#he exclusively uses a nickname and says it so loud and often enough that people made a chant for him

[dragonrider9905]

Don’t Call Me Flower

Alright @techs-stitches! At long last, it is here!!!!! I finally finished the square you requested! I really hope you like it and thanks for the prompt :)

This story is a participating piece in @clonexreaderbingo.

Square: Phee

Attempt number 283: failed. 

You fumbled and mumbled over your words and the babbling turned into a short stutter. 

Luckily he didn’t seem to notice. 

Ugh.

You’ve tried starting a conversation with Tech 283 times since he arrived on Pabu, but each ended in a complete and utter failure. You were cut off, not loud enough, or your tongue would tie itself in knots. 

This isn’t saying you haven’t talked to him; you have…just never from your own initiative. Phee helped introduce you a great deal (you believed there was more to her motive here than just being friendly and inclusive like normal), one of the other Batchers or Omega brought you into the conversation, or Tech himself struck up an interesting comment. If the latter was the case, most of the time you just listened anyway and didn’t have an obligation to say much other than your appreciation of his observations. 

It’s been exactly three weeks since this ragtag group of clones arrived on your little paradise. Good thing they came when they did too. They’d become an important part of the community after the tidal wave that wreaked havoc on the island’s home and uprooted their entire lives. 

They were the breath of fresh air on a hot summer’s day which cools, but doesn’t chill. The kind that fills you with contended energy, and adventurous spirit.

And Tech, well, he’d caught your attention right away at Shep’s house; Phee invited you to join them for dinner the first night they were there. You smiled, seeing him hunched over his datapad. It was kinda funny, and cute in a way and you decided to try to pull his attention from it. You weren’t very successful. Phee was better at it than you but she worked some magic with her words then somehow always left the conversation suddenly and you and Tech would be ‘stuck’ with each other. 

Then the tidal wave hit and you, Tech, and Phee made a great team rescuing the people of Pabu.

That introduced a whole new tie you had with the clone but somehow, even though you worked well together, you were still shy when it was only the two of you, and struggled with making yourself seen or heard in a semi-intelligent way. 

Tech would come by more often than not with a new idea about improving town life (if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’d enjoyed it and wanted to talk to you. Did he seem excited when he approached you? You wanted to say so *shrugs internally*) which would segway into other ideas and conversations. The topics always varied, but whatever it was, you always enjoyed it. 

What really made you fall for Tech (or when you finally realized it or stopped denying it or admitted to labeling this nonsensical attraction that drew you to him—you haven’t decided which one to choose yet) was when you were discussing your name to the Batch. How it came up, you didn’t remember. You thought maybe Wrecker or Omega commented on how cool it sounded. It was a normal name to you, and you told them what it meant and how your parents chose it for you before they passed. Phee had mentioned she had various nicknames for you. Of course, you turned bashful as she was naming them off but couldn’t help your outburst as she concluded:

“Those are my special names for her. I don’t know what you lot will call her, but you can’t borrow mine. They’re exclusively for me to use, so you’ll just have to think of something else special for her.”

“Call me anything, but DON’T call me flower!” 

“Why?” Tech tilted his head curiously to the side at your pout and curious out of character announcement.

“Would you like to explain to them why I don’t want to be called that?”

“It’s short for wallflower. Many of the town's kids growing up would call her that.”

“Wait, what? I don’t get it? Flowers are nice.” Wrecker scratched his head, confused.

“Ah, I understand the negative connotation. Wallflower is a term defined as a person who from shyness or unpopularity remains on the sidelines of a social activity. Often, the term is given to mean someone who is unattractive as well.”

You groaned and couldn’t repress an eyeroll, regretting it minutes later. You cringed at how you must have sounded at Tech’s explanation. 

“Flowers are also fragile and weak. Often trampled without a second thought.” You finished for him, crossing your arms annoyed. “So any way you look at it, it just isn’t…” you waved your hand dismissively.  

“Yes, but flowers are also…beautiful.”

The way he looked at you just then made your heart melt, your stomach twist with too many butterflies fluttering, and a red heat filled your face. 

His eyes were perfect and shining. Not looking down at his datapad making an off comment, but rather, they focused on you and his words felt very intentional. A small smile graced his lips and something gentle blanketed his face. 

“Besides, flowers can surprise you by being rather resilient and resourceful. Never underestimate.” 

He proceeded to name many species that were eye-catching and cunning for being plants.

How could you not? 

Tell me, who could blame you for letting something blossom in your heart after that? 

Thinking back to that day always made you feel better after a blunder. As mentioned, 283 times, but you never tired of looking back. It calmed you and encouraged you to try again; maybe you’d be able to have him look at you the same way again.

Currently though, you were sitting on the deck of Shep’s boat. Leyana wanted to take everyone out on the water after a long day of rebuilding the city. She and Omega were playing about the boat, Shep was steering the ship, and everyone else sat about stirring their drinks and telling jokes, laughing and relaxing. Tech was on his datapad but also joined in with comments of his own. When Phee asked him why he didn’t just put the thing down, he claimed he could do both.

That earned an eye roll from Omega and Wrecker. You wondered what warranted that. 

“What’s got your tongue tied, Gorgeous?” Phee came up beside you, while all the others looked out over the water at the coming sunset, putting an encouraging arm around your shoulders. By the look in her eye, she already knew.

You and Phee had been attached at the hip ever since you were born. She definitely was the older sister you never had. Growing up, she was always getting you in trouble and pulling you out of it. Phee looked out for you and practically raised you. She was only a few years older but sometimes when she got protective of you, it felt like she was much older than she naturally was. Kids weren’t always kind; you got bullied and called all sorts of things but Phee never let it slide. She got put in detention a few times at school for the extent she’d look out for you. You’d wait for her on the swingset outside and walk home together, every night without fail. 

You loved her, and never minded how different the two of you were. She was everything you weren’t, and you admired that. Together, you felt like a complete circle. Where she was outgoing, adventurous, spirited, confident; you were calm, shy and nervous. You were cautious when she threw credits to the wind. You were observant, watchful and insightful, playing in the shadows, calculating, accurately foretelling, while she confidently and boldly put out her ideas. You never minded being in her shadow, until now. It felt like only she would ever see the light you had to offer. It wasn’t the same kind as hers, but that didn’t make it any less special. She made sure you knew that, but it would be nice having it come from someone else as well…

You groaned. 

“How do you do it, Phee? It all comes so naturally to you. You can flirt, be fun and express what you feel and it comes across amazingly. When I try just getting a sentence out around him I can barely string a thought into words. And it doesn’t have to be an important thought either. Just saying I like the same berry juice he does sounds stupid. Why am I like this?” 

You let your head fall forward and hit the table with a bang.

“I’m hopeless.”

“You must reeeaaaally like Tech if you’re vaguely mentioning him.”

You didn’t reply. You just let your shoulders droop and turn to face her with a scowl. Her grin was teasing but her eyes sparkled softly. 

“I think you and Brown Eyes would make an amazing couple. He could learn a few things from you. Hun, just let him see the amazing woman I know.”

Phee gave your arm an encouraging squeeze.

“And I got a few ideas that might help him!”

“Really?” 

“Of course! That one can be kind of dense. He probably likes you but doesn’t even know it. Let’s help him realize it, shall we?”

“I don’t know about that…I don’t know if he even knows I’m alive.”

“If he doesn’t, I’m going to fix that too; even if I have to smack him in the face.”

“Don’t do that!”

“Not literally, Hun, figuratively.”

“Oh, as long as it doesn’t hurt.”

Phee chuckled, “Oh I can’t promise that. I’m going to make him notice you one way or another if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Now I feel like I should be nervous. Phee, what are you planning?”

“You leave that to me. And why on earth would you be nervous; it’s me we’re talking about here!”

“Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Very fair.”

Your grins were missed by everyone except for a goggled pair of eyes. He didn’t know why you were smiling, but he was happy to see it. He only wished he could have been the reason.

— — — 

Phee’s first attempt at matchmaking arose the next day, and did she have an idea! Phee assigned you and Tech to work on a pier so there could be more ports on the island for fishing and boating. 

You were handy and confident working with your hands. Phee knew you’d be at ease doing something you were capable of with your eyes closed. Perhaps you could teach Tech a thing or two as well. That would boost your confidence and your conversation topics. 

And Phee was right, for the most part.

You and Tech worked in perfect synchrony—and the repairs took the entire day so by the time the work was done, it was sunset. There were absolutely no hiccups with the construction. 

“I think we’re set!” You said excitedly testing the boards you both were kneeling on, “We should be able to head in for dinner.” You spoke too soon. The nails poking out on the board just under you caught your eye. You’d have to make sure those were bent out of the way so no one would get hurt.  “Oh drats.”

“Hm, it shouldn’t be too hard to fix. We’ll only be delayed a few moments.”

Tech rolled up his sleeves. Your jaw dropped in a gawk. 

“Oh…”

Tech’s eyes snapped to yours, head tilted curiously. 

“Ohhhh…..ohhh! Look!” You tried to cover up your blunder by pulling your eyes away from his forearms and to the water, pointing down at the glowing algae. “They never glow blue. They usually are green. Do you know why?” 

You looked up at the same time Tech was bending over to look down, hitting your heads on each other. The shock of the hurt sent you both hurtling into the water. 

Gasping and spluttering, you both emerged from the water covered with the glowing sea plant. 

“Well this was an unexpected pleasure.”

At first you couldn’t tell if Tech was being sarcastic or not but then you saw him examining the algae. “Quite impressive.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Looking into the water surrounding you illuminated by the mysterious blue, you missed the enchanted look he gave you. Of course, you couldn’t read his thoughts, but if you could, you would have known that the incident made him chuckle internally and it was worth it to see you crowned in the elegant plant. It was beautiful, tangled and dripping from your hair while the orange gold of sunset threw its color on you. You rather looked like a siren, calling him to you. 

But no, instead, you could only think all you accomplished was getting Tech thoroughly soaked and even more late for dinner because of your mishap. Now you’d have a matching bruise at least. That was something, right? Maybe? Maybe not? At least he got to examine the algae, that was a win. But he probably now thought you were a klutz. 

You couldn’t know how impressed he was with your skill. 

— — —

Phee wasn’t discouraged though. Her next idea was great in the planning and execution, for the most part. You somehow found a way to bangle it up. 

She asked you to make your favorite dish so everyone could go on a picnic. There was a beautiful field on the other side of Pabu where the scenery was green and lush and the animals were frequent visitors. It would be a fun and relaxing way to end the day.

Originally, it was supposed to be Phee, Shep, Leyana, and the Batch…or at least that is what you were told, but somehow, Tech was the only one who showed up—also under the same impression. 

You immediately saw right through the scheme but said nothing, blushing a deep red and internally cringing at the fact you didn’t see this coming. In fact, this is a scheme you pulled on Phee last year. She was just reusing it. You were relieved to see Tech did not catch on and thought it was a mishap the others didn’t show up. His brothers and sister had a last minute accident resulting in them not being able to go (which of course you knew was orchestrated between Phee and the others. How could it not. You’d put money on the guess Omega was in on this too.)

“No use letting the food go to waste, right?” You tried to shrug off the awkwardness, and it worked.

Tech heartily agreed and while you ate, your shyness melted away. You found yourselves swapping stories about those who you both loved and were not present. Laughing at foolish stories and regalling in the exciting ones. 

“Phee’s really brave. I’m not so much. I’m kind of her shadow. Everything she is, I isn’t.” You winced at the weird choice of words. It’s fine. Play it cool. Everything is fine…Everything is not fine. That sounded so dumb.

