar for you,” Natasha answers. “I hate you.” 

“Using my own issues for my benefit? Classic me!” Tony gleefully yells. “And I’m not telling you where Sharon is!” 

Natasha narrows her eyes very specifically, in a way that’s made leaders of countries have shakes in their knees and a strong desire to open windows. 

Tony is unfazed. 

“Cousin code outweighs your creepy stare,” Tony says, pouring himself a glass of apple juice. “But have fun!” 

Sharon is fucking impossible to find. 

- 

Eventually, Natasha finds her lounging in Tony’s gigantic walk-in closet, chilling in the revolving closet. 

“What.” 

“I told you!” Sharon snickers. “You would find me last or not at all.” 

Natasha stares. 

“I checked here. Five times. I’m dating you.” 

“And yet here we are,” Sharon says, tapping Nat’s nose with her index finger. “Better luck next time, cutie pie.” 

- 

Natasha still pouts that she couldn’t find Sharon and Tony. Says that they had to have moved, or something. 

Sharon and Tony just grin. 

“Well, we’ll have to be the seekers next time we play,” they agree. “And we’ll show you how it’s done.” 

“Why do you think I’ve been having all of you take personality tests for months?” Tony asks, grinning. 

“So that wasn’t a way to get to know us better in terms of friendship?” Thor asks. 

“Not in terms of friendship. I’ve been compiling data to coordinate where I think your go-to hiding spot is,” Tony says. “Sharon’s been helping with analysis on how well that spot would work out for you. Bruce, you’re going to supremely bad luck.” 

“That’s been my life motto for the last forty-three years.” 

“Aren’t you forty-two?” 

“Yup.” 

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 22 - Legend of the Void

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: I can’t really believe I'm at Chapter 22... I know it doesn’t seem too long but I feel like it is lol. Here’s when things get a bit science-fiction-y and also more to do with cosmology. 

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ here is the latest update

Legend of the Void

…

…

[1. Whatever begins to exist has a cause.

2. The universe began to exist.

3. Therefore, the universe has a cause (which was itself not caused).

- The Kalam cosmological argument.]

…

…

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back!”

Upon your return to Wedgehurst, Sonia and Magnolia, Runerigus and Cutiefly are in the conservatory enjoying tea. You greet everyone, share an embrace and Cutiefly dives for your hair, burrowing himself under your locks.

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Magnolia asks, lifting up an empty cup.

“Yes please.”

She smiles and begins to wander into the kitchen.

“Ah, wait – professor, I can do it myself-“

“It’s okay, come sit,” Sonia says, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the empty seat beside her. “Where’d you go last night?”

“Oh, I met up with Leon,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re together.”

Her jaw drops. “You’re what??”

“Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier. I didn’t really know what to say, nothing was official.”

Sonia blinks wide-eyed for a moment before she slaps a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. Emitting a muffled squeal of glee, she proceeds to throw her arms around you, enveloping you into a tight hug.

“I knew there was something between you two but I didn't think -- oh, never mind, I’m so happy for you!” she exclaims, and you smile awkwardly, gently placing your hand over her arm.

“Thanks, I, um…I have a favour to ask of you though.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to-“

Unfortunately you’re interrupted when Magnolia returns with your cup of tea. Polteageist floats beside her, having helped with the brewing and when he sees you, you both share a hug.

“Here you are, my dear,” Magnolia says as you accept the cup. It’s piping hot and smells wondrous.

“Thank you, professor.”

“Inspector Graves came by earlier; he told me to give you this,” Magnolia picks up an A4 envelope from the table and hands it to you. “He says they’re accepting new recruits and he wants you to try it out.”

You open it carefully and pull out the contents; it’s a pile of application forms for the police academy recruitment scheme. “Oh…” you mutter, “thanks, I’ll have a look at it later.”

“Can I tell her?” Sonia says giddily.

“What?? No, it’s too early!” you yelp.

"But-"

“Girls, what’s going on?” Magnolia demands, swapping glances between you and Sonia.

“N-nothing, professor.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Sonia says and before you can reply, she tugs on your arm and pulls you up and off the couch, guiding you to the staircase.

Magnolia watches as you both scurry away and out of sight before she slides into a plush seat beside the stone pokemon who has been enjoying his cup of tea silently, holding the floral teacup daintily in his shadowy hands.

“Would you like some more Darjeeling, Runerigus?” she asks, lifting up the teapot.

He nods and she empties some into his little cup before she fills her own; they exchange smiles as they take a sip at the same time.

...

Upstairs, Sonia closes the door behind her and joins you on the bed, sitting cross-legged and clutching your arm.

“So! Tell me everything. I want all the details. All of them.”

You recall last night’s events though you do omit some information, namely the dream. You feel bad for not telling her there was something between you and Leon, especially the time when you had almost kissed at the hospital and when he brought you flowers, but she doesn't appear nonplussed and nods to herself, hand under her chin.

“That’s typical of him,” she says with a giggle before she sighs and flexes her hands together, smiling to herself, "I've known Leon since we were kids so I'm really happy for him. It's so strange; you've been here for a few years and you kept missing him and he kept missing you...and even when gran and I wanted you to meet him, you were always busy or away investigating so you never got the chance and neither did he...but then this happens and now you're together!!! You were always closeby but you never even got the chance to see each other...oh, I don't know, but I was always hoping for you to meet; I knew you two would hit it off."

"Yeah, I guess we wasted the years."

"Nooo, that's not what I meant at all; it's what people say 'when it's supposed to happen, it happens'," she replies, and you laugh. “So…you’ve kissed, right? You must have. How was it? What was it like to kiss the Champion of Galar?”

Your cheeks grow pink. You've never really spoken to Sonia about boys before, but this is rather refreshing.

“...Well, it was really nice,” you mumble, throwing your glance down to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. You’re not sure whether to tell Sonia that he was really shy and nervous.

“Oh, come on! Tell me bit a lot more than that!” she whines, pouting.

“I’m serious. It was fine, it was really nice. A bit wet?”

Sonia blows some hair from her face and looks at her nails. “Of course it was wet, it was a kiss. Fine, you don’t wanna tell me.”

"We’re going to practice more-“

Her eyes light up at once. “Oh!”

“And we’re going to meet up again later.”

“Oh.”

“Actually, now there’s two things I need your help with. Leon’s invited me to a party and I need an outfit-“

“I’ll help you!”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm. “And the other things is...well, it’s a little complicated to explain in its entirety but I have a new client; her sister is dead and is about to become an evil spirit – the thing is, she was Miss Motostoke but unfortunately she died and now she wants to participate in the pageant in order to move on so I was thinking we’d set up a fake pageant and I’ll let her possess my body so I would like you to be my hair and makeup artist and the presenter if possible. Don't worry, I'll compile a script for you to follow.”

Sonia gawps at you, wide-eyed.

“So, what do you say?”

“…...Sure?”

“Thanks so much, Sonia!!”

"What's going on?" she asks, and you explain to her the case you're currently working on. She listens intently to your plight and when you're all caught up to speed, she nods once more, armed with far more thorough understanding.

“No problem, I can help you... but are you okay doing this? Is this going to be dangerous? Can’t she move on in a different way?”

“It’ll be fine; I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”

“Where are you going to hold this fake pageant anyway?”

“I was thinking the lab; I could ask Jace to help with the lighting and we could just fix up a curtain or something around upstairs to use as a changing room and cover the rest of the lab with the whiteboards put together. Picture this, we’ll hang some red drapes over them so it looks like the Miss Galar Beauty Pageant stage. I’m not too bothered about the floor. The floor’s fine.”

“…Okay,” she says, tilting her head to the side.

“And I could ask if Leon could be the ‘judge’ again. Maybe ask Volkner…if he’s up for it…We’ll set up some tables in front of the stage for them to sit.”

“You seem to have a plan already," she comments with a sniff.

“I do,” you reply, “I just hope it all works out.”

…

With Sonia’s help secured, your little plan is indeed coming together rather nicely. Your next task is to ask Jace for assistance for lighting and if he can help fix up some  curtains and as usual, he’s glad to help in any way, replying to your text message with multiple smiley face emojis.

You also ask him if Volkner would like to be a guest judge and he says he will check with the gym leader.

There’s plenty to do so you head to the lab where you don your white lab coat, put on your reading glasses and begin your investigation.

You’re not sure why you’ve decided to wear the coat but somehow you feel better wearing it today. It's been a while since you put it on.

At your desk, you put Graves’ application forms to the side for the time being and instead, spread out the contents of the folder Frankie had given you and lay out all the documents, namely the newspaper article about Flora’s death and murderer.

You had spent the taxi ride home reading the contents of the folder and now it’s time to display your findings on your trusty whiteboard which you wipe down, grabbing several pens and some magnets in progress.

Taking a step back, you look at the empty board with marker in hand before scribbling down ‘Miss Galar Beauty Pageant Case’ at the very top before underlining it. The pen squeals loudly with each stroke.

“So we have two sisters, Flora and Francesca Warren aka Frankie,” you write their names along with their ages underneath and attach their photos which you printed off earlier.

Frankie’s photo is a school portrait and Flora is a photo you found online from a previous beauty pageant.

Your audience consists of Vulpix, Mimikyu and Rotom who watch you silently as you work whilst Gengar returns with three cups of steaming hot Boltund Dash Coffee on a tray.

“Thanks Gengar,” you utter, taking the cup off him and he grins in response; he raises his own mug and Mimikyu takes her mug off the tray with a shadowy tendril.

The three of you take a sip at the same time.

“That’s a damn good cup of coffee,” you add.

Gengar nods whilst Mimikyu proceeds to devour the entire cup, swallowing it whole into her body.

“No, no, give that back; that mug belongs to Sonia.”

Mimikyu squeaks angrily but you shake your head firmly. With a growl, she navigates a tendril into her mouth and pulls the mug out and settles it atop the desk. You rub your chin, realising Mimikyu must possess hammerspace.

“Right. Let’s get started then. Flora was to compete in this year’s Miss Galar as Miss Motostoke but unfortunately she passed away a few weeks ago. Frankie immediately came home after news of her elder sister’s death. She was attending boarding school in Kanto. Flora is on the verge of becoming an evil spirit unless we do something about it. She haunts her family and Flora believes she will be able to move on if she gets to participate in a beauty pageant which we can reenact in order to satiate her restless spirit. This can be achieved if I let her possess me.”

Gengar lifts his hand up.

“Yes?”

He says, are you sure about this? Are you okay with a ghost possessing you? What about the incident with Edward Rose?

“I understand your concern but I can risk her possessing me. I managed to expel Edward Rose, I’m sure I can expel her too if anything goes wrong.”

Gengar nods a little unsurely and takes another sip of his coffee.

“Now Flora’s murderer is…” you quickly glance at the article you left on your desk, “Her boyfriend, Hank Walthamstow. Also known as ‘Hank the Tank’ to locals.”

As expected, the news article doesn’t provide enough information, namely the nature of her death. The paper articulates that it was a ‘passion of crime’ and that her boyfriend was suspected of the murder and was in custody.

You ask Rotom to commence a quick search online using viable resources but he comes up with nothing; you’re baffled that there is limited information on her murder but it could be due to Rose censoring negative press on the pageant, which was what he did for his art gallery.

The lack of information frustrates you either way and it means you may need to call Graves, which you won’t do because he has already made it quite clear he does not want you to work on cases and you had also agreed to take a break.

“I suppose I have no choice but to speak to Hank Walthamstow in person then," you mutter, the pokemon watching as you pace up and down. "Let’s find out where he’s being held.”

“Bzzrt, good idea,” says Rotom as he runs a quick search. “Bzzzrt, found him! He’zzzz being held at Wyndon Jail!! Unfortunately, it zzzzeemzzz we have mizzzed vizzziting hourzzz.”

“It’s fine, can you arrange a visit for me first thing tomorrow?”

“You got it!"

“Thanks, Rotom.”

With that out of the way, you pin up Hank’s mugshot beside Flora’s picture. He is an attractive but bulky-looking young man with fearful eyes.

After a few hours of further study, your board has taken more distinct shape and form as you begin to link some of the information together, including a full breakdown of what every contestant had to participate in the beauty pageant, most noticeably a Q&A session, swimsuit and dress catwalk and a talent showcase between three to five minutes long.

Furthermore, the actual Miss Galar beauty pageant took two and a half hours. With Flora as a single contestant, you calculate that you should be able to squeeze everything into roughly half an hour.

Tired and wanting a change of scenery, you head upstairs to sit on the floor with your papers in hand against the white railing, allowing your legs to dangle.

During this time, your pokemon have decided to do other things – Mimikyu and Vulpix are getting along together very well and had spent the remaining hours playing together.

Rotom is sleeping whilst Gengar has remained by your side to help you out with the whiteboard and the documents.

Leon had messaged you earlier too, informing you that he will pop by the lab when he’s finished, which inexplicably makes you plough through your work at an increased pace so you are ready when he is due to arrive. It's growing dark outside and the lab is swamped in a tawny orange glow from the sunset outside.

You yawn and your stomach grumbles loudly. You’ve been so wrapped up you did not even eat.

A gentle knock on the door grabs your attention and you peer through the gaps of the railing as the door is pushed open; Leon enters along with Charizard at his heels, glancing around until he looks up and spots you upstairs.

“Leon! Charizard!” you exclaim happily.

“Hey – oh,” he looks stunned by your appearance, “I’ve never seen you wearing your coat before.”

“Oh, this old thing? Yeah, that’s because whenever I wore it outside, people kept staring. It attracts too much attention.”

Leon looks at you from head to toe before his cheeks turn a bit pink. “…It suits you,” he utters and you grin in response, standing up and dusting yourself down. “Anyway, are you ready to go? My mum says she has a surprise for us.”

“Sure, I’m almost ready. Just let me get the rest of my papers….”

Leon and Charizard saunter further into the lab and he heads over to the whiteboard and your desk, peering at a small stack of books in one corner before ultimately realising that you’re the author.

Intrigued, he flips through them one by one and as you approach, he murmurs, “I had no idea that you had written and published several books.”

You hop down the stairs and in front of him, shrugging and with your hands in your pocket, “I don’t like to throw it out there.”

Leon smiles at you appreciatively; he is seeing you in a new light and you ask if he’d like to keep one but he tells you he wants to go to the stores and buy it to further support you.

You didn't quite greet him properly and he's thinking the same as he shyly reaches for your hand and tugs you closer to him, sliding his strong and sturdy arms around your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek against the fluffy, soft material of his cape. You close your eyes and sigh quietly, relishing the feel of being in his arms as he buries his nose against the side of your head and into your hair.

"How was work?" you ask, your muffled against the thick fabric.

"Fine," he replies, though he sounds tired.

He proceeds to tell you everything he did whilst you hold onto him tightly, snuggling against his chest and enjoying his warmth and he chuckles before he smooths his hand over your hair and pecks the crown of your head.

