#but it's worth it!! i know some of you just hopped on board

[shotmrmiller]

living in some dingy apartment building because it is all you can afford on your income unless you want to eat danimals yogurt and saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the stern landlady lives on the first floor, and some neighbors blast music on weekday nights (even if they didn't, the walls are paper-thin. you know more about the cambrian period than you'd like to, thanks to room 105) but it's a modest roof over your head and while the darkened grout lines in the bathroom are permanent, at least there's hot water.

until there isn't. and the landlady has mysteriously gone on vacation for the next two months.

what used to be a cathartic cleansing has now become your torment. every other day is hair wash day which means you're bent over the cold, porcelain edge of your tub, back screaming in protest and pain shooting up your bruised knees even though you've sacrificed one of your very nice pillows to avoid exactly that.

and showering is torture. the icy cold water feels like a thousand tiny claws scraping over your tender scalp, sinking into your trembling shoulders. you don't wait for your body to acclimate, just hastily scrub yourself as clean as you can and hop out, your chattering teeth and shaky breaths echoing through the tiny bathroom.

it's like this for a week and a half, a whole 10 days of suffering with showers so cold it feels like shards of ice biting into your goosepimpled skin when it stops. warmth bleeds into the stream of frostbitten water. finally, it soothes instead of stings. your coiled, tense muscles gradually slacken with relief, with unadulterated bliss. steam rises, the tips of your fingers and toes tingle as if thawing. gratitude wells in the corner of your eyes.

if you had any money you could afford to give, you would to your savior, but every dollar you own is earmarked for the bare essentials. so, with your thick, warm bathrobe cinched around your waist, you pen down a little heartfelt note to stick to the bulletin board downstairs before heading out for work.

thank you, whoever you are, for fixing the boiler. i could kiss you <3

when morning comes, you use one of the dull, golden tacks that previously held a lost pet flyer (sorry, bilbo the hamster, but it's been a year) and pin your note up.

only to come home and find it gone, a torn corner all that remains. maybe it's karma for your callousness towards someone's pet. (justice for bilbo.) you shrug it off, giddily skipping up the steps to wash off the day's stress with hot water.

but before you even hang your keys on the wall, there's a pounding on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its frame. and the masked man you see through the peephole isn't familiar. against your better judgment, you clear your throat before cracking open the door. "yes?"

the piece of paper he's holding in his dinner plate-sized hands seems incredibly small— and it's your note.

"i fixed the water." oh. "'m 'ere for wha' 'm owed." owed?

"i'm not— um. the kiss. it's just a figure of speech." the thick muscle of his bicep coils as he crosses his arms over his barrel chest. he's a very large man, as broad as your door.

if you slammed it closed on him, he'd probably leave it hanging by its hinges. that's not worth a measly kiss.

"okay. but on the cheek since i never specified where so it's dealer's choice."

he huffs out an amused breath but complies, hooking his thumb under the edge to pull up his balaclava just enough to expose his stubbled cheek. he's got a couple of scars; thin, slightly raised. run along the sharp edge of his jaw and disappear beneath the fabric.

he leans close, enough to hear his steady, slow exhales. he smells of dirt. salt. something smoky, tangy-- like on new years, minutes after the clock strikes 12.

your hands cradle his face as you rise to your tippy-toes, wetting your lips and crane your neck-- but he snaps his head to the side,

and takes the kiss he was owed.

(he takes a screwdriver to the ac unit next. wire cutters to the fuse box. nails to your tires. anything that'll inevitably lead you back to him. you tried paying him with dinner but the only thing he was interested in eating was your cunt.)

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5

Part 4

After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.

Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.

“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.

Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.

“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.

Jazz gave him an amused look.

“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.

“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.

“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.

“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.

“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.

There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?

“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”

Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.

“Duly noted.”

“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”

“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”

Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.

“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”

Jazz gave him a wry smile.

“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”

Tim choked. Jason swore.

“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.

“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.

Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.

“What’s ectoplasm?”

“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”

“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.

“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”

Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.

“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”

“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.

“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.

Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.

“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”

“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”

“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.

“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”

“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”

Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”

Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.

“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.

“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”

Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.

“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”

“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.

“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”

Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.

“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.

“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”

Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.

“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”

Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.

“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”

Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.

Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.

“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”

“Yep.”

“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”

Tim groaned.

“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”

“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”

Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”

Part 6

[didhewinkback]

something old teeny tiny blurb bc dogs

---

December 2022

Thank god it’s Friday, you think, trying to balance your bag, the massive amount of takeout you're holding and your keys as you slide them into the lock to finally get home after a loooong week. Does it make you officially old that those cliches now ring true more than ever? Gross.

You’re in the process of trying to place all your shit down in a semi organized manner when you feel your phone buzz, a smile growing on your face the moment you see the name on the screen as you slide your thumb across to answer. 

“Hey,” you say, adjusting the phone on your shoulder as you kick your shoes off and slide your jacket off your shoulders. 

“Sorry my meeting ran long, love. Was hoping to pick you up from work.” He says, as the sounds of the city blare behind him on whatever street he was walking down. “Wanted to be a proper gentleman.”

“First time for everything,” you deadpanned.

“Heeey.” He says with a laugh. “Did you get dinner or do you need me to pick it up?” 

“I got it,” you say, quickly speaking when you hear his intake of breath. “If you dare ask me if I remembered to order you spring rolls I swear -“ 

“She knows me too well.” he says with a laugh. 

“That she does.” you say, grabbing the takeaway and bringing it into the kitchen, flicking the lights on as you pass. “You heading back now?” 

“Yeah should be home in about - oh helllo there” his voice taking on an exaggerated playful tilt. You’re momentarily confused until you hear a soft bark. Ah.  “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

“Sorry about her - she’s a real people pleaser” you hear a voice say a bit breathlessly in the background as Harry laughs.

“It’s quite alright,” he says back, and you hear some slight shuffling on his end. “Is it okay if I pet her? What’s her name?”

You lean against the counter, listening on as he makes small conversation while cooing at the dog, Delilah, for a few minutes before there’s the sound of shuffling again as he says his goodbyes. 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” he says back to you. “Think I want one.”

“Not sure a puppy would be the best companion on a world tour.”

“Thank you, genius, that much I know.” he says as you snort a laugh. “But I’ve been thinking a lot about like…after.”

“Have you?” you ask, your heart skipping a beat, thinking back to the conversation you had back in June, about what he wanted, what you wanted, what you both agreed was worth waiting for. You shift your weight, butterflies flying in your stomach. “And?”

“Just…it’s going to be different, y’ know? Not going to be doing a few months in LA, then a few months in Japan then back to London for a kip. And I don’t want to. Planning on settling in one spot for as long as I can.”

“Something drawing you back to London, then?”

“Something like that,” he muses and you feel your cheeks warm, biting down on a smile. “And I think it’d be quite nice to have a pup that’s ours keeping her company when I would have to eventually go back.”

“I could get on board with that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way your heart is racing, his words making you want to melt into a puddle right there on the kitchen floor.

“Yeah?” he says softly.

“Yeah.” you say back and the two of you sit in silence for a moment, just listening to the sounds of each other breathing. “How far away are you?”

“About 10 minutes out.”

“Alright, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick -”

“I’ll be home in 2.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you laugh, knowing he’s kidding but you can hear the way his breathing changes, the way he’s definitely picked up the pace. “I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you.”

“Love you. I’ll be home soon, baby. Keep the shower warm.”

---

a/n: i have a few requests coming and the big one but saw these pics and couldnt resist

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[mrcarmenile]

my notes/thoughts on hazbin hotel episode four! spoilers ahead

i have sooooo many words for this episode

here are some unorganized thoughts

loser baby was the most perfectest adorable beautiful thing ever (also as a person who is positively nihilistic, it’s very relatable)

im hopping on the huskerdust train, 100% on board

also the dressing room scene had me GAGGED. blake roman is so talented. i was shocked. i was BLOWN AWAY. the cracks in his voice, the SADNESS, the hopelessness, i can HEAR the tears and i can HEAR the fear, i can FEEL the pain. blake, i never doubted you and i never fucking will. your performance was incredible.

oh also joel perez popped tf off. i hate val with a burning passion and his voice is so perfect and manipulative and i just wanted to punt him 🤠 joel is so good at bringing valentino’s pure cruelty to life, i was SO uncomfortable and emotional watching that scene. huge props

but seriously blake had me SHOOK. the way he delivered so many of the lines—the emotional ones, the frantic ones, the funny ones. all perfect. i would point them all out but we would be here all day. (but i HAAAAAVE TO SAY THAT THE WAY HE DELIVERED “do you know what i’m worth?!” OR WHATEVER THE LINE WAS GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS. OH MY GOD.)

the poison sequence had me flinching and gagging and almost crying

and once again. husk and angel were peak in this episode, i’m obsessed with them in the last quarter of the episode. way more wholesome and perfect than i could have ever imagined — two addict losers who sold their souls to psychotic overlords, but they’re in it together! i love that SO much.

also keith’s vocals in loser baby had me WEAK i love his voice so fucking much

i also love how charlie got some development in this episode!! i NEED to see her in demon mode again, i was blown away.

never getting over this episode lmao 😃

[crusty-chronicles]

I Saw Mommy/Daddy Kissing Santa Clause 🫣

Moon and Sun Christmas Special

Synopsis: Christmas Special with ✨ special surprise guests✨ crossover episode????? Just like last time, takes place after the events of our story, so minor spoilers.

An:  A lot of Kite loving because of what I have to write in our next chapter. LET ME HAVE THIS BEFORE I TRAUMATIZE ALL THE CHARACTERS AGAIN 😭😭😭😭. I'm begging!

It was surprising to say the least, that you'd ever find yourself surrounded by so many people. You were used to flying solo. To shivering in the cold this time of year. You never thought you'd get this far in life. Being able to experience so much love and warmth at once.

Yet here you are with three kids who you cherished as your own, and a partner who supported you through all your endeavors with unwavering patience.

And friends.

You'd actually managed to make friends along the way. Though some of them weren't exactly human, and one of them was a huge ass. But friends nonetheless.

You'd gained so much this past year. And now you'd get to enjoy them in full with an upcoming Christmas party. Though a part of you was still uneasy at the prospect.

And why is that you may ask?

Well, like with most holidays and events, you'd never been given the chance to celebrate before. The lights, the gift giving, the little traditions each family had was all very new to you. You were familiar with a few carols, but that was about it. You knew something like this took a lot of planning, so the last thing you wanted to do was mess it up for everyone.

Then there was the fact that the party was back at Gon’s home on Whale Island. (Who'd been more than enthusiastic to celebrate with all his new friends.) Where you'd meet his aunt Mito for the first time. Considering how terribly things went when you and Kurapika were introduced to each other, you were a little worried. You wanted nothing more than to get along well with her. She was arguably one of the most important people in Gon's life.

So after making sure your own affairs were in order, you and Kite hopped on the earliest airship for Whale Island. Or rather, the closest you could get to it before boarding a small boat that would take you the rest of the way there.

So much effort to reunite your makeshift family. But it would be worth it in the end. Seeing ‘your kids’ smile would be more than worth it.

“You nervous?” Kite asked from besides you.

“A little. I mean, I'm basically meeting his mom. If she doesn't like me I'm pretty much screwed.” You admitted.

He placed a hand on yours and gave a reassuring squeeze. Your nerves lessening at the contact.

“She will. You've got a knack for growing on people when you try. And I'm sure she appreciates you looking after Gon for as long as you did.”

You allowed yourself to relax at his words. Leaning your head on his shoulder and clutching his hand a little tighter.

“I hope you're right.”

“Have I ever been wrong before?”

You could hear the smile in his voice. And while you knew he'd never once steered you wrong, you wanted to pull his leg a bit. A part of you that just couldn't help but tease your partner.

“Not recently, no.”

He gave a light flick to your forehead before trying to untangle his hand from yours.

“Wait, wait, wait! Baby I was teasing, don't be so mean,” you pleaded. Locking him in a death grip.

“Yeah? We'll see how far teasing gets you with Mito.” He bit back, something you always liked about Kite.

He relented and let you cuddle back close after a few more minutes. Almost laughing at how quickly you melted against him. Though he couldn't really blame you. You weren't exactly a fan of the cold. And now that it was snowing, you were clingier than usual. As if trying to steal his warmth.

You were content to bask in the comfortable silence until you reached your destination, but something caught your eye. Something you didn't have a chance to bring up before you left. The rush to get here in time stopping you.

“You know it's nice to see some color on you. I don't think I've ever seen you wear red.” You addressed, referring to the new hat on his head. One that resembled the former blue. Except for the fuzzy pom on the back that gave it a festive appearance.

“Well ever since you stole my favorite hat, I've had to change up my usual look.” Kite responded playfully.

“If I recall correctly, you gave it to me after pissing me off.” You returned it with your own voice full of mirth.

“Yeah, I was scared you'd bite.”

“If you miss it so much, why don't I give it back?”

You looked up only to see his expression soften. A fond look that had your heart beating a little faster in your chest.

“Because it suits you better.” And then he turned away from you. A telltale sign he was embarrassed. His voice coming out almost shy when he spoke next.

“I like when you wear my clothes.”

A small smile made its way to your face. Remembering when he'd told you he liked your scent, and connecting that to why he didn't mind when you borrowed his stuff. Similar to the reason you stole them in the first place.

“I know.” You leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. Watching as his face reddened.

“Now Boarding: Whale Island!” A gruff voice announced.

“That's our cue lover boy.”

—-----------------------

Your mood immediately soured when you stepped out into the cold. A singular snowflake landing on the tip of your nose as if to mock you. It was no secret you despised rain with every fiber in your being. Snow was a close second. It was just frozen rain that left you twice as cold.

You didn't exactly have fond memories of winter either, and Kite could relate to your sentiment. He used to dread the colder seasons, but that was before he met Ging. Before he had his team.