“I don’t get opportunities to be brave like she does. She creates those opportunities. If they came along by chance, I’d probably miss them or go running in the opposite direction.”

Before Tech could answer, a clan of moon-yos jumped you from behind, tangling themselves and laughing. The things clung to your arms and legs while the little ones stole away the cake you made for dessert. The treasure acquired, all the little annoyances left. 

You could only sit there and stare, dumbfounded. 

How? What just happened? 

In retrospect, you knew this about moon-yos. You should have seen that coming…you were just so eager to share your favorite fruit cake with your friends you didn’t even consider the creatures had the same taste as you. You normally foresaw this kind of thing! What was wrong with you? You were too eager, that’s all. 

With a heavy sigh, you closed the basket.

“Are you alright? Their claws didn’t hurt you?” You asked him, only letting a small bit of exhaustion into your voice. 

“No, it was rather an unusual occurrence…I would be alright if it didn’t happen twice in a lifetime though.”

“For you and me both, I guess we’d better head back, yeah? Lots to do tomorrow.” Packing up hid your embarrassment well, feeling like you wanted to die inside.

Tech helped you clean up, but in your distractedness, you missed the grin on his face and the wonder in his eyes. Their attack barely phased you. You were calm, cool, collected. Many would have shrieked and panicked. Not to mention how well you handled the loss of your famous desert.

The day certainly didn’t go as planned, but when was that a bad thing?

— — — 

A few days later, after one of Tech’s famous flying lessons with Omega, the Marauder needed some light repairs. The close proximity sensors went out…again. Phee slyly and quickly suggested that you could assist with the repairs to your great horror. You didn’t know anything about mechanical stuff. On the island, everything was hand built practically. You were good with a hammer, not a spanner. 

“Relax, Tooka,” Phee chuckled, “he probably won’t let you touch anything anyway. He’s rather particular about that ship. You’ll just talk and keep him company.”

What shocked everyone was when he excitedly agreed to your help.

You were not there to just keep him company.

Furthermore, dropping jaws, Tech was showing you what he’d like you to do. 

Tech was under a desk panel inside the ship, and you were on the comms outside working on the roof, connecting the wires he told you, when he told you. Sweating buckets, you wiped your palms on your pants again. This was his ship. His pride and joy. You couldn’t mess this up. Breathing heavily, you waited for the next set of instructions. 

“Alright, now connect the red sensor wire with the port of corresponding color. Then connect the blues.”

“Consider it done!” Somehow you managed to sound more confident than you felt. But that was a simple enough task. So far his instructions were easy and clear. But when you looked down at your panel, you noticed something looked off. The orange wire looked like it was melted into the port. If you connected the red now, you were sure the whole system would short circuit again.

You knew you should have asked but you didn’t. Instead, you took a firm hold of the orange wire and pulled. 

Sparkles flew everywhere, a small explosion sound startling you. A scream escaped your mouth and you fell off the side of the ship.

Tech, hearing the snapping, was already on his way out to see if you needed anything. Good thing, as you fell almost right into his arms, the force almost knocked him over but he somehow righted himself.

“Are you alright?” 

He set you down and started to examine your hands. 

“You are fortunate, you are not burned, what happened?” 

Throat constricting, you tried to explain the situation. Tears pricked your eyes but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of falling until you were alone. 

“Let me take a look.”

When Tech reached the top, he looked down at the panel amazed. He guessed right away you weren’t a mechanic, but he was excited to have you around and share this with you if you were willing. But, actually, if you didn’t do what you did, this would have been much worse. The tiny explosion would have been a bigger one. You had an amazing head on your shoulders and a great knack for technology. All it would take was a little training and you’d be a natural. He’d be more than happy to show you.

He was going to offer just that, but you’d disappeared before he reached the ground. Perhaps you needed space after the shock. That was logical. He’d finish this up. He’d see you at dinner and ask how you were. 

— — — 

Tech did not, in fact, see you at dinner. 

Indeed, Tech didn’t see you much after the accident. You were present the following morning when the boys and Omega went to market but after that you made yourself scarce and by the afternoon, he’d decided to seek you out. It didn’t take long to find you. You were on the ledge of the pier the two of you worked on together a few days ago. The thought made him smile.

Tech watched you hunched over on the pier, staring into the water and dangling your legs carefully over the edge. Your easy, relaxed smile he would often see on your face when you were alone or you thought no one was watching, was not present, and a feeling of worry washed over him.

Your eyebrows pressed together, hyper-focusing on something that wasn’t there. Lips were turned into a frown and mind distracted. 

That really wasn’t like you. From what he observed, you were quiet…but also observant. You watched and understood everything that was happening. You always knew your surroundings and not much got past you. Your eyes were ever watchful, a hidden light which carried a flame underneath. A mysterious flame that intrigued and fascinated him. It danced with an unshed energy which promised something great, though what was yet to be seen—your power veiled behind a mask.

There was so much to you. 

And he enjoyed every moment you let him in to discover something new.

The hidden garden of knowledge in the vastness of your mind and imagination was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. You brought up points he never even considered, and they excited him. Not many people outside his family had the ability to evoke an emotion of happiness from him.

You did.

And he found himself wanting to do the same for you. To be the reason you smiled. To be the reason you blushed and laughed. To be the reason for the clumsy mistakes out of distracted love. 

He chuckled thinking of your late encounters. They didn’t ‘end well’ according to what Phee explained at lunch (though to be honest, he didn’t understand how), but each time left him with a glowing feeling in his chest which spread to his cheeks in a blush. How could they not have ended well when each one left him feeling a glow of love and pride towards you?

You’d been down today, that he knew, but he didn’t know it was this bad. Tech thought it was merely your social anxiety he found got to you when things were loud and crowds pressed in on you. The market was hectic getting ready for that festival. He thought that was all it was.

This wasn’t that…He wanted to check in with you and make sure you were alright after that last incident but now he was unsure. Did you need some alone space? Would he only make matters worse? Then again, Omega had commented on it being nice knowing you’re cared for even if you didn’t want it at the moment.

A huge crash broke him from his musings and Tech watched you turn in horror towards the source of the sound. 

You started yelling something in a language he didn’t understand, tripping over yourself to get to the collapsing building. You didn’t stop to put your shoes on, you didn’t hesitate. You just ran.

He started running too, there could be people who needed help but there was something about your urgency that made him pause. Why….

Oh. 

Tech doubled his speed. “Hunter, we have a problem. The orphanage under reconstruction is collapsing. I fear some of the children are still inside.” 

“On it. I’ll get Wrecker. We’ll be there shortly.”

— — —

This just wasn’t a good day.

You screwed everything up. You were sure Tech wouldn’t want to speak to you again after what happened. After everything Phee had done to help you. After how far you thought you’d come, you’d always be the screw up. 

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, feet dangling over the edge of the pier. In a better mood, you’d playfully kick in the water but now, they just hung idle, lacking the energy for anything more than allowing a cooling, numbing sensation to creep up your legs. 

Perhaps you were just overthinking everything. A little bit of sleep might do you some good. You and the boys had been doing so much to repair the town, you’d gotten little rest. Your mind would go into overdrive when you were tired. Perhaps that was just the case here. No need to panic (yeah right). Some little sleep would show you you were not over with (maybe). You’d gather the courage to apologize and fix your mistake. 

You would make it up to him somehow. 

If your friendship wasn’t permanently damaged, you’d find a way to mend it. You had to. Tech had grown to mean too much to you for you to let him go so easily. 

Disaster after disaster went before your eyes and you thought them through. Analyzed where you’d gone wrong. How you’d fix it or how you would make up for the blunder. It might take a while but it’d be worth it. 

However long it took. 

You’d talk to him first. This time, you wouldn’t stutter. You’d have to practice but you were determined. You would be heard and you’d get it out right. 

Before your plans could progress further, a huge crash broke through your thoughts. You turned to see the orphanage had collapsed. Fear coursed through your veins. Some of the children were helping where they could; they prided themselves in their hard work of what they contributed. They could be trapped! When you heard shouting and screams, you knew you were right. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!”

You pulled your feet and dashed toward the construction site. 

“I’m coming! Lil, run to the village and get help! Myles, go get the physician! Tali, get Shep!”

You quickly took stock of the situation around you. One of the walls fell outward, seemingly because the upper floor was unstable and tumbled through it. 

You heard your name cried out over and over and saw little Trisy running up to you. 

“Hep! Hep! Tabby is twapped inside, please hep!” She cried and pressed herself into your leg. You held her and knelt down to her level. 

“Hey, hey Tristy, look at me.” You swiped the hair from her face. “I’ll get her, ok? Where was she? Is anyone else inside?” 

Tristy shook her head emphatically. “No, only Tabby.” She whipped her face only for the tears and mucus to be smeared over her cheeks and forehead as well. Her breath was coming in heaves. 

“I’ll get Tabby; you stay here, ok?” 

You only waited for her nod of confirmation before dashing inside the building. 

“Tabby? Tabby! Where are you?”

You carefully tip-toed your way around the fallen logs, not wanting to upset anything. 

“Tabby, please answer me!”

“I-I’m down here!”

You looked down and saw a part of the floor was broken through one more level. A pair of shiny eyes looked up at you with newly enkindled hope grappling with fear. 

“Are you hurt?”

“N-no? I fell in after i-it fell. I think my ankle hurts a little, that’s all.”

Looking around for the best possible solution, you grabbed a rope to use as a pulley. Tossing it over what looked like a stable beam, you tested its strength, pulling and tugging. When it didn’t give, you tied one end around yourself and lowered yourself down into the pit. 

When you reached the bottom, the child crawled over to you and clutched your middle. The poor thing had been crying but was trying so hard to be brave.

“It’s ok, I’m here now! I gotcha.”

Wrapping one arm around the child, you slipped the rope around her. 

“Hold on tight, ok.” 

The child nodded and you hoisted the two of you up with a huff and humph. Grunting, you tugged the rope, dragging your body and the extra wiggling weight up. Sweat beaded on your forehead. Shoulders and arms squeezing and solidifying. Lumps formed where your muscles used to be and your neck felt like it was ready to burst. You just had to reach the top!

Hand over hand. Break. Heave. Hand. Hand. Heave. Heave. Hand. Heave. Hand. Heave. Heave. Heave. 

“We’re almost there. Almost. There.”

Gasping for air, you tugged one more time. Your muscles were shaking and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. You were so close to the top but you couldn’t let go. Tabby would get hurt if you fell. You just had to reach the top…

“May I be of assistance?”

That voice. One that you did not expect but yet were so happy to hear made you laugh and tears sprung to your eyes. Looking up, you saw a pair of goggled eyes looking down at you worriedly, hand stretched out in hopes of helping

“Can you grab her?”

“She is secured against you rather well. I would not be able to maneuver her without hurting her. I’ll grab the rope and pull, just hold on.”

Tech reached for the rope and pulled the two of you up, easing you into the unstable floor around the hole. His grip was firm and gentle. If you had time, you’d marvel at it, but your head was still reeling and you gasped for breath.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t anwer. He merely nodded…and placed his hand on your cheek? Quickly withdrawing it, he warned:

“Be careful, move slowly toward the outer part of the room. You should be safe then.”

As fast of a talker as Tech was, he didn’t speak fast enough for Tabby who was already trying to hobble toward the opening in the wall. Your eyes went wide, seeing the unstable beam before anyone else. 