Unfortunately, you must pull away and he flings his glance to your whiteboard; it is full of your diagrams, bullet points, blurbs and random scribbles. Some of them are connected together by a red string and pins.

Stunned by the intricacy of it all, Leon asks, “What is all this?”

“It's for the new case; it’s rather complicated."

“How so?”

“Here, let me explain. Have a seat,” you guide him to sit down on an empty chair in front of the board.

As he sits, he crosses his arms over his broad chest and his muscles clench under his tight-fitted champion shirt. You gulp down unconsciously as you receive an eyeful, heading to the board to begin the explanation of your findings.

“The hairclip we discovered last night belongs to a dead beauty pageant contestant called Flora Warren. She was Miss Motostoke. According to the press and police reports, she was murdered by her boyfriend, Hank Walthamstow.”

You witness the wince on Leon’s face yet you continue.

“He’s from Stow-on-side and he trained with Bea as a Blackbelt,” you say, gesturing to his mugshot on the board, “He’s currently being held in Wyndon, pleading not guilty. Flora’s body showed signs of struggle and assault. I don’t have a full autopsy report but it said her exact time of death can’t be determined due to the decomposition of her body when she was found but the good thing is I’ve seen her ghost and from what I can see, she appears as she died. Her neck is broken and she has several grievous injuries on her head.

“Her Rotom phone is missing and it’s believed Hank did away with Rotom as well…which is easier to do than people think. All you need to do is separate a Rotom from its device to incapacitate it. I met her family today - her little sister wants me to help her move on, but I believe the circumstances of her death warrants further investigation so I booked myself in for a visit tomorrow and I’ll speak to Hank myself.

“I’ve also spoken to Flora and she believes she will move on if she gets the chance to compete in the pageant. She doesn’t remember anything about her murder either so for the time being, I’ve proposed we reenact the pageant to appease her spirit. I will let Flora possess me so she can carry out her performances and move on. I’ve already asked Sonia and Jace for help and they’ve agreed.”

It occurs to you that you have never spoken to anyone except Jace and Sonia when it comes to cases and you’re somewhat nervous about Leon’s response to all of this.

The conflict is evident on his face. “...She’s certain she’ll move on if she competes in the pageant?”

You nod.

“This sounds dangerous.”

“I’ll be okay, Leon. Trust me,” you reassure him. “She’s on the verge of becoming an evil spirit. If we don’t act now, it’ll be too late.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Are you certain about this?”

“I know this sounds crazy, but yes I am. Please trust me. I know what I'm doing.”

He nods. “Okay. I trust you and it sounds like you need my help too so I’ll help you in any way I can. Ah, I can be the judge,” he replies with a grin, “I should be free this Saturday evening.”

How amazing is it that Leon will extend his help no matter what the circumstances are?

“Leon! Thank you so much! I could bloody well kiss you right now,” you belt out without thinking twice before you step forwards, placing your hands on each side of his face before pressing your lips against his quickly.

Taken aback by the kiss, Leon blushes furiously but he’s smiling when you pull away.

“Great!” you continue to exclaim to yourself, twirling the cane in your hands happily. “Everything’s all coming together nicely.”

“How do we know if Flora has moved on? And when she’s possessing you, will you still be yourself?”

“If I remember correctly... when Edward Rose possessed me, I was still me. I was self-aware," you mutter, “And I should know if Flora has moved on or not. Hopefully, we’ll able to witness it. Do you have any further questions?”

Leon ponders before he throws a quick glance to one of your books. “I’ve never asked you about your research. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you earlier..."

You smile widely, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. What would you like to know?”

“What kind of research have you conducted regarding the spirit world?”

“Excellent question. Allow me to elaborate.”

Swapping the cane for a marker pen, you switch the board to the other side where it is clean and blank.

“It’s known that we occupy a three dimensional space,” you say as you draw various lines messily on the board, “dimensions are simply the different facets of what we perceive to be reality. However, it is widely theoreticized that there are more dimensions, either within these or in between these or even outside of these.

"The possibilities are simply endless, but this also means that across these millions of universes, there is a singular universe which has remained constant and consistent across all of these since the creation of the universe.”

Leon continues to watch as you feverishly draw on the board, drawing various overlapping circles along with arrows going right and left and back again, crossing over each other.

“And this singular, consistent universe is known as the spirit world, or ghost world, land of the dead, the great beyond, take your pick,” you mutter, “it’s another dimension that solely exists outside of time and space and has remained unchanged and unaffected for eons. It’s where spirits and ghost pokemon reside and they can freely travel back and forth between their world and our world. Unlike our universe, separate universes cannot be branched off from this one. It will always remain as one, singular spirit world.

“However, our ability to comprehend it is simply beyond our mental capacity. Does this mean heaven and hell does not exist? Not really, the spirit world could be a form of limbo or purgatory. So you’re probably thinking ‘what does this all mean?’, ‘what does this world look like’ and ‘who created it’?? Well, these are certainly great questions and I myself haven’t seen what the spirit world looks like because Gengar once informed me one had to be dead in order to get there but I’ve seen a portal before.”

“Where?”

“In the basement of my old house. My dad researched on communication between the spirit world and our world. He discovered there's many forms. Ghost pokemon, for example, are a source of communication. They're pretty much bridges between our world and theirs but there's still a lot we don't know about them. My dad also discovered the spirit world can receive and transmit communication in the form of binary or morse code but we never figured out the origins of the transmissions-“

Leon waits for you to finish, but you grow silent.

“...Anyway, the answer as to who or what created it, Ezra told me it was created when the universe was created...which was probably fourteen billion years ago, maybe more, but that’s another can of Weedles for another day.”

"What about Arceus?"

"Ezra says it wasn't Arceus. It was before Arceus."

"The legends say there was a void before Arceus."

"Well, yes, but who or what created the void, thus creating Arceus? Who is the creator of Arceus?"

"...The void?"

"Okay, but if I go back to my previous point, why was there even a void in the first place? And where did the void come from? I could dive into quantum physics and talk about the Big Bang Theory but scientists are still asking the question, 'what was the absolute beginning', 'was there something before it'?"

“I think people are quite content not thinking about that, or knowing in general," Leon replies, placing a hand under his chin in thought, "they’re rather content with the legend of the void.”

"That's what they teach kids in schools, surely there must be more."

Leon looks confused and you finish with a heavy inhale and an equally ragged exhale; your head is beginning to throb, your vision growing dim. Exhausted, your body no longer seems to obey you and you start to sway on your spot until your legs give way.

Leon rushes forwards and catches you in his arms, sweeping you up.

“Hey, are you okay? Take it easy…” he murmurs your name soothingly whilst you deliriously moan and mumble for him under your breath, “You need to rest.”

You shake your head weakly as he applies his palm over your forehead. Luckily, you’re not coming down with something.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“Yeah…coffee and tea.”

“And when’s the last time you ate?” he asks as he scoops an arm under the back of your knees whilst his other arm remains firm around your shoulder; he effortlessly lifts you up bridal style and carries you towards the direction of the couch.

“I…I think it was this morning…when we were camping…before we left to watch the sunrise…” you croak out sluggishly.

His eyes widen; that was more than twelve hours ago. He shakes his head. This simply won’t do. Once he’s arrived at the couch, he seats himself down and props you up in his arms, letting you rest comfortably against him.

Leon slips off his cloak before he lets go of you briefly to drape the cloak over your body and bundle you up. The cape is so nice and cosy. As the thick fluff of his cape tickles the base of your nose, you unconsciously rub your cheek against it. You sigh contentedly and let yourself sink against the rich, soft material as he carefully wraps you inside before he settles his arms around you once more and rests his chin atop your head.

He glances around the lab or so and the lab descends into silence for a second time; he sits with you for a few minutes or so until you stir and reopen your eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“Nmm…I’m fine…let’s go…your mum’s waiting…can’t afford to waste any more time,” you mutter, and he nods.

Releasing you, you carefully slide out of his hold and stand to stretch whilst Leon reattaches his cape back over his shoulders. You recall your pokemon and swapping your white coat for a warmer one, you join Leon at the door after ensuring the lab is properly closed up before locking up.

It’s dark outside and Leon offers you his hand.

Together, you make your way down the path, walking close, shoulders bumping. He’ll look at you and when you look at him, he’ll smile and squeeze your fingers.

“I told Sonia we’re together," you blurt out.

“Oh...how’d she take it?”

“She was really happy for us.”

Leon goes pink in response.

“I haven’t told Jace yet. I messaged Graves earlier. I don’t know how he will react.”

“…I haven’t told Raihan yet,” Leon confesses, “he's the gym leader of Hammerlocke."

"Oh."

"We're good friends and he’s always asking me to go on a double date with him and his girlfriend.”

“You can go now."

"Ah, yes, if you want."

Once you arrive at Leon’s house, the outdoor lights are switched off which you find strange; the front door opens and his mother and Hop greet you at the doorway, waving happily.

“Welcome home!!!” they cheer.

Leon’s mum is dressed in a chef’s outfit whilst Hop is wearing a bartender’s uniform, complete with bowtie. He tosses some confetti and blows into a kazoo whilst Wooloo bleats loudly by his heels.

“Mum…Hop, what’s going on?” Leon asks, bewildered.

“We’ve prepared a nice dinner for you!” Leon’s mother exclaims and she quickly hauls you both inside and slams the door shut. “You two must be starving.”

You and Leon exchange glances before he grins widely and you let out a chuckle under your breath.

“I’ll be your chef today and the Hop-meister will be your maître d’.” Leon’s mum adds with a grin.

“May I take your coat, ma’am?” Hop asks, with his arm out.

“Oh, Hop,” you squeak out, whilst Leon looks a little embarrassed. His mother merely winks at him however, so it’s best to play along with their little skit and you remove your coat. “Thank you.”

Hop gathers your coat and turns to Leon next, “And may I take your cape, sir?”

“Um…okay, thanks,” Leon removes his cape and hands it to his brother who proceeds to scurry to the coat rack with Wooloo bounding after him.

“Unfortunately, dinner won’t be ready for another ten minutes. I do apologise for the wait but I will send your maître d’ to get you when it is ready,” Leon’s mum says and she grabs Hop and they return to the kitchen, leaving you and Leon alone.

With a smile, Leon nudges his head to the stairs. “I have something to show you.”

Slipping your hand into his, you both scale the staircase and he follows the signs to his room; once inside, he flicks on the light and you move to sit on the bed. His room  hasn't changed a bit; it looks exactly the same as last time.

He heads to his closet, opening the doors to reveal a hanger that’s holding up a red coat with a black lapel, gold buttons and cuffs. There are also a pair of pale light trousers and black riding boots to complete the look.

“This is what I’m wearing to the party,” he says as you stand up and join his side.

“It's lovely. I should wear something that matches this then,” you utter and an image of a wine red dress with black heels springs in your mind. Maybe you could complete it by fastening a white corsage?

Leon blushes. “Um, yes, but it’s entirely up to you.”

“I still don’t know how to dance though.”

“Let’s practice now. Give me your hand.”

You feel anxious as you slip your hand into his; he holds it firmly then slips his other hand over your waist. You're standing very close together and you throw your glance around, wondering if there’s enough room in general and when you look at him, you notice he hasn’t looked away from you, his gaze pinned on your form.

“I’ll lead, starting with my left foot, so you should step back with your right,” he instructs, and you nod.

He steps forwards and you move backwards.

“That’s one step. Now I’ll step forwards with my right foot and you should step back with your left.”

You nod once more and you both complete the next step as he had outlined. Leon moves onto the third step and so forth. Soon, you have completed the simple steps and have shifted from the middle of the room to a corner near the desk, although you did step on his foot once or twice during the process.

“Sorry,” you say but he grins.

“It’s alright. You’re learning really quickly.”

“Thanks, I’ll practise more at home.”

“Just remember one-two-three.”

“Thanks for teaching me,” you reply, and Leon lets go of your hand to hold you by your waist.

“Um…should we practice now?” He asks shyly.

“Dancing?”

“No, not…uh, not dancing.”

His cheeks go pink again and you realise what he is talking about.

“Oh, right,” you reply, “yes, let’s practise."

"Should we sit down?" he suggests, "...the bed?"

You nod and together, you wordlessly climb over his bed, the mattress shifting under your combined weight as you sit opposite each other, cross-legged.

Your gazes meet and Leon's face soars to various shades of red as you clear your throat and you furl and unfurl your hands with trepidation, ready to begin. He watches you silently, his golden eyes glued to your form until he begins to lean forwards and you do the same until you are inches away from each other.

Leon drops his gaze to your lips before closing the gap, gently tilting your face up with his hand under your chin.

You blush from the action, closing your eyes as your lips finally meet. So much for practice, you think to yourself as Leon ravishes your mouth with his own; it’s a sloppier, needier kiss compared to last night and this morning, as though he's making up for the time you had spent apart. Leon presses his lips against you hungrily, deepening the kiss, and you’re not in the mood to correct him in any way.

Enjoying the feel of his mouth against yours, you kiss for what seems to be a long time and the room is quiet save for the sounds of your lips meeting and some light, muffled moans from the back of your throats. You move your arms to rest around the back of his neck, pecking him on the lips affectionately and he smiles against your mouths before encircling his arms around your waist and drawing you into his lap, capturing your mouth once again.

A polite knock on the door makes you both retreat in a span of a second, your hands untangling from each other.

“Hop!” Leon exclaims loudly whilst you pull down your shirt and adjust your hair.

Hop is grinning widely at you two and you cannot help but think how much he saw. “Pardon my intrusion, but your table is ready. If you’d kindly follow me, please.”

Leaving Leon’s room, Hop leads you downstairs, into the kitchen and towards the backdoor.

A nice aroma wafts in the kitchen, which is a chaotic mess; there’s a tower of dirty dishes sitting in the sink and all the hobs are occupied with all sorts of pots and pans. Leon’s mum is busy tidying up, but she shoots you a grin.

You step out of the house and into their back garden and you don’t see anything out of the ordinary until Hop flips a switch and the entire back garden flickers into life.

Their gazebo has been decorated with roses and fairy lights, along with a small two-seater table that has been carefully set up for you and Leon in the middle of the garden. The table is decorated with a candlestick and rose petals have been carefully scattered over the floor, lining the path.

Leon is stunned as you stand side-by-side; you let out a gasp of awe and Hop leads you to the table.

Hop pulls the seat out for you and as you sit down, thanking him, he presents you with a menu. Meanwhile, Wooloo throws a napkin over your lap and does the same for Leon.

You throw a quick glance to the Champion, who is obviously overwhelmed by the entirety of it at all.

Inspecting the menu, it’s been written by Hop in his neatest handwriting and you see there are two options for starters and desserts and three choices of main course. Leon’s mum and Hop have really outdone themselves. He leaves you alone so you can go through the menu together.

“Leon, your family are so lovely,” you mutter, watching as his cheeks go pink, “this is amazing.”

“They know how difficult it is for me to be seen in public with someone, especially if we were to have dinner but I apologise if this is too much for you, I can ask them to tone it down," Leon replies.