You were a slightly different case, having been out on the streets a little longer than him. But you weren't alone anymore. You didn't have to worry about freezing or scrounging around for food. About trying to find some cover from the cold.

You'd always have a home as long as you were with him.

A reason to start enjoying the little things in life you've held a grudge against since childhood.

So when he felt you start to lag behind, he turned around and waited. Watching you hide your hands in your jacket to try and save them from the cold. A displeased frown on your face as you tried not to slip on the frozen grass. An expression he'd call comically grumpy.

You never did like the outdoors. But maybe he could help change that. At least this factor of being out. When you finally caught up, he coaxed your hands out of your pockets. Pulling them up and engulfing them with his. Blowing lightly to help warm them.

A gesture he noticed had your face heating up.

“I know you hate the snow, but maybe I can give you a reason to enjoy it again?” His voice was soft as he continued to hold your hands.

The warmth returning to your fingertips had you giving him a grateful look. It was surprising how you managed to fall deeper in love with the man before you. Then again, it was small things like this that had you falling in the first place. Giving patience and understanding.

You realized that standing here with him, being the object of such a loving gaze…It was more than enough for you to despise the cold a little less.

“I'd like that.”

Another flurry landed on your nose, but you didn't pay it any mind this time. Subconsciously leaning closer to your partner. The same time he shifted his face a little closer to yours. And right before you could meet him halfway-

“Y/N!” A familiar voice shouted before you were tackled down to the side.

An ‘oof!’ escaping you from the force. Arms quickly wrapped themselves around you in a hug that took the air straight from your lungs. You could make out a flash of green in your discombobulated state, already knowing who the culprit was.

“Hey, munchkin,” you wheezed out. You might or might not have been slightly disappointed to have your moment ruined. But the eyes beaming back at you with so much affection made up for it.

“I'm so happy the two of you could make it! We've been waiting for you all morning.” Gon released you and immediately enveloped Kite in another bone crushing hug. To which he responded by giving a pat on the head.

“We? Where are the other two demons?” You asked as you stumbled your way back up.

“I wanted to be the one to come get you, so Killua and Alluka stayed back to help my Aunt get everything ready.” He answered.

The three of you starting your trek to his home. Making small talk of what you've been up to these past two months. And while the answer for you and Kite was obvious, you were a little surprised to learn Gon had been spending time here with Mito.

Good. He deserved some time to relax after everything.

“Just so I'm not caught off guard again, who else did you invite this time?” You wanted to know if you should mentally prepare to see Kurapika there.

You two weren't on the worst of terms anymore, but it was still too tense for you to be comfortable.

“Mostly everyone from the extermination team. Bisky and Master Wing, too. Which reminds me…” Gon looked back at you with a thoughtful expression.

“You haven't met Zushi yet. I think you'll really like him.”

You briefly remembered him and Killua telling you about the boy they met at Heaven's Arena. The one who although wasn't as strong, had just as much ambition and heart to make up for it.

“I'm sure I will if he's a friend of yours. Is that everyone?

“Hmmm, oh! My dad's coming.”

You and Kite looked at each other in surprise. Shocked that Ging would actually put in the effort to come. Maybe he'd gone a little soft traveling around with his kid?

“Really? How'd you get him to commit?” Kite questioned.

He knew Ging had a habit of making himself scarce last minute. And of saying things he really didn't mean…And not really liking being surrounded by so many people. Maybe that was why you two got along decently well.

“I didn't. I think it was something Y/n told him. You know they can be really scary when they're mad.”

You decided to ignore that one. Instead taking a second to remember if you'd threatened the former zodiac.

“Oh. I got after him for missing Halloween and told him I'd shave his head if he missed Christmas, too.”

“Yeah that checks out.” Kite confirmed, which earned him a playful bump to his shoulder.

It wasn't long after that the three of you finally reached Gon's home. It was a rustic looking building with a chimney on top. Smoke actively coming through it. It definitely felt like the type of place he would grow up in.

Cozy with a hospital feel to it.

He unlocked the door and ushered the two of you in.

“I'm home! And I brought guests!” Gon called out.

“We're in the kitchen!” A voice sounded off. Mito’s, you assumed. Followed by the clanking of pots.

“You can set your stuff down over there,” Gon offered. Pointing towards an unoccupied corner where there were already several bags placed down.

Weird. You shrugged the thought off and left your backpack with Kite following suit. The former silver haired hunter taking your hand and giving a reassuring squeeze as you approached the kitchen.

‘Well, here goes nothing.’

You walked in to see Alluka vigorously stirring a bowl with Killua cutting up some vegetables besides her. Your eyes drifting past them and towards the two women fussing over the stove. One who looked to be in her late twenties/early thirties and another who was far older.

This kid had a grandma and didn't even tell you!?! If you'd known, you would have brought her something too.

But there was still one more person in the room you hadn't identified yet, and it was…Ikalgo? The octopus ant busied himself with cleaning up any spills the kids made.

Gon really wasn't kidding when he said he invited the extermination team. Ants included. Though you really didn't mind, not anymore. They deserved to have a normal life like everyone else. To enjoy a normal life.

“You better not cut yourself with that knife, gremlin.”

The sound of your voice catching everyone's attention. A beat of silence before Alluka jumped off her chair and ran over.

“Momma/Pappa! Daddy!” She did her best to wrap her arms around you both. Rambling happily about how she'd been tasked with baking the cookies. Looking up at the two of you before pointing towards Kite's hat.

“Ooh! You're wearing a hat like Santa's! Don't let momma/Pappa take it from you. You look nice with it.”

Her words instantly instantly melting both of your hearts. With Kite leaning down slightly to address her.

“I won't, so don't you worry.”

She beamed before making space for Killua, who looked like he was going in for a hug at first. Only to grab at you and Kite's intertwined hands, hastily pulling them apart with a glare.

“Didn't I already lay out the ground rules? No hand holding! No hugging! No kissing!”

“Killua!” You scolded. You would have found the situation funny had it not been happening to you. Thirteen and he still had a problem with you dating.

“I said no! And if I catch you doing any of those, I'll zap you.” He threatened. Summing a bolt of electricity to prove his point.

At his mini fit, the other two women laughed. With who you guessed was Mito trying to hide hers by covering her mouth.

“I take it your Y/n?” She asked before her gaze shifted towards Kite.

“And you're Kite?”

The two of you nodded with your partner extending his hand forward.

“It's nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I'm glad I finally got to meet the people who Gon just won't stop talking about.”

“Moooom!” Gon complained. Not wanting Mito to start spilling all his secrets.

“What? It's true. What was it you said? That it was like having a second home?” She teased.

The boy in green his his face in embarrassment while Killua snickered besides him.

“That’s news to me. When he's with us it's always ‘my Aunt Mito used to do this’ and ‘my Aunt Mito taught me how to do that.' You added on. An ‘oh no they're conspiring’ coming from Gon.

“Oh does he?”

You knew then and there that you'd get along with her just fine.

“Let's continue this conversation later. We can trade stories without being interrupted,” she suggested.

“Noooo! That's not fair.”

“Anyways, make yourselves at home. The others went to go get some more ‘supplies’ for us adults.”

“Others?” Kite questioned.

“Yeah. Morel, Knuckle, and Shoot got here before you guys,” Killua answered.

“They also brought Meleleron, so that's about half of us.”

At least you two hadn't gotten here last. You'd arrived just in time to help by the looks of it. You looked to Kite for confirmation before offering.

“Is there anything you need us to do?”

“Well-” before she could finish, the three kids rushed your partner.

“Tree! Tree! Tree!” They chanted before pulling him into the living room. A very confused expression on his face as he was hauled away.

“We kinda waited for Kite to decorate the tree. He's the tallest and Alluka wanted to be picked up to put the star,” Ikalgo explained before bustling after them.

“Hey! Make sure they don't work him too hard! And keep them out of trouble!” you instructed.

“You got it!” Followed by the sound of a box falling.

You cringed at the sound before facing Mito again.

“I'm sorry about that.”

“Don't be. Kids are a handful at this age. I'm surprised they didn't break anything sooner,” she assured.

“You're telling me. They go through phones like water. I wished they'd be a little more careful but-”

“Boys will be boys.” You said in synch.

You gave a small laugh.

“You too huh? I can't even begin to count all the times they've gotten into trouble. You know when I first met them, they were being tracked down by some psycho. Then forced to play killer dodgeball.”

“That sounds like Gon. Adventurous as he is, he just can't avoid getting scuffed up in the process. I let him explore the woods once when he was smaller. Turns out he wondered into a fox bear’s territory. He came back covered in scrapes. He's lucky he didn't get eaten.”

It was a story you'd heard before from the young boy himself. But a different perspective didn't make it any less interesting. You were grateful to have another person to relate to. You were also relieved she didn't seem to hate you for having an important place in Gon's life like Killua's mother.

Then again, his whole family was crazy.

“Well he is Ging's son. I wouldn't expect any less of him. Getting into trouble seems to run in the family,” the older woman spoke at last.

“Explain the other kid then. The two of them together summon pennywise the clown. Our poor Halloween was ruined. I'd place my money on them being cursed.” you joked.

“Maybe it's just a boy thing?” She suggested.

You felt like you were a kid again. Gossiping and chatting with the adults while your peers played out in the snow. It was nice.

“Speaking of Ging, did you know he's coming over?” You asked.

“I did.” Mito confirmed.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You knew the two of them hadn't left things off on good terms. With Mito suing him over custody over Gon. But despite that, Ging hadn't really held a grudge over it. That didn't mean Mito didn't.

“I'm not exactly happy to be seeing him again. He was a prick for most of his life,” Venom in her tone. But it was quickly replaced by something more somber.

“...but Gon's been wanting to spend more time with him. He's actually looking forward to it. And if seeing my cousin's stupid face is enough to make him happy, then I'm okay with it.”

You gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sure he appreciates you making the effort. And hey, I've got some dirt on Ging if he gets on your nerves.”

You eyed each other with evil grins.

“Do tell.”

“You ever heard of a pregnancy stone?”

—-------------------

A few hours had passed, and by now the rest of the guests had arrived. Knov and Plam were first. Followed by Wing and Zushi. The latter having run off exploring with the other three kids. Then Bisky, who'd gasped when she saw you.

‘Look at you! I see the bags under your eyes finally left! You seem happier.’

And then she proceeded to hound you for details regarding your relationship. You had a feeling she was already tipsy before she arrived. Your suspicions being confirmed when she loudly announced-

“It's no fair. First you managed to pull a beautiful lady like Palm, and now you have that hunk keeping you warm! Tell me your secrets!”

You wasted no time slapping a hand over her mouth. Feeling eyes on you as you walked Bisky to the couch.

“Haha, that's enough alcohol for the day.” Your voice coming out awkward. Not noticing the way Kite's head had ducked down in embarrassment during his conversation with Knuckle. Not really wanting to discuss your relationship either. He'd prefer that to stay private.

And judging by the way you were handling the situation, so did you.

“And that kids, is why we don't drink.” You said before turning around.

Your usual group of three was now four. With Killua scowling at Bisky for her comment. His expression softening at a tug to his sleeve from Nanika.

“Can we make cookies big brother?”

“Yeah, but we have to ask Gon’s aunt first. Remember her house, her rules.” He explained.

Nanika's empty eyes then looked up to Gon. Giving a pleading expression.

“I'm sure she wouldn't mind. As long as we're supervised.” He assured.

With that, the five of you were making your way to the kitchen. The previous batter chilling in the fridge. What would end up becoming your back up cookies because the kiddos wanted to make a new batch together.

“Okay, let's see if we can't make something edible. Have any of you baked before?” You asked.

All four of them shook their heads no. You should have taken that as a sign to ask Mito for help.

“I'm pretty sure we need flour,” Zushi suggested.

“Flour, got it. Any idea how many cups?” You reached for a measuring cup.

“If we're gonna make a lot of cookies, then we should use a lot of flour. Try four cups.” Gon instructed. And because he actually had some decent cooking experience, you believed in him.

Oh how wrong you were. The process was akin to the blind leading the blind. The five of you none the wiser to anybody's mistakes. Sugar? Five cups duh. Cookies had to be sweet, as per Killua's thought process. Baking powder or baking soda? Throw a tablespoon of both in there was Nanika's suggestion.

Butter? Let's toss two sticks in for texture. Liquid! We can't forget liquid, you'd reminded. Resulting in you eyeballing the amount of milk. An egg? Yeah, let's crack one of those babies open. By the time you were finished, the mixture was solid enough to put in some Christmas molds and into the oven.

“Cookies take about 15 minutes, right?” You questioned.

“Sounds about right,” Gon confirmed.

The five of you waited for them to come out. A surprisingly pleasant smell wafting through the air. And when you'd pulled them out, they looked like regular sugar cookies. But you should've known better. You couldn't cook for the life of you, yet somehow you managed to make something edible.

It was fishy.

You didn't have time to worry about it though. A knock on the door catching your attention. You offered to get it, telling the kids to let the cookies cool before answering it. On the other side stood a very familiar ruins hunter who'd made it after all.

“You!” You pointed at him. And before he could get so much as a word out, you dragged him inside and sat him down next to Kite. He flashed him a ‘what the hell is going on’ look to which the other just shrugged.

“Sit. Wait right here.” you ordered.

“Why?”

“Me and the kids made cookies. As a father, you've gotta try them. And no matter how bad you think they are, you say you love them.” At least you figured that was how it worked.

“So I have to lie if they taste like shit?” His bluntness making you glare.

“Yup, because your boy took the effort to help make them. And if Kite has to try them, so do you.”

Ging glanced over at him, trying to find an out and regretting his decision to come.

“Don't look at me. Have you seen what I'm up against?” Kite gestured towards the three kids looking hopefully up at him. With Zushi doing the same to poor Wing.

“If I get food poisoning, does that mean I get to go home early.”