“Tabby, no!” You darted, scooped her up and tossed her (praying you didn’t hurt her) to the opening where you knew the floor was ok.

Breaking through and falling through the floor in the process. 

Wood ate your leg, shards of teeth scraped all the way up from where you stepped. Hot blood seeped through the scratches as you tumbled into the darkness below. You were vaguely aware of someone shouting of your name.

You hit the ground with a sickening thud and crack. 

You couldn’t breath and you couldn’t move. 

Debris fell on top of you so whatever wasn’t broken, was weighed down. 

“Just great.” You gave a little sigh when air could enter your lungs again, trying not to give up too much breath. “This is fine. Everything is great.” 

Closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing, a peace settled over you. You knew you should be scared, but you weren’t. Shouldn’t you ask for help? Shouldn’t you be trying to get out? Definitely. But you could only lay there. 

Everything hurt…but it felt so nice to just lay there and sleep…

You loved Tech but why was he shouting at you? What was he shouting?

Oh.

“Wake up! You cannot go to sleep! Wake up!”

When did he climb down? How did he get down? How long have you been laying there? Surely not long…

Wait, did he just slap you?

Your eyes fluttered open.

“Hey.”

You tried to focus on Tech, eyes scrunched with undisguised worry as they searched your face and body. 

“That wasn’t nice. Waking sleeping people isn’t nice.” you mumbled with a slight smirk.

To your surprise, he didn’t spout off a fact like you expected him to, instead he smiled a little sadly. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to say. 

“It is, if you’re afraid they will expire in their unconsciousness.”

“Fair enough.”

Wait, he was afraid of you dying? WAIT? WERE YOU DYING?

Panic overtook you. Eyes wide, you started to gasp and move around, words failing to form. Thankfully, Tech guessed your line of thought.

“Nothing to worry about. I have already woken you. You just need to stay awake for me, alright? I’ll move the debris off, and you will be just fine.”

“Are you lying to make me feel better?”

Tech looked at you and readjusted his goggles. “Now why would I do that?”

Wanting to shrug but not being able to, you settled for a sigh and fell silent. 

You felt a piece lifted off you…he was so strong…you could get lost in the movements of him heroically saving you but then he stopped. You nearly pouted but held back.

“Please, while I work, give me assurances you are still conscious. Talk if it isn’t painful or clench and unclench your free hand. I…was worried before. You fell rather far and hit your head.”

“Ok…”

Your mind searched for topics but the only one that came to mind was the thought that gave you comfort these past few weeks. You laughed a weak huff.

“Like I said…easily crushed…very appropriate…right…about now.”  

“No,” His voice was firm, not angry but steal-like, “like I said. Beautiful, brave, resilient, resourceful.” His soft smile returned. “Seems like Phee isn’t the only brave one of the two of you. My hypothesis was correct; I just wish you didn’t test it in such drastic measures.”

Your head nodded a little, the ghost of a laugh on your lips while your eyes fluttered closed.

“Please don’t go to sleep. I can’t lose you like this.” 

Wait…he was worried he’d lose you?!?

You wanted to comment on that. You didn’t know how, so after opening and shutting your mouth a few times, you settled on something equally important. 

Not knowing what else to say, you decided now was as good as ever to apologize. He might even be more forgiving with you in this condition.

“I’m sorry…for everything, Tech.” Tears started to well in your eyes. “I messed up so much. I ruined your ship. I—”

“You’re upset because you thought you hurt me or I was angry with you?”

You nodded, letting out a little sob. You couldn’t look at him, so you clamped your eyes shut and bit your lip, the pain keeping you from falling asleep. …he said your name so gently, the lump in your throat returned.

“You didn’t at all. I am sorry you thought that. I would have talked to you sooner had I known that is what upset you so. You were so grave I thought you needed some space as when you were overwhelmed. Phee told me you thought you ruined some important moments together, but I did not equate that with the toll it took on your mind. How could I when everything you did evoked a feeling of love for you?”

You sucked air through your lips and let the tears fall. 

“You’re not teasing me are you? Because l love you. And if this isn’t real, I swear…”

But you were startled into opening your eyes anyway. 

Did you die, or was Tech actually kissing you?

Tech placed one of his hands on your cheeks, stroking it gently with his thumb. His lips moved over yours ever so softly, as if he was afraid the movement would hurt you, yet there was a firmness there which reassured you that he wasn’t timid of you or how he felt. 

“You’re my beautiful flower. Nothing will ever change that. I promise. Now let’s get you out of here. If you wilt before, that is simply unacceptable and unforgivable after this confession.”

You chuckled, “Alright. Deal. No croaking before we leave.”

“Or after.” He sighed. “That was not giving you permission to ‘croak’ after being helped to safety.”

You could only laugh. 

“I won’t plan on it. Not when I’m finally yours. And Tech, only you can call me flower.”

“I thought it would be obvious...my flower.”

[samwpmarleau]

for fans of “jamie doesn’t even have his own name,” i present: “jamie doesn’t even have his own face”

[bleufrost]

Guiding Light

Summary: Even though your team finally trusts Loki enough to give him a chance, you still have to help him realize he's not the monster he sometimes thinks he is.

a/n: this is within the same universe as There's Just Time but it can also be read as a standalone (: more notes at the end for anyone who wants to read them!

Words: 1,921

Warnings: angst, self doubt, theres also fluff so dont worry!

If we come back and we're broken Unworthy and ashamed Give us something to believe in And you know we'll go your way

You never really realize how loud everything is until Loki cuts you off from his energy. Now, that isn't to say that Loki leads a tranquil existence, it's actually quite the opposite. Loki's emotions are incredibly sporadic and loud; so loud in fact, that they have become nearly identical in nature to the crashing of waves against the shore. Deafening, yet with the promise of calm once you come to recognize it as home. Without the roar, everything you’d rather drown out comes back to the forefront of your mind. That is exactly what is happening right now.

Tony’s bubbling anxiety to get his hands on something new clashes with the forced control of Bruce’s psyche as you enter the lab. The opposing energies nearly incapacitate you. “Hey, have you guys seen Loki?” You sit next to Bruce, your focus on his hands as he moves some things around on a screen. It’s a lame attempt to center yourself, but it helps a bit when a drill sparks to life in Tony’s hands. Bruce smiles at you apologetically and you shake your head.

“What’s that, kiddo?” Tony’s voice barely registers over the monotonous sound of the drill and you try to signal for him to turn it off, but the attempt is in vain. Instead of continuing to scream, you wait it out until Tony finally seems to be finishing up. The drill powers down and he smiles at you in that way that only he can; as though he truly believes that the world can wait for him. You can’t exactly blame him, you did wait, didn’t you?

“Okay, what’s up?” He places the drill down and brushes his hands off on his pants.

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen Loki around?” He looks to Bruce and they both seem to mutually agree that they haven’t. Tony shrugs at you.

“Sorry, kid. No Reindeer Games around here.” You roll your eyes at the nickname and he lets out a loud laugh. “Okay, thanks.” Getting up, you exit the lab and head for the common room.

It takes a few more tries, and by the time someone finally tells you they spotted him, your head is racing. There are so many different emotions and waves of energy in so limited a space, it exhausts you. Often you found navigating it all to be a fun game, but that was only when you had an anchor. Unfortunately, your anchor seems to be a little lost at sea.

When you do find Loki, he’s staring out a large window on one of the top floors of the compound. There’s a book abandoned in his lap, his finger resting on the page as though he had drifted mid sentence. The bright sky reflects on his eyes in a beautiful show of light. Anchors and waves, you knew Loki was all of it to you.

“Hey.” It comes out as only a whisper as you approach him slowly. It’s so soft, you almost doubt he hears it at all. Of course, he does though. He’s a god and, with great pain, you also know that he’s very used to being on his guard.

Loki’s eyes move from the clouds above and over to you. You’re not sure if the lights are playing tricks on you, but you swear that there are small hints of unshed tears in his crystal eyes.

“Hello.” If you thought your voice was soft, Loki’s is hardly there at all. It shakes ever so slightly at the end of the word, and if his shielding emotions wasn’t a dead giveaway, his demeanor most definitely is. Something’s wrong.

Your feet take slow, tentative steps forward. Neither one of you breaks eye contact, and when you attempt to push your energy over to him as some form of comfort, it hits a wall. He’s using his own magic to deliberately block yours from reaching him. Your feet stop moving and you can see in the way that his eyes glint that he’s aware of how distanced he is keeping you.

“Loki, what’s hurting you?” It’s a simple question, but that’s all it takes. After over a thousand years spent dancing around problems and masking insecurities, your willingness to openly address such intimate pains was still so novel to him.

The first few times he had spoken to you, really spoken to you, all illusions set aside and with no intent to trick you, he had been struck hard by your lack of judgement. All Loki ever knew was how to hide the most vulnerable parts of himself because others would use them against him. WIth you though, the vulnerability was exclusively used as a bridge to growth. You had told him once that energy flowed toward energy. It was made to grow. Naturally, because he was composed of all different kinds of untamable energy, it was only inevitable that he would continue to evolve into a stronger version of himself if he chose to recognize the points that were draining him.

Energy moves toward energy, and so he allowed his to move to you.

“I don’t feel I belong here. I’m not worthy of forgiveness.” The confession twists your heart into a knot. It hurts to hear the insecurity lacing his voice, but the emotions that seep into you hurt even more. With his wall down, you can feel the nervousness, fear, anxiety, and overall sense of loathing that Loki has been carrying by himself. You understand why he blocked himself from you, but you’re so incredibly relieved to be sharing his burden.

It takes a second for you to acclimate to the new feeling, but your feet take you the rest of the way to him as soon as you do. You’d never run from him, no matter how intense it may be to stay.

“No, no. Even just your ability to share that with me proves that you’re more than worthy, Loki.” The unshed tears come to the surface, slipping past his eyes and running slowly down his cheek. Your hand instinctively comes up to rest against his face.

“There’s not one of us here who hasn’t done things that we regret. Things that have hurt people and that we wish we could take back, but we can’t.”

More tears fall from his eyes and he looks at you so lost and frightened that you fear your heart may break.

“How do you live with it?” His eyes search yours for answers, and you wish you could tell him something that could help right now. Unfortunately, all experience you have with this calls for an agonizing amount of time to pass before even a hint of relief begins to seep in. There’s so much to do before forgiveness can come; not from others, but from yourself. It does come, though.

An idea sparks to life then, as you recall everything you’d done to make amends for the lives you had damaged, Forgiveness, understanding, healing. You knew these feelings and, luckily, that was all you needed.

Your other hand raises slowly, a soft blue light wrapping around the edges of each finger as it hugs around your skin. You hold your hand out to Loki, knowing that he needs to be the one to initiate this. You can offer yourself, but he has to choose to accept.

His large hand comes up, nearly meeting yours before he stops mere centimeters away. He can feel a slight wave of the emotions that you hold in your hand, but that same fear of being unworthy holds him back. Does he even deserve this kindness that you show him? You know he deserves that and so much more, but the doubt still makes him struggle.

The back and forth pull is not lost on you. Your thumb strokes the sharp curve of his cheekbone, finding your own comfort in providing it to him. His eyes close at the motion, and when he opens them again, the fear is gone.

Loki slips his hand into yours, finding the empty spaces between your fingers to be a perfect fit for him. He clings to you like a lifeline, and you very well may be one to him. You know he is for you.

Your light engulfs him, flowing up his arm and straight into his chest, his mind, his heart. Anywhere he needs it, your light will find him and help him feel okay. Every memory you had, every emotion, and every tear was placed into that light. Relief. Forgiveness. For Loki, it was hope.