“No, there’s no need. This is wonderful."

Hop returns with a little notebook and pen a few minutes later. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes, we are, thank you,” you reply with a giggle, “I’ll have the salad for the starter and the fish for the main course.”

“Fine choice. Our fish is the most delicious in all of Galar and are simply sublime, madam,” Hop says with a grin. “And what would you like for dessert?”

“I’ll go for the tiramisu.”

“Fantastic. And for you, good sir?”

Leon gives his little brother a wide smile in response and orders the soup, steak and sorbet.

“Excellent choice, sir. It’s our chef’s specialty. And what would you like for drinks?”

“I’ll have a beer.”

“I’ll have water,” Leon says. Looks like he’s wanting to play safe.

“Very good. Thank you very much.” Hop collects your menus and returns to the kitchen with Wooloo.

As you wait for the food, you and Leon chat as Hop makes several trips to and from the kitchen; he sets a glass on the table filled with iced water along with your can of beer and promptly leaves, then re-emerges a few minutes later, balancing a plate and bowl in hands. It’s the soup and salad and Leon’s mum watches you through the window as Hops serves the starters.

“Bon appetit,” he says, kissing his fingers with a smack and you laugh as he bows and saunters away.

He joins his mother’s side in the kitchen, they exchange a high five, then they peer at the two of you outside, grinning hopefully.

You eat the salad quickly, growing nervous as you and Leon eat in this romantic candlelit setting. You’re aware of how close you are, that he’s watching you and suddenly you’re conscious of the way how you eat and also how handsome he is under the dim flickering light. When you look up, he's still looking at you and to calm your nerves, you take a few sips of your beer.

He inches his chair closer to yours and when the main course arrives, Leon’s mum suddenly steps outside, stops shortly in front of your table and does a little bow. She’s holding a bagpipe which she settles neatly into its proper position in her arms and she briefly explains that she will be tonight’s entertainment.

Clearing her throat, Leon’s mum takes a deep breath and begins to play, filling the garden with a loud but jaunty tune. You watch her cheeks puffing and her face seems to go a little red and when she’s finished, she wheezes slightly and wipes her forehead.

“Phew! I still have it in me…” she utters whilst you and Leon burst into applause. “Thank you, thank you, my dears…do enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She departs hastily after a bow so you can eat.

The evening progresses and Leon moves his chair even closer; you are sitting so close together he can place his hand over yours. And when the dessert arrives, you are so full you’re not sure if you can eat it but Leon’s mum had put so much effort in putting this dinner together just for you and Leon so you tuck in as much as possible despite your protesting stomach.

Hop eventually returns to clean up the plates once you’re finished, Leon wipes his mouth neatly with a napkin before rising from his seat and you look up at him expectantly as he offers you his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

“I would love to,” you reply, slipping your hand into his with a smile.

He pulls you up onto your feet and leads you further into the gazebo, sliding his arm around your waist securely whilst you loop your arm over his shoulder as he had taught you; with your hand in his, he begins to lead you around the small space of the gazebo.

Recalling his earlier instructions, you repeat the mantra of ‘one-two-three’ in an attempt to match his steps and to your surprise, you’re able to keep up with him and also, you have barely made any errors.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” you mutter.

“You’re doing great," he replies, and you smile as you complete another circle around the gazebo together.

You wish this evening will never end.

…

Meanwhile.

In Wyndon, Graves relaxes at home in his robe and slippers. He is a busy man but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t take some time off for himself every now and then for self-care.

And what a marvellous day today had been.

He had no problems, no issues at work. Everything had gone swimmingly and he had left the office in a good mood.

He didn’t think anything would ruin this day.

With his feet up on the table, he lounges in his leather recliner with a hot towel slapped over his face, eyes closed as soothing music plays in the background of his lounge.

“Ah, this is the life,” he mutters as he sinks into his plush armchair.

Suddenly, his phone hovers into the room, bobbing up and down by his shoulder. “Sir, you have a message from your god-daughter.”

“What is it? Read it out for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Rotom replies, before he says loudly, “I’m dating Leon. Thought you ought to know.”

Graves sits up properly, the towel peeling off his face and dropping over his lap.

“WHAT?”

…

[funeral-clown]

for @matttheratking

happy birthday king

you ever take a look at your hands and wonder, how did i get here?

i don’t

pepe the prawn/rizzo the rat 4 times someone thought they were dating and the 1 time they realized they were

1. Kermit

Kermit knocked on the door rapidly, trying to quell his rising frustration.

“Rizzo, c’mon, open up! The cast meeting is in ten minutes, and you still need to present your ideas for the Pizza Rat sketch! It’s cultural relevance is dwindling by the second!”

When no reply came, he grumbled loudly before lifting his tiny green hand to bang on the door again. Before he could connect, it swung ajar in a sudden jarring motion. Light filtered from the dressing room into the dim backstage hall, illuminating the shadowed wooden floor. Kermit wished vaguely for eyelids, so he could blink. Instead he looked down.

“Oh. Er. Hi there, Pepe, I was expecting Rizzo.”

“I know,” the prawn snapped, “I am thinking the whole county knows! Your frog lungs are very loud, and I,” he gestured grandiosely to himself, “am trying to take a nap!”

Kermit coughed, feeling awkward.

“Right. Well. There’s a staff meeting in ten minutes. What are you doing hanging around in Rizzo’s room anyways?”

The prawn shrugged.

“We are the same size. It makes his clothes the perfect size to steal, okay?”

Kermit frowned.

“You have more arms than he does!”

“I also have scissors, okay? Now leave! This king of prawns, he needs his beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, well,” Kermit fumbled for the reigns of the conversation, “Well. If you see Rizzo, tell him-”

“I will be telling him you want to see him. Okay? Okay! Now leave! You are late for your cast meeting.”

With that the door slammed shut. Kermit turned to leave, only to hear a rusty wheezing laugh.

“D’ya think he bought it?”

“Of course he bought it! I am an ACTOR, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now help me back into this pizza costume.”

Inexplicably flustered, Kermit dashed towards the stage for the meeting.

2.Bunsen and Beaker

Rizzo and Pepe were playing their usual game of “Who Can We Scam Into Buying Lunch” when Bunsen and Beaker slid across from them at the table. The friendly banter halted immediately as they blankly stared.

“Hello!” Bunsen offered cheerfully.

“Meemeep!” Beaker echoed.

“Uh. Hi,” Rizzo responded. “What, uh. Whatcha up to?”

“Well! I’m glad you asked, my rodentious friend! Beaker and I were hoping to share our luncheon with our two similarly minded friends today!”

Pepe’s antennae twitched.

“So you will be begging off food too?”

Bunsen and Beaker looked at each other and laughed.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, but we won’t be trying to steal anyone’s lunch. WE have worked tirelessly through the night, and have constructed a perfect alternative for the worker on the go!”

“Please don’t blow to table up,” Rizzo muttered, “Please, God, don’t let them blow the table up.”

“Don’t be silly! Of course we won’t be blowing anything up outside of the lab!”

Beaker nodded, meeping in agreement.

“However, as a pair of hard workers yourselves-” Pepe laughed- “We think this might interest you.”

“Is it food?” Rizzo asked bluntly.

“In a way!”

“Is it sentient?”

“Not so far!”

Pepe looked at him and shrugged. He shrugged in return.

“Alright.”

Bunsen jostled excitedly.

“Very well! Prepare to feast your eyes, and your bodies, on THIS!”

He rolled up the arm of his lab coat dramatically to reveal several stickers with various food shapes.

“Uh, Doc, I don’t wanna harsh your vibe here, but are you saying you’re edible, or are you trying the feed us stamps.”

“Not stamps, my dear friend! Oh no, these are no mere stamps at all! These are nutrition patches! A whole serving of food, compiled on a simple slab of sticky paper! We have cut out the need to eat entirely! We’re sure they will be all the rage.”

Beaker meeped excitedly, showing his own arms covered in piles of the things. Bunsen paused, alarmed.

“Beaker, I thought I told you to stick to just a few! These are still in beta testing, there’s no telling what wearing so many at once will do!”

Rizzo chuckled nervously.

“Hey, you guys haven’t seen Willy Wonka by any chance, have you?”

“No, why, does he work here?”

Rizzo and Pepe slowly started making their way from the table.

“Great visit. I would rethink the nutrient patch thing, though. Taste and smell and texture are all parts of what make food so great!!

“Plus, the unions, they will be all over you, okay? Workers will be told to wear patches instead of eat, it will be a whole mess, okay?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Prawn! Beaker and I have been in our own union for quite some time! Another thing we have in common!”

“....Yeah, sure, okay! Just be ready to juice him.”

“Juice him?”

Beaker slowly began to swell, turning purple.

“Juice him.”

In the frantic mayhem left behind them, one could almost miss the small exchange.

“How do you think he knew about the actors guild for small animals?”

“I dunno, okay? My question is how long until Kermit decides our next parody movie is gonna be Willy Wonka!”

“Honestly,” Rizzo added, “I’m shocked we haven’t done it already.”

3. Gonzo

“Wait, you’re moving out?”

Rizzo stopped to look up at him from throwing things in a suitcase.

“Of the room? Yeah.”

“But where will you go?”

Rizzo dropped the jacket he was holding and jumped up to sit on the bed.

“Well. It’s a bit pricier, rent-wise, but I was thinking down the hall.”

“You pay rent?”

Rizzo wished his eyes could roll.

“No you lamebrain, and neither do you! We all live in the same house, I just thought, you know, it might be time for me to move up in the world. Literally. I’m bunking with Pepe now, things are a little more my size with him.”

Gonzo frowned.

“Is this because I keep stepping on your stuff on accident?”

“It is, in fact! It is in part because of that!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“And I forgive you but you can’t help being a big.....whatever you are any more than I can help being a rat! And when a rat’s stuff gets crushed for the twenty thousandth time, a rat starts looking for other lodging.”

Gonzo sat on the floor so they were eye level.

“You’re not mad at me?”

Rizzo laughed.

“Nah, besides. I think your girlfriend wants to eat me.”

“Camilla would never!”

“A chicken can’t help being a chicken anymore than a rat can help being a rat!”

“Why not live with some of the other rats then?”

Rizzo scoffed.

“I’m related to most of em, and the ones I’m not want their own space too. If y’know what I mean.”

“I don’t!”

“Yeah that’s for the best. Anyway, aside from not getting stepped on anymore-”

“That was only once!”

“Ahem! Aside from not getting stepped on anymore, I think me bunking with Pepe would be good for us from now on too. Give us a chance to grow the act without being around each other all the time.”

Gonzo shrugged, setting a blue hand on Rizzo’s shoulder.

“Well. I like being around you all the time, Rizzo. We’re best friends. But if this is what you wanna do, go live with the prawn, I understand. Besides, I can finally fit that chicken coop in here!”

Rizzo laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah you go wild buddy. I’m gonna finish packing.”

Pepe poked his head in.

“Hey, Ritzo, you ready to go?”

Rizzo pulled Gonzo’s hand off his shoulder before hopping down.

“Yeah almost.”

Pepe squinted.

“There is a weird energy in this room right now, eh?”

“That’s just Gonzo. He can’t help it.”

“It’s a medical condition!”

“I pity your doctor,” Pepe stated.

Rizzo grabbed his suitcase and dragged it to the door.

“Hey buddy, any chance I can get some help with these?”

“Oh, sure!” Gonzo leaned over to pick them up, only to heave and huff dramatically trying to lift the tiny luggage with his fingers. “Oh wow, what do you have in these, rocks?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rizzo scoffed, “It’s the set of encyclopedias my mom sent me for Christmas. Now let’s go, it’s just upstairs!”

He and Pepe ran ahead before Gonzo could object.

“Well,” he muttered, “At least the suit each other well.” He jiggled the suitcases in silent reiteration of the pun.

4. Miss Piggy

She saw them practicing ballroom dance with Pepe in a tutu and just assumed.

+1

Rizzo frowned at the mail.

Pepe looked up from the blueprints of the vending machine he was studying.

“What’s wrong? You look upset. We’re finally pulling off the snack heist of our dreams, okay! We’re never paying for chips again! This is a time of joy, okay?”

Rizzo hesitated.

“I just got a letter from my ma.”

Pepe got up and walked over, concerned.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, it’s alright, it’s just. Well, look.”

Pepe scanned it over.

“Congratulations on your- Oh. She thinks we’re?”

“Yeah. And I mentioned it and turns out she’s not the only one.”

Pepe frowned.

“Really?”

“Yeah! Like what, just because we live together, we’re in a relationship?”

“And eat together every day?”

“And are listed as each others emergency contacts?”

“And know each other’s bank account information?”

“Wait, what?“

“Nothing! We were listing things!”

“I’m changing my pin number.”

“Eh, I can guess it again.”

“Pepe!”

“Back to the list, okay! And we, uh, we share clothes!”

“Sure, if laundry’s backed up! And we, um, we hatch schemes together!”

“Snack heist!”

“Snack heist!”

“And sometimes at night if I am lonely I steal your blankets to simulate the warmth of another person!”

“That’s- I have nothing to say to that.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to do that if I could just crawl in with you, okay?”

“You- Wait. Pepe do you WANT to be in a relationship?”

“I don’t know! If we get married we can’t testify against each other in court.”

“True. And it would be a pretty big tax break, if either of us paid taxes.”

“Kermit and Piggy would finally have competition, okay? We can overthrow there cutest couple powerstreak and usher in a new age! It’s the time of rat and prawn, okay!”

“Year of the rat, baby!”

“And prawn!”

“And prawn!”

They both stared at each other for a moment.

“So I guess she was right. We are in a relationship.”

Pepe shrugged.

“Eh. I could do worse. And you could not do better.”

Rizzo wished again, and not for the last time, that he could roll his eyes.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

[thelastspeecher]

41. Insanity In your “recoil” au?

41. Insanity

Here’s a scene that is technically missing from my “Recoil” fic: Fiddleford’s mysterious backstory, which he shares with Stan in Chapter 4.  Sorry for the awkward ending, I wanted this to fit in neatly with what I had written in Chapter 4, so the beginning and ending have a sentence taken directly from the chapter.

No proofreading, we die like men.

Prompt List

——————————————————————————————

              “Talk, Fiddledork,” Stan said, takinga swig of his whiskey.  Fiddleford sighed.

              “Like I said, Stanford and I wereroommates in college.”  Fiddleford lookedout the kitchen window, his eyes misty from memories of late-night studysessions, joking around in lab, and the shared determination to rise above themediocre school they were attending.  “Wegot pretty close there.”

              “Close,” Stan echoed.  He raised an eyebrow.  Fiddleford felt himself flush.

              “Get yer mind out of the gutter,”he muttered gruffly.  Stan snorted.

              “It’s funny when you try to beintimidating.”  Stan leaned back in hischair, his eyes roving over Fiddleford’s body. “When I told you to talk, I didn’t mean talk about your collegedays.  Those obviously went well, if youwere willing to come to Bumfuck, Oregon to help Ford with his research.”