You pinched harshly at Ging's cheek before grabbing a small serving tray. Placing several of the festive cookies on top before making your way back to the living room. The four kids eagerly eyeing the adults for their reactions.

“At the same time?” Wing asked. The other two men begrudgingly nodded. One of them knowing damn well if you were in the kitchen, it'd end badly.

With a count of three, they each took a small bite. Immediately Wing started coughing. Covering his mouth as he sputtered for a proper response. How was it dry and soggy at the same time????

Zushi looked up at him worried.

“Is that a good reaction???? Don't tell me…” Eyes widening at the thought he'd poisoned his teacher.

Wing stopped him from walking over. Trying to give a nonchalant wave of his hand while he continued to cough.

“These are-these are really good.” His voice coming out in a higher pitch.

“Have you considered becoming a chef?”

Zushi beamed up proudly at him. Hugging his arm with a ‘I knew you'd like them.’ Your other three monsters still waiting for feedback.

Kite tried his best not to look affected. Key word: tried. But the fact that the taste was both burnt and sickeningly sweet wasn't making it easy on him. It was an internal battle to swallow without gagging.

“Mhm. It's got an interesting flavor.” His own voice coming out strained.

Nanika and Killua high-fiving at the ‘success.’ But you knew. You could tell just by looking at the discomfort on their faces. Buuuut, there was a reason you weren't the one eating. And you were not going to be the one to crush the kids’ dreams.

A game of sorts, to see who would crack first. Surprisingly, it wouldn't be Ging. Who'd made the mistake of popping the whole thing in his mouth. Sitting deathly still with wide eyes.

“It's uh, certainly an experience. Wow.”

And it was enough for all four kids to celebrate. Cheering before making their way to the kitchen to clean up. But not before Knuckle decided to try his luck. Walking over to the serving tray with a ‘You're overreacting. They can't be that bad.’

Only to take a bite and instantly regret it. His face scrunching into itself as if tasting something sour. Going to spit it out before the sound of Morel's voice filled the air.

“What's wrong? Go on swallow. Or are you not man enough?”

He gave a glare at his master's taunt. Taking a few seconds before attempting to get it down. Only for his stomach to heave it back up. Making a dash for the restroom while the others have a laugh at his reaction.

So maybe you couldn't bake either. Lesson learned.

—-------------------------

It'd been a little chaotic after that with the kids competing against each other. Gingerbread houses that were more frosting than gingerbread being judged. Only for Gon and Killua to sabotage each other by tipping their houses over. Paper snowflakes that ended in minor cuts. With all three of the boys giving up in favor of playing swords with the scissors. Alluka being the only one to complete hers. And of course, who could forget building snowmen. All four of them kicking down each other's before it inevitably ended in a snow fight. At which point they decided to team up against you.

To which you responded by asking for back up. Using the many arms of Ikalgo to throw more snow at them, along with the invisibility of Meleleron to launch surprise attacks.

You came back in cold and sniffling for a small break. Stumbling upon most of the adults with drinks in their hands. You supposed someone had to watch the kids while the adults had fun. But to be fair, you weren't really a drinker, so you couldn't complain.

You made your way to the kitchen in the hopes of finding some hot chocolate. Only to look down at the sink and see the leftover dishes from the kids. You let out a small sigh before starting to clean up. You were a guest after all. It'd be rude to leave Mito with all the work while you were out having fun. Your thoughts stopping as you heard footsteps approach.

You turned around to see Kite. A small smile making it's way to your face as he helped you finish up. Leaning forward and resting his weight against your back.

“Call me selfish, but I'm glad you managed to get away from the kids for a bit. I get to keep you to myself for a moment.” He admitted.

“And why's that? We practically spend every waking moment together. Don't tell me you're jealous?” You teased, grateful to have his warmth again.

“...No. But we're at a party and I've hardly talked to my own partner. I'd like to borrow you back please.” He lightly nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. The ticklish sensation making you laugh.

“You have me. I guess I'm a little excited to be celebrating. Can't help but get caught up in their excitement too.”

“Well, there's one tradition we haven't done yet.”

“And what's that?”

Kite angled your head up.

“We're under a mistletoe.”

At that, your face went hot. Your teasing expression turning shy. You were briefed in on some of the common traditions. Mistletoe being one of them just in case. And even though you thought it was strange, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Especially when the requests was coming from Kite.

“You wanna kiss me?” You asked.

“Do you want to?” It was shy. Coming from a place of not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Your heart melting at the fact.

“Yes.”

You leaned closer to each other. Warmth radiating off and mingling with the others. And just when your lips were about to touch, a loud zapping sound startled you both. Stumbling over each other before looking up to see the mistletoe charred.

“Hey! What did I say about kissing!?!?” Killua scolded, hiding Alluka's eyes with his hand. Gon and Zushi behind him giggling.

“And anyways, there's not a mistletoe anymore, so I better not catch you again!” Then he ran up to you and started dragging you away.

“Y/n!!! Let's go make snow angels!”

You gave an apologetic look towards Kite before once again getting dragged away. The taller male shaking his head with a small smile. It was always a handful taking care of the trio. But they made his life more lively, filled with smiles and laughs. So he couldn't say he minded having them around.

—-----------------------------

A few more hours of playing in the snow until the kids retired to Gon's room for the day. Opting to finish the day playing video games. Which meant, it was finally time for you to unwind.

You'd let yourself get tipsy with the rest of the adults. Belting out ‘Santa Baby' along with Gon's Aunt.

“Ms. Mito! I had no idea you had such a lovely voice!”

The two of you cackling and holding each other up with you telling her she should let herself have fun more often. An ‘I know! It's been a while since we had friends over!’ escaping her.

It eventually turned into you and Morel placing bets on who'd be the most blackout drunk once the night was over.

Unaware of your partner watching fondly as you exaggerated your speech with your hands. A carefree grin on your face while you talked. It was rare to see you so at ease. In your complete element around so many people.

“You're whipped.” Ging's voice snapping him from his thoughts.

A bright red consuming his face at being caught.

“Shut up. I am not.” Kite denied.

“Then how come you keep staring over there? You've got little hearts in your eyes.”

The red on his face grew darker. Was he really being that obvious? Or was Ging just really observant? Whatever the reason, he didn't want to be teased for it.

“I'm allowed to admire my partner when they're having fun.”

“Whipped. Your aura doesn't lie~” A cheeky smirk on the ruins hunter's face.

“Yeah?” Because there was something Kite knew would embarrass Ging right back.

“Yours doesn't lie either. You've got a soft spot for them and Gon. I don't remember you offering to be my teacher so easily. As a matter of fact, I don't remember you staying in one place this long.”

The way Ging had crossed his arms and this head let him know he got him.

“I helped Y/n out, big deal. That doesn't mean I'm soft. And so what if I'm not currently traveling? That doesn't prove a damn thing.” He denied.

“It's okay to admit you like someone's company,” Kite started.

“You've never really had someone who could keep up with your smart ass remarks and give them right back.”

A ‘humph’ sounding from the ruins hunter.

“It's also okay to admit you want to spend time with your son. He's a good kid. Exactly like you…Except he has manners.”

“Is that so, father of three?” Ging taunted back.

“Yeah, father of One. Single mom.”

“We don't talk about that…Fine I wanted to spend Christmas with my kid, sue me.” He admitted at last.

“Was that so hard?”

“I would rather eat those cookies again.”

-----------------------------

It was dark out before long. Most of the party goers either checked into a hotel for the night or were still drinking out on the porch. All that was left to do was put the presents under the tree. Of which had been hidden while the kids were out playing.

Originally, everyone was gonna place their gifts a little after midnight. But considering most couldn't see straight right now, you volunteered. It was no surprise Kite would follow you.

What was a surprise however, was how you managed to snag the Santa coat from Knov and convince your partner to wear it. Saying ‘We gotta have a backup if the kids wake up.’ Along with him picking up his hair to avoid it getting in the way.

Once again the blind leading the blind with you two stumbling over each other. Trying your damn best not to laugh.

“Shhh! Shhh! We have to be quiet!” You whisper shouted.

“I'm trying! You keep tripping over Christmas lights, hun.”

You were lucky to sober up enough halfway through. Plugging in the Christmas tree while you were at it. To be honest, you weren't sure the kids still believed in Santa. Well more like Killua and Alluka. It was no secret their parents were terrible. Not letting their kids have a proper childhood.

But nevertheless they hadn't taken this small thing from them. Both justifying their lack of presents had been because they used to be assassins. Whatever worked, you guessed. As long as they were happy.

“Love?” Kite spoke up.

“Yuh.” You straightened yourself out after placing the last gift.

“We're underneath the mistletoe again.”

“Oh?” And even in the dark he could make out your cheeky smirk.

“The kids are asleep and everyone else is still outside drinking. There wouldn't be any interruptions this time. If you wanted to…” Becoming too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

“So I get to have one of my presents early?”

He stammered for a response before you pulled him closer by the tacky red suit. Lips finally meeting in a kiss that was more than a little uncoordinated. But as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer, the both of you couldn't care less.

Unawares to everything else around you but each other. Especially to the four kids that had tiptoed their way around the corner and gawked at the scene in front of them.

In the middle of the living room stood their big sibling. Smooching Santa Claus. And passionately if they may add.

Killua instinctively covering Alluka's eyes. Giving Gon a horrified look that he returned. Zushi about to say something before they slapped a hand over his mouth.

And then they heard a hushed whisper that made the four of them rush towards their room.

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

----------------

You woke up in the morning with what had to be the worst headache of your life. Surprisingly, the kids hadn't rushed your room to open presents. It was odd, but you figured they didn't wanna bother you.

Everyone had gathered in the living room to exchange gifts. Groggy, hungover, but content. You knew something was off when the kids hesitated to open what they got. Eyeing the ‘From Santa’ with hostility.

“What's the matter? You're always so excited to open your gifts.” Mito questioned the boy in green.

He eyed the other kids from his peripheral before answering.

“No reason. Maybe I've matured this year.”

“Yeah. We don't have to open gifts. It's not like we're materialistic,” Killua backed up.

Almost every adult stared at them in shock. These kids didn't to open presents??? Had they been swapped out and replaced by imposters.

“Are you two being serious right now? You're acting like the gifts are boobie-trapped.” You scolded.

“Maybe they are!” Alluka argued.

“Alluka Zoldyck!”

She huffed before crossing her arms. All four kids in solidarity with not touching their gifts. Wing trying with Zushi, only for the small boy to shake his head and turn away. The sight was baffling.

“C'mon bud. You don't want to see what you got?” Kite asked Gon.

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Unable to keep the secret of what they saw last night. Kite deserved to know didn't he?

“Y/N’S CHEATING ON YOU WITH SANTA!!!”

The room going silent at the accusation. Eyes shifting around before everyone tried to stifle their laughter. Ging doubling over with tears in his eyes as Kite's face went a bright red.

“What????”

“Y/n was kissing Santa by the tree! We saw them! But he probably blackmailed them with our gifts!” Killua speculated.

Your own face heating up. What the kids saw was you and Kite. They probably didn't recognize him well in the dark with his back facing them. But they had enough imagination to fill in the gaps, unfortunately.

It was going to be a long morning. And judging by how rest of the adults laughed knowingly at what really happened, you wouldn't be getting any help.

At least you'd had enough hindsight in your drunken state to think the kids might've walked in on you placing presents. It'd be a memorable first Christmas for you.

---------------------

MASTERLIST

Tags: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao @bekataylorgriggs @zellwa

An: A little rushed because I simply did not have enough time. I wrote the first half of this with love, and the second half cracked out on NyQuil because I got sick. Which is why this is coming so late. Anyways- HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!! TO WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE AND PRACTICE !!!!

[merrybloomwrites]

Harry Styles - Fireflies

Summary: A trip with Harry to your hometown reminds the two of you to enjoy the little things in life.

Word Count: 673

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Being Harry Styles’ girlfriend means a lot of time spent away from home. And while you adore Harry, and love getting to travel and see the world with him, you always get excited when you’re able to spend some time at home. And it’s even better when he’s able to come with you.

Early June was always a fun time for your family. Your parents both have birthdays at the start of the month, and their wedding anniversary falls then as well. Last year Harry was busy with tour, and unable to join you when you visited home.

But this year, his time is his own, and when you mentioned going back to your parent’s for a couple weeks he was immediately on board for the trip. 

The two of you had been in Italy for a bit so it was a decently long flight back to the US, but it was totally worth it once you stepped foot in your childhood home. Harry had only been here once before, and only for a couple of days. You’re excited to show him around the town you grew up in. 

Aside from the one night when you have your whole family over to celebrate your parent’s birthdays, it’s a very chill visit. Your itinerary includes things like “hike on the local trail” and “hangout at the coffee shop”. 

One of your favorite parts of your childhood home is the backyard. It’s a decent sized plot of land, with plenty of room to run around, which you thoroughly enjoyed as a kid. Since you got older, your parents had transformed one section into a seating area with a firepit, and another section into a flourishing garden. 

During your time there you and Harry help out in the garden, since it needs attention at the start of the season. You both love getting to do something with your hands, and when you go back for a weekend later in the summer, you’ll be able to eat some of the veggies you’re currently working on. 

A couple of cool evenings are perfect to have bonfires. It’s endearing to see Harry attempt to start the fire, even if it’s not something he’s quite mastered yet. He gladly steps out of the way and lets you take over, finding your firemaking skills to be rather attractive. You always start on your own chairs, but when your parents head into bed you somehow always end up sitting in Harry’s lap, cuddling and kissing.

Your parents go out to dinner on their anniversary, leaving you and Harry home alone. The two of you make dinner together and hang out on the deck to watch the sunset. You’re sitting together, enjoying the quiet, peaceful evening, when suddenly you see a flicker of light.

A moment later, there’s another one. 

You hop up and run into the yard trying to find the source.

“Love, what are you doing?” Harry calls out.

“Fireflies!” you reply.

“What?”

“I saw one! That’s the first time this year!”