“You do whatever you can to make up for it. You can’t fix everything, but sometimes just trying is enough.” Loki takes in your words and continues to let your energy hug him like a warm blanket. Trying. He could do that.

When he’s ready, he lets your magic go. Immediately, some of the doubt returns, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Not when you’re here.

“Thank you.” The air around you seems to spark to life and you find your energy starts to pull toward Loki. It was odd; unlike anything you’d felt before.

Of course, there were certain people that naturally caused your powers to want to be near them. Their energies were calming enough or provided with just the right amount of curiosity that stoked the childlike wonder in yourself. You always knew exactly why you were being drawn to them. This time, with Loki, it was different. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion of yearning that drew you to him. All you knew was that you felt connected.

Deciding that this moment held enough excitement for the two of you, you left it alone. Maybe you could ask about it some other time when things were a bit calmer. Right now, you just wanted Loki to relax. There were many things about your abilities that you were still yet to explore. This was probably nothing.

Loki’s hand guided you out of your thoughts and back to him. He brought you closer and smiled. “Sit with me?”

You immediately reciprocated his smile. Loki may think that his well crafted charm is the most endearing thing about him. You know that’s not true. By far the most compelling and radiant thing about Loki was the unfiltered appreciation he had for the smallest things in life. Sitting beneath a blue sky sounded like heaven when he offered it up with such a gorgeous smile.

“Of course.” You let go of his hand to lift yourself onto the cushioned bench he was sitting on. It’s long enough to provide you with enough room to place distance between yourself and Loki, but you don’t. When you’re settled, Loki finds your hand once more. He squeezes it gently and lifts the book with his other.

“Would you like me to read to you?” He raises the book a little higher so you can see the cover, but quite honestly you don’t care what he’s reading. You just like to hear his voice. You nod happily. “Yes, please.”

Loki offers you one more genuine grin and sets to work, reading the words on the page like a poet sharing their most prized work. You can feel him, deafening the world around you until you’re lulled back into a calm that only his noise can guide you to.

As he reads, your connected hands glow with an energy that neither of you intentionally brings forth; it just happens. Even without trying, some things just do.

a/n: I realized that I was making little references to moments/memories in the main story that I really wanted to write, so thats what these mini pieces will be! on that note, the second chapter should be up by saturday at the latest. i had some computer problems which sucks lol, but its getting done! after that, i'll be trying to get the new chapters up before the premiere of the next loki episode. have a lovely day yall!

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Lydia Deetz

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Lydia after she moved into town. You went to the same school as her and were in a few of her classes, though you doubted that really mattered; you’d find out about her pretty quickly even if she wasn’t.

- Lydia was an ...interesting character. You liked to think of your school as fairly accepting, people weren’t outwardly mean to her; some were even welcoming, but you somewhat understood many peoples hesitance towards befriending her. Above all, she was fairly standoffish though at the time, no one knew why.

- Still, you liked her style. She was strange and unusual, something you admired. So you took the chance and tried to befriend her, approaching her after school and trying to start a conversation as she unlocked her bike. She was polite but quick to end your talk, making up an; obvious, excuse before riding off.

- But you wouldn’t be deterred, continuing your efforts as the days rolled by and eventually getting her to warm up to you. You even managed to invite her out with you, giving her a tour around the town and slowly getting to know her better.

- Over time, you grow to like her more and more until you realize that you don’t just want to be her friend. It’s then that you have a real predicament on your hands, and a decision to make: try to ignore your feelings and hope they go away or confront them and hope for the best.

- It’s a few months into your friendship that you decide to confess your true feelings for her. Unbeknownst to you, she was planning on doing the same.

- You were sitting in the towns graveyard with her, a place you’d been to several times mainly because you knew she loved it. It seemed like the perfect place to tell her how you felt so you took a deep breath and stumbled through your confession. And... she burst out laughing.

- Yeah, so not a good sign. You were completely embarrassed and was wondering whether you could play it off like you were joking. Deciding that you couldn’t, you went to stand up and leave before she lunged forward, grabbing your hand quickly and exclaiming “no, no” as she tried to stop her laughter.

“I’m sorry, really. It’s just that, all day I’ve been wondering how I was gonna tell you that I liked you and, well, here we are.” She smiled, and ushered you to sit back down.

- The two of you had your first date in one of the towns many fields. You brought a basket full of stuff and sat out there for hours, having a picnic and overall just hanging out. She’s got about a dozen photos of the day.

- You had your first kiss at least a week after you first got together. Neither of you were brave enough to just go for it so it took you a while to actually do it.

- When you did, it was after the two of you snuck out together and were taking a late night walk through the town. You were sat on an old wooden fence, the moonlight shining above you as you talked. That was when you turned to look at each other and just began to lean in, inching closer and closer until your lips met.

- And thus began your strange and beautiful relationship.

- The two of you are most likely bambi lesbians; your relationship is fairly innocent and things never really get too hot or heavy. 

- It’s the 80s and you sort of live in a small town so you try to keep your relationship on the down low. Whenever you’re out in public, you try to just act like friends, never doin anything exclusively romantic in nature. 

- Holding hands, locking arms, hugging, sitting very close to each other; you can get away with a lot since you’re young girls but you try not to push your luck. 

- Most of your dates take place where there isnt a lot of; if any, people. She prefers keeping to herself so you wind up just hanging out at her place or places no one really goes, like the graveyard or forgotten roads.

- Pecks on the lips and cheeks.

- Sweet and chaste kisses. 

- Laying your head in her lap while you sit and talk. Occasionally, she’ll run her fingers through or just play with your hair, looking down at you with a soft smile. 

- She’s got soooo many photos of you. She likes to jokingly call you her muse, taking random snapshots while you’re doing something or asking you to pose for her. 

- Horror movie marathons. The two of you have stayed up late countless times, eyes wide and glued to her tv screen as you shovel popcorn into your mouths. 

- Riding your bikes together after school. Sometimes you’ll just ride around town, stopping at some random place you’ve never been to and going exploring together.

- Walks through and picnics in the graveyard. It’s one of her favorite places to visit except when its close to the anniversary of her mothers death. 

- Letting her talk to you about her mother and rant about Delia and her dad. 

- Meeting the Maitland's and her eccentric parents. They all love you and have a feeling that you aren’t “just friends”, not that it really matters to them anyways. Delia is particularly happy with the idea of you two being together, Lesbianism is so avant-garde. 

- Morbid conversations. Want to have an hour long conversation about death? Well, you’ve come to the right girl!

- You’ll never have to worry about getting rid of spiders again for the rest of your life. She’ll just scoop them up in her hand and gently place them outside while you trail hesitantly behind her. 

- Dancing together. 

- Surprisingly enough, she’s quite fond of being bridal carried or getting piggyback rides. 

- Getting to see all of her rare smiles and giggles, most of the time they’re reserved pretty much exclusively for you. 

- She doesn’t really use nicknames/pet names all that much but occasionally she’ll call you the name of a character from a movie or show when you say or do something that reminds her of them. 

- Collecting and pressing flowers with her. You help her swap out and rearrange the ones on her wall every few months. 

- She has a bit of a dramatic streak so occasionally you’ll just have to snap her out of it, either by cheering her up or helping to rationalize a situation.

- She loves rainy days. She likes to invite you over, sit up in her room and just hang out with you while the skies are a dreary gray. She finds the atmosphere very beautiful.

- Her room is perfect for afternoon naps. The two of you head over to her house after school, lock her bedroom door and pull the curtains down before snuggling under her covers and catching a few zzz’s.

- She’ll never admit it out loud but she actually really likes cuddling. You tend to cuddle hugging each other, taking turns having your heads resting against each other’s chests.

- She loves eating dinner or lunch at your house. Delia prepares the weirdest foods for everyone so being able to eat something like a normal turkey sandwich or bowl of soup is a nice change.

- Going to antique and thrift shops. If it looks haunted, she’ll want to buy it.

- Holidays!! She gets all festive around them; especially Halloween, always wanting to decorate and do the usual seasonal activities.

- Letting her style your hair. She finds it really fun and you certainly don’t mind looking a bit unusual.

- Gothic tea parties. Join her on her wooden floor, surrounded by black teddy bears and creepy dolls, eating little sandwiches and drinking tea.

- She likes to write you little poetic letters. Some are purely romantic while others are dreadfully depressing but you love them all the same.

- It’s pretty easy to find her presents; if it’s ugly then she’ll love it.

- Doing little crafts together. She likes artistic stuff, as long as it isn’t weirdly abstract like delias art.

- She tends to stick to compliments about the work that you do or the things you choose to wear. She prefers making you feel good about the stuff that you make not the things you were born with.

- Many people don’t seem to realize it but she’s got a pretty good sense of humor. That, paired with the shenanigans you get yourselves into, ensures that the two of you have a good time together!

- Getting dragged into supernatural and paranormal adventures. If it was her choice, she would probably leave you out of it, but alas, it isn’t.

- Beetlejuice is certainly an interesting individual to meet. Lydia is not fond of him calling you babe though, even if he calls everyone babe.

- She’s never really gets all that jealous. She reasons that you’re with her and if you’re with her, then you most likely like weird people, which you don’t find all that often where you live.

- She’s certainly been through some stuff, especially after moving to town so she’s fairly protective of you. Now that she knows the dead can linger on, she tries to look after you even more.

- She’s somewhat sensitive so she tends to take things to heart even when they’re misunderstandings.

- You dont fight a whole lot but when you do, your arguments wind up turning into catty yelling fights. One of you will usually storm out, throwing a “fine” or something of the sort out before you go.

- The two of you will give each other the silent treatment for a while but you’ll most likely be miserable the entire time. She’ll cave a little sooner than you will, finding you at school somewhere or being let in by your mom and just showing up at your bedroom door shyly. You both usually have a hard time staying mad at each other, once either of you apologize.

- She gives you a “love you” everytime you say goodbye. It’s pretty much routine by now.

- She doesn’t realize it for a while but ever since she met you, she hasn’t thought about dying. In fact, now that she has you, she can’t even bear to imagine it. She wouldn’t want to leave you behind, she loves you.

- Her one goal in life is to be the woman that historians say “lived with her lifelong best friend, never marrying or having children but writing letters to each other about loving each other fiercely”.

[symphonicspecter]

Subcon Family Headcanons

Have I mentioned that I LOVE the idea of Snatcher basically just adopting a hundred child spirits and all these kids hanging out in the forest and caring for each other as siblings? @birdsareblooming‘‘s post inspired me to get my butt in gear and finally write all the thoughts I have

These are going under a read more because there’s a lot

(Any time I say spirits, I mean both Dwellers and Subconites)

All those little dolls the Subconites possess? Snatcher made those. He’ll drop everything to repair them if they get damaged. He spent days making all of them early on. Some of the Dwellers just didn’t want bodies, and he respected that and let them be. He’s taught some of the Subconites how to sew, so that they can repair themselves or if they want to make modifications or clothes for themselves.

Everybody knows everybody’s names. Some of the spirits use the same names they did in life, others made up new ones. They think it’s very important to always spell and pronounce names correctly.

If an outsider makes anybody uncomfortable everyone else goes into Get His Ass Mode

The Minion/Boss relationship is mostly just for intimidation. Regularly, the spirits refer to Snatcher as “Snatcher” “Dad” , or a nickname they made up, some like how “Boss” sounds too, But when outsiders are around, he becomes ““The Boss” exclusively, and they pretend like he’s intimidating. They like taunting about eternal servitude and permanent soul removal in their idle chat. And Snatcher acts a little bossier with them. It’s all to scare whoever is currently contracted.