              “You were willing to come here tohelp him, and the last interaction you had with him was an intense falling out,”Fiddleford retorted.  Stan pursed hislips.

              “Hmph.  Guess you might have a point, stick insect.  Maybe Ford did get some of Mom’ssilver tongue.  And here I was, thinkingI got all of it.”  Stan raised his glassof whiskey to his mouth.  “Shermie suredidn’t get any,” he mumbled into the amber liquid.

              “…Stick insect?”Fiddleford asked.

              “You’re skinny and got big eyes.  Talk about whatever happened between you andFord.  I told you, now you tell me.  That was the deal.”

              “Yes, yes.”  Fiddleford closed his eyes and took asteadying breath.  When he opened hiseyes, Stan was still staring at him, waiting for him to speak.  Stan and Ford’s eyes were the same rich, deepbrown, but while Ford’s were hidden behind glasses most of the time, nothingprevented Stan’s from boring into Fiddleford accusatorially.  “I was happy in Palo Alto.  Had a wife and son, I was startin’ up my owntechnology company.  I ain’t quite surewhy I was willin’ to drop it all, even temporarily, to come help Stanford.  But I did.”

              “Cut the crap and get to the story,”Stan said, exasperated.

              “Stanford asked me to help himwork on an interdimensional portal.  Hesaid that it would usher in a new era of enlightenment.  A second renaissance, but this one focused onscience and technology, rather than art and music.

              “When I arrived in Gravity Falls,he was so out of his depth, it was almost cute. He’s a clever person, but he don’t know a screwdriver from an Allenwrench most days.  And don’t get mestarted on the lack of safety protocols.”

              “Yeah, he set his face on fire inhigh school a few times,” Stan said idly. “‘Course, the one time it spread enough to burn furniture, Pops thoughtI did it.”  Stan shook his head.  “I’m a lotta things, but I’m not a pyro.  Being a pyro is a lose-lose situation unlessyou get your rocks off to it or whatever. And I don’t.”  Stan gestured withhis drink.  “Continue.”

              “As the portal progressed, Icould feel somethin’ naggin’ me.”

              “Something other than Ford?  He can be a helluva nag,” Stan said.  Fiddleford sighed.

              “Do you want me to tell ya thestory or not?”

              “It’s not my fault you suck atstorytelling.”

              “Just- hmph.  The thing naggin’ at me was my own mind.  That voice in the back of yer head that tellsya when somethin’ just ain’t right.  Iwent over the projected outputs of the portal, once, twice, thirty times.  Each time, it suggested to me that if theportal got turned on, somethin’ catastrophic would occur.”  Fiddleford felt his hands begin to shake as heremembered the moments leading up to everything falling apart.  The day that he had realized they wereheading down a path no one should traverse.

              “You sure you don’t needsomething stronger than water?” Stan asked. Fiddleford shook his head.

              “I’m fine.  Anyways, I tried to talk to Stanford aboutit.  I compiled all his research m’selfand presented it to him, showin’ him he could find that recognition he wanted,without turnin’ on the portal.  And hecould have.”  Fiddleford’s voice broke.  “But he didn’t.  I went along with it, ‘cause I’d given myword, and the day we tested the portal, those terrible safety precautions bitme in the nose.  I-”  Fiddleford took a breath.  “I went through.”  Stan’s full attention was now focused onFiddleford.  He leaned forward, searchingFiddleford’s face.

              “What did you see?” Stan askedquietly.  Fiddleford’s entire bodyshuddered in revulsion at the memory.

              “I don’t want to put it to words.  It- it weren’t natural, it weren’t right, it-it was the stuff yer nightmare’s nightmares are made of.”  Fiddleford was sure Stan would scoff at hisvague phrasing, but Stan seemed genuinely moved.

              “Holy Moses,” Stan breathed.  Fiddleford frowned at him.

              “I didn’t tell ya anything,really.”

              “Not with your words, but the wayyour voice sounds.”  Stan ran a handthrough his hair.  “I flipped throughFord’s journal a bit.  If you could handlethat bullshit, I get the feeling even I would be disturbed by whatever you sawin the portal.”

              “You would,” Fiddlefordconfirmed.  He took a deep breath.  “Stanford pulled me back out.  He says I was unconscious, then raving like amadman.  I don’t remember that part.  I just remember grabbin’ him by the shouldersand begging him to destroy the machine, once and fer all.”  Fiddleford looked down at the table.  “But he wouldn’t.  So I left.”

              “That’s why you lost yourmarbles?” Stan asked.  “The thing you sawin the portal?”

              “Not- not quite,” Fiddlefordhedged cautiously.  “It was the thingthat made us part ways.  But my screwsgot a bit loose fer reasons indirectly related.”

              “What were those reasons?”

              “My memory-erasin’ device turnedout to have some rather serious side effects,” Fiddleford said quickly.  Stan spat out a bit of his drink and coughedloudly.  Once his coughing fit hadpassed, Stan gaped at Fiddleford.

              “Way to bury the lede,Fiddlesticks!” he wheezed.  “You built somethingto erase memories, and that wasn’t the first thing you mentioned?”

              “You wanted to know about my relationshipwith Stanford.”

              “Yeah, but…”  Stan shook his head.  “Holy fucking shit.  You’re both goddamn mad scientists.”

              “I built it to help people forgetthe most traumatic things they experienced,” Fiddleford protested.

              “You were the test subject,sounds like,” Stan said.  Fiddlefordnodded.  “What did you forget?”

              “I mean, I forgot it, so I can’ttell ya specifics,” Fiddleford mumbled. He played with his hands.  “But itwas likely the more disturbin’ anomalies we encountered.  And-” Fiddleford closed his eyes.  “Itried to forget what I saw in the portal. But I couldn’t.  So I used it overand over again, just so’s I could have a full night’s worth of sleep.  Didn’t work. It only took other things.  I feltmyself fallin’ apart more and more, but I could still remember, so I didn’tstop.  I was on my last legs whenStanford found me at the library.”

              “You’re leaving something elseout,” Stan said slowly.  Fiddlefordlooked out the window hurriedly, hoping to avoid Stan’s penetrating gaze.  “What is it?”

              Consarnit, why’s he so intuitive?

              “If I’m leavin’ somethin’out, it’s not related to Stanford, so I don’t have to tell ya.”

              “Don’t know if I believe that,”Stan said.  “Seems like just abouteverything in this town is related to Ford in some way.”  Stan sighed. “But I’ll drop it.  Is that allyou’re gonna tell me?”

              “Yes.”

              “You’re not gonna elaborate onhow your memory erasing thing drove you to insanity?”

              “I wasn’t insane,” Fiddlefordprotested.

              “You were getting pretty damnclose.”  Stan held up his hands.  “But I said I’d drop it, so I guess I’ll dropit.”  Stan looked out the window aswell.  Just barely visibly gnomesscampered at the edge of the forest.  “Whatyou told me was some weapons-grade bullshit, but I guess I believe it.  I’d be an idiot not to, after seeing theother things I’ve seen in Gravity Falls.” Stan looked at Fiddleford.  “That’swhat happened.”  Fiddleford nodded.

              “That’s essentially whathappened.”

[imaginative-spirit]

hii! i found your twitter acc when i was searching for sefikura meta/analysis, and i found your tweet! i wanted to ask if you know some blog posts (or any posts) of their relationship analysis, as i am quite new to the whole ffvii series and i am intrigued by their relationship. i wanted to ask through cc but i noticed you dont have curiouscat so i’m asking through tumblr, sorry ;;

I didn’t mean to put all of this under a readmore but tumblr is being an ass so that’s what we’re doing now, I guess...

Hello!! Unfortunately I can’t really come up with anything on the spot, because despite seeing posts like that around before, I’m very unorganized and bad at keeping track of posts... so I decided to write you one on the spot instead, lmao!! I’ve been planning to write a more coherent, longer analysis for a while but still haven’t gotten around to it, but I’ll share some of my condensed thoughts here. The sefikura relationship is what intrigues me most about FFVII after all, and I usually yell quite a lot about them on twitter!

You say you’re new to FFVII, which means that I should definitely give a spoiler warning here. I’m going to address spoilery stuff from the OG, Remake and also some of the compilation material, because it’s hard to talk about their relationship without doing so. (I’ll also assume you’re familiar enough with the world of FFVII to know what I mean when I talk about stuff like SOLDIER, Shinra, Jenova, the Lifestream and such... this would get too long if I explained all of that here, lol)

Okay, so. Cloud and Sephiroth are narrative foils, which means their stories and arcs parallel each other in many ways. The most central themes surrounding them are their loneliness, sadness and how they cope with trauma.

Sephiroth was most likely raised by Hojo in a Shinra lab, and if you know Hojo, you know that there’s no way Sephiroth was treated as anything but an experiment. He never knew his mother, and the only person he had any respect for - Professor Gast - vanished when he was young and this seems to have given him abandonment issues. Cloud, on the other hand, had a mother but not much else. He felt alienated by the other children growing up in Nibelheim and seems to have been generally disliked by the adults as well, due to them blaming him for the time Tifa got hurt. In other words, they were both very lonely as children.

Shinra sent Sephiroth to war when he was very young (people disagree quite a lot on how old Sephiroth actually is but it’s assumed that he was around 12), and as the years went by, Sephiroth became the poster child of SOLDIER. We know that Cloud grew to idolize Sephiroth for how strong and brave the media made him out to be (A.K.A. had a celebrity crush on him), and that was what inspired Cloud to leave town and try to join SOLDIER.

As we see in the prequel game Crisis Core, Sephiroth at this point is well-respected by his peers after his efforts in conquering Wutai. His two only friends are Genesis and Angeal, who are also SOLDIER 1st Class, but they end up leaving SOLDIER, which means Sephiroth gets left behind. Considering that he already had abandonment issues to begin with, being abandoned by his only friends must’ve hit hard. I’d say this sets the foundation for Sephiroth’s downward spiral. However, at this point, I would argue that Sephiroth is still a good person at heart, despite all the trauma he has endured. He persists, refusing to hunt down his deserter friends, and even begins a hesitant friendship with Zack, who was Angeal’s apprentice.

Cloud befriends Zack as well, but doesn’t make it into SOLDIER and instead remains in the ordinary Shinra infantry, which is a crushing loss for him because he can’t achieve his dream. It’s at this point I like to imagine that if Zack had introduced Sephiroth and Cloud to one another, things could’ve gone better. Sephiroth is older than Cloud and outranks him, but with how isolated Sephiroth has been for his entire life I think there’s potential for a meaningful friendship here. They’re both very lonely and neither of them is really a people-person, so I think they’d get along well once Cloud gets over his hero-worship and Sephiroth manages to open up a bit. I would say that sefikura, if Nibelheim didn’t happen, has the potential to be a healthy relationship.

But of course, that’s not how canon goes. The Nibelheim mission happens, Sephiroth finds out that he’s not human and finally snaps after years of mistreatment, burning the town to the ground. Cloud manages to kill Sephiroth, ends up spending several years as an experiment, gets injected with Jenova cells, goes into a coma, wakes up just in time to watch Zack die, and ends up so traumatized that he creates a false identity for himself as a former SOLDIER 1st Class.

We’ve now reached OG FFVII. At this point, Sephiroth, while technically dead and chilling in the Lifestream, uses Jenova as a vessel to move around and takes advantage of Cloud, using him as a puppet for his own gains. He constantly dehumanizes Cloud and generally doesn’t give a damn about him as a person, while Cloud resents Sephiroth but can’t resist his manipulations. In a lot of ways, I think Sephiroth projects his own trauma onto Cloud here, because if Sephiroth had to suffer as Shinra’s puppet for his entire life, then Cloud should suffer as Sephiroth’s puppet as well. As a victim of horrific abuse, Sephiroth has a lot of justified anger, but he takes it out on the wrong person entirely. It’s definitely a very unhealthy situation.

But of course, unlike Sephiroth, Cloud doesn’t let his trauma define him. He reaches his breaking point and falls apart completely, but he gets back up, because unlike Sephiroth, he has a support system of friends who stand by his side and work together with him to defeat Sephiroth at the end of the game. For most of his life, Cloud has been chasing Sephiroth. This is where he finally catches up and surpasses him.

And here, the tables turn. Cloud kills Sephiroth but that’s never stopped Sephiroth before. This is where Sephiroth first develops his Cloud-obsession. He fixates on Cloud so hard that his hatred keeps him from completely fading away into the Lifestream. Cloud is literally his lifeline. (Isn’t it romantic? lol) He returns in the sequel movie Advent Children, where he fights Cloud one-on-one and basically just taunts him for 10 minutes before Cloud kills him again.  It’s implied that Sephiroth can keep coming back as long as Cloud exists as well.

Canon beyond this has, for a long time, been unknown territory. There’s a sequel game called Dirge of Cerberus that the fandom at large pretends doesn’t exist because it’s... kinda weird to say the least, lol. And it doesn’t really have anything to do with sefikura anyway. People have written post-canon sefikura as something that continues to be toxic, but there’s also fic that offers redemption and forgiveness for Sephiroth, acknowledging that he was a victim too. It’s left very open-ended.

All of this basically explains how I see sefikura. They’re two people who were alike in many ways, who could have been friends before everything fell apart around them, if things had been different. But they never did meet, before it was too late. Instead, they keep chasing each other, full of hate even though they’re probably the only people in the world who could truly understand each other’s trauma. The only real difference is that Cloud had friends to back him up while Sephiroth was abandoned, and I really, truly wish they could get an opportunity to reach some sort of understanding. And that would basically be it...

...but then the Remake happened. Diving into speculation territory here. I firmly believe that the Sephiroth we see in the Remake is a time traveller, or is at least aware of the future to some degree, and that the remake is actually a sequel where Sephiroth is quite literally remaking OG ffvii. He’s completely obsessed with Cloud to a degree that he never was in the OG, and considering how loyal the developers stayed to the characterization of basically every other OG character this immediately stuck out to me like a sore thumb even though it took me until the end of the game to piece it together.

I’m not kidding here. Sephiroth is desperate for Cloud’s attention in the Remake. He's constantly trying to touch Cloud, everything he says to Cloud makes him sound like a pining ex-husband, and he generally doesn’t do anything to harm Cloud except scaring him shitless simply by showing up. He actually has quite a few moments when he’s very gentle with Cloud. At the end of the game he basically even proposes to Cloud by asking Cloud to join him and genuinely seems upset when Cloud rejects him. And even then, he claims he doesn’t want Cloud (nor himself) to die.

For the life of me, I can’t wrap my head around what Sephiroth’s goal is in the Remake and I have no idea what they’re planning to do with his character in future parts, but I’m very excited to find out. The sefikura content in the Remake was very delicious and at this point the only thing they could do to surpass it in the future would be to have them actually make out on screen, lmao.

I hope this is coherent enough to read, I basically just tried to condense everything I could into a neat little essay and there’s definitely things I didn’t mention here, lol. I’ll write a proper, more well-thought out analysis another time!