“Do you always get this excited for glowing bugs?” Harry asks, his voice light with amusement. 

You don’t answer, too focused on your hunt. A second later you see yet another glow and quickly crouch down to scoop the little bug in your hands. With a big grin on your face you walk back to Harry and open your hands so he can see the little guy.

The bug lands on Harry for a moment before flying away. The two of you continue to catch the lighting bugs until your parents get back home. There’s a look on your mother’s face, and you know she’s remembering you as a little girl.

Harry’s song might say “it’s not the same as it was” but sometimes it can be. Sometimes, just catching a firefly at the start of summer can transport you right back to all those years doing exactly the same growing up. But now it’s better. Because now you get to share it with the love of your life.

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AN: Thank you for reading! Hope you have a wonderful week!

[campbyler]

if i may ask, i am v curious when the party got their cars/how long theyve had them

ella i hope you don't hate me from harboring this ask since the end of august bc i really did mean to answer it sooner. i love u mwah.

mike: some of the lore surrounding the mustang has now been revealed through chapter 9.1, but to reiterate for the purpose of this ask: mike really wanted to get a car with manual transmission, and wanted something used so it could be a purchase he made himself. he did a lot of research online and in person before finding the mustang, which he did think was a little gaudy, but to me he's also a pretty big car buff and likes a lot of classic models -- no matter anyone's feelings on mustangs as a whole, it is a very iconic car with a lot of history, so mike definitely appreciates that a lot. he had nancy co-sign but he paid for everything himself! as of acswy, he's had it for just over a year!

will: will's car is also used, and also something he (mostly) paid for by himself! originally he was going to inherit jonathan's car but like in the show, it died. rip. but hopper Knows A Guy who works on and then sells a lot of used cars and that's who they ended up buying will's car from. he got it when he turned 17 for around ~$2500 since hop's friend cut them a deal, and he paid for Most of that himself (using money he's saved up from camp and the part-time job he had during the school year when he was in hs) and hop and joyce covered the rest. that said, will does pay them back on a monthly basis and pays for his own gas and insurance, so to him they didn't help at all (even tho they helped more than mike's parents did lol). by the start of acswy, he's paid his parents back in full and now just worries about the insurance payments.

lucas: lucas's parents and smart and invest and told their beautiful talented son that if he worked hard and got good grades they would buy him a car for graduation. so he did. and then also got a full ride scholarship to uconn to play basketball and his parents said oh ok slay boy. thanks so much. so since they are saving on a LOOOT of tuition and room and board fees they said we will get you a nice car. and lucas said bet, hellcat? and his mom said ABSOLUTELY NOT and his dad said ABSOLUTELY. mike was fuming btw. if you care.

max: tbh we haven't so super fleshed out a lot of max's family lore so i'd have to consult w suni re: current arrangements BUT 2 me max shares her car w her mom. i think her mom works from home and when she needs to go somewhere uses max's step dad's car just so that max can have some extra freedom. it's also my headcanon that max is the oldest in the friend group so she got her license first and was will and el's designated chauffeur for a while <3

el: el Just got her car and license before the start of acswy! i think she's the youngest in the party and she had will and max to drive her places so there was truly no need to get her license or car until now, plus i think she had some driving anxiety. she also got her car thru hop's friend but it was a little more expensive than will's since it's a bit newer and a nicer model, but she's had more time to save up for it! she mostly got one because she wanted to be able to have something to drive back at school, and also because she's more willing to admit than will is that the cobalt is not going to last super long, so one of them needs to have a car lol.

dustin: dustin got his car from his mom when she upgraded to a new one and while most people would complain dustin said FUCK YEAH because he loves his mom's car and also didn't have to spend a single dime on it lol. i think he got it when he was 17 as well so he also drove lucas and mike around for a bit before they got their cars as part of the indy crew!

AND THAT IS IT. THAT IS ALL. I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH IT AT ALL

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Angel Maker: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: You still feel guilty for what happened to you and Hotch even though you shouldn't. If you had seen that bomb before getting blasted back, then maybe you wouldn't have so many problems with your "abilities".

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will." - Chuck Palahniuk

The back of your head still throbs, but it's time to get the stitches removed. Spencer has done an excellent job in taking care of you, but now it's time to get back to work. The doctor has to clear you before you can, but you're hoping she does it when you go in.

"Are you sure you don't want to take an extra week? It could help," Spencer says.

"I've rested enough. I need to get back to work. It's lonely without you."

You two head into the doctor's office once she calls you back, and you hop onto the uncomfortable doctor's chair so she can examine you. She puts on her gloves and grabs her scissors so she can remove the stitches.

"Looks like this is healing nicely," she says as she works.

"How long am I going to have this mild headache?" you wince.

"My guess is a couple more days. I can prescribe you some medicine to help with it."

She quickly finishes and throws the stitches away and her gloves.

"Can I go back to work?"

"Given your job, my main concern would be loud noises, you moving too quickly or running, and bright lights that can strain your eyes. Any of those can either reopen the wound or cause more pain internally."

You need to go back to work, and the only way you might be able to do so is if you reassure her concerns.

"What if I wear sunglasses inside and out? I won't go into places with loud noises, and I'll limit my time in the field. Please, Doc, I need to go back to work, and I have Spencer here to help take care of me."

"You must stay away from loud noises, and no sudden movements. I'm serious, Y/N," the doctor says and takes out a folder with your discharge papers.

"I'm serious too. I want to get better, but I do need to work. I appreciate this. Thank you."

She signs your release back to work papers, and you and Spencer are leaving before you know it. There are sunglasses in your car, so you immediately put them on and smile at Spencer.

"I'm going to feel like the biggest douchebag, but it's worth it."

When you get to work, everyone is in the briefing room, including Hotch. He must have gotten signed off as well if he's here. You and Spencer walk into the room, and all eyes are on you.

"Are you feeling okay?" Rossi asks.

"Did the doctor approve for you to come back?" Hotch asks, business as usual.

"I am feeling much better, and yes, she did. I have everything here. I just have to make sure to wear sunglasses, no running, no loud noises, and limit my time in the field. At least until my head heals completely, and my headache goes away, but I have medicine to help with that."

"Good. Glad to know you're doing better. Nice hair, by the way," Derek smirks at your boyfriend.

Spencer got a haircut a few days ago, and you think it's sexy.

"Hey, don't hate. I think he's very handsome," you grin and kiss his cheek.

You take your seat, turning to face JJ who patiently waits for you to be done so she can start the briefing. She puts some pictures on the board of a woman who looks like she was beaten to death. Nothing about these photos will ever be normal, but at least you have the stomach for it.

"This is Delilah Grennan. She was bludgeoned and raped during the night at her home in lower Canaan, Ohio. It's a small town forty miles outside of Cincinnati."

"It's almost ritual with the way the body is faced up with the arms across the chest," Spencer says.

"There's more. There are small puncture wounds on her stomach. Also, note the lack of blood."

"They were inflicted post-mortem. Were there any other victims?" Emily asks.

"Kind of. Victimology and signature match a serial killer from the same town ten years ago. There were six victims spanning over ten months. He called himself the Angel Maker."

"Yeah, I remember that case," Hotch nods. "They caught the guy and executed him."

"That's right. He was put to death by lethal injection a year ago yesterday."

"That must mean we're looking for a copycat, someone who is honoring the anniversary of this guy's death."

"It says here they found semen at the crime scene," Spencer reads from the file. "Perhaps locals will get a DNA match when they run it through ViCAP?"

"That's where it gets weird. They ran it already and they got a match, too."

"If they have a name, why did they call us?" you ask, confused.

"The match they got back on the DNA is to Cortland Bryce Ryan, otherwise known as the Angel Maker."

If Cortland is dead, then how was his semen found on the victim? Now you know why they called you in. It doesn't make sense. The lights in the plane are making your eyes hurt which makes your head hurt, so the best thing for you to do is lay down on the small couch. You have to lay on your side so you don't injure your wound further. Sleeping has been hard on you since you had stitches in the back of your head, but now that they're gone, all that's left is a sore spot. The rest of the team doesn't seem to mind you doing this since you're paying attention to what is going on.

Spencer wants to comfort you still, so he is sitting on the ground next to the couch. He reaches up and moves your hair away from your face, and you give him a small smile.

"The Angel Maker's victims were beaten with the assailant's bare hands," Spencer says when the plane reaches cruising altitude. "Delilah Grennan was bludgeoned with a heavy instrument, maybe a hammer."

"Okay, so this unsub is either a weaker guy or someone who perceives him like that. Maybe he brought along the hammer to make certain his victim wouldn't fight back?" Emily speculates.

"Well, obviously somebody planted the semen on the victim," you state.

"In the victim," Derek corrects.

"That's one theory. Think about who shares the exact DNA makeup of another person," Spencer points out.

"Reid, you're not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin, are you?" Derek scoffs.

"No, I'm not. I'm floating the idea of an eviler twin. Traditionally, the concept is a good twin and an evil twin. In this case, it's evil twin, eviler twin."

You giggle at how silly he sounds, but you're the only one laughing. You open your eyes and stare at Spencer with so much love. JJ looks between you and Spencer, and she unconsciously smiles. She's happy for you two since she can tell how happy you and Spencer are. You reach over and grab Spencer's hand before bringing it to your mouth. You kiss the back of it, and Spencer blushes at the attention he's getting.

When you land, you leave with Spencer and Hotch to the newest crime scene while the rest of the team fans out to the other locations. Sheriff Merrill Dobson walks out of the house when you arrive, and you greet him with a smile.

"What can you tell us?" you ask after introductions are made.

"Before Cortland Ryan, this town hadn't seen a homicide in over thirty years. He didn't just kill those six women. He killed a way of life. Now this thing's got people thinking he's come back."

"They don't really think that, do they?" Spencer asks.

"I guess when you've been scared by something--I mean really scared--that fear's in you forever."

You look around the house from the outside to see if you can connect with the unsub's energy, but focusing too hard on your abilities is making your head hurt. Whatever you tap into must be where your wound is because it tingles the longer you try and see what happened to the victim.

You rub your temples with a sigh and turn away from the crime scene. You'll have to work this case without your abilities this time.

"Let's stick to the facts. Were there signs of forced entry?" Hotch asks.

"None that we could find, but whoever killed Delilah Grennan opened up every window in this house before he left."

"That's a signature from the previous murders."

"It's also a detail we never released to the public."

"Did it come out in the trial?" you ask.

"No, ma'am. The prosecution had Ryan nailed nine ways to Sunday. They didn't need it. I'm hard-pressed to know how this copycat knew about those windows."

"The man we're looking for is most likely a fan who exhaustively studied the first killings and used them to form his own murder fantasies. He knows this case as well as us; better if he had actual contact with Ryan while he was incarcerated."

"We sent two of our agents to Hawkesville Prison to look into it," Hotch informs.

"What about the semen?"

"Maybe it was smuggled out of the prison, kept on ice, and brought out on the anniversary of his death," you theorize. "There's an entire cottage industry based on serial killer effects and memorabilia. You can find absolutely anything if you know the right people."

"The question is, is this a one-time commemoration or is it just the beginning?"

"Do you have pictures of the victim before she was taken away?" you ask.

"Yeah. Here."

The sheriff hands over the pictures his CSI agents took of the body and the crime scene near her. Derek and Emily went to the morgue to examine the body more closely, so the pictures will have to do for right now.

The pictures include what Delilah's face looks like, all wide-eyed and fearful. However, her body is what interests you. On her stomach are holes that the unsub had dug into her, but it's the way they are placed that has your interest peaked.

"What is it?" Hotch asks when he sees you frown.

"Look at her stomach. There are puncture wounds, if I had to guess, were done with a Phillips head screwdriver. That's consistent with the previous murders, but something is different here."

"The groupings in the prior victims were always different in number and arrangement," the sheriff says. "The only thing different with this victim is I found traces of paper in the wounds."

"Paper? Like tissue?"

"Like notebook paper."

"This is weird," you mutter after studying the pictures further.

"What is it?" Spencer asks.

"I took a couple of courses in Astronomy in college. We studied the night sky as part of our final. We learned about the stars and constellations, and as someone with a photographic memory, I recognize the structure of these puncture wounds. This looks like the Piscis Austrinus constellation. It might not mean anything, but that's what it looks like to me."

Since you can't use your abilities here, there is nothing left for you to gather. Your time will be better spent at the station as you comb over all the evidence. As soon as you get back to the station, a letter has turned up to the police. 

It's not just any letter, it's a letter from the unsub.

"I give you a legacy, a breath of life from the Angel Maker himself. Those who prayed to forget me will one day see my face and shrink in fear," Spencer reads.

"That's the last thing people need right now," Sheriff Dobson sighs.

"Reid, how's it compared with the original correspondence?" Derek asks.

Spencer picks up letters written by the Angel Maker himself and compares them to the one that was just sent in.

"They share some compelling characteristics. I'd obviously like to look at it under magnification with better light."

"What's your best guess?"

"I'd say it's authentic."

"How can this letter be authentic if the guy's been dead for a year?"

"It could be an elaborate forgery or it could be a genuine article that was written before his death."

"Mail here isn't that slow," the sheriff scoffs.

"We're going over the prison visitor logs to check who had multiple visits with Ryan to try and narrow our suspect pool," Derek says.

Just then, a woman walks into the station in determination. No one seems to know who she is besides the sheriff.

"Sela? What are you doing here?"

"Is it true? There's a letter?"

"How could you possibly have known that?"

"You didn't really think you could keep that quiet around here, did you?"

"The letter's not from him, not in the way people might be saying. He might have had a friend on the outside."

"What if you're wrong? What it--"

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Sela," the sheriff shuts her down.

If only he knew.

"I'm not talking about a ghost. I am talking about those rumors about the execution. About how there were problems, and how it didn't work right."

"What are you suggesting?" Hotch asks her.