Snatcher is very adaptable for the spirits. Some of them are easily discouraged or self-conscious, so he speaks more softly to them and never has them talk to him in work mode. Others love to do tasks, so he gives them chores, even when nothing needs done. He knows which ones are mute, have trouble talking, are sensitive to certain words, like to rant about their interests...

Everybody is valid! When Subcon froze over and everyone became ghosts (some with memories, others without), it essentially became an opportunity to start an entirely new society. They all foster a ““you can do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt anybody”attitude. Along with choosing new names, some of the spirits wanted new pronouns. Queer? Neurodivergent? It’s all cool with the Subcon gang they will accept and validate you

Subcon Village is where the most houses are. The spirits take up residence in old houses, trees, anything that can be a cozy shelter. They mostly live close to each other, and several live together. 

Snatcher has a check-in rule...if somebody has gone unseen for several hours, it’s time to look for them. Even with everyone already dead, there are a lot of dangers in the forest. So anytime somebody plans on hiding away for a while or wandering off by themselves, they tell somebody else. They all keep tabs on each other to stay safe

One of the Subconites made Snatcher a #1 Boss mug

The Subconites get excited to show Snatcher things they’ve made/done and he always turns into Proud Boasting Dad for them

Like a Subconite could show him their drawing of a tree and he’d be like Wow That’s So Good You’re So Talented!!!!!

Some of them want to give him the things they make. He has a special little place higher up in his tree where he keeps all of it. Sometimes he just goes up there and looks through stuff

Some of the more musically inclined spirits get together to practice and play. And they’ll invite Snatcher too

Games! Whether it’s Tag or Uno or Monopoly. The kids are always playing something. Sometimes it’s a big group of dozens, other times it’s a little group of four or five. And of course, they invite Snatcher to play with them too. 

They all talk to each other so much, any news, gossips, jokes, what have you gets spread to everybody in a few hours 

Movie nights...They get a big cloth and hang it between trees for a screen, and hook up an old projector and some type of player. It could be a movie left laying around from old Subcon,or something Snatcher stole from outside. A big crowd will settle on the ground and in trees and they’ll watch one or two or five movies

Campfires! They make a fire and gather around it and tell stories. Maybe they’re scary, maybe they’re not. It could be a story made up on the spot, something from a book, something they wrote themselves..they pass stories around for hours. None of them eat but they’ll put various things on sticks just for the thrill of catching it on fire

The spirits know not to bring up Vanessa 

Most everybody knows how to deal with Snatcher in a bad mood. Whether he’s depressed or angry..after enough time they’ve learned what sets him off, when to give him space, when to give him hugs and kind words 

Hugs and cuddles galore oh my god

All the Dwellers and Subconites are like siblings and say ““I love you” all the time

Snatcher has a hard time saying or accepting the L word but that’s okay, there’s a hundred ways to show it

Snatcher will take recommendations on what tasks to put on contracts

Snatcher has a hard time saying no to any of the kids, unless he’s in a bad mood. If he says no or seems annoyed, it’s a clear sign that something is bothering him

Cuddle piles...this mostly happens amongst the Subconites but sometimes a Dweller or two joins in or some of them want to cuddle on Snatcher

Snatcher steals from people in nearby towns...In game he says he steals mail. That’s his main method of theft as it’s the easiest. He redistributes to the Subconites. They love reading gossip in mail. Even a bill can be used for an art project. The best is when he snatches packages...who knows what fun things are inside! That’s how some of them ended up with smartphones 

If Snatcher finds out that any of them want something specific, he’ll look for that when he’s out, That’s when he breaks the mail theft routine and might steal from elsewhere or con somebody into giving him whatever the item is

Besides just getting mail that Snatcher stole, the Subconites like to send each other mail. Yeah they can easily go talk to each other, but writing letters and sending packages is fun. They take their mail to Snatcher and he distributes it once a week

Snatcher absolutely will tease the kids...pretending to not understand something they’re telling him, mispronouncing the name of whatever they’re talking about, terrible puns, holding something out of reach, silly voice imitations, standard horrible dad humor

If anybody so much as looks at one of the kids wrong, Snatcher will end them

How the Subconites respond to a contractor heavily influences how Snatcher treats them...if you make friends with them, he’ll consider letting you go, but if they don’t like you...

The spirits are just as protective of Snatcher. If a contractor talks bad about Snatcher or tries to hurt him, they go into defensive mode. They’re ready to make a little plush shield around him, to kick some ass, or to check on him and tell him nice things afterwards. Or, like in game, to be his cheer squad while he does the ass kicking himself

If anybody is having a hard time you can bet the rest of the forest is saying/sending nice things to them instantly

Subcon has its own inside jokes/memes..

Several of them pitch in to decorate or host activities for holidays. Around a holiday, Subcon Village is covered in decorations. They have their own traditions, taking from what they remember from being alive, what outside towns do, and anything they think would be fun to add

They all teach each other..Snatcher taught some of them to sew, he teaches some of them about law, he’s shown a few how to play violin and cello...they teach each other about space, biology, painting, historical figures...it’s very common for them to talk about their interests and to want to learn about someone else’s

Sometimes Snatcher reads out loud for a group of spirits. He picks out books specifically for it, and then lets them pick from the collection

Every so often they plan events..maybe a bunch of them get together to write/make/perform a play, or the musicians hold a concert, or there’s open mic/creative writing readings, or dances! They always run it by Snatcher to get the okay and to get help planning/scheduling/reaching out/spreading word. There’s always a great turnout at these, with most or maybe even all of the spirits attending!

Sometimes Snatcher practices his Intro with a Subconite or two, and they give him some tips on how to be scarier

Yeah, arguments and misunderstandings happen occasionally, but they get resolved quickly

The kids tend to go to Snatcher for advice and with questions. He doesn’t like to bring up his own problems with them as he doesn’t want to bother them.

Snatcher, the Dwellers, the Subconites..they tend to just get a little burst of happiness seeing each other/saying hello

Snatcher just genuinely enjoys the company of the kids, and playing with them, and when they get so excited to talk to him it just makes him so happy, and he’s so protective of them...And just the same they respect him so much, and look up to him, and feel safe with him, and try to look out for him

They’re all there for each other and have a secure relationship 🖤

[sarcastically-defensive17]

The Best Years - L. Hemmings

Best Years - 5 Seconds of Summer songfic

Female reader

Original story by Sarcastically-defensive17

He still remembers the day he met you.

You had transferred schools half way through year 9, and he was smitten the minute he laid eyes on you. You transferred to the same school as your cousin, Michael.

One could easily tell the two of you were related. You seemed to synchronize the colour of your hair every time.

You instantly declared the lanky boy as your best friend, and the following years were spent supporting the guys through their music career. You were there to direct their old YouTube videos, when Michael contacted Ashton, and when they asked you to become their band photographer.

You couldn’t be happier, but you also harbored a lot of concern for your friend.

You got a million reasons to hesitate,

But darling, the future's better than yesterday.

A loud banging on your door had stolen your attention away from the television, and you cursed whoever was interrupting Mean Girls but you’re scowl deepened at the sight of a very familiar large man on your doorstep.

“Y/N!” He slurred, wrapping his large frame around yours and shuffling into your house.

You loved Luke. There were few moments you didn’t, but one of those is when he is blind-rotten drunk after a breakup.

He always seemed to go for girls who were only after one of two things; money or sex. Many times Michael and Ashton teased you about the physical similarities between yourself and Luke’s conquests, but it was brushed off.

It was no secret you had feelings for the boy, anybody but Luke could tell. But you knew he didn’t feel the same. He was amazing as a best friend, but lately his activities have been less than amazing, and your patience was wearing thin.

Wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you.

Gave you a million reasons to walk away.

Luke had been drinking more often than not, and nobody could tell you why. Whenever you would ask him, he would brush it off with a quick “I’m fine, bug.”

The guys were no help. They were as clueless as you were.

You tugged the large man into the guest bedroom and sat him on the bed before pulling his boots and leather jacket off. Luke is the only man who could pull off his particular style, you thought. Even Michael looked ridiculous when he dressed as Luke for Halloween.

He relaxed against the pillows almost instantly, and you thank the heavens that he has no more drunken words for you tonight. His escapades have caused you much stress, and it was hard to hide the worry on night like this.

It was harder to hide the exhausted tears as you made sure Luke was okay.

He had spent a couple of weeks comforting you after your ex had cheated on you, and a few weeks later his girlfriend left him. He hadn’t said why.

I'll make up for all of your tears.

I’ll give you the best years.

Your luck seemed to run out as you neared the bedroom door.

A quiet whisper echoed through the dark room that made your heart stop, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He looked to be asleep, so you ignored the words. As much as you would love to return the three words, you know he didn’t mean it.

I promise, darling, you won’t regret,

The best years.

You had a routine for night like this. Stay up for hours making sure Luke is okay, use various skin care products to reduce the puffiness in your eyes from tears and lack of sleep, then wake up from a few hours of sleep to make Luke breakfast and give him painkillers.

This had been happening for at least 3 nights a week lately.

You can’t count the number of times you had picked him up from a bar or a club, or helped him into bed when he was too drunk to walk.

You would do anything for him, even if you knew you shouldn’t.

Soft footsteps sounded over the sizzle of the pan, and you turned with a small smile on your face. Luke could see that the gesture did not reach your eyes.

“Y/N,” his voice is soft, sad almost, “I am so sorry. I know I promised I wouldn’t do that again-“

“It’s fine, Luke. What are friends for?” The smile on your face turned sad, and you turned to see an unrecognizable look on the blond’s face.

“Right.”

I wanna hold your hand when you drink too much,

And carry you home when you can not stand up.

You did all these things for me when I was never meant for you.

I wanna hold your hand while we're growing up.

You set two plates down on the table, handing Luke painkillers and a glass of juice.

“So, are you finally going to tell me why you’re turning into a low-functioning alcoholic? Or should I just assume it’s because things didn’t work out with Stephanie?” You ask, not hiding the disapproval in your tone.

His eyes drop to his plate and you feel guilt wash over you. You hate prying, and you especially hate hurting Luke, but his lifestyle is getting out of hand.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” he mumbles, eyes not meeting yours.

You know him well enough to tell when he’s lying. You know that when he hangs his head so that his long hair covers his face, it’s his way of disguising his features that show all of his emotions.

You lean across the table, placing a hand on his forearm softly. You have always been very comforting for the guys, hence why they always say you and Ashton are the parents of the band, even if you’re not exclusively part of it.

“Luke, honey, please.” He raises his eyes finally. You can clearly see the emotion hiding in them, “You can tell me anything. I love you, and you know that.”

He lifts his hand to push a piece of hair behind his ear, and you can’t help but watch the gesture knowing that he is considering opening up.

“I know, I’ve been horrible the past few weeks. I can’t apologize enough for that, bug.” You smile slightly at the nickname. He insisted on calling you “love-bug” in year 11 when you organized a Valentine’s Day stall for your high School.

It kinda stuck from there.

“Yeah, you haven’t been the best,” you laugh softly, not noticing how his eyes lock onto your smile.

He smiles in return, but it drops after a few seconds as he takes in a breath, “When Steph broke up with me, it really made me think. She told me she didn’t want to hold me back from who I really wanted,” his eyes drop again, his other hand moving to cover yours on his arm. “I didn’t realize until she told me.”