Also, if you want to ask me anything else or talk to me about sefikura in general, my DMs are always open, both here and on twitter ;D

[fortunei]

log #01

I want my Arknights rareships. Maybe I will write ‘em regularly. Also on ao3

--

Rhine Lab’s database room was always cold but medic quarter in Rhodes Island was not. Every now and then, Ptilopsis would wonder on the room like something has changed, but nothing considerably evolving.

The locker belonged to Gavial located farthest from the rest—actually, it is right beside her  locker—because of medic team’s initial assessment for her to be rowdy. The brash medic operator was untidy, but it is still manageable. And she is learning, or so Ptilopsis can quote from Warfarin.

The most beautiful locker and spotless table would be awarded to Nightingale, or it is Shining who tidied it up for her when she didn’t notice. They shared a locker, actually – it is Shining’s own request and Dr. Kalt’sit complied.

Hibiscus’ locker will be the next to the great tidy list, but sometimes her twin sister, a Caster with sharper-looking horns, would litter stick notes on the door.

Perfumer’s locker will somehow change its odor every day, and it is truly what that makes the room smells so good and refreshing. Perhaps she stored some of her freshly-scented flowers in, much like how Myrrh placed her herbs in the locker.

Ansel’s one is your average boy locker setup; not too stuffy, not too extravagant, but then Orchid from Reserve Op 6 will somehow finds her way to hang a designer clothes for Ansel to wear.

Then there’s Warfarin and her countless blood packs, so much that Dr. Kalt’sit always snoop around to check whether she didn’t take too much even though Warfarin said that it is for her research.

And then to Ptilopsis’ left side, Dr. Silence’s locker.

Ptilopsis didn’t know whether it is a habit since she was still in Rhine Lab or not, but she happened to know Silence’s locker passcode by heart. It wasn’t like Silence told her or she was happened to look at her way when typing the keypad. There was a certain trick in data mining that Ptilopsis learned during her past work, meaning she can actually guess every passcode of lockers by the room. But of course, she doesn’t want to do a needless prank – well, at least without payment.

Her yellow eyes flickered to the singed part of Silence’s locker, remembering the time Ifrit barged there to sneak a present and Gavial chased her away. Thankfully, the medic quarter doesn’t have to turn into an ash heap as Ptilopsis’ interruption came in the right time.

“Ptilopsis?”

She looked up, her hand withdrawing from the locker. The familiar voice belonged to no one else but her mentor, her doctor, was there. Ptilopsis paused at the thought, her doctor – heck, Olivia Silence was a head researcher for any subject in Rhine Lab. Ptilopsis might be her assistant but she was also another patient.

She adjusted her glasses as she stepped in the quarter, a board stayed on her wings.

“Are you doing some checkups?” Ptilopsis asked. “May I do something to help?”

“It’s alright, today’s my turn.” Silence shook her head. “There’s a little compiling I need to do since Guard operators condition are somewhat … sketchy.”

“Let me help.” She offered again. “Data management is my scope of work. If my calculation is correct, with me helping the compiling, it will help the output by 75%.”

Silence made a face, before she eventually stopped arguing, messaging her temples instead. “Persistent as always, huh.”

Ptilopsis didn’t comment on that, it’s not—scratch that, it’s never of her rights to. Settling on the table of medic quarter, they started to shift several information from the board. The ex-data specialist was about to search the past database on her own tablet when Silence nodded off, eventually settling to sleep on her shoulder.

“Ah. She did it again. It’s already the-“ Ptilopsis stopped from mumbling. “Never mind.”

Silence would not really remember when she fell asleep after she woke up later anyway.

Ptilopsis continued the data compiling for a bit more, eventually finished replacing the older ones with the newer ones also sending the change logs for Dr. Kalt’sit to know. There was an error in data input section, but Ptilopsis knew that she could put it aside for now.

The white-haired owl glanced over to the peaceful face of the sleeping doctor, her doctor whom she always looked up to.

‘Her doctor’ – Ptilopsis repeated again. She really is persistent.

One that Ptilopsis was grateful about is that the medic quarter was warm for them to sleep, and it was quiet enough so Ptilopsis could wait – until maybe the leader she always looked up to finally, finally look at her way.

Maybe, someday, who knows? There was never 0% in probability, she knew it well.

[starlight-drive-in]

Catching Feelings Ch. 2 Seven/MC College AU

Awhile ago I was requested by @navarr0landia write a continuation of my College AU I started during Saeyoung week this year (which I was low key looking for the extra push to do anyway so thanks!) 

So here it is! Part 2 of what I am now calling Catching Feelings: 

AO3 Link  (Check here for warning/tags)

BEEP BEEP BEEP

The shrill sound of MC's alarm pierces through her slumber bringing her to consciousness, much to her dismay.

"Ughhh." She groans as the full weight of her headache is realized as soon as she moves to tap the snooze button on her phone. She groans again, smothering her face into the pillow desperate to sink back into sleep. There are no hangovers in dreamland.

Of course exactly 10 minutes later - BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

This time MC doesn't mess around with the snooze button, it's too early and her head hurts way too much for this right now, her morning class is just not going to happen. She grasps desperately at sleep again.

She's not sure how much later it is but begins to hear Mei rustle around the room, getting ready for class and then the light turns on. MC groans again and pulls and blankets up over her head in protest.

"How are you feeling there, Sunshine?" Her roommate asks.

"Mmmm" MC groans miserably in response. "Why did I let you take me to a party on a weeknight?"

Her roommate laughs quietly. "You should be thanking me."

"For what?!" MC asks incredulously.

"You seriously don't remember? Maaaaybe you should check your phone that's been going off for the past hour." Mei says before the bathroom door clicks closed.

Why? MC thinks in response pulling her phone off her nightstand and under her little blanket tent.  It's not like anyone ever texts…me? She thinks as she sees seven new messages from "Saeyoung (Crazy Cat Guy)"

"Oh, shit." She mutters as memories from the night before - as well as a healthy dose of embarrassment - flood in. Parts of the night are definitely blurry in her mind. She remembers the bathroom and Seven/Saeyoung with the cat. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes, and that smile. Her heart clenches at the thought of him. This isn’t good, It’s been less than 24 hours and she’s already in deep.

Bits and pieces of their conversation float through her head but she can’t seem to grasp the entirety of it. Ugh. Why did she have so many of those... whatever they weres? What did she say to him? She desperately hopes nothing too bad. It couldn't have been anything too bad if he was texting her right? Unless it was that bad and he was telling her how weird she was. Calm down MC, calm down. Just unlock your phone and read the messages, you can do it.  

She takes a deep breath and bites her lip, entering her lock code. Her screen brightens, making her headache more apparent, but revealing the messages to her.

Saeyoung (9:09am): PSHHT This is ground control to Astronaut MC, do you read me?

Saeyoung (9:25am): PSHHT I repeat. MC, do you read me?

Saeyoung (10:07am): lolol I really hope you don't have a morning class

Saeyoung (10:11am): How are you feeling, Little Kitty?

Saeyoung (10:15am): >.< Was that weird? Sorry that was probably weird

Saeyoung (10:20am): Please let Seveny know you are still alive when you can

Saeyoung (10:30am): I‘m in class now but Secret Agent 707 might have to go on a rescue mission afterward if he doesn't hear back from you ^^’

MC’s face heats up a few degrees as she reads the messages He’s worried about me! Her heart leaps again as she thinks over how to respond to him as quickly as possible.

--

Seven bobs his leg up and down nervously as he sits in his back corner seat of the Comp Sci lab, not hearing anything his teacher is saying about compilation errors. He unlocks his phone for the third time in less than a minute and stares at the notification bar. Was he too forward? Too weird? She didn't seem to mind is weirdness too much last night but maybe that was because she was drunk? Or maybe something’s actually wrong, what if she had alcohol poisoning? Was she hurt, or was she just ignoring him? He didn't like either of those options frankly.

“Luciel?” He hears his teacher's voice pierces through his mind’s paranoid circling.

“Can you tell me why this code isn’t compiling correctly? Tell me where the error is.” His teacher looks at him pointedly, obviously trying to catch him off guard.

“Uhhhh” He stalls, scanning the code on the board. “You have a syntax error on line 23.”

His teacher - Mr. Vanderwood, seems a little disappointed he can’t reprimand him, ��That's cor-”

“And 47.” Seven adds.

“Wait, what?” Mr. Vanderwood says incredulously scanning the code himself. “You’re right… uhh thanks, I guess”

“No probs Ms. Vanderwood.” Seven replies casually.

“It’s Mr. Vanderwood, Luciel.”

“Right, right, won't happen again Vandy!” the class collectively giggles at the interaction that's quite common amongst the two

“LUCIEL!”

“Ah hahaha sorry!” Seven cowers, shutting up.

His teacher stares at him a moment longer before continuing, “The next type of error you may have is a runtime error, a runtime error occurs when….” - and just like that Seven has checked out and is back to his phone again, and he has two new messages! He fumbles a bit in his excitement but manages to get his phone unlocked.

MC (Q-T-π): Hey! Sorry for making you worry! I just woke up.

MC (Q-T-π): And if it wasn't weird I’d be worried it wasn't you I was talking to, but that doesn’t mean I didn't like it. :)

She doesn't hate him! She thanked him! Thank God. He impulsively grasps the cross around his neck in victory. She used a smile emoji! Does that mean he made her smile? Oh, he really hopes so!

He looks rapidly around the room. Realizing Vanderwood is busy helping someone else he quickly types out a reply.

Saeyoung: She lives! :D Seven can breathe again. How do you feel?

--

MC seats herself up in bed and manages to get at least her feet off the bed before she's alerted to another message, her stomach responds with a small flourish of butterflies. Wow, he's fast. She thinks, smiling and reading his reply.

--

Seven watches his screen faithfully for her next message.

MC (Q-T-π): Honestly? I feel like death D:

MC (Q-T-π): But talking to you is definitely helping this headache go away.

He can’t help but crack a wide smile.

Saeyoung: Glad to be of assistance!

He can’t just let the conversation die like this though. He has to think of a way to continue it, and that's when an idea hits him.

Saeyoung: I have something else that may help!

MC (Q-T-π): Oh yea, What's that?

Saeyoung: Seven’s magic hangover (and other ailments) cure-aaaaall… Ddddddrumroll plz

MC (Q-T-π): Dum-dum-da-da-da-dum-dum!

Saeyoung: Seven Star Energy Drink!

MC (Q-T-π): You have your own energy drink? :O!

Saeyoung: Uhhhh well, haha

Saeyoung: not officially

Saeyoung: BUT

Saeyoung: I’m sure it will help clear up that nasty hangover! And that’s not all!

Saeyoung: It would be hand-delivered by yours truly :)

He sends the last message and waits with bated breath for a reply.

--

The bathroom door opens and Mei steps out all ready for class and starts getting her things together. MC stares at her phone screen. He wants to come over? She bites her lip and thinks for a minute. She hasn’t even had a shower yet. She groans loudly and throws her head back onto her pillow in defeat, resulting in a powerful reminder of the headache she needs to get rid of.

Mei eyes her peculiar display. “Alright, tell Mei what’s wrong.”

“Seven wants to come over” MC groans.

“So?? That’s great. Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“He wants to bring me something to help my hangover.”

“Aww, and here we all thought he was just crazy. That’s so sweet! I’m still not seeing the issue though unless you don’t actually like him and that was just the drink talking last night?”

“No, no that’s” MC stutters. “That’s not it. It’s just… I look like garbage.” MC replies sitting up again so Mei can see her face, still covered in smudged makeup from the night before.

“Hmm” Mei considers. “High-quality garbage though, like rich people garbage. Ya know?”

“Thanks,” MC replies sarcastically.

“What I mean is, you just gotta clean yourself up a bit and you’ll be fine. Like a million dollar sofa with a stain on it.” Mei says tossing her a bag of makeup wipes, a brush, her foundation and a tube of mascara.

MC wipes her face down, using about 3 wipes to get everything off, and then starts her “low effort” look by pulling her hair into a messy bun with a few loose locks on each side.

Mei ruffles around in MC’s dresser “Annnd you probably want to change.”

MC looks down and realizes she’s still wearing what she borrowed from Mei the night before.  

"How many beige sweaters do you have, Girl?" Mei tosses her a particularly oversized one and a pair of black leggings.

"They're comfy!" MC defends, finally rising herself from her bed to change. "Oh shit. I forgot to answer him!" She adds a second later, frantically pulling her sweater over her head.

"You left that poor boy on read? He probably thinks you hate him now." Mei teases.

"Nooooo!" MC whines fishing her phone out of her covers.

--

Saeyoung leaves class and drives the short distance back to the RFA house, glancing at his phone more frequently than he should. It's been fifteen minutes, she's probably not going to answer. He shouldn't have invited himself over like that.

He walks in the door, no one seems to be home at the moment. He continues up the stairs.

MC (Q-T-π): That would actually be very nice of you, but fair warning I look like a hot mess :/

A sense of relief falls over him, and then excitement and then… nervousness? It's been a while since he's felt that particular emotion.

Saeyoung: I'm sure you look beautiful! :)

Saeyoung: I'll head over as soon and I can get everything together!

MC (Q-T-π): Can't wait :)

He reads her message as he enters his room, flinging his black and yellow backpack onto the small couch and whoops loudly with enthusiasm, jumping up and down in excitement.

"What the fuck?!" Saeran's voice rings out from the other side of the room as he whips around in his desk chair to give his brother one of his trademark glares.

It would seem Seven forgot to check the room for other occupants when he entered. "Oops sorry bro!"

"Yeah, whatever." He says, writing off his brother's little show as one of his typical little displays and going back to his work.

Saeyoung yanks his t-shirt off over his head, and walks over to the shared closet and begins flipping through shirts.  

“Great job with inviting people to the party last night, by the way. A lot of people came out!”

Saeran smirks. “Amazing how many people are willing to go over to a random house because a stranger told them there would be free alcohol.”

“Tell me about it, Jaehee’s totaling the amount now but we should have quite a pretty good amount to donate this time!”

“That’s good, I’ll ask her about it later.” Saeran answers, writing himself a reminder on a post-it and sticking it to his computer screen.

Seven check his teeth in the closet mirror, “We missed you though, where were you last night?” He attempts to pry, knowing his brother is a pretty private person but he hoping maybe he’ll tell him anyway.

“Out” Saeran deadpans, revealing nothing.

“Hmm, ok I won’t bug you about but just be careful ok? I’ve been hearing about some weird cult stuff going on around campus.”

Saeran scoffs. “Cults? Seriously? Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

“Hey, can I borrow this shirt?” Seven asks, holding up a short sleeve, white button-down of Saeran’s. Obviously forgetting his former train of thought.

Saeran tsks in response “Ah, I see you didn’t do your laundry again.”

“I was busy!” Pleeaaasee?” Seven begs.

“Ugh, sure fine whatever, if it even fits you.”