"What if he's still out there?" The sheriff rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but Sela isn't having it. "Don't do that. Do you think I'm the only one? Look outside." You walk to the window and see a crowd forming outside the police station. "They want proof that he's dead."

"There's only one way to do that. We gotta exhume the body," you shrug.

The sheriff wanted to ease the public's fears about this, so he ordered the body to be dug up. If people see that he is truly dead, then they will calm down. They will treat this as a copycat since that's what this is.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[dandylovesturtles]

Rise Dad Simulator: Part 1.2

Readers chose: [Gentle] Never mind that. Why were you crying?

Gingerly, Splinter picks his way past the detritus of Orange's room; art supplies, clothes, toys, board game pieces, all carelessly scattered across the train car floor. This is a child's room, and so Splinter will employ a gentle touch.

"Never mind that." He pulls over a milk crate and hops on top of it, so he can look Orange in the eyes. "Why were you crying?"

At the question, Orange's eyes well with tears once more.

"I... I made Dee real mad." He sniffs, and some of the tears break free, joining the tracks that had just barely dried. "I know I wasn't supposed to... but I just wanted to help! A-and then Leo said what he said, and then... then Raph..."

"Michelangelo, please calm down." Splinter hesitates, not sure what to do, while Orange chokes down a sob and scrunches his face up. "I don't know what you're saying..."

Instead of answering, Mikey holds out his arms toward Splinter, an obvious request for a hug, and once again, he hesitates.

The damage to Orange's arms from the portal was extensive. Like third degree burns, but magical in origin, and so they cannot be treated like third degree burns. Much as Splinter hates relying on Draxum, he'd gone to him immediately once things had calmed down, and he made a salve and taught Mikey exercises to try and improve his motor function.

But only time will tell how much he will recover. And so, they have all been... careful, with Orange. To not let him strain his arms too much. To not let careless touches hurt him further.

He's asking for a hug, but it would likely be painful to give it to him.

It may also be painful to refuse.

What can he do?

Previous

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Eleutherophobia Deleted Scene

@eomund42 #might have to post as a DVD extra or whatever  

Yes please!

[This fragment was originally part of Chapter 6 of How I Live Now.  I got rid of it because a) the conversation around Jake’s table was getting too long, b) the tone doesn’t work given how the chapter opens, and c) I accidentally left Rachel and Effilit unsupervised in the yeerk pool, so I needed to retcon that the Tobys were guarding her while everyone else was at the house.]

“Food?  They had enough kandrona for years.”

“Not the yeerks, the hosts!”  I stood up, pacing as I talked.  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted it before.  “The Blade ship only had space for a few months’ worth of food storage, and I know that at least some of that was taken up with bark for hork-bajir or taxxon meat for taxxons.”

Marco made a gagging noise which I ignored.

“Visser Seventeen didn't bother restocking those stores or even checking them.  Humans are omnivores, that’s a big part of what makes us so useful,” I continued, “and the yeerks always assumed that they could feed a human body just about anything that didn’t poison it and it would keep going.”  I turned around, making eye contact with Eva.  She was nodding slowly.  “But what if that’s not the case?  What if they ran through the human food supply they had on board and couldn’t find any alternatives that had all the vitamins or amino acids or whatever that a human body needs?”

“They really don’t know as much about humans as they think they do.”  Eva offered me a tight little smile.  “Edriss wrote up most of the intel they have on us and... Well.  Edriss wasn’t a disinterested party, given that her life depended on her ability to convince the Council that humans were worth the Empire’s time.”

“That would explain why the Blade ship hasn’t been back sooner,” I said, resting both hands on the back of the empty chair.  “They’ve probably been hopping around between planets this entire time searching for a plant or animal source that’s close enough to Earth food.”

“Until they got desperate enough to come back here,” Cassie said.

I nodded.  “Humans can digest just about anything, but that doesn’t mean they can live off it indefinitely.  The yeerks probably found a few partial food sources, and they might have bought themselves some time by forcing one of the hosts to morph a large animal, become a nothlit, and then—”

Marco made his stop-talking-about-cannibalism gagging noise again, this time louder.

“Anyway,” I said, conceding the point this time.  “Maybe there’s no vitamin K in the universe in a form humans can use.  Maybe there’s no calcium.  I don’t know, but whatever it is they’re missing, they’d get desperate enough and have to come back here.”

“So this is a quick trip.  A grab and go.”  Cassie exchanged a glance with Jake.

“Which means that if Rachel doesn’t come back within a few hours they’ll probably leave without her,” Jake concluded.

“And that brings us back to Tom’s original point,” Eva said.  “We need to figure out where the rest of them are hiding.  Immediately.”

<Rachel can tell us right now if we figure out a way to get that thing out of her head,> Tobias pointed out.

Having arrived firmly back at square one, we all sat there in frustrated silence for several seconds.

“Could you contact your illusionist?” Eva said.  “Make, I don't know, a hologram vanarx to threaten it with?”

I glanced over at her.  That wasn’t a bad idea.

“Illusionist?” Marco said.  “What illusionist?”

“Your person who makes the holograms,” I said impatiently.

“We don’t have a person who makes holograms.”  Marco glanced at Jake, who gave a slight nod.  “I mean, maybe if Ax-man asked the Dome ship nicely they’d be willing to whip something up, but that’d take too long.”

Eva leveled a long, unamused stare at Marco.  “I may have been born at night, querido, but I wasn’t born last night.”

Marco looked away, shoulders hunching.

“Eva,” Jake said.  “Please trust us.  We’re telling the truth that we don’t have an illusionist.”

“I know perfectly well that you six did not whip up an entire fake hork-bajir valley in less than three hours using parts you found at Radio Shack,” she said flatly.  “Humans still don't have that kind of technology.  Probably not the andalites either.  So.  Who helped you?”

“Technically...” Ax said.  “Eck.  Nick.  Lally.”  He trailed off.  That appeared to be all he was going to say on the subject.

I looked at Eva.  Eva looked at me.  We were adults, I reminded myself, in a room full of kids.  There was no need to bristle with defensiveness, no need to feel like the only two losers out of the loop.

“You could make a hologram on that scale, with that level of sophistication, right now?” Eva said to Ax.

And now none of the Animorphs were looking at her.

<Those were special circumstances,> Tobias mumbled.

“And the current situation doesn't count as special circumstances?” I looked slowly around at each of them.  Jake wouldn't meet my eyes, but Marco leveled me with a hard, defiant stare.

<No, just…>

“You just can’t have the zombies knowing about it?” I asked.

Cassie stiffened.

Jake held up both hands in a placating gesture, looking between me and Eva.  “It isn’t possible, okay?  So leave it.”

I shoved forward to brace both hands on the tabletop.  At least three of them flinched.  “Just like it’s not possible for you to pull an exact copy of Cassie out of your collective asses?  Cut it and it’d bleed, but scan it for life forms and it’d pop up as inorganic.  Hang onto it for over two hours and it wouldn’t demorph, but take your eyes off it for a second and—”  I snapped my fingers.  “It’d disappear into thin air.  You mind telling me how you pulled that one off?”

There was a long silence.  Tobias had developed an apparent fascination with straightening his own feathers.  Cassie just looked annoyed with me.

“Didn’t think I’d notice that, did you?” I asked them, voice flat.

“To be honest?” Marco said.  “No, we didn’t.”

“It's not our secret to tell,” Cassie blurted. “We swear.”

Marco glanced at Jake again.  Jake looked at Cassie, who looked from Tobias to Ax and then back to Jake.  Jake looked back at Marco.

“Since Tom and I are clearly the only ones who give a damn about actually helping Rachel,” Eva said, “perhaps it would be best if we left the room.”

“Chee!” Marco shouted.

We all looked at him.

“That's whose hologram tech we were using,” he said. “The chee.”

It was progress, anyway.  “What’s a chee?” I said.

Jake muttered something about there not being time for all this, but looked up at me and said “There was this species called the pemalites.”

“Yeah, everybody knows about pemalites.”  I frowned.  “Wait, you’re telling me they’re not extinct?”

“They are,” Jake said.  “But they built robotic companions before they died.  And those companions, those chee, were specifically designed to look and sound and even feel like anything they wanted.  The chee can’t commit violence, not even to save a life.  But, yeah, they can make a copy of Cassie — or the hork-bajir valley — on command.”

“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” Cassie said.  “Their existence depends on their secrecy.”

I shrugged.  “I so do not care that the pemalites left behind a bunch of sex bots, and don’t think anyone else will either.  Can they help us?”

“Sex bots?  Sex bots?” Marco spluttered, twisting around to glare at me.  “They're not sex bots, you absolute sixth-grader.”

“’Chee’ literally just means ‘friend,’” Cassie said.

“And you can program them to look like anyone you want because…?” I raised my eyebrows.

Cassie opened her mouth halfway, and left it open.

“Jake?” Marco said imploringly.  “Tell me the chee aren’t sex bots.”

Jake patted Marco on the arm.  “The chee aren’t sex bots.”

“See?” Marco said to me.  “You are a disgusting human being, and oughta be ashamed to open your mouth.”

“Always am,” I said, smiling angelically.

<Anyway, it’s a moot point.>  Tobias glared at me.  <The chee wouldn’t spit on us if we were on fire, even if we could contact them.  Which we can’t.>

“Why, what happened?” I asked.  

Jake suddenly became fascinated with the grain of the tabletop in front of him.  Cassie made a noise of annoyance in the back of her throat, also looking away.

“He was fine,” Marco said loudly.  “Jake did nothing wrong.”

“Who was fine?” Eva asked.

“No one!”  Marco waved his hands.  “I mean everyone!  Everyone was fine.  So don’t worry about it.”

I made eye contact with Eva.  Yep, right back to the feeling we were the nerds being tolerated by the cool kids’ table but not allowed in on the joke.

“Tobias is right,” Cassie said.  “We’re wasting time with this discussion.  The chee are well-hidden enough that we couldn’t find them if we tried.  And even if we did they wouldn’t help.”

“You can’t even ask,” Eva said tiredly.  “You don’t think it would be worth trying to ask for help.”

“They can look like anyone.”  Marco did look genuinely apologetic now.  “Anything.  Trees, rocks, the wall behind them.  They don’t want to be found, and so we’re never going to find them again.”

“Okay.”  Jake ran a hand over his face.  “Okay.  An illusion is a dead end.  We’re on the right track, though.  How else could we get a, um, a yeerk-eating-thing?”

“Varanx,” I provided.  “And we even if we had one for real, it’d just eat Rachel’s brain right along with the yeerk.”

“So that idea’s a bust, but…”  Jake looked around the table.  “But…”

<Is there another way to get it out by force?> Tobias threw in.  <Brain surgery, something like that.>

I winced.  I knew of 10 or 12 people who’d had yeerks removed by force.  Two had survived.  One was in a vegetative state, and the other was, well... Spacey Gervais.  Who lived up to his name.

“Is there anyone among our allies qualified to perform brain surgery?”  Ax looked at Jake.  “Your father, perhaps?”  Then he twisted to look at Cassie.  “Or yours?”

“Not on a human,” Cassie said, even as Jake shook his head.

“That’s also likely to be a dead end.”  Eva was leaning more heavily against the wall, but glared at me when I tried to nudge my empty chair over to her.  “Human brains are strange, and poorly understood by humans and yeerks alike.”

<Rachel’s a morpher.>  Tobias looked from Eva back to Cassie.  <She can heal from any amount of damage that doesn’t kill her instantly.>

“Or leave her comatose,” Cassie said.  “Or otherwise unable to make a mental image of an elephant and then will her body to become that.  And I don’t think Ben Carson himself could get an entire yeerk loose without taking apart most of the host brain as well.”

“No surgery.”  Jake rested both hands on the table, closing the discussion.  “No varanx, real or imaginary.  It seems like we keep coming back to persuasion as the best way to get it out.”

I hated persuasion.  Because I had an idea for persuasion, and I was going to pitch it to the group when hell froze over.

Hell froze over… or Rachel’s life was on the line.

I sighed.  “Yeah.  Fine.  I’ll do it.”

Cassie looked up at me.  “Do what?”

[kamil-a]

transform my heart into a tunnel over you

there is no line between what you do and who you are. to love what you do is to love you, and oh, is this love? you've never been loved before, barely even liked or held in any positive regard at all. you fall hard for this loving person you found inside you.

peter/alice or peter & alice (ymmv) minidoodle of a fic. precanon parasocial meetcute.

theoretically, it needn't be a surprise. you could count each tick of your clock, one, two, three, between each time it happens, and know for sure. but the others insist on keeping you a busy rabbit, and so your count is always getting broken and it remains a joyful surprise each time when you feel it. that's what it is, it takes you a few repeats to put a word to the sensation of it blooming through your chest, joy.

so you continue letting it catch you unawares, ducking out of gunfire and leaving papers unfinished when you feel it.

the overlap, the moment when she enters inside you- everyone on the Outside passes through you, of course, that comes with the role same as paperwork and assassinations, but not like this. you don't pay attention to just anyone, you dont savor the weight of everyone's footsteps falling second by second, just hers. the sounds spoken that echo inside you, such as-

"I love this part of the day."

love! love, this mysterious Outsider said it plain as day in the garden under a tree that she loves you, forever having been spoken between 3:00 and 3:59, curses on whichever of the others were blessed with the final syllable of "oh, it's getting la-", those foul, dirty people don't appreciate it, don't deserve it.