“What do you mean-“

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you think back to the night before.

You go to speak, but his mouth opens before you can.

“I know, I don’t deserve you. I really don’t. I’ve had feelings for you for so many years but I didn’t want to ruin anything,” his voice is soft and full of so much emotion. “But everybody can see it, everybody told me I was crazy for hiding it because I know you don’t feel the same. I just want to give you the best years. I want to grow old with you and spend my life with you. I just didn’t know how to handle it, so I’d just get drunk and forget about it all. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this but I can’t keep it hidden-“

You stand from your seat before moving closer to him. Your arms wrap round his neck like his did to yours the night before.

But I built a house out of the mess and all the broken pieces.

I'll make up for all of your tears.

“God, I’ve been wanting to hear that since you gave me that stupid nickname,” you laugh, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“Wait, does that mean-“

“I love you, you idiot,” his warm laugh fills the room, and you feel him smile against your cheek.

“I love you love-bug. I’ll promise, I’ll give you the best years of your life.”

I'll give you the best years,

Past love, burned out like a cigarette.

“You won’t regret this,” he whispers, “I promise.”

I promise, darling, you won’t regret

The best years.

“So how do you think Mike will react?” His smile covers his face, and you can’t help but mirror the sight.

[inspiringwhilerespiring]

Me avoiding work :))))

1: Golden mornings or peachy sunsets?

I am a sucker for both; I usually miss sunrises though :(

2: Sugar cones or waffle cones?

Waffle

3: Do you wear scarves often? do you have a favorite?

I live in TX so its pretty dang hot most of the year, but I do love them A LOT

4: How long do you lay in bed before you finally get up?

Oh man, I am really working on this. On average I’d say 30 min-hour lol thats awful to admit out loud. But I want to be able to just get up and jet!

5: Is there a food you’ve never had but always wanted to try?

BRUH I am sure there is sooo much out there - especially like Asian or Carribean or Indian cuisines.

6: What does your umbrella look like?

Don’t have one 

7: Do you listen to ASMR?

Yeah lmao I have a whole ass playlist on Youtube

8: Rain storms or a light drizzle?

I appreciate the fuck out of both <3 

9: What’s a little thing in life that you love?

Just about everything lol but off the top of my head - the smell of freshly made coffee. 

10: Favorite color aesthetic?

Lately, its been that sandy, dusty pink or nude - goes really well with all the plants I have lol 

11: Wobbly lines or using a ruler?

Depends of course

12:  Bright colorful living room or neutral cozy living room?

Mines pretty neutral but it don’t really matter to me

13: Do you have any candles? what scents are they?

Lol toooo many - I believe there is no such thing as enough candles. The one in front of me is Floral Serenity

14: Have you ever rode a horse?

Yeeee haw I’m from TX bitch

15: Do you have glasses?

sunglasses ya, and those blue-light ones from amazon lol 

16: What’s a language you’d like to speak?

I’m pretty knowledgable in Spanish, but I’d like to be 100% fluent - also ASL

17: What’s your favorite season and favorite month in that season?

FUCK! Hard one - but I guess Fall and October/November; I just love the cold and October has some nice ass weather in TX/

18: Do you have a favorite pair of socks?

Not really lol I wear this crew cut white pair a lot lately tho

19: Favorite Ghibli and/or disney movie?

Hmmmm I’m not sure - maybe Lion King

20: Disney, Dreamworks, or Pixar?

Don’t care

21: What snacks do you usually get at the theater?

Growing up it was always those Junior Mints lol

22: What’s an underrated video game/ movie/ show you love and think it needs more recognition?

Hmm good question - I really like Richard Linklater (he’s from H town) and he does a lot of films in TX and his projects are really interesting, so maybe his movies lol as for video games and shows idk

23: Would you fill your house with plants if you had a green thumb?

bitch you guessed it!

24; All plants are great but do you have a favorite?

ganjaaaaa lol but in all honesty, this is a haarrrddd question. Any plant that I can eat or has medicinal values - which is a fuckton of them lol

25: Do you have a favorite type of art style? (eg: soft looking, no to little color, sketches, crisp and clean, minimalist, pixel art etc.)

nah, I appreciate all forms of art.

26: What would you do if someone gave you flowers?

blush and thank them

27: Do you like nicknames?

yeah I suppose - lol I feel like as humans we all appreciate or enjoy any form of thoughtfulness or something that makes us feel exclusive/individual 

28: Do you still watch shows you watched when you were a kid? even from time to time?

Yeah lowkey I put on shit like Planet Earth, Fresh Prince, Spongebob, That 70s show, etc in the background sometimes if I can’t sleep or am feeling anxious at night to fall asleep to

29: Do you still like old memes? (tell the truth)

yeah

30: Favorite Halloween costume you dressed up as? (if you don’t celebrate halloween have you ever cosplayed or would you like to? who did you cosplay as?)

LOL I think the best one I did was Baby spice from the Spice Girls - I thrifted the entire outfit and got a shit ton of compliments 

31:  Are you a fashionable person?

eh lol in my head mostly 

32: Do you like watching holiday movies?

yeah honestly 

33:  Cookies or brownies?

cooookies

34: Do you blow in the cold air just to see your breath?

we’ve all done that I’m sure

35: Do you find the crickets chirping outside your window relaxing?

no for the most part

36: Do you like cobblestone streets?

yeah fasho

37:  How often do you doodle?

not enough anymore

38: When was the last time you blew bubbles?

when I chew gum?

39: What’s your favorite random piece of decor in your house and room?

books

40: Do you bite your fingernails off or clip them more often?

i bite the fck out of them :/

41: Any birthmarks?

no

42: Thoughts on freckles?

I don’t have any thoughts, they are what they are - but I do like how the artsy/imaginative side of me likes to believe that they are little stars on our bodies and we’re all made up of the same matter in the universe type shit lol 

43: First video game you ever played?

Sonic the Hedgehog - Sega or Super Mario Bros on the Gameboy

44: what type of bird do you hear most often outside your door?

some type of songbird

45: Do you use gifs/ memes a lot when replying to people?

I used to a lot more lol 

46: Thoughts on spring?

LUV U<3333

47: Ideal temperature outside?

65

48: Cloudy, partly cloudy, or clear skies?

Cloudy

49: How often do you hear airplanes outside?

A lot since I live like 15 min away from the airport, I get to watch em take off from my window

50: Do you enjoy windy days?

Yessss

[housedzemael-archived]

Home

So Phoebe inspired me to write some tooth rotting fluff of a far future bit of ye olde pair of dragoons so like. Enjoy. The TLDR is Danica is a Hug Fiend

Archive Link 

Light filtered in through the frosted window of a small home in Ishgard, falling gently on the faces of two who would much rather it still be dark, still be the common mans hour of rest. One was still deep in the arms of sleep, her chest rising and falling gently, peacefully, the most at ease Estinien Wyrmblood had ever seen his companion in the years he’d known her. A small smile tugged at his face, even as he cursed the lights intrusion. Rest. They’d finally found their rest.

As much as he would have loved to sit there, admiring the way the light danced through her black hair, splayed out across her pillow and his chest, His stomach urged him away. Such a rudeness, hunger was, interrupting such gentle times. And to feed said hungers, he’d have to find a way out of the warm cage of her arms. She was much like a cat really, one who loved warmth, and gentle affection. One might call her clingy, with how she wrapped around him whenever she could, but he wouldn’t dream of doing so. Her warmth was so different than the chill his life was used to, and by the Fury he wouldn’t lose it.

Slowly, gently, he moved her arms from around him. Replacing his warmth with one of her many plush animals. She loved those things, so soft and warm and cute. He hoped they’d be at least a passable stand in for him as he got something to eat. She furrowed her brows as he moved, causing him to pause, holding his breath for a second, afraid he had woken her. Thankfully, it appeared just to be a stirring in her dreams, for soon she drew the plush animal close to her chest, and rolled over still very much asleep.

He exhaled, relieved. Sitting up fully now, he swung his feet to the cold stone floor. They really needed to invest in a rug. He could feel the heat seeping from his body before his feet even hit the ground. Shivering, he slipped into the slippers Danica had bought him instead of a rug. Moogle shaped, with poms on the back that had fallen off sometime during his use of them. A nameday present she had sworn was practical, and reminded her of him. His smile grew, he turned his head once more to look at her, gently reaching out and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and then finally headed towards their bedroom door.

The rest of the house was just as cold, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They did live in Ishgard after all. At least for now, he knew Danica was still looking for the perfect place to open an Inn somewhere distant and and gentle a place where people might not visit often or might not know her name. Anonymity was what she sought, something she had lost long ago, to be the faceless but always listening innkeeper.

He lit the stove with a few quick strikes of a match to tinder as his mind continued to wander. Slowly, meandering through every dream and vision and idea that appeared in his mind. He’d go with her when she found that magical place. If she’d let him that is. Every so often his mind would grow dark, moody, and he’d wonder why she even found comfort in him, as much of a broken, tired man he was, had once been. How closed off and cruel to her, especially early on in their relationship. He shook his head, Danica would poke his side if she heard him thinking such things, remind him that he has no say in how she feels about him. That she loved him and the dagger weilding fiends in his mind had could do naught to change that.

He found one of the few pans they had. He was glad they still managed to have one clean. Both Danica and himself had forgone cleaning dishes the night before, for no reason other than they wished to both be warm and lazy. He laughed a bit to himself, so very different from when they were on the road. Regimented. Up at Dawn. Clean things directly after they were used. Work till Sundown. Sleep. Repeat.The laziness was a breath of fresh air, really.

Eggs. Check. Four of them. Did they still have any bacon? Or had they forgotten to go shopping the other day. Ah just enough for the two of them, if she woke to the smell. He’d never been a masterful cook but he knew enough not to make something passable with what they had, and passable was all his stomach required. Especially when the siren’s song of a warm bed awaited him not too far away.

The pan sizzled, the smell of bacon slowly filling the room, perhaps even the entire house, and once again Estinien found himself gently smiling. A door shut further in the house, he heard a loud yawn, and slow, languid footsteps. Ah, it had woken her. Perhaps he wouldn’t return to bed after all. Considering, to quote danica, what made it a warm bed and not just a cot was the presence of each other.

Finally turning the corner, a bleary eyed Voss stood for a moment, blinked, and then continued zombie like towards the other dragoon. She was the picture of exhaustion, long black hair wild and unkempt all about her, one of his shirts, half buttoned and falling off her right shoulder, a grumpy look painted on her beautiful face. Beautiful, she was beautiful.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, pinning them both to his side, and nuzzling his shoulder with her head. He chuckled, managing to worm his far arm out from her grasp, only to lose it in her hair.

“DeeDee” He spoke her nickname gently. Like it was a secret name, only for the two of them to hear. Of course that wasn’t the truth. Many called her that, most of her friends did so often! But to him, calling her something so intimate almost exclusively when it was just them, that was special.

“DeeDee, I need my arms for this. Else we’re looking at a house fire and burnt bacon.” He chided, halfheartedly attempting to pry his other arm free. She grumbled something unintelligible. Holding tighter, harder, like her very life depended on her proximity to him. Ah, she wasn’t fully awake it seemed after all. She had just followed bed down the stairs. He chuckled.

“You’ve two arms.”  She managed to spit out intelligibly after a moment, before once again burying her face into his arm, covered by the cascade of hair he had tried so hard to keep as far away from the stove as possible. Back to square one, his free hand pushed back a selection of strands so that one of her eyes, the golden one, peaked out at him. He shook his head, she pouted.