“Thanks! You’re my favorite twin!” Seven shrugs into the shirt it’s a little tight, but manageable.

“That statement makes absolutely no sense, but ok. What are you getting all dressed up for anyway? I haven't seen you make an effort like this since the RFA Christmas Ball.”

“The Defender of Justice, the Mighty Seven-Zero-Seven must deliver much-needed medicine to a pretty lady who has fallen ill!” Seven says dramatically, earning an eye roll from his brother before heading over to the mirror to style his hair the best he can without product. It's still a mess but at least it looks a little neater. He sprays a little cologne on his neck and then checks his breath. “Oof, that’s not gonna work,” He says to himself before looking over at Saeran. “Hey, you got any mints?”

“I always have mints,” Saeran replies tossing him a tin from the generous supply in his desk.

“Bless you, dear brother.” Seven dumps a few in his mouth and cronches on them, making Saeran cringe.

“You’re supposed to let them dissolve ya know.” Saeran grimaces.

“Yea, yea no time gotta go!” Seven turns his backpack upside down and dumps his books and laptop onto the couch before shoving new stuff into his backpack in its place, flinging it onto his back and heading out the door.

Saeran simply rolls his eyes “And don’t fuck up my shirt!” he shouts as he listens to his brother’s footsteps descend the staircase and go out the front door.

[crayolacrayonhalloweenpacks]

I Think We Have Chemistry

Summary: In which Logan is an indirect matchmaker and Roman uses some truly awful puns to flirt with his lab partner.

Words: 2904

Notes: This was Logince before it was Prinxiety, but eventually I realized how much I love writing platonic bantering Logince, so here we are. This is purely self-indulgent. I know only the basics of chem, so please don't murder me, although if you want to make any corrections that's cool by me.If you want some cool music to jam to after reading this try Dissolve by Absofacto. Thanks for reading!

Read on: Archive of Our Own

Roman loved lab days. If he were someone else, he would probably continue by saying that it was the last class of his day before he was allowed to return home and relax, finally freed from academic burdens. But he was him. So even though he loved science in general, the special thing about lab was it allowed him to actually do something. He enjoyed reading and studying as much as the next guy, but after a while, that could only do so much. Even though it only happened once a week, being able to physically perform an experiment, to work out conclusions for himself and see first-hand how the world worked...well, nothing could compare.

He also looked forward to lab because of his partner. Virgil was a “measure-ten-times-cut-once” kind of guy, and usually that kind of excessive paranoia would irritate Roman, but in this case, he found it almost endearing. Without his researching and proofreading skills, their lab reports wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of accuracy and thoroughness that they were. Something that could be annoying, however, was his lack of reaction to Roman’s attempts at flirting. Case in point: their current conversation.

“...and after that, I learned to always bring a change of clothes for combustion labs,” he finished with a triumphant grin. In the eighth grade, he’d damaged one of his favorite shirts, which read “NEVER TRUST AN ATOM: THEY MAKE UP EVERYTHING”, due to his lack of expertise in using lab equipment. It had been embarrassing at the time, but now it was one of his favorite stories to tell: he, a foolhardy yet earnest student, the victim of an overzealous, malignant Bunsen burner. It usually drew out a hearty guffaw from any crowd, but earned only an alarmed grimace from his lab partner. Jeez. This guy was impossible to impress! He slouched back in his chair, trying to maintain a facade of casualness. “Anyway,” he continued, “what were you saying?”

He felt his brother give him a pointed look from across the room. Roman could hear him already. Don’t waste class time, Roman! Pursue non-academic interests outside of school, Roman! He ignored him. Logan had always been a killjoy. He’d make up lost points on the final.

Virgil peered at the clock and cursed under his breath. “Well, I guess Google exists for a reason,” he quipped, dumping the remains of their half-completed lab down the sink.

Roman laughed, perhaps a little more boisterously than was necessary, and started scrubbing the beaker Virgil handed him. “Yeah, totally.”

The bell rang over the intercom just as they finished cleaning up. “I guess I’ll text you later to work on the report.”

“Sure thing!”

Virgil gave him a quick salute and walked out of the classroom, bookbag draped carefree over one shoulder, gait elegantly loose. His hair was growing out. Chestnut roots emerged in stark contrast to the dye, and one aubergine lock curled like a question mark at the nape of his neck. He watched him disappear into the hallway, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the rest of the sea of students.

He hated thinking that--that Virgil was indistinguishable. Virgil was very distinct. Despite not fitting the classic cool guy mold, he was undeniably cool. Maybe not popular, or athletic, or social, or--okay, he was getting off-track now. Virgil was quiet, but never standoffish. He was true to his word and always held up his end of the work, never slacking off or making excuses. He was precise and grounded and paid attention to the little details. Paired with Roman’s knowledgeability, they were a laboratory dream team. Possibly a dream team outside of lab work as well.

“That’s my chair.” A sharp voice crashed into Roman’s daydreams.

He jerked up, face flaming. Right--the AP chemistry class. “Hello! So it is! Well, I will get out of your way, then!” He scrambled for his books and shoved them into his bookbag. He winced when, in his haste, his lab worksheet crumpled under his textbook, but slung it on his back anyway and pulled out the chair with a flourish. “Sorry about that. Have a pleasant day!” he called to his teacher. Some of the students laughed good-naturedly as he strode out, including the teacher, who turned back to his lesson with a grin on his face. As annoyed as they had been, they still liked him, or at least thought he was decent. Was he not charming, funny, all the things a potential romantic interest ought to be? What was he not getting?

~

“I know you like him, but this is not helping your chemistry grade,” Logan said as soon as Roman got home.

“Were you just standing at the door this whole time?”

“I arrived only a few minutes ago.”

“We take the same route!”

“I walk faster.”

“At least give me an opportunity to sit,” he grouched, but launched into a vent as soon as he dropped his bookbag on the floor, ending the soliloquy with “I’ve tried everything--everything!--and he’s still so…” He sighed, pushing hair away from his face.

“Unresponsive?”

"Yes, exactly! He just nods and goes right back to the class!”

“Perhaps that’s because it’s a class.”

“I know, I know, participation, pay attention, bla bla bla. Jeez, Mom.”

“I’m your brother.”

“Don’t be so literal. My point is, you’d think he’d at least laugh just a little bit. Is that not so much to ask? I told him about the Bunsen burner incident, and he just looked at me like--”

“I’m sorry, the what incident?”

Roman snapped and pointed at Logan. “Exactly like that! Just like I was an--an idiot!” He groaned, draping one arm over his forehead and fanning himself with the other. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Hm.” Logan furrowed his brow thoughtfully, trailing off into silence.

“Don’t just sit there, it’s making me nervous,” he said half-jokingly.

“Well, have you considered that he doesn’t understand?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m saying it’s very much possible that he hasn’t noticed your advances. You may need to stop beating around the bush and be more direct.”

“This is as direct as it gets!”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been making normal conversation. Like how you talk to me--”

“Ew--”

“--so are you certain?”

“Quite--” he started, affronted, then stopped. “Wait.” The inkling of an idea that had just occurred to him started to solidify. Of course! He prided himself on his charisma. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? A little miffed that his ironically aromantic brother had just suggested such an obvious solution, he proclaimed, “Logan, you’re a genius!” and grabbed his bookbag.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a little research, so to speak. Nothing too excessive, but!” He paused for dramatic effect. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

Logan still looked surprised, but quickly settled into satisfaction. “Fantastic. I’m glad to see your spirits are raised.”

“Talk later, Pocket Bro-tector!” His mind already racing with daydreams, Roman sprinted back to his room, plopped in front of his desk, and flipped his laptop open. He could feel the electricity coursing through it when his fingers hovered over the keyboard, or maybe that was just the adrenaline. Either way, it was thrilling. He typed in a quick search and opened a new Word document to record. This was perfect. What could be more direct than a pickup line?

~

Roman waltzed into lab the next week and snapped up two worksheets from his teacher’s desk. He’d debated putting the plan into action through text over the weekend, but eventually decided it would be more effective in person. So here he was, in person, with a fountain of chemistry puns ready to fall from his mouth at the drop of a hat. There was no way Virgil wouldn’t notice now. Roman seated himself, fingers drumming in anticipation. He was golden.

Virgil walked in a few minutes later, placing last week’s lab report on their teacher’s desk. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh, you know. Same soup reheated.” On the other side of the lab, Logan was giving him a questioning look. He grinned back before passing Virgil a worksheet. Their fingers brushed, barely. He swooned.

Virgil’s eyes flew back and forth at lightning speed, scanning the paper. “I’ll grab the equipment if you can get the reactants.”

“Ooh, what are they this time?”

“Copper...some other stuff.”

"Ah! Speaking of copper, are you made of it and tellurium? Because you’re C-U-T-E.”

Across the room, Logan facepalmed.

“O...kay?” he said unsurely. “I’ll just. Get that stuff now.”

Roman turned his back, partially to get the samples, partially to recover. He chewed his lip. Okay. Focus, Roman! You got this! He patted his pocket to reassure himself. He’d printed the compilation of pick-up lines at the library earlier, and it was there if he needed it. Which he wouldn’t, obviously! His natural charm would prevail.

And also, he had the entire thing memorized. He supposed there was that as well.

Roman returned with five Ziploc bags of metal samples. The scale squealed on the tabletop when Virgil slid it over. “Is this everything?” Virgil picked up the manual again.

“Indeed! Let us begin.”

Virgil read over the first page again and frowned. “Hey, you know the periodic table pretty well, right? Which one is eleven?”

See? It’s all working out! “You, because you’re sodium--”

“U?” he frowned. “Isn’t uranium, like, ninety or something?”

“Yes--well, yes, but you see--I, uh--” he stuttered before going abruptly silent.

“What?”

Roman ducked his head, hoping his hair would hide his burning cheeks. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Uh, sure.” He scratched the back of his neck before holding out a hand. “Hand me the copper?”

~

The bell sounded over the intercom, signifying the end of the period. They had managed to get through the procedure on time, mainly because Roman was too preoccupied with worrying to continue with the pick-up lines. If he wasn’t being as straightforward as possible before, he was now. How was it possible for someone to be so oblivious?

“Same time next week,” Virgil deadpanned, getting up to leave.

Come on, Roman, he scolded himself. The period was ending. This might be the only chance he could get. “Wait!”

“Yeah?” He looked at him expectantly.

Roman cursed the stars. His mind had gone completely blank--so much for memorization--and it wasn’t like he could just pull out the reference sheet right now. “Um.” Very eloquent. Come on, something! “If there was no gravity on Earth, I’d still fall for you,” he blurted.

Virgil stared at him blankly, and without another word, left.

What was that? How had things gotten so bad that he’d resorted to physics? He hadn't even researched that! He was paralyzed. He wanted to dissolve like salt in water, until he was part of the air. He wanted to evaporate and catapult himself out of the troposphere. He snatched up his bookbag and stalked outside to head home.

Logan appeared at his shoulder not long after. “What was that?” he hissed.

He scoffed. “I did what you said. Hypocrite much?”

“When did I say to do--” He performed a series of elaborate, meaningless gestures. “--that?”

“You said to be more direct!”

“I didn’t mean like that!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant a heart-to-heart talk or something!”

“So for me to just--profess my love or something? Are you crazy?”

“Oh, so I’m the crazy one? Copper and tellurium aren’t even particularly reactive!”

“It was a creative liberty!”

“There are no creative liberties in science!”

“There are in the science of seduction!”

Logan huffed. “I’m not even going to validate that with a response.”

“Fine! I didn’t need you to rub it in anyway!”

They were so busy arguing they hadn’t even realized they were already home. Logan’s face softened. “I apologize, Roman. I shouldn’t have behaved so harshly. That was...inconsiderate of me.”

“Jeez, don’t say that. Now I have to apologize, too.”

"Did it really go so badly?”

"At least give me a chance to sit down,” he said, but didn’t even wait this time. “I think he hates me. He didn’t even say anything! Just--left.”

“I doubt that. The worse case is you made things very uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.”

“But even if that’s what happened, you should be able to patch things up and act in a professional manner. If things really aren’t working, you could always request to switch partners, but the school year will be ending soon anyway--” He cut himself off. “I’m not helping, are I.”

“Not in the slightest.”

Logan shuffled his feet. “As a gesture of goodwill and comfort,” he started. “Would you enjoy a hug?”

“Whoa, what? Human contact? From Logan Browne?”

“Well, scientifically speaking, it does release dopamine--”

“C’mere,” he said, throwing his arms around his brother’s shoulders before realizing he had no idea how to hug him. The material of his button-down shirt scratched his neck unpleasantly. He patted Logan on the back stiffly before peeling away.

Logan wrinkled his nose. “That was rather awkward.”

“Only if you make it.”

“Do you feel better?”

Roman paused. “You know what? I think I do.”

“Satisfactory.”

“I’m just glad I won’t have to see him for another week.”

"You can’t avoid him forever,” Logan warned.

“I know,” he muttered.

“Well, when you do have to confront him...I’m more than happy to act as moral support.”

Roman laughed. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Isaac Nerd-ton.”

He squinted. “How am I more of a nerd than you?”

“The glasses.”

“You have glasses, too--”

“Not anymore!” he declared, pointing to the corner of one eye. “Contacts now. And my eyes have always been better than yours.”

“We have the same prescription!”

“We do not!” he countered, before both of them collapsed in a fit of giggles.

~

“And that’s a wrap, folks! Great job!” Roman’s teacher clapped his hands. “You’re dismissed.”

Thank the stars. Roman had been filled with dread the entirety of lab and the preceding twenty or so hours. It had both relieved and heightened his anxiety when Virgil barely spoke or made eye contact, flushing red and looking away whenever Roman caught his eye. On one hand, he didn’t have to talk about the previous week’s antics, but on the other, the air felt too tense to so much as look at him. Glad that the period was over, he grabbed his bookbag and started towards the door.

He glanced over his shoulder to see where Logan was--he wanted intensely to beat him home for once--only to see Virgil talking to a taller boy who had a wide grin on his face. Roman recognized him as a Patton something-or-other who’d been in his class in eighth grade. They didn’t talk much, but he seemed nice enough. He hadn’t known he and Virgil were friends.

The two of them looked directly at him, Virgil swallowing nervously. Roman wheeled back around, more intent on leaving this time, as Patton laughed brightly. Apparently, he wasn’t so kind. Humiliation boiled in his gut. FIne. Let them laugh at him. He didn’t care. Or, at least, he could pretend he didn’t.

Logan sidled over to him. “He’s coming this way,” he muttered.

“What?”

“He’s walking over,” he repeated.

“I heard you the first time,” he said between gritted teeth, “but what?”

“I don’t know, I just-- Oh, hello. Virgil, is it?” he said coolly.

Roman’s head snapped up. He immediately wished he’d kept looking down.

Virgil stiffened. “Hey.” Behind him, Roman could see Patton giving a thumbs-up so enthusiastic he feared for his hand bones. What was going on?

“How may I help you?” Logan said.