"No, I'm not missing out on anything," she reassures her sister another time. "This is my favorite time of the week," sweet on your tongue, warm throughout your body. you're her favorite.

given to you is her name, Alice Liddell, and her sister's name, lorina, only important as far as she is important to Alice. given to you is discussion of several books, only mattering if Alice liked them. The odd interloper, a younger sister sometimes, occasionally a man not at all worth the looks Alice gives him and the furtive handholding, hushed debates on whether there's time for a kiss while the sister goes inside to bring out a snack or a deck of cards or a board game. inside you, sitting heavy like a greasy meal, is the end of that relationship, Alice Liddell wiping her tears before her sister can see, wiping her hand on the grass at 3:25 according to her watch, at 3:26 laughing shakily at a small bunny hopping through the yard and grazing on the grass, greedily tasting her tears on your actual tongue in addition to digesting them directly into the hour. so this is heartbreak. you wouldn't make her cry like that.

sometimes she's in you but she isn't yours, another new feeling you're learning, a bitterness. you hadn't realized it wouldn't be enough just to be together until you felt the frustration of her attention divided, turned away from talking about how much she loves (loves, in her own words!) you, how nice the weather is or how glad she is to be safe at home when it isn't. occasionally her shine is dulled under the costume of a student, or more often in simple clothes in what looks like an office somewhere, answering phones, carrying heavy boxes and unpacking them onto shelves. scribbling with a red pen on stacks of paper, and-

oh! she's drawn a rabbit! you should never have doubted where her thoughts were, just because she was given roles to play doesn't mean her love has dimmed! don't be a hypocrite, you tell yourself, you have your own work to do as well, but it doesn't mean she isn't always on your mind.

she must know you're watching. she must have felt the embrace of the hour she's in and wrote her love letter to you deliberately, where you could see it. some guy looks over her shoulder, (disgusting, say the word my beloved i'll kill him), to tell her she's "a good drawer", which she modestly denies. you savor it, the time- 3:52 according to the clock on her wall- wrapped fiercely around her. you hug her tight as long as you possibly can, until the minute hand points straight upwards and hour hand fully hits the 4. her drawing of you is burned into your eyes even after she has slipped away.

unlike yourselves, outsiders change. uncontrollably, even. you've peeked ahead- you know how it will end. the sparkle in her eyes dulled as she sits alone under the tree. her sister no longer joins her. you duck back into the safety of the happy times, but you know there are only so many of them left.

you wish she would tell you what's wrong. it's making your stomach twist- it's scaring you, you put a name to the feeling, you are worried for her.

"she wants you."

that's nightmare's report back from checking things out in his own time, and you can barely understand the meaning of the words, you're so jealous. not just her life but her thoughts are known to him, what you'd give for that, if you didn't need him you'd kill him right here-

"hey, hey, if anyone should be jealous here it's me! she's crying out for you, remember."

"she is?"

"not on the outside. but in her heart. for the golden afternoons, the time spent with her sister inside you." 

she wants you. she misses you. she's embarassed to tell you directly but she wants you. 

down the hole you go, taking her deeper and deeper inside you. the hole like a mouth, swallowing her up, so that no matter the time period now you will always feel her weight within the bounds of a beautiful sunday afternoon, gently pressing in on her as she tries to expand outward, remember, catch up to her proper time. it's not her fault, of course, you're the ones bending her into an unnatural shape, she'll struggle until she sets. 

as for actually putting your mouth on her- it's the only way!! well, that's...

no time to reflect on how that feels. your darling angel has punched you in the face. 

NOTES:

written around the core concept of "is being inside a roleholders hour like they vored you? (or maybe its mroe of a womb thing...?)" , ive definitely strayed from that here but that's quite alright. sorry if peter pov like is too freaky or something lol. i think i kind of held it a bit restrained pulledback but still. i hope i got across that its peters (nonliteral) first day being alive and hes figuring out what emotions are as he goes. he also does not actually grasp 'age', 'growth', or 'life stages', understanding alice to be occasionally filling the role of a student or a worker as opposed to like..... she was literally in school and had a job. he doesn't get it. it's up to you whether alice actually meant what she said verbally about loving the time spent with lorina or if it was just to make her happy, or if perhaps it was a Secret Third Thing. usually in a fantasy setting with a sort of emotional bodydissociation kind of thing id go hard on the emotional mindmeld but with peter (and all roleholders except nightmare) i think its actually completely opaque to him- he has NO idea about her inner world, only what he can interpret from her actions, expressions, and speech. he certainly didn't understand at first that in the frilly dress with lorina was not where she felt most 'herself'. he also of course has no concept of 'peter white' being seen by an outsider as a different entity than 'the white rabbit' and '3:00'. okay im back. forgot 2 hit post. weighing "odd little world, arbitrary days" vs the title i currently have and in the process from being on dylan kanner's bandcamp page watching jonni phillips' secrets and lies in a town of sinners s1 in its entirely save for the barber westchester movie. anyway. the title is from blood from the concrete by the scary jokes, which i think peter sees as him to alice but alice would be horrified if she knew he saw their relationship in that way. anyway so this is just a little doodle of a fic. happy new years!

[xalygatorx]

just an a/n from ao3 about fic comments and messages on death in pink

I’m a little surprised this needs to be said, but I’ve also not discouraged it before now, so some of that’s on me—picking apart a chapter I’ve posted (criticizing it, overanalyzing it, projecting on it, whatever) except to like maybe note a line you liked or something is not conducive to the enthusiasm and joy it takes to continue and ultimately finish what’s essentially a serialized WIP.

Additionally hopping into my Tumblr DMs and getting overfamiliar with me is also a source of discomfort. Asking a question is fine if you don’t want to use an actual “ask” for that, I get it and it’s cool, but anything past that is more than I signed up for. Getting those critiques via DM is, believe it or not, also not great and is somehow more uncomfortable than the AO3 comments described above.

Maybe you think you’re helping. Like fair enough. But it’s not helpful. Please don’t do either. It freaks me out to a degree and adds pressure to something I am doing for fun and posting for fun. 

It’d be different re: the picking apart of actual pull quotes if this were a finished work fully posted but it’s not. Usually when I’ve posted a new chapter, I’ve been working on it up until literal seconds before it shows up in your inbox/bookmarks. Getting those sorts of comments or DMs within minutes of that sort of work is a fucking atrocity to my motivation and mental health because it’s the equivalent of getting the half-digested, chewed-up version of something I spent hours on spat back at me.

The answer isn’t continuing to do as I’ve done and tolerate and maybe unintentionally encourage it by responding and trying to nudge the conversation in a kinder direction (unfortunately). It’s not my job. :’)

I’m a sensitive person, it’s true, but I’m also published and no stranger to criticism…on a finished project that I’ve flung into the ether and have no immediate need to look at ever again if I don’t want to. I’m coming back to this every day, sometimes twice a day, and in the last couple of chapters’ worth of time, I’ve started to dread it. I’ll stop if I keep dreading it, so instead I’m writing a very uncomfortable A/N for the next chapter that I will now have to force myself through drafting. Or I’ll post this by itself. No idea.

I was going to just hide activity from users that this is happening with so only I had to deal with any fallout and didn’t create discomfort for the people causing me discomfort, but knowing what I’m like I’d find a way to read those sorts of things anyway. Honestly, I don’t even know who those comments are for—if they’re for me and meant to dissect what is essentially my ongoing draft in real-time, that’s kind of fucked; and if they’re meant to start a discussion with other readers, that’s cool and all but they come to my inbox and I read every single one.

No one’s called out. No one’s in trouble. Anything prior to this getting posted is off the board. That said, we can chill out and be lighthearted about the things we say from this point or the block button will become my new best friend bc I do want to keep writing this and I don’t have the emotional energy to afford space to people who make me uncomfortable. Especially after I've made my discomfort this (gestures vaguely) abundantly clear.

Anyway. This doesn't apply to the majority of people who have commented, so I also want to acknowledge and appreciate that amidst my boundary barf.

[freetobeeyouandme]

I'm Starvin', Darlin'

Tags: Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Bylerween 2023, Slight Angst, Starvation, Brief Mentions of Cannibalism and Dying, Prompt: Trapped in the Upside Down

Words: 2.8k

Summary:

In the end all he can say is: “I have a bad idea.” “Worse than standing too close to a gate and getting dragged into the Upside Down as it closes?” “Depends.” He scoots closer. Lets go of Will’s hand to properly cup his face. He’s so close that he can smell Will’s breath: Acidic and dry. Kinda bad. “On what?” Will says, breathless. - Or, Bylerween Day 1: Trapped in the Upside Down

read on Ao3 or below; see whole collection

A/N: Happy Bylerween one and all! I normally have a hard time coming up with shorter stories, so it's been fun trying to figure out what to write for each day, especially since I wanted to do every day and not just the ones I immediately had inspiration for. The solution was picking a common theme across the board, which ended up being kissing - something else I could use the practice with and something that was very fun to combine with the sometimes more horror themed prompts I picked. For today we got "Trapped in the Upside Down", so enjoy! CW (not sure if necessary): Starvation,brief mentions of cannibalism and dying

-------

It’s strange, Mike thinks, how quickly the temperature has stopped bothering him. It feels like perpetual winter here, except that it’s no winter wonderland. Wish that it were – the magic of that would have quickly faded, too, but at least for a while they could have pretended. Instead they had gotten dim light with spores flitting through the air like tiny evil dust motes and vines crawling along the floor like snakes, ready to constrict and suffocate whatever enemies their master had.

And they had gotten the cold.

It’s the sharp, freezing chill of a calm winters day, with no harsh winds biting at your clothes or heavy snowfall obscuring what little remains of the sun when the days are short. It’s a cold that doesn’t even register at first until you’re already freezing, frog in a boiling pot except Mike would do anything right now to be that frog. Because down here the sun has never once risen to warm a single inch of this lifeless, barren land.

They had done their best to combat the cold, but by now it has seeped under the blankets and their shirts as well, settling wetly into every inch of them, toes to fingertips. But Mike has gotten used to that, since. Exist in one state for too long and you got used to a lot of things.

He’s used to the hunger, too. His stomach had given up a few days ago now, and the dizziness that came with the hollow in his stomach had turned into simple, perpetual exhaustion. It’s a softer feeling, less painful. His body simply does not have enough energy to keep warm and also stay awake.

They’d counted days, at first, but once they’d begun drifting off, they had begun blurring into one another. He remembers the first day, the trek through the dead landscape until they found the dark mirror of Hop’s cabin. They had contacted the other side, carefully spelling out messages in morse code and then using El as a radio to let their families know where they were. That they were as safe as they could be in this place. That they would be waiting right here.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since then. He’d been freezing already by the time they tried to fix Hop’s old bed and collected whatever half decent blankets they could find to create some semblance of comfort. And since then they haven’t really moved. There’s no food to forage, no water to find. Spending their energy on a trek into town to find more fabric isn’t worth the energy they’d lose.

So they’ve just been laying here. Trying to conserve heat and energy (which really are the same things, Mike’s inner Mr. Clarke points out unhelpfully). Trying not to think about how they might die here. Just like this.

A few years back one of his grandmother’s neighbors had died at home while Mike and Nancy were visiting her. Nanna had said he’d gotten lucky, that to die in your sleep was really the best way to go. You just fell asleep and that was it. No pain. You didn’t even notice. She’d said that was how she wanted to go, and back then that had seemed like a sensible thing to Mike.

Now it’s the scariest thing he can think of. To simply drift off and never wake in this cold hell? To leave Will to fend for himself? To die not knowing if Will, at least, will make it out?

Worse, to wake up and find Will even colder next to him, no heartbeat, no breath?

Mike reaches out, tapping his finger lightly against Will’s elbow. He’s laying curled around himself, his back ever so slightly to Mike, but Mike’s insistent tapping brings him back around. He uses the opening to slip his hand into Will’s. This time Will doesn’t pull back.

Mike had tried earlier, thinking that the closer a space they could create under the blankets, the easier it would be for their bodies to recycle the heat. But Will had scooted away at the lightest touch, and Mike hadn’t given chase because the bed was only so big.

Now Will lets him slide his fingers between his. Lets him scoot closer.

Not that it’s going to help with the warmth at all.

“If you wake up and I’m dead you have my permission to eat me,” Mike says with no preamble. There is no way to lead into this conversation.

Will stares at their intertwined hands, frowning. Then he says: “If anything you should be eating me. It’s my fault we’re in this situation in the first place.”

And there it is. Mike had been waiting for Will to say that – knew Will was bound to take the blame. It doesn’t mean Mike is ready to agree with him. They both could be stubborn like that.

“Will-”

“No. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be here. I was trying to hold onto something and then you fell in with me, and I’m sorry.”

Mike shakes his head. “You weren’t the only one trying to stop you from falling in. I could have let go before I fell and I didn’t. Because this way at least you’re not alone.”

Will turns away, staring up at the dirty, overgrown ceiling above them. He says nothing. And Mike can’t read his face. Can’t figure out why his eyes shine with tears.

“Or did you want to be over here alone again?”

Will’s lack of a response should be answer enough. It’s not like Mike can’t guess what he’s thinking in that regard. But as Will continues to be quiet, looking pointedly away from Mike with tears in his eyes, he can’t bear letting him be quiet.

He pokes Will in the side with his free hand. “Did you? All alone while monsters prowl and-”

Will meets his eyes again, expression dead serious. His voice is shaking when he replies: “No.”

“Sorry,” Mike says.

Will shakes his head.

Mike squeezes his hand. He has the weird urge to reach out and brush the tears away from Will’s face, except no tears have even fallen yet. And he doesn’t think putting his thumb to Will’s quivering lips is going to help either.

“They’ll find us,” he tries to reassure Will and himself. “They’re working on a way to get another gate open and then we can leave. No one’s going to eat anyone.”

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when we’re right side up again?” Will asks, indulging Mike’s overly optimistic speculation about their future.

Mike has to think about that for a second. He had been busier conjuring visions of death than of survival. “Drink something? I think we still had like half a bottle of iced tea in the fridge when I left, so I’ll drink all of that. I’ll take a warm one too, I don’t care.”

“Yeah. Or some coke. Even a nice shaken up soda.”

Mike hums in agreement. “And then I’d pop some pop tarts into the toaster while I drink. I could eat a whole carton.”

“And some chocolate.”

“Yeah, some chocolate. Some eggos. Fuck, I’d eat broccoli right now if that just meant I had something to eat.”