“Well, if you want to eat burnt bacon then...” He started, turning back towards the stove. The food was in no danger, but it would be if she kept this up.

“I want to be back in bed. Actual bed not just the furniture.” He smiled. Seemed no amount of plush animal would pass for him. She moved her head a bit, looking at him now with her two sleepy, grumpy eyes. She inhaled, as if she was about to state some grand case that he should forgo food and simply return to bed, but she stopped. Sniffing audibly. “Ok fine. Bacon.”

But yet, she still did not free his arm. At least not fully. Instead, she lifted his captive arm high for a moment, only to slouch herself and plaster herself to his side. Leaving his arm free, but elevated, around her shoulders. She smiled into his side, basking in the warmth of his arm.

“Problem Solved.” She couldn’t stop herself from giggling at her own brilliance. Figuring out a way to be warm, to be in his arms, and to save the bacon! Genius! “I am the smartest Dragoon.”  She stumbled out, after getting herself suitably comfortable.  

“Hmph.” He feigned insult at that, he too was a dragoon after all! Had she forgotten! From the smile he saw peeking out between her messy bangs he doubted as much. Simply that she was tired and speaking with a tired mind. Gently he wound a bit of her hair around his finger, before tilting his head. Thinking back on the times when yes, she had been awake, aware, working.

“Yes, yes you are. Now go get some plates.” He ordered, only to be met with grumbling. He expected as much, she wasn’t keen on leaving a place once she got comfortable. Removing a hand from her shoulder, he reached up and managed, just barely, to grab two plates with one hand, without either of them falling on the pair.

And within moments, breakfast was served. She slipped from his side to greedily pick up her plate and fork, stuffing half a strip into her mouth before remembering to say thank you.  He shook his head, taking his own plate and heading towards the large couch her father had acquired for them some time before they set up shop in this tiny corner of Ishgard. Another thing they needed to get soon, a proper table for dining. He’d have to write these down later.

She had followed him, plate in hand, and promptly crawled into his lap as soon as he has situated himself upon the couches pale red cushions. Hr chuckled, placing his own plate upon her lap and wrapping his now free hand around her back as she leaned into him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of all the affection?” He asked, not seriously expecting an answer from her this early in the morning. His own sleepy brain however wished to air it. She shook her head no, almost violently, before grabbing his face and gently kissing his cheek before returning her head to his shoulder.

“Good. I’m glad.” He replied, relief painting his voice.

And with that, silence fell over the pair. Slowly eating their food, enjoying each others company, and watching the sunlight grow brighter through their few windows as early morning continued its transformation into Midday. Slowly, he watched her fall back into the clutches of sleep. Her hands growing lax upon her plate, thankfully not dropping it before he could whisk it away, her breathing growing regular, and gentle, and her eyes fluttering and staying shut.

Perhaps she was right, perhaps sleep even now was the place to be. Gently, he pushed their plates to the side, leaving more of a mess for them later of course but later was later. Now was something much more important. Then, he brought her up into his arms, careful, as if not to wake her again.

Returning once more to their small room, and their small bed, and the warmth it provided. Basking in the rest and comfort it gave them when truly it was complete.

Much later in the day they would wake. They would work among the world. Building, and planning, cleaning, and talking. But for now, all that mattered was their rest.

[v4nnyzzz]

Sea Of Dreams

title: Sea Of Dreams pairing: Lee Shi Ning Syn(OC) x Billy Hargrove summary: drabble of random moments in Billy’s friendship with Syn. warnings: there is one(1) instance of censored usage of the f-slur, you know the drill, it’s the 80s. notes: this drabble uses lyrics from Oberhofer’s song of the same title, “Sea Of Dreams”. word count: 951

 If the earth should dry May your dreams never die

Billy yearns to hold Syn’s hand again. They had done that before, once, Syn’s head was a hyena’s then. Tongue lolling, rhythmic panting, eyes half-lidded as always, regardless of the form he took on. Syn held his hand because he was curious about how big his hand was in comparison to Billy’s. Billy was, by this time, already aware of Syn’s unusual–and almost supernatural–ability to shapeshift. Though he’d sometimes be caught unawares by it, especially if it was one as drastic as the entirety of one’s face changed to that of a hyena’s(for being aware of it did not necessarily mean he was used to it).

He was close enough to Syn that he was granted the privilege of being able to use his nickname, “Syn”, and no longer had to refer to him by “Shi Ning” exclusively. Shaving off unnecessary syllables was always welcomed.

His hand was smooth for the most part, a little smaller than the dirty blonde’s, but not too terribly small. Billy had wanted to keep it there longer, let them stay in that moment a little more, truly cherish it. But then he realised how gay that was, and he quickly let go. He put his hand in his leather jacket’s pocket, his other hand balled in a fist with his knuckles against the dewy grass. He wasn’t gay, he didn’t want to be, and he hoped he wasn’t.

Though, after that night, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Clouds are sacred, nothing! The skies and all man, waiting!

The brunette was by no means at all conventionally attractive. Back when Billy was still bullying him for the most trivial, petty reasons, he made sure to make several jabs at Shi Ning about that. In a baffling turn of events, however, the two became acquaintances. He wasn’t sure how he became acquainted with Shi Ning over the months, it had simply happened gradually as Billy’s interest in Shi Ning as a person grew. Beyond just “foreigner boy”, “fatso”, and “fucking f*gg*t”.

It was most likely a growing curiosity regarding Shi Ning’s odd yet almost warm behaviour towards most people that Billy would observe. Understandably, Shi Ning was not warm to him, until Billy had decided to start treating him as he would an acquaintance.

Shi Ning hung out with Steve often, Billy knew that well. What he didn’t know well though, was the reason behind why he’d feel a pang of jealousy whenever he’d see that goofy-haired Harringturd with Shi Ning.

Billy, one leg against the lockers near Shi Ning’s, asked: “You close to Steve?”

Shi Ning merely let out a grunt in reply.

Billy didn’t like that Shi Ning wasn’t responding to him the way he’d have expected, not even gracing the denim-clad man with so much as a glance. He didn’t like that, not one bit.

“You know, I don’t get why you hang out with him so much.” Billy stated bitterly, “He isn’t King of Hawkins anymore. I’d sorta get why you want to hang out with him so much if he was still King, but he’s a damn nobody now!”

“You think I hang out with Steve because of some stupid unofficial title?” Shi Ning finally retorted.

“There any other reason, then?”

Needless to say, Shi Ning wasn’t very pleased with Billy the rest of the day.

You’ll find me In a sea of dreams Where no one cares about my words

Billy was always surrounded by the most insincere people throughout his years of schooling. Girls who wanted to get in his pants, “friends” who acquainted themselves to him in an attempt to boost their worth amongst the student population’s status quo. Snakes, simply put.

Ironically, he was stepping on eggshells around those “snakes” as often as they were around him. Both parties eager to maintain their respective personas to the rest of the world, almost like a performance(a show, even).

How could Syn hang out with Steve with no ulterior motive? Surely Syn wanted something; money, sexual advances, for Steve to do his homework. However, as he tagged along with the duo more often, he found both boys wanted anything more than platonic companionship from each other. Neither were leeches, backstabbers, or materialistic individuals.

And it scares him, how genuine they both are, Syn especially. How can sincerity this real be so tangible?

Able to be touched; Syn is soft overall, huggable. With him follows a warm and inviting aura, despite his rumoured notoriety. Able to be smelled; Syn sometimes smells like cake. Deodorant, perhaps? Able to be heard; Syn is loud. A loud chortle from the back of his throat, an unsettling dog-like growl, a sudden snort when he finds something particularly funny. Able to be examined, for the eyes to rest upon; Syn looks best, to both Billy and Steve, when he is happy.

I hear her voice She laughs now She loves me now and always did

Billy has a preference for thinner women with big breasts, though the “cows of Hawkins’ High” offered him no such luxury. So why, then, did he feel himself gravitating to someone like Syn? Of the same gender, no less. He also realises that the more time he spends with Syn and Steve, the more he finds himself less-inclined to use the normally derogatory terms he’d use for women in general. When he thinks about that new development, he sometimes unwillingly thinks about Neil.

Neil calling women whores so casually throughout Billy’s childhood, Neil beating women in both their lives, Neil and women.

I’ll take your word Like a bestfriend should If your heart should dry May your eyes still cry

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON CHERRY BOMB!’S MAIN DANCE GUN MONA...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Modeling (cf)

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): Momo, Moe, Mong (몽), 징징 INSPIRATION: As a child, she’d perform for her father, her brother, and eventually her small town community and found a lot of joy in entertaining them and making them laugh. She’s always loved performing and singing, but hadn’t really thought about doing it for a profession, despite being musically inclined. A young fan of the first-generation K-pop groups like S.E.S and Fin.K.L., she was persuaded to perform on K-pop Star just to see if she liked performing, and found it exhilarating. Hasn’t looked back since. SPECIAL TALENTS:

No-laughing challenge master

Notoriously bad at tongue twisters

Has a whistle register

NOTABLE FACTS:

Very active on her personal and the groups’ SNS and interacts a lot with fans of both the group and herself personally

When she was a K-pop Star contestant, she notably performed ‘U Go Girl’ and impressed the judges with her energy (and cuteness)

Is “jokingly” known to be a huge party girl, idol friends and celebrities she’s familiar with say she has an “iron stomach” when it comes to soju

Known for her funny expressions that can’t hide how she feels - most often it’s her resting bitch face or an unamused one, but also some wacky ones

Crochets little stuffed animals as a hobby

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

Right now, she’s looking to solidify her position as a “CF queen” — wants brands to look at her as someone that’s popular with general public and that, frankly, they’ll shell out big bucks to exclusively sign as their brand model. She also wants to venture into another field or two to supplement the wave of popularity she’s been lucky to experience thus far: an acting stint, perhaps, or maybe variety where historically she’s been a little bit more successful and more comfortable with. More for herself than for her career, she’s been keen on becoming serious as a performing artist, and is looking into music production in her spare time.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

As her relevance (also known as: time frame) as an idol fades, Mona would want to try to go solo, since her love for her craft is a life-long one, but is more than ready to complement a solo career with recognition for the other talent she’s currently deciding between. She’d like to transition her “image” as that charming, relatable girl-next-door look into someone more womanly and self-assured. Someone authentic. In a more career-oriented sense, she wants to achieve the ability to pick and choose the brands that she models for and still receive hefty contracts, in the vein of Won Bin’s star power. Overall, she’d like to shed the ‘idol’ image and turn into that of an ‘artist’ - someone well-respected in the public eye that carries life-long relevance.

IDOL IMAGE

It’s an undeniable truth to say that there is a first impression of her, and that it is always, without fail, this: she’s pretty. Remarkably pretty, in a plain, malleable sort of way. Not too sharp that she cuts, alienates — just soft enough to mould into whatever you want her to be. Most people don’t care for much else besides the first look, so it’s perfectly fine that she’ll be the pretty one, memorable if only fleetingly. It works, anyway — the relatability of her features, parts of it (of her) desirable and the other parts identifiable, make her an easy pick-up for brands to plaster on their products. Girl-next-door with wisps of maturity, of a sex appeal her members don’t quite possess. The kind of soft girl that the public loves to rest between their teeth. Palatable — just so.

You don’t have to be much more than a pretty face and a good dancer, they’ve told her in the past. Don’t stray from your design, is what they mean.

Don’t be you. There’s nothing appealing about it.