“I, uh. Wanted to talk to Roman, actually.”

“Go ahead.”

“Uh.”

“Whatever you can say in front of Roman, you can say in front of me.”

Virgil scratched the back of his neck, sighed, and faced Roman. “Look, we have lab together, right?”

“Well, yes. We’re here right now.”

“So…” He groaned, burying his face in one hand and muttering something incomprehensible.

Roman frowned. “Pardon?”

“So,” he said, voice still slightly muffled, “I think we…” He sighed. “We have chemistry.”

Roman blinked. His stomach swooped. Was this a joke?

Virgil groaned again. “Sorry, that was just--absolutely terrible. I’m going to--” He pointed at the door.

“No, wait!” Roman grabbed his elbow before he could turn away. “That was.” He searched his brain for a word. “Uh. Thank you,” he finished lamely.

“Oh,” Virgil said. He stood up a little straighter. As if anything about that was remotely straight, Roman thought to himself with a snort. “Uh. I guess I’ll, uh.” He did a quick finger-guns motion.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” He saluted him and started walking past them.

“Cool,” Roman echoed.

Virgil turned back and gave a hesitant smile. If it weren’t for Logan standing behind to catch him, he would have face-planted on the floor.

Logan waved a hand in front of his face. “Well?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you all set?”

Roman felt dizzy and a little lightheaded, like someone had filled him with helium and released him into an infinite expanse of blue, blue sky. A slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah. I think so.”

~

Virgil did text him, a few hours later.

Virgil (Science) After next lab? Maybe the park or smth

Me See you then

Roman loved lab days.

[cecilspeaks]

149 - The General

If you can dream it, you can wake up in a cold sweat screaming about it. Welcome to Night Vale.

Night Vale, today is the birthday of Leonard Burton. Many of you are too young to remember Leonard. He was my mentor, my friend, and my predecessor at this radio station. I watched him die nearly 40 years ago, right outside this very radio station on Mesa Boulevard, when a cargo truck ran him over. The sight was – grisly and upsetting. But it is that sound, that horrible “snap!” I will never forget. Dozens of witnesses gathered around to help, but it was too late. I crouched over Leonard’s body, lying to him that he would be OK, attempting to coax him from some hint of life. But there was no final word to hear, not even a final breath. I noted there were tears on his cheeks, as a host of angels behind me moaned softly while touching fingers above a flaming trashcan.

Leonard was a dutiful journalist, a true servant of his town. He loved Boston cream pies and paintings of snakes. If he had lived, he would have been 117 years young today.  

Listeners, thank you for all your kind emails. A few weeks ago I was a tad – too revealing about my personal life and I mentioned, in passing, that I’m a perennial bachelor. It’s true. I’ve never had a long term serious relationship, but honestly, it’s fine. [chuckling nervously] I get out, I-I s-, I see people. You do not need to try to set me up on blind dates with friends, relatives, ancestral ghosts. Thank you, I’m doing OK. In fact, I had a date recently. His name is Carlos. He says he’s a scientist, well – we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. He has perfect hair, a perfect lab coat and – and teeth like a military cemetery.

The date started well. We went to dinner at Big Rico’s Pizza. He had originally suggested Gino’s Italian Dining Experience and Bar and Grill, the fanciest restaurant in town, but since it was our first date, I suggested something more casual. And that was when things started to go wrong. Before we had even placed our orders, Carlos already seemed – disappointed. Which, in turn, disappointed me. Then there was dinner. I was trying to tell Carlos about my job here at the station, about my family and interests, and he was like “I know I know, Cecil, we’re in love. You and I are in love. You just don’t remember it.” And I told him, “You’re cute, but this is our first date, so let’s take this slow.” And then he looked sad, and I quickly finished my pizza, and we left.

An update on the Blood Space War. A few weeks ago, the Polonian forces who oppose us seemed all but defeated, their remaining ships cornered in a tiny moon on the far reaches of the Crab Nebula. Yet our attempts to finally destroy the enemy failed, and the Polonians escaped and regrouped. We’re getting word that the General has agreed to step down from her post, and new leadership will replace her. Some of you may remember the story of Eunomia, the teenager who left our Earth 200 years ago to join in the Blood Space War. She was a dreamer,  a scientist, who was recruited for her sharp mind and later groomed as a master strategist for the Wolf Gang, our allies in this unending war. The Wolf Gang were able to use worm holes to travel great distances in mere moments. And Eunomia eventually discovered they could use these same portals to travel in time. After a brutal loss in the battle of Gamma Trachonus, Eunomia, then a captain, ordered her decimated platoon back in time to the beginning of the battle. With a greater understanding of their initial failures, she was able to better fight the battle again. Still she lost, only to return back through time to re-engage the enemy over and over again, she refought the battle until she won. Dozens of battles like this won led to her promotion to General of the Earth-Wolf Gang alliance. But after our most recent failure in the Crab Nebula, there is concern that she has lost her effectiveness.

An emissary from the Blood Space War has returned to Night Vale. They are wading through town in their oversized space suit. No doubt here to deliver us more terrible news from the front. Perhaps there will be no peace in our lifetimes. More on this story as it develops.

Our town is returning to normal, or so I have been told. Community college student and Blood Space War protest organizer, Basimah Bishara, said her mother exists once again. Basimah claims that a few weeks ago, her mother suddenly did not exist, thus making Basimah not exist but as of this week, they do exist. Basimah blames the time traveling actions of our General for changing the landscape of everyone’s existence. I can’t wrap my head around this, listeners, I-I.. I don’t remember Basimah ever not existing or, or-or that she was gone and returned. So it’s hard for me to believe this story. I-I took inventory of my own life and everything is as it always has been for me. I work at a radio station, I own a (-) [0:08:20] bike, I have a one-bedroom apartment with a soaking tub, walk-in closet, carpet shredder, knife compiler and a full-length mirror in the hallway. It’s an antique my mother handed down to me. She knows I love mirrors. I don’t have any siblings, but my mother’s alive and I talk to her regularly. We get along great, I-I-I called her to make sure everything is as she always remembered it, and she said, “What, I don’t know. Yeah sure, what a dumb question.” She’s always been witty like that. All is stasis. Nothing has been taken from my life.

The Intergalactic Military Headquarters reported all time high profits this month. They have built a stealth bomber entirely out of rare 1913 Liberty Head nickels, each valued at around  - five million dollars. Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald admitted their financial success was not attributable to the new smart phone app he developed. “[cackling] No-ho-ho-ho-ho,” Archibald said, sitting astride a white tiger. “That app was super glitchy, but my Dad’s crazy rich and knows a bunch of people in the Pentagon, so we’re go-o-o-od!” Archibald then took a massive hit of a vape pen. “This is my new thing,” Archibald said. “Steam pens! No nicotine, no THC, only pure water vapor. Did you know water is good for you? Like, it gives you life, man. If we’re gonna vape anything, we should be vaping vapor. O-o, what if that’s what vape means? Vapor! If it doesn’t, it should!” This has been your financial report.

Sad news, Night Vale. John Peters – you know, the farmer – reported that his brother James is returning to service in the Blood Space War. James has been promoted to General to replace the retiring Eunomia. “Dang, James is such a good brother,” John said from the middle of his field of invisible corn. “I really like having him home, I’m gonna miss him. But I guess the universe needs him more than I do.” John then uprooted an invisible corn stalk and hugged it tightly, while humming the classic church hymn “Party in the USA”.

OK, this is getting annoying. So the guy I was telling you about earlier, Carlos, he’s been texting me this whole show, saying he wants to see me again, let’s see, something something, my timeline is still wrong? I should have a sister named Abby, here’s a photo of her with some kid. My mother died? Hmph. I’m supposedly afraid of mirrors, and he and I are actually married. This is ridiculous! OK, now he’s texting me a picture of a dog. “Our little puppy Aubergine,” it says. In the picture Carlos is holding the dog. I… Hm, that’s weird. I just had a strange feeling. What’s that term, uh, jamais vu I think, where you remember something that never happened.

Outside my window, I see the Emissary, their-their oblong mirrored face pressed against the glass, each hand raised to their head to block out glare from the sun. I’m waving to the Emissary now. Hello Emissary! I said just now. What is the French term for remembering something you’ve never experienced? I said even louder wondering if the Emissary can hear me through the window and that thick helmet. Also, is Aubergine a good name for a dog? I think it is! I called once more, just to start a decent conversation, because I was getting creeped out by the sight of a silent astronaut peering at me through my window. [chuckles] I can, I can see myself in the reflective face. I… [mumbles] I don’t like this. I do not like this at all. [panicked] Please go. Please leave, it cannot. Uh, I’m covering this window with a sheet, I do not like this mirror. I don’t like it one bit, no!

Let’s go to the weather.

[Weather: “Sad But Not Depressed” from the podcast It Makes a Sound https://nightvale.bandcamp.com]

I will tell you about the Emissary in a moment. But first, I must tell you that Carlos called me. Here’s his voicemail.

Carlos: Cecil, I_I’m calling for personal reasons. I-I’m, [sighs] I’m calling to tell you that I love you. That I have loved you almost since the first day I met you nearly 7 years ago. I didn’t know anyone in Night Vale [chuckles] and you were the first person to take any interest in my studies. Its not easy feeling alone, but within a year I wasn’t, cause I was with you. And now we are married. Well, at least in my lifetime we were married. We have been married, and we have a beautiful puppy named Aubergine, a house, a relationship. You have a sister, and you know, you have a brother-in-law too and, and a niece who is a talented athlete and (enormously), just a kind young woman. And we have – oh, you’re gonna play this on air, aren’t you? Oh, of course you are. Well never mind. Anyway uh, somehow you don’t know any of this. I’ve been working nights and days trying to repair this break in continuity, and I haven’t slept much, because I-I can’t sleep until we’re back in the same timeline. But I can’t find anything that will fix this, I-I don’t know what else to do other than to just say: Trust me. I will start over, we’ll go to Rico’s on another first date, I will pretend to hear about your life for the first time, I will tell you about mine for the thousandth time. It won’t be the same for me, but it will still be you. And, and that’s all that matters. You, you’re the one. Oh god, this must sound crazy, you barely know you and, and I’m coming off as desperate, but it’s because I am. Please call me. [beep]

Cecil: And I did, call him back. A-a-and I said: “I love you too. Babe, I love your beard. I love our dog. I love… I-I love our life together.” Minutes before that, I did not feel that way. I did not know about my life with Carlos, because it had never happened in my history.

 It was in those minutes, though, that the Emissary spoke to me. The Emissary entered my studio and removed her helmet. And underneath was the face of an old woman, it was the face of Eunomia, the young girl who disappeared from Night Vale on her 17th birthday 200 years ago. Eunomia told me she had resigned her post as General. She was the most successful leader in the Blood Space War, but tampering with timelines had caused life in the universe to nearly cease to exist. Eunomia knew she would have to undo what she had undone so many times over, even though it would put peace out of her reach. She’s doing that. She is taking responsibility by visiting every single person affected by her actions. She’s telling them what she has taken from them. And what she will now give back. It will take her a long, long time to do this. it will take her the rest of her life. 

In my case, she told me I have a sister, Abby, a brother-in-law, Steve, a niece, Janice. I-I did not know those times. She told me about my husband Carlos. I knew that name, but did not feel love for it. She took my hand and told me to look at the moon. There was a thick wedge missing from it. I never noticed that the moon was broken. Eunomia said: “I will leave now and I will undo what has been done, and your life will return to how it was.” I asked: “But I have a life now.” And she said: “But what of the lives of others? You are all connected. If I do not fix yours, how many others will never have back what the war has taken?” “And what about you?” I said. “Will you return to your teenage life on the farm?” “No,” she said, “I cannot go back to that age, but I will go back to that time and place. I only wish to see my family one more time.” “And what about the war?” I said. Hmph. “There will always be a war, because there will always be a lust for a war,” she said. “I am sorry, Cecil. I have to go.” She pointed to the moon once again. And it was whole, unbroken. I tried to squeeze her hand, but it was gone. It was only me in the studio.

On a late summer afternoon in 1816, an astronaut appeared in the center of Night Vale. 96 years later, a dog park would be established on that exact spot. The astronaut walked silently through the dusty streets. Bow-legged and slow, the Emissary walked through the outskirts of town. It took hours, and nearly the entire city followed her. Past a lot that would eventually to Old Woman Josie. Past the homestead of Eugene Leroy. Until she reached the Peters farm. And there, she stopped. There was a greenish aura about the astronaut, as she turned to face the gathered mob. The astronaut put her gloved hands to her neck and unlashed the helmet. There was a loud hissss and a pop, when she lifted the mask. The crowd approached tentatively. As the helmet came fully off, the townsfolk cried out. The face of the visitor was nearly skeletal, a rotted corpse, long white hair peeling down the back of the skull, an incomplete set of elongated teeth visible with no lips to hide them, startled eyes, ever staring with no lids to express anything else. And what was left of the skin had shriveled and yellowed. 

The crowd had begun to step backward, but one woman stepped forward. a tired and pale woman. The woman whose farm it was approached the decomposing astronaut and said: “Eunomia?” The General opened her mouth slowly and spoke in a hoarse cough. “Mother,” she said. Eunomia’s young mother touched her elderly daughter’s face. Eunomia broke into dust. And the empty space suit collapsed to the ground, leaving behind the faint shape of the woman’s dissipating daughter.

In a cornfield on the outskirts of town, the General’s ashes scattered across a golden lake of ripened corn. In the very place where her military successor, James Peters – you know, the General – would be born 150 years later.

The memories of what Eunomia said to me, the memories of my life without my family, are fading quickly. Night Vale returns to normal, whatever that means. [chuckles] I told Carlos I was so sorry for causing him such pain. I can not ever know how difficult that must have been. He only tilted his head and said: “Already forgotten.” I wasn’t sure if he was being literal. Hmm.

Stay tuned next for the unceremonious continuation of all that is real.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road, and then we’re gonna go grab drinks and dinner, maybe watch a movie. Girls’ night.

[vicccwrites]

9% as Common College Majors

(A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts since before I even created this blog so I figured I would play around with the idea a bit more and finally post it!! Let me know if you want to see more of these “9% as...” or if I should just stick to fics lol ^^ I hope you enjoy it~ <33)

Masterlist

- Photo(s) Source : Google -

Cai Xukun - Photography

I just have this vision in my head?? Of like xukun holding a camera and building this vast portfolio of aesthetic greatness

I mean he’s already so aesthetically pleasing and has an amazing insta feed so is it really that much of stretch??

Is like that one kid on campus who’s always around

Party at the frat house? He’s the center of the show

Charity event at campus square? weLL guess who decided to show up???

Definitely hella popular and totally has a fan club

Gets teased about it by all his friends

He secretly thinks it’s really cute though

Chen Linong- Animal Biology

Nongnong with animals

What a concept amiright

But anyway he’s such a sweet and caring ball of sunshine and I think that would really show through in the way he cares for and loves all of the animals he works with

Really interested in learning about different types of animals and how he can improve their quality of life!!!