Will giggles.

“What?”

“I like broccoli.”

Mike puts his hand against Will’s cheek but doesn’t actually push him away, not even playfully. “You’re weird. Like so weird. You know that, right?”

Will smiles tightly but says nothing. Mike shakes his head, shuddering as his dead mouth remembers the taste of broccoli. Maybe he’ll take that back. It’d be the ultimate test of how hungry he really is if the choice was between broccoli and starvation.

Finally, Will says: “You’d just throw it all up again.”

“Did you?”

Will shakes his head. “They wouldn’t let me eat enough to throw it back up. But- I didn’t even want to eat that much. You stop being hungry after a while, even when there’s food again.”

Mike doesn’t know what to say. He wants to wrap his arms – wrap his whole body – around Will. Both to comfort him and to reassure himself that Will’s still there and breathing.

“Well, we’ll throw ourselves a feast and we’ll eat until we’re sick. They can’t stop both of us.”

Will laughs. He twists to the side, curling up towards Mike, and Mike feels thrilled by that simple movement. He can feel Will’s body shake across the mattress. Mike grins at him.

When he’s calmed down again, Will places his hand over where theirs rest intertwined on the mattress. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Mike gives him a smile. “Always.”

Will shakes his head. “That’s not- that’s bad self preservation.”

Mike shrugs.

“Mike-”

“I don’t care if we’re still fighting the Upside Down by the time we’re fifty, okay? We know about the dangers now so I’m not ever letting you deal with it on your own again. It’s really simple.”

Will smiles sadly, the tears back in his eyes. “You’ll have a wife and a family by the time you’re fifty. I don’t think they’ll like you running off to fight the Upside Down every time the Mindflayer rears its head.”

Mike is about to retort that he’d not leave Hawkins if he didn’t know the town would be safe, and so his future wife better know all about the Upside Down and fight it beside him, when Will’s phrasing gives him pause. He turns it over in his head for a quiet second, then says: “And you won’t?”

Will looks away but doesn’t turn. Yet.

When he doesn’t say anything, Mike says: “I know it looks like we’ve all figured it out already because we’ve had girlfriends, but it’s okay to be late to that.”

“Mike.”

“And I mean I think out of all of us girls like you the most. I mean Amanda Miller asked you to dance at the snowball. And Jennifer Hayes cried at your funeral. I’ve only ever been with El and we all know how that ended, don’t we?”

“Mike!”

“I’m just saying! Just because you haven’t figured out all your shit in High School doesn’t mean you’ll be single forever. Dating in college is gonna be much better anyway. Like, seriously, screw High School.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut, as if unhappy with the reassurance Mike was trying to give him. And Mike’s not sure why. Because that is the issue, right?

Will sighs as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say next. “I have my shit figured out, it’s just that-” He breaks off, looking away as he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“It’s just what?” Mike asks.

Will looks at him and then looks away again just as quickly. As if ashamed. And suddenly Mike understands. Will isn’t going to have a wife – or even just a girlfriend – because he doesn’t want one. Because what he wants-

“Oh.”

Will grimaces. “Yeah. Oh.”

“Hey,” Mike starts and then doesn’t know how to continue. What is he supposed to say to that? How is he supposed to make Will feel better? When he’s never even given much thought to it? Of course he knows that this is what the bullies said about Will, but to find out it’s true – it’s not a problem for him. He knows it can’t be, because it’s Will. And he could never have a problem with Will.

But there’s a queasy feeling in his stomach and Will looks close to tears again and they’re trapped here in the Upside Down together so he can’t even pretend to go to the bathroom to figure this out in private and instead has to readjust his worldview while Will watches on with those really, really sad Will Byers puppy-dog eyes and if Mike does anything wrong Will is going to be hurt even though he doesn’t want to hurt him because it’s Will and of course it’s alright with Mike that he’s-

“Mike?”

He closes his eyes. Exhales.

It’s alright with him. Does anything else matter right now?

He tries to give Will a smile. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“Yeah,” Will replies, not sounding like he believes it. “I’m alright.”

Mike scoots closer, squeezing Will’s hand. With his free one he brushes through Will’s hair. He’s not entirely sure why. It’s not a comfort they are used to giving each other, but it feels right.

“You are alright. It doesn’t matter to me. And it’s not going to matter to Lucas or Dustin or Max and El. Or your mom or Jonathan. Or anyone who’s important. And everyone else can go stick their opinion elsewhere.”

This time Will’s smile – his little laugh – is more genuine.

Mike lets his hand slip off Will a little. Pulls back until his palm is resting against Will’s cheek, cold and clammy. It’s there he freezes when the thought comes: How does Will know he wants to be kissing boys instead? Would it feel good? To kiss a boy?

To kiss Will?

“Mike?” Will sounds a little breathless, and for a second Mike worries he gave voice to those thoughts. But Will doesn’t look like he knows what Mike was thinking. Rather-

His pupils are blown wide. His mouth is open, his breath grazes Mike hotly.

Does Will want to kiss him?

For a second he can’t think or act as the possibility plays out in his mind. If the tension in his stomach is any indication he definitely wants to be kissing Will.

In the end all he can say is: “I have a bad idea.”

“Worse than standing too close to a gate and getting dragged into the Upside Down as it closes?”

Oh, he really wants to be kissing Will.

“Depends.” He scoots closer. Lets go of Will’s hand to properly cup his face. He’s so close that he can smell Will’s breath: Acidic and dry. Kinda bad.

He still wants to taste him, though.

“On what?” Will says, breathless.

Mike doesn’t say anything. Just meets his eyes.

Will swallows. Mike can feel him swallow, can feel the movement in his jaw. His eyes drop down to Will’s lips involuntarily.

Mike says nothing. Neither does Will. Somehow they take the last step together, though.

Will’s lips are dry against his. Not hard and unyielding, still soft, but there’s something of sandpaper in it. Cold sandpaper. And it doesn’t get much better when their mouths open. The bad breath translates to bad taste. There’s something sharp and metallic in there, and for a second Mike worries he’s split the tender, dry skin on Will’s lips by pressing in too hard. He pulls back to make sure there’s no blood, but Will’s lips are a pale, blueish purple, not red.

The kiss leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to care. Can’t bring himself to stop. Will sighs into the next kiss and it doesn’t matter that they both taste of death – it’s warm and it’s good and if the little bit of exertion didn’t have them both panting like they ran a marathon Mike wouldn’t want to stop at all. Will’s fingers tracing his face feel so nice and he’d much rather lose himself in this than in the dim exhaustion of starvation.

Even as they pull apart they don’t move far, and Mike’s grateful for that. He’s not sure he has enough life left in him to go chasing after Will.

“Verdict?” Will asks, quietly and still somewhat out of breath. He’s not meeting Mike’s eyes, afraid of the answer.

Mike tilts his head, pressing a third, short kiss against Will’s lips.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Mike says with a smile.

Will smiles back, first hesitantly, then unable to keep his joy inside of him. Mike knows the feeling. He presses another kiss to Will’s lips.

It’s bad, though. The bitter, acidic breath. The tang of cold metal.

He rolls onto his back a little, stretching out his arm behind Will’s head. Will accepts the invite without hesitation, scooting closer and putting his arms around Mike’s middle. They readjust the blankets. Cuddle up properly.

It’s the closest they could possibly be and still Mike doubts they’ll be warmed by it.

It only half matters, though. Because at least Will’s with him. At least they have this. Will starts tracing patterns onto Mike’s ribs. Mike starts playing with Will’s hair. They’re cold and hungry and somehow, briefly, content.

“Actually, I think the first thing I’ll do is brush my teeth,” Mike says after a while. “Second is going to be kissing you better.”

Will chuckles, the sound reverberating in Mike’s rib cage where his head is pressed against it.

They only have to wait for help to arrive.

View Collection on Ao3 > Next Prompt

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret's Worth

Chapter 38: Jim

Ao3

Jim leaned back and stretched against the bike rack just outside the front of the school, basking in the early morning sunlight. He’d gotten here super early, it was a full half hour until classes started, but he was in no rush. Content to enjoy the gold and peach light of the rising sun and the peaceful quiet while he waited for the others.

Twenty minutes later he heard the clicking of a bike approaching, turning to see Toby pedaling up to him.

“It is not fair how you can get up so obscenely early,” Toby huffed, dragging his bike to the rack and locking it in next to Jim’s.

Jim just chuckled “Hey we all have our strengths, but I know what will ease the pain,” he patted the white box sitting on top of the rack next to him.

Toby’s eyes widened “What i–”

“What is that?” Darci sped up to them on her own bike, eyes sparkling.

Jim just gave her an easy smile “You’ll have to wait until Mary and Claire get here,”

“Well that could take–”

“I– I’m here,” Mary pulled her own bike up, panting.

Toby raised an eyebrow “What’s with the wheels, I thought your Mo dropped you off in the mornings?”

Mary scowled “My moms caught me sneaking out to go on a date with Mallory, now I have to bike to school for two weeks,”

“Bummer,”

Behind them Jim saw a familiar car pull up against the curb and pushed himself all the way upright “Looks like Claire’s here to,”

A station wagon with a bright yellow ‘Baby on Board’ decal came to a stop by the edge of the curb, the side door popping open and Claire hopping out and moving towards them.

“Hey guys,” Claire said with a wide smile “Ready for the first day of sophomore year?”

“Technically we had our first five days last week,”

Mary snorted “Orientation and whatever the heck ‘Mole Spirit Week’ is don’t count,”

“Sounds like someone lost their school spirit,” Darci said in a sing-song voice.

Toby nodded sagely “Oh she definitely needs a school spirit transplant,”

That earned the two of them a groan from Mary.

Claire rolled her eyes at their antics, gaze landing on the white box “Hey Jim, what’s with the box?”

He grinned back at her, reaching over and picking up the box “Glad you asked. Since I was able to get an early start today, and mom gave me some cash for snacks, I decided to grab us a treat, celebrate the start of the school year and all,” he held the box out and opened it up, revealing five giant cinnamon rolls, oozing with gooey filling topped with generous dollops of frosting, four sets of eyes simultaneously widened.

Toby’s jaw dropped “Are these from that fancy bakery that opened last week!? How!? They sell out almost instantly and preorders are backed up weeks,”

“I got up at the crack of dawn, took the long way around town to school, and stopped by just as they were opening,” 

“So that’s why I didn’t spot you at the canal,”

“Ok clearly adding you to our friend group was a good choice,” Mary said, eyes locked on the open box, slowly edging closer.

“Glad to hear it,” Jim held the box out further “Go nuts guys I didn’t bring them here to look at,”

They took his advice, whipping their hands into the box and tearing into the cinnamon rolls. Soon the five of them settled back, leaning against the wall and bike rack, each munching on their own roll.

Claire finished hers first, sucking her fingers clean of frosting before speaking up “So…the drama department is doing Romeo and Juliet this year, I was thinking we should all try out, that way we could all work on the play together,”

She pulled out a flier which they immediately started passing around, all of them murmuring curiosity, Jim included. But when it came to him and he spotted the times he could actually feel the fluttering hope in his stomach sputter and die.

“Sorry but I won’t be able to be in the play. It runs too late and I have to get home early because of…you know,”

“But rehearsals end way before– that, so it shouldn’t be an issue,”

Jim forced back a wince as he handed the flier back to Claire “Yeah for now, but as the season goes on, daylight savings and all, it’s going to start happening later,”

Claire blinked at him, eyes going wide “Oh…sorry,”

“Here’s a thought,” Mary cut in “Maybe you wouldn’t be able to act, but if Ms. Janeth is ok with it you can be a stagehand and just duck out before it starts getting dark,”

“That…sounds like it could work,” Jim felt a soft smile slowly spread across his face.

It wouldn’t be the same, not exactly, but they could all still work on the play and have fun together.

“I’ll talk to Mrs. J,” Toby said, siding up to Jim and flashing a grin “I’ll give her the ol’ Domzalski charm,”

Mary fixed him with a look “Toby we talked about this,”

Darci just rolled her eyes “How about we all talk to Ms. Janeth during tryouts on Thursday, strength in numbers and all,”

“That sounds good,” Claire added

Jim found himself nodding along “Works for me,”

“And I can give her the Domzalski charm,”

Jim laughed as Mary, Darci, and Claire simultaneously groaned, the giddy energy staying with him even as they broke apart and drifted towards their lockers. He was halfway through spinning the combination into his locker when it hit him.

It was this exact day last year when it happened.

The thought startled him so much for a moment he just stood there in front of his wide open locker with the door swinging in the air.

Getting hit with so much sadness and despair that he couldn’t handle it. Completely breaking down crying under the weight of the hopelessness to the point where he thought he’d never be happy again. Even though he knew it was a year to the day it felt like it happened just yesterday and a thousand years ago.

Jim still could very clearly remember just how utterly crushed he’d been, he didn’t think he could ever forget that. But after everything he’d been through over the last year all that misery felt so far away.

A year ago he’d thought his life was over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Things had been hard over the last year, incredibly so, but he’d gained three new friends, learned so much, took back his life and made it his own.

Thinking about what would happen after high school still scared him a little, but now it also thrilled him.

There was a lot of uncertainty ahead. He still didn’t know what it was he turned into, he might never know. What changes he might go through as an adult. Facing the struggles of college and jobs. 

But whatever was ahead of him he wouldn’t have to face it alone. 

A gently warmth blooming in his chest, Jim reached out and grabbed his locker door, halting its swinging

Maybe bad things would still happen, as he got bigger he might have to eat more and more meat to survive, his dad might come back and stir up trouble again, more people might get close to his secret; but no matter what happened he had friends and family to help him through it. He didn’t have to face the unknown all alone. 

And bad things might happen, but maybe good things would happen to.

For the first time in he didn’t even remember how long, Jim could think about the future with a smile on his face.