I now have the picture of vet!nongnong in my head and it’s so adorable omg

Linong with that dog?? Ugh my heart can’t handle this cuteness

There was this gifset of him with a cat on my dash a while back and now I need to dig it out of the depths because ughhhh it was so cuteee

Fan Chengcheng - Journalism

Alskdosos this one was hard

I can just imagine him staying up, furiously trying to write and make his deadlines

Also I get that Agent J was a spy concept but it gave me investigative journalist vibes so here we are

Definitely procrastinates on all of his assignments

Highkey jealous of Justin because his major seems “easier” and he doesn’t have to write as many essays and stuff

bOI you are literally a journalism major ok that means WRITING

Justin - Theater

Ok I know that ruibin is the true theater kid of idol producer but

Can you imagine Justin prancing around on stage reciting like Hamilton or something (can you tell I don’t do theater at all)

(I have no idea what I’m talking about)

Anyway him trying to sing the songs would be hilariously great

And I think he’d actually turn out to be an amazing performer?? Even though he probably only chose to major in theater because he thought it’d be easy or something

He grows to really have a passion for the stage and looks forward to every performance

Aims for the lead role like every single time; usually ends up getting it, too

Totally steals the spotlight and is the star of every show ✨

Lin Yanjun - Marketing/Advertising

I was so tempted to say English since that was his actual major (I’m pretty sure)

But then I remembered than one scene in ip when they were like “selling” the ice pack or smth?? It was in one of those unreleased extra content footage compilations welp now I gotta find it again 

Actually I can’t find it so nvm but I remember seeing it for sure!!

(Literally this whole thing is me trying and failing to find gifsets someone please help)

Also,,,,

If Lin Yanjun was tryna get you to buy something, would you really say no??

All of his professors probably love him

Has like a 100% in practicals with his winks and flirting

Even though he’s hella confused and never has any idea what’s going on

Probably models for xukun on the side for extra cash too the boy can do it all

Zhu Zhengting - Dance

Literally the only one that I was 100% set on

I mean come on

He’s like the dancing king of 9%

Can do basically any genre of dance, from modern to hip-hop

Would be super dedicated

Lives in the college dance studio tbh he practically never leaves

BFFs with the other dance majors like zeren and chaoze

They always hang out together and are definitely the type to break into an impromptu dance sesh in like the middle of starbucks

Or some equally random location

Is part of the committee that organises weekly dance mobs on the campus square

He definitely drags Justin and Chengcheng to almost every one

Wang Ziyi - Nutrition

Very healthy bOI,,, a fit boy too

That bag scene where they were like going through what was in their bags?? Didn’t he have juice or smth he just seems vv health-obsessed

also sorry the gif is a weird size

Had like a literal DRAWER of supplements, vitamins, and medicine under his bed during ip,,, I’ll let that speak for itself

Also seems really chill and nutrition gives me a chill vibe for some reason

Probably has the best grades with the exception of yanjun’s charming practicals

Probably is also the only one who actually studies for finals

Xiao Gui - Film and Video

Nearly majored in nuclear engineering for the lols but then realised he didn’t have the grades to make it into the program

Also didn’t feel like doing science

So xingjie convinced him to go into film

Which at first he thought he would hate, but he actually turned out to quite like

Xingjie does musical production and sometimes makes little soundtracks to go along with gui’s mini-films

Lowkey the only thing that keeps linkai’s grade from bombing is the humor that’s always mixed into his scripts

Rlly funny

Also totally the type to waltz into class like half an hour late can anyone see this too or is it just me

You Zhangjing - Vocal Music

I sort of see zhangjing going into the sciences for some reason??

Erin - who’s the local yzj expert around here - sent me this photo a while ago?? (I just saved it from there so the size is weird again oops)

And I get that he’s supposed to be a “doctor” or something in the photo but it’s a lab coat ok

He looks really good akdjdksjsj

And he mentioned in that interview that he did accounting before going to China to train

So that could be an option too

Maybe he did that for a bit but then didn’t end up enjoying it so he switched majors? Idk

Anyway I chose vocal because obvs our nasi lemak can sing very very well

And he loves singing very very much

So he would major in it!!! Ok I lied about Zhengting I was also like 100% sure on this one

Plus I mean it’s common knowledge that he’s talented af so like,,, there you go

All his vocal teachers probably love him a lot

But can you really blame them?? Like he’s so hardworking and talented, so who wouldn’t love him + his awesome vocals? 💕

[alexiss-fic-archive]

A night of Diamond Dust

Summary: After Connie falls sick, Priyanka needs someone to take care of her daughter after being called to the hospital.Fluff entails

Notes:  I wrote this when I was Awfully Sick and when the heat was unbearable in this part of Mexico. I highkey want to live somewhere where it snows  

Anyways I needed some fluff and so does the Connverse Community.

Please Enjoy

ALSO ON THE Ao3!

Winter was Connie's favorite season.

Not only she gets vacations from school, spend beautiful evenings with her parents and celebrate her birthday alongside the gems. But it's also the time of the year when she gets to spend a couple of nights with her favorite jam-bud to see the snowfall, in a sort of pajama party in which they enjoyed the peace and each other's company.

They procured to alternate the visited house every couple of weeks, and always tried to make a lively ambiance with their families until nightfall, when their very own tradition truly started.

This time, it was Steven's turn to host the small event. Unfortunately, as if fate had chosen to pour rain over her metaphorical parade, Connie had caught a cold a few days earlier, and was forced to cancel the small get-together in favor of resting in her bed while being miserable.

And to worsen things even more, neither of her parents were going to stay with her. Her father was covering for the entire personnel of his office because they too got sick. And her mother was about to leave to the hospital, where according to her, were at least three dozens of people who either crashed during a car accident or nearly froze to death thanks to the weather.

So, all what Connie could do was wallow in her misery and loneliness as her stuffed nasal sinuses and high temperature tethered her to her bed.

She couldn't even find the strength to pick one of the many books in her room, or to text with Steven with her phone.

She resigned to do as her mother had advised and instead of try to occupy her mind with something, she would put it to sleep so the illness could go away at a faster pace.

However, just as she was about to hit the hay for a couple hours, Her mother opened up the door of her room. She was wearing a fuzzy sweater underneath her lab coat, from which her ID was hanging proudly from one of its pockets.

“How are you feeling sweetie?” She asked her daughter before leaving.

“Fine…” Connie groaned.

“I’m really sorry,” The doctor said as she approached to the girl. “I know you wanted us to be with you.”

“It’s Okay mom.” The sick girl said, her voice sounding raspy thanks to the infection. “You need to save people too.”

“It’s not okay.” Her mother said while caressing Connie's head. “You’re sick, and you shouldn't be all alone here with this cold.”

“I’ll manage.” The girl said before cuddling up in her blankets.

“I thought you would say so.” The woman said before standing up from the bed. “So, I took the liberty to call someone here to look out for you.”

“What?” Connie said confused as a familiar figure clad in pink walked through the bedroom's door.

“Hi, Connie!” Steven said as he entered the room, holding a plate with cookies and a cup of hot honey lemon tea.

“Steven? When did you got here?” The girl asked in disbelief.

“A couple hours ago.” He answered as he placed the plate on Connie's desk. “Your mom invited me over so we could hang out while you get better!”

“Really?!” She asked to the woman next to her.

“I couldn't just leave my daughter alone in the house during a blizzard.” She said with a smirk. “Also, you've been planning on your sleepover at the Universes since last week. And I thought it would be nice to bring it to you instead.”

“I also brought some board games if you want to play!” The boy interjected in his cheery tone as he pulled a box of chess from his backpack.

“Woah…” The girl said in disbelief. “Thank you, Mom.”

“Anything for my warrior princess.” The Doctor said with a fond Smile before ruffling Connie's short hair affectively. “Well, anything but staying. I have to go before the blizzard gets stronger.”

“You can take my lion with you!” Steven told to the doctor.

“Huh?” The Doctor was taken aback.

“Yeah! He can take you to the hospital in a second!” He said before pulling a malformed ice cream sandwich from his cheeseburger. “Just bribe him with a Lion Licker and hold tight to his mane after telling him where you want to go.”

“Oh…” The woman said nervously as she picked up the bag with the treat  from the boy's hand. “Thank you, Steven…”

“Do you want me to help you mount him?” Steven offered her his help.

“N-No no!” The doctor said nervously. “I can do it by myself. Just, take care of Connie while I’m gone.”

“Yes, ma'am!” He said as he did a naval salute to her.

“And Connie, please enjoy the evening.” The doctor told her daughter.

“I will.”  The sick girl said with a faint smile. “Please Stay safe.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I'll send you a text every now and then to check on you.  The woman said before finally leaving the room, wondering how could she ride the wild beast.

After the adult left, the two kids found themselves alone in the girl's room.

“Do you think that lending Lion to my mom was a good Idea?” The ill girl asked him.

“Of course!” He said. “She’ll reach the hospital i  no time with him!”

“Do you think she'll handle the portals well?” She asked once more, exactly a second before a frightened shriek could be listened as a pink flash appeared on the streets.

“She seems to handle them pretty well.” The boy said nervously, eliciting a small giggle from the sick girl, who promptly began to cough harshly.

“I guess the cold doesn't have a nice sense of humor.” Steven said as he took the cup of hot tea and brought it to her hands. “Here, it'll help you with that throat.”

“Thanks.” She said before taking a sip of the warm infusion.

“So… What do you want to do today?” Steven asked her. “I brought board games to play, books to read, my ukulele to play for a while…”

“That’s so considerate of you!” She said with a fond smile. “But to be honest, I don't feel that good to play games or music….”

“Oh…” The boy said sadly. “Right…”

“But I would love it if you could read something for me, though.” She asked him as she cuddled up within her bedsheets.

“Really?!” He said excitedly. “What book?”

“Anything is okay, Steven.” She said smiling.

And so, Steven began to rummage through his backpack, looking for the perfect book he could read to his ill friend. He eventually found a small book that he didn't remember putting inside of his hamburger.

“Okay, I got this little fella called ‘Light among the dark.’” He told her.

“What is it about?” The girl asked.

Steven opened up the book and went to read the author's notes.

“What do you know. It is actually a story compilation.” He said surprised.

“That sounds nice.” She said. “Could you Please read it for me?”

“Sure!” He said as he sat down next to her bed so he could read to her more comfortably.

“Ahem!” He cleared his throat before beginning.

★★★★★★★★★★

A few hours had passed since Steven finished to read the story to Connie. The short story about a prince who learned to be a better leader thanks to his loyal Knight had become an instant favorite for her, and talked about it with Steven, coughing and sneezing inbetween her enthusiastic argument. Meanwhile Steven made sure to spoil her a bit, sharing the cookies Steven had brought as an appetizer during the lecture, giving her the hot chocolate he smuggled into her house in a small thermos, as well as keeping her the most warm and comfy he could in order to ward off the infection even faster.

As the night progressed and the snowfall outside the windows thickened. And as Steven and Connie reenacted one of their favorite parts of the unfamiliar familiar series, the cold inside began to intensify with each passing second.

Connie was fine with it, as she was covered by what was almost considered to be a bear’s skin. However, Steven wasn't so lucky, and was shivering despite him wearing a sweater.

“Steven?” The girl said as her leaking nose distorted her voice.

“W-what is it?” He stuttered as the cold made him shiver visibly. “D-Did I s-screwed up my dialogue?”

“No, Steven.” She reassured with a smile. “You’re doing just fine. But… Aren't you cold?”

“J-Just a b-bit” He answered. “B-But I can handle it! I’m a Crystal gem, And a Diamond as well! Sturdiness runs through my veins.”

“I see…” She said. “Then I Believe that you won't like to get in my extremely cozy and warm bed to warm up.” A smug grin appeared on her face.

“O-On the other hand, I'm still part human!” He said blushing, The stuttering in his voice no longer being caused by the cold. “And humans need to stay warm and cozy to survive. Right?”

Connie let out a small chuckle. “Just get in, Steven.”

“O-Okay, let me just…” He said as he removed his shoes, a moment before slipping into the bed. “There we go.”

After this, the pair of children kept talking about their small reenactment of the novel, eventually planning to make a full fledged screenplay of it along with the gems.

★★★★★★★★★★

Darkness had finally reached its peak during the night. The violent blizzard that raged upon the land had miraculously subsided. The bright light of the moon that pierced its way through the dark clouds was absorbed by the falling snowflakes that continued to drift along the wind and the leftover snow that accumulated on the ground of the streets.

“So… How are stuff going on over there?” Connie asked the young boy as they witnessed the snowflakes dance through the wind.

“Well… Blue And Yellow finally apologized to everyone at Beach city.” He said. “Y’know, for the invasion and the abductions.

“That’s nice to hear!” She said. “I can Imagine how pissed off Yellow was.”

“Not as much as you'd expect.” The boy answered. “To be fair, I think she would've preferred to get killed by The Cluster instead.”

“She’ll open up eventually.” Connie reassured him. “She just needs to learn how things work around here.”

“I’ll turn her into homeworld’s best aunt!” The boy said cheerfully. “Just leave it to me and a pair of marathons of crying breakfast friends.”

The girl just let out a small chuckle before leaning her head into his shoulder.

“You’ll have to count me as well.” She reassured him. “Not offense, but I think that Books would be more effective on her than a child's cartoon.”

“Yeah… I think that she doesn't like it as much as Blue.” Steven said, eliciting a small fit of laughter from his companion.

★★★★★★★★★★

Eventually, Connie had fallen asleep on top of Steven as they watched the snow fall. And Steven took it upon himself to take her back to her bed.

He carefully placed her back in her bed. Wary about his own brusqueness as he wanted to let her sleep.

Feeling drowsy himself, The young man decided to join her in her bed once again. He snuck into the warm bed sheets and stared at the lying girl in front of him.

The boy placed a small, chaste kiss on the sleeping girl's forehead before turning away from her. “Goodnight Connie…” He whispered to himself as his eyelids began to close.

However, before he could fall asleep, the girl behind him had moved towards him to embrace him.

“Goodnight for you too, Steven.” She whispered as well, painting a faint smile on both of their faces just before falling asleep.

★★★★★★★★★★

The next day, Connie woke up feeling as if she hadn't been sick at all. Her nose was no longer obstructed, her throat felt like it was lined with silk, her body wasn't weighed down by sand.

She was ecstatic to tell Steven about her miraculous recovery. However, her joyful mood changed to something else when she saw the boy in her bed.

He laid uncomfortably in the bed, his hot skin was moist with sweat and his eyes were bloodshot as snot dripped from his reddened nose.

“Good morning, Connie!” He said weakly before sneezing vigorously. “Ugh… How are you feeling?”

It turned out that Steven had infected himself with Connie's sickness when he gave her his goodnight kiss last night, healing her in the process as well.

Connie let out a small giggle as she realized the nature of the situation before her.

“I’m feeling better now, Steven.” She said with a fond smile. “Thank you.”