He was still grinning like an idiot, practically dizzy with giddiness, as he tossed his bag into his locker, which was why he only caught the tail end of Eli’s ramble.

“--monsters with stone for skin!”

Jim jerked violently, heart yanking up and down, locker door slipping from his hand during his panicked flailing. Reaching out with shaky hands to slam it shut with much more force than needed. Leaning against the locker with both hands, trembling against the metal, Jim slowly turned around, desperately hoping he hadn’t just heard what he thought he had.

Eli was standing in the corner speaking rapidly and making large sweeping gestures with his arms as he talked, gathered around him were some wide-eyed freshmen and a few unimpressed looking upperclassmen. Jim shoved down the sudden spike of anxiety, if nothing else he’d gotten good at doing that over the last year, forcing himself to act casual as he walked over towards him.

“What was that you were saying Eli?”

Eli looked up sharply at him, a wild glint in his eyes “On my way to school this morning I saw two monsters with stone for skin fighting under the canal bridge!”

One of the others, Seamus, he now recognized, gave a sharp bark of laughter “Get real E-lame, if you’re going to make stuff up at least be creative about it,”

Jim didn’t allow himself to so much as twitch, but on the inside he was practically melting with relief. He hadn’t left the house before he’d changed, and he hadn’t been anywhere near the canal this morning. No way Eli spotted him while he was blue. Chances are Eli just saw something else from a distance and got confused.

“I’m not lying!” Eli’s voice was shrill, nearly a shout “There are monsters in Arcadia living right under our noses!”

“I don’t think you're lying Eli–”

Eli spun towards him, face practically radiant with gratitude, making the next part hard to say.

“But don’t you think it’s more likely you just saw some guys in motorcycle gear duking it out than actual monsters?”

“I know what I saw, it was monsters!”

Seamus scowled and opened his mouth to no doubt say something else scathing, but before he could get a word out first bell rung, scattering the loose gathering as they all headed for their classes.

Eli was harmless. Whatever he’d spotted this morning wasn’t Jim, and it wasn’t like any of his conspiracy junk had ever held water before. 

Nevertheless Jim was still on edge when he sat down in Mr. Strickler’s class for first period just before second bell run.

“Alright students quiet down,” Mr. Strickler strode to the front of the room, hands folded behind his back as the room settled into silence “I know the Punic wars might not seem like the most exciting conflict in history, but that’s just for those who don’t know better….”

Jim pulled out his notebook and started quickly scribbling down notes, doing his best to force Eli’s talk of monsters out of his head and focus on the lesson Strickler was–

James Lake

His heart shot up into his throat, jerking in his seat and snapping upright, pencil dragging a sharp line across his paper yanking his notebook to the side. 

“Dude you ok?” Toby whispered from the seat next to him.

Jim’s eyes flickered towards the front of the room where Strickler was still talking about the Punic wars while pointing at different parts of his projection while all eyes in the room were on him.  

No interruption in the lecture. No one looking his way.

“Did…you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s– never mind,”

Toby raised an eyebrow but turned back towards the front of the room. Jim shook his head and discreetly pulled in a deep breath. He must have imagined it, no need to freak out five minutes in to his first class.

He regripped his pencil and straightened his notebook just as Mr. Strickler turned around to face the room again.

“Now pay attention because this will be on your first test…”

Heartbeat slowing, Jim lowered his gaze towards his paper and went back to jotting down–

James Lake

He somehow managed to keep himself from jerking again, pencil in an iron grip and a slow shudder creeping up his body. Something slimy curling in his belly, Jim looked up again and discreetly looked around the room.

There was no way that it was Mr. Strickler saying his name, and it didn’t look like anyone else in the room was calling him either. Was his mind just playing tricks on hi–

James Lake

His heart dropped down into the pit of his stomach, pencil tumbling from his grip.

Nope. Not imagining it. There was an actual voice in his head.

“Is there a problem Jim?” Mr. Strickler’s cool voice cut through his mounting panic.

Jim looked up at him–

James Lake

Mr. Strickler and everyone else in the room didn’t so much as flinch.

Yep it was only him. Jim was hearing a voice calling his name that no one else could. That wasn’t good. At all.

“I…uh…have to go to the bathroom,”

One of Mr. Strickler’s eyebrows quirked up “Class just started,”

James Lake

“I really really have to go,”

Snickers and giggles filled the room.

“Alright then, just hurry back,”

Jim managed to give a frantic nod of thanks as he practically raced out of the room, Feeling Toby and the girls’ eyes on him as he went. 

In some part of his mind he knew it was bad he was having another big moment of public weirdness on the first day of school after the one he’d had last year. But the bigger part of him was focused on the literal voice in his head. He managed to make it to the end of the hall before it hit him again, much louder than it had been in the classroom.

JAMES LAKE

Ok, mysterious voice was getting louder. But was the volume increasing or was Jim getting…closer? Only one way to find out and he literally had no other ideas.

Moving through the school, the voice getting steadily louder as he went, Jim found himself standing in an open side door without even realizing it, staring at the open street ahead of him. For a moment he hesitated, imagining all the trouble he’d be in if he was caught ditching–

JAMES LAKE

Jim gritted his teeth and took off sprinting down the sidewalk. Running and running guided only by the voice in his head.

JAMES LAKE

Leaving pavement behind he raced down a dirt trail towards the canal. Slowing but not stopping when he reached the edge. Scrambling down the concrete he slipped and tumbled, landing hard on his hands and knees on the concrete. For a moment he stayed like that, palms stinging and knees throbbing, kneeling on the ground, panting.

JAMES LAKE

He froze.

That time the voice hadn’t been in his head. 

Slowly lifting his head up. Jim spotted a pile of gravel underneath the bridge, in the same direction that the voice had come from. He pushed himself upright, taking small, cautious steps towards the bridge.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

No reply, either from inside and outside his head. The only sound the distant rumble of traffic on the road above. Stopping right in front of the pile, Jim saw that what he thought was gravel was actually some very coarse rubble. Seeing nothing else but bare concrete around him, Jim got down on his knees and started sifting through it, not even sure what he was looking for.

Until he touched something that wasn’t rock.

Jim froze for a second before he closed his fingers around the object, cool and smooth in his hands, and pulled it out.

When he saw it he was so stunned he couldn’t move, kneeling in the bright canal marveling at the bizarre object in his hands.

The closest comparison he could make was to a pocket watch, but this was like no pocket watch he’d ever seen.

It was about the size of his phone, round, made of a shiny silver metal surrounding a sky blue face. There were hands and writing on it, but not in any orientation or language he’d ever seen, fixed together with gears sporting gargoyle-like faces in an incomprehensible jumble.

While Jim was still struggling to figure out what exactly he was looking at, the voice came again, emanating directly from the pocket watch, but softer, and almost…comforting.

James Lake

Then there was a sound almost like a sigh of relief and the pocket watch went silent.

Jim’s breath caught in his throat. For a few moments he could only stare at the object, then he slowly raised it to his ear

“Uh…hello? Anyone home?”

Nothing but silence. The voice was gone, and somehow Jim had a feeling it wouldn’t be back because it had done what it was supposed to.

But that still left him with far more questions than answers.

Adrenaline slowly draining away, Jim stood back up straight and turned the object over in his hands, trying to spot any other markings or clues that could give more insight.

As he examined the not-pocket watch he was hit by a sudden wave of awareness. Jim was standing in the canal in broad daylight talking to an inanimate object. If anyone going by saw him they would report him for truancy, or worse call his mom.

Mysterious voices and pocket watches aside he needed to get back to class.

Jim shook himself off, sliding the pocket watch into the back pocket of his jeans before making his way back up the side of the canal.

Despite the craziness that was his life, mysterious talking watches was a new one. What was this thing? Why did it call his name? What did it all mean?

Jim let out a breath as he planted both feet on the dirt bordering the canal, turning and heading back in the direction of the sidewalk that led to the school. Feeling the constant press of the object’s shape and weight in his pocket.

Well whatever this was, he wouldn’t have to tackle it alone, he’d have his friends to help him figure it out.

[dangermousie]

Farscape Rewatch - 2x07 and 2x08

Not my fave eps (in fact, 2x08 Dream a Little Dream is my least fave ep in the season and in my bottom three eps of the show) so not too much to say.

Home on the Remains 2x07

The start of D’Argo x Chiana, a glorious secondary ship.

I love the visuals of the pollen floating through the ship. I love that you can never feel entirely comfortable with Zhaan because underneath her calm, even good demeanor, there is madness waiting to peep out and the show never lets you forget it. Here it really manifests when she is in starvation mode and it’s scary and surreal and oddly beautiful. For Zhaan, like for many other of the characters, being good, doing good is not the default - it’s a conscious, hard-won choice and I love that.  Second comment is that we get some glimpse into what Chiana’s life was before Moya, and why she was all spikes when she came on board. Her loyalty is manifest here as is her lack of self-worth: she is OK with whoring herself to get Zhaan a meal(!!!!!) (and I love how both John and D’Argo would much rather kill the guy). And so is her darkness: she kills the guy in a pretty gruesome way and doesn’t dwell on it for a second. I really do think she is the one who killed the Nebari keeper in the ep she first appeared. And also here is the start of Chi and D’Argo. I squealed at the kiss when I first saw it and get !!! on every rewatch. I loved how complicated this OTP was and how invested I was and how their flaws and strengths both intertwined into it.

And some of my fave quotes are here. I love Aeryn’s snide ‘I get to babysit the blooming blue bush and you get to play with your favorite little tralk’ and Crichton’s ‘you can eat anything if it’s fried’ is sort of a catchphrase in the Mousie household. I also love the scene with Rygel on the sled and Rygel biting John and John biting back. Yeah. This show was gloriously unhinged. 

Not a favorite ep but enjoyable enough, which is more than I can say, with few exceptions for the ep that follows.

Dream a Little Dream 2x08

This is my most fast-forwarded S2 ep ever. Honest. Blah. 

But even a truly bad ep has some glorious exchanges.

Anyway, this ep is largely a flashback by Zhaan about what happened to her, China and Rygel between end of s1 and start of s2. Zhaan goes crazy while being framed on planet of evil lawyers. Rygel and Chiana save her. Blah. End of flashback.

I’ve read someone say that the problem with this episode is that since it’s a flashback we have no tension. We know everyone will be OK. But I don’t think that is the case. After all, do we really expect Crichton et al to be bumped off at a random ep? No, but we still get excited about the eps (of course, DALD takes it further as we know everything will return to status quo we know now but still…) And we just a few eps ago had The Way We Weren’t which was largely set three years prior to the premiere episode and it’s one of the best eps of the season. For me, the flashback is not the problem. I think this is the ep that reiterated for me that while I find Zhaan and Rygel interesting in small dozes, an ep centered around them is not really my thing. And I love Chiana, but probably ditto unless she is interacting with someone other than them. Basically, my character order of preference goes: John, Aeryn, D’Argo, Chi etc etc. And an ep where my top 3 characters are absent (minus a very very cool hallucination) drags. The plot is also not scintillating. In fact, to call it simplistic with truly boring characters except for the regulars is to compliment it. Oh well, they can’t all be winners and Farscape had way less losers than most (after this ep, I adore every single ep until S4′s Coup by Clam - every single ep and that’s insane.) I do love Chiana and Rygel as trial lawyers, utterly hopped up and themselves in wiggle room exploitation. And the courtroom design is very neat. But that is about it.

Also, this is a small framing scene but I do love how, once again, John is the one who believes that talking it out helps. He gets more and more hardened but he still believes in talking it out, even if it’s now limited solely to those he loves (that is why in part the end of 2x22 DMD hits so hard - John lying there, agreeing to a procedure that will render him mute, because, as he says, there is nobody he want to talk to anyway and nothing to say. One of the worst times he’s been broken thoroughly; though he always manages to reassemble himself somehow.)

I do love Zhaan and John’s bond. I will always love Farscape for many reasons but one of them is creating all these powerful, complex women and not having them be love interests for the male lead. Crichton’s relationships with important female characters are varied - with Zhaan here she’s the older sister in so many ways - but except for Aeryn, they are never romantic, and very very rarely sexual (and if we remove Grayza where the sexual element is not by his choice, the rarity becomes even more pronounced) and I love that.

[mmmmalo]

i'm only barely into reading slurquest given this is the first time i ever stumble upon it but i noticed right off the bat that you mention two things: gamzee saying "ninja" as an ommission of the n-slur, which while not *wrong* is directly tied to a real-life juggalo thing, a subculture that basically entirely revolves around white people taking black art and culture and mocking it,

the second is the fact that while will smith is mentioned, the text makes the explicit mention of him as an "oliveblood" when compared to his peers in the show being "bluebloods" implying there's definitely a broader intersection of race+class within the building of alternia's caste system!

anyway this essay is really insightful so far, have a good day!

Agreed that it's worth mentioning that epilogue!Gamzee's use of 'ninja' derives from actual juggalo culture, but I'm not on board with the notion that ICP's act is a mockery of hip hop: they were just some guys from the Detroit rap scene who adopted clown personas based on 1. Violent J's dreams and 2. a clown-painted hype man they liked. I'm also realizing that while I know juggalos refer to eachother as ninjas and ninjettes, I don't know whether they actually mirror usage of "my n*gga" or if that's just a Homestuck innovation. Kind of an oversight, gonna look into that.

And this is perhaps downstream of your point, but I'm not on board with the idea that white guys have no business rapping, in a general sense. I mostly discuss the White Rapper in Homestuck as a medium for ironic scaremongering about the encroachment of black culture upon whiteness, but there's a complementary suspicion that white culture despoils blackness that I'm likewise opposed to. Cultural exchange is fine

As for your second point, you're right to emphasize that Troll Will Smith is introduced within an anecdote about racism/classism on Alternia... I wasn't able to find a good place to include that point when I was drafting the essay, but it's probably worth another shot at integration.

Thanks for your comments and I hope you enjoy your read! Forgive my incomplete account of the horses motif.