She tries. Walks the tightrope between the image of her and the girl inside — tries to dull a blunt tongue, smooth a passionate expression, tame the soft cruelty that makes up her marrow. Spends years running back and forth between wanting and having. Should haves and could haves. There’s the artist she wants to be, the truth that wants to will itself into existence; then there’s the girl that’ll actually succeed — merely pretty, with hidden laughs and closed smiles, speaking well but not too much, both seductive and restrained. So consumed by the thought of others that she tries to smooth herself out until there’s nothing left of her, manufactured out of her system.

She’s told, time and again, that her beauty is the only thing that matters — and, to be frank, she’s tired of it. Tired of being told. So she resolves to take it — their power, her weakness — into her own hands, tilt the scales in her favor. Manifest destiny, or some bullshit like that.

The public eats it up.

The newfound authenticity to her — the poignant way she expresses a confidence she’s found that she’s had, how she isn’t afraid to be desirable, how she pushes the boundary of acceptably self-loving is not so off-putting as it is intriguing. Everybody loves to hate on a woman in control, except with the way she carries herself, haughty but not in-your-face, there’s less to hate and more to admire. It helps that she’s older now, less tied to a youthful, innocent image and settling into the confident niche of her group like she was always meant to be there. Girl-next-door that’s matured into a woman — still pretty, still relatable, but with a voice that’s truly her own. Fears nothing: not the hurtful comments, lustful gazes — doesn’t mind being the sophisticated ‘sex bomb’ she’s grown to be one minute, all-natural the next, an everyday adult woman.

It’s appealing, she supposes, to see a girl grow up. Become more assertive, fill into her skin (or shed the layers that were well past due). Not trying to appease, not blinded by the limelight. At a time when she’s finally happy with herself, everyone seems to be happy with her too. With a tacit blessing, she’s let herself be unafraid to be her, for now.

Just don’t stray out of line, they whisper.

(I don’t care, she wants to say back.)

IDOL HISTORY

In the summer of 1999, she leaves.

.

It doesn’t take Mona very long to realize that her mother isn’t coming back. What with the way her father sits on the side of the bed that used to be hers, head in his palms, back poised for a knife that isn’t there, but it feels like he’s bleeding anyway. She stops questioning him soon after that — too scared, perhaps, of the consequences. One parent’s gone, no need for another to disappear too.

Home isn’t ever the same afterwards. Going from four to barely three leaves a big gaping hole in the fabric, seams loose and aching. Dinners, for example, are sombre affairs, heavy with the knowledge of the empty chair at the table. Weekends, too, are quiet — where her mother used to sing, silence makes itself heard, a loud ringing in the ears. The sound of loss is deafening, they all find out in time.

She tries to pretend that it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

(It’s not, of course. Six year old fingers aren’t meant to hold up the spines of men — their wilting, their hollowness. No wonder she doesn’t grow up proper; no wonder that there ends up being something wrong.)

There are days when her father cannot look at her. She has her mother’s eyes.

.

Sunday in July. S.E.S. and sunlight waft through old speakers and cracks in the curtains respectively. Like calm before a storm.

Mona can’t help but sing along when the chorus comes on, all light tone and childish chipper. She realizes — there’s been no singing since she left. Since she took the singing with her. Stops short when father’s wiry figure hovers at the doorway, quiet as always. Time won’t heal his wounds, but it has allowed him to forget as a reprieve. Until now.

“I didn’t —“

“Keep singing, Mona,” he says. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a smile — so sad, but so happy at once. “It’s beautiful.”

So she does.

.

The moment she steps onto the shining, fluorescent-washed stage is the time she realizes: it’s different. Not at all like sinking her feet into the sofa of her living room, moving like clockwork to her father’s favorite songs, singing along. Nor is it like standing on the rickety wooden floor of her local community center, performing for the people she’s grown up around, who would love her no matter what she’d do.

This is Seoul, with all of its steel and its glamour and a cruelty that leaves fourteen year old her starstruck. This is the tipping point.

After all is said and done, she doesn’t get very far. Pretty, and a vibrant performer, but too rough, too unpolished to win a competition of the best. She’s not even sure the praise they’d given her was real — everything about it had seemed so manufactured. Machinery running through their motions. Leaves her feeling like she had less than she had started with; and she wants more.

Someone slips her a small white card before she leaves the building. You’ve got potential, they’d said. Audition.

Weeks pass and the details imprints themselves into the back of her brain: rudimentary black symbols that bely the possibility of fame, of fortune, of a life greater than her small town all in the sharp cuts of their lines. Curiosity has always been her vice, thorns strangling tighter until she has to find out what’s on the other side.

The tension, her wanting: both palpable. Her little town on the outskirts of Daegu cannot contain it. Everything’s tasteless, everything’s sober. It’s painfully obvious that she wants this. Wants more. Her mother, she recalls, had felt the same way. The parallels scare her. Her mother’s eyes. Her mother’s voice. Her mother’s self-regard. Hers, now, too.

She hates the look in her father’s eyes when she says she’s going to Seoul. Hates it even more when she forgets how he looked when she gets accepted by MSG entertainment, to begin her training as soon as possible.

When she packs her bags and says goodbye, she leaves him slumped in the dining chair she’d made her own for years.

Three becomes two. Feels like there’s nothing left of family anymore.

.

Trainee life is cyclical. Breathe in, breathe out: dance, sing, weigh, repeat. She wonders: why did they let her through when all they seem to want is to strip her gone? They lash her tongue to strip the satoori from her vocabulary; starve away the parts of her that make her her — her bold tongue, her small-town naivety, her childish innocence. Scrub the poverty from her until she’s wiped clean. You’re not here to be you, they tell her in between lines. You’re here to be a god.

Giving her best becomes harder when there’s nothing left to give, so she starts giving pieces of herself in its place. She wants this, she wants this, she wants this. Guilt propels her — her father, all the way back in Daegu, sitting with his head in his palms like she’d left him, just like her mother had before her. All the way here and she hears his howling (or maybe now it’s coming from her).

Torn between this choice: the her of before, and the her that could be.

She chooses the latter. Too many bridges burnt now to go back, she thinks. See the selfish through.

.

Idol life is an open door leading straight into hell.

She’s always so tired. Always so lost. She’d thought wrong: had been mistaken that they’d finally let her be when she debuted. Their hands go deeper now — not ghosting along the lines of her, but into her, become her ribcage and her spine and her mouth. Dissonance, it’s termed: her between closed doors, witching hour in her bedroom, and her in front of the camera. Does her father recognize her? Does she?

Pretty, they tack onto her shoulders. Pretty and docile. Perhaps it’s because she’s become awkward — lost her confidence as she’s risen to the top — but when they tell her keep quiet, she listens. Strange, feeling faceless when the only thing she’s known for is her face. It frustrates her, going through the motions, known foremost for the outside of her, a part of her that’s been an afterthought; then, just barely, how well she dances, how her body moves. Nothing about her — her love for music, her craft, or how funny she can be, or how much she wants to just be.

When she left her family, when she chose herself over others, she didn’t think she’d lose them both.

One day, her father calls. Asks why she sounds so sad. Because I left you, she says. Because I was selfish. And all for nothing — now I can’t even sing how I want, or act how I want, or be how I want. Are you proud of me? Do you hate me for leaving you behind?

Keep singing, Mona, he says. It’s beautiful.

(Be you, Mona. You’re beautiful.)

So she does.

.

Maybe her wounds will heal — maybe, quite possibly, they won’t. But inevitably, she’ll forget them once in a while. Slowly, she learns to let herself go — that is, the idea she has of herself go. It’s no good trying to be someone she’s not; she’s no actress, not at all suited to playing a part. They’d told her it would be her downfall, being herself,  being real. She intends to make it her strength.

It starts off slow, the slippage. A strut down the walkway, a haughty gaze at the camera, a flash of skin here and there. Candid in her interviews, still reserved, but more at ease than ever. Yeah, she’s watched adult films; yeah, she can hold her soju; yeah, she’ll talk about how she had loved a boy and lost him. The more she lets loose, the more comfort she feels — the most comfortable she’s felt in her own skin in years.

In the end, they’re intrigued by this new girl in front of them — the rawness, the realness, the subtle haughtiness. Who is this new Mona? They ask.

She’s always been this Mona, she says, smile on her face — open-mouth, teeth shining and everything.

For the first time, she feels centred. Feels alive.

[sharktoraptor]

Survivor Daemons

Here’s a whole bunch of blabber that no one asked for about my Dbd daemon AU, featuring the reasoning behind the forms of the survivor’s daemons and a little about their personalities. Why? Because I can and I felt like typing a whole bunch of stuff that no one will read

There are a lot of additional rules and complications for daemons in trials, and I’m probably going to make a separate post both for that and for the Killer’s daemons (or... current lack thereof), because this got VERY long.

And before we get started, here’s a plug for my currently abandoned fic playing with this concept. Ima get back to it at some point.

First off, I had some limits for survivor forms. Their daemons have to be small, and easy to carry around in a trial. Most of them ended up being birds, with a couple of exceptions. Also, only a couple of the names mean anything- I got almost all of them from a fantasy name generator and just picked one that sounded nice.

Dwight and Zefrita

Zefrita (Zeffie) is a mourning dove, and I chose her form for a couple of reasons. Mourning doves are entirely defenseless against their predators (except for natural camouflage) and are therefore very flighty, anxious birds. They are also known for forming close, lifelong pair-bonds, and since Dwight’s perks are all about teamwork and literal bonds between survivors, that seemed to resonate with him.

Zefrita is a very quiet daemon, and only talks to the other survivor’s daemons (and Dwight, of course). While Dwight stammers and hesitates a lot when he’s flustered or anxious, Zefrita only talks when they have enough conviction about something that she can articulate it clearly. So, it’s a pretty big deal if she says something important- it usually means that it is.

Meg and Skiflit

Skiflit (Skif) is a northern goshawk. I used this analysis to come up with his form, mostly because of the interpretations of loyalty, determination/being goal-driven, and assertiveness, which I all think fit with Meg- or at least, my version of Meg, who’s caring but a bit of a hothead.

Skif talks about as much as Meg does, which is quite a lot, especially in fireside arguments. He’s also the most likely to get physical with the other daemons, whether aggressively or for support/comfort.

Jake and Dancha

Dancha (Dawn) is a raccoon, which I just love for Jake for so many reasons and I was so happy that the form analysis worked out. It really boils down to what he said in the actual fic- they’re highly adaptable/resourceful, conflict-avoidant, and independent animals. Their also curious but in a killed-the-cat sort of way, which seems true to Jake’s character to me.

Dawn tends to let Jake do most of the talking, and really only interacts with the original four survivors daemons, sometimes including Nea and Laurie’s daes if she feels up to it. She and Jake are pretty slow to trust, and even though they feel perfectly comfortable around all the survivors (though they clash with Ace) Dawn keeps her interactions to a minimum to stay in her comfort zone. They don’t have much of any comfort left, after all.

Claudette and Laefertes

Laefertes (Laef) is a barn owl, and I actually think I named him after Laertes from Hamlet for some reason? I think I just had the name stuck in my head, no significance to it. The two traits that really stuck out to me for his form were barn owls having a surprising amount of foresight in caching their extra food and their egg care habits, and the analysis I read also listed owls as being very perceptive, for obvious reasons, which fits well with Claudette’s Empathy (perk and trait) to me.

Claudette and Laef are kind of the greeters of the group, so when someone new shows up at the campfire they do all the explaining and “welcome to a Bad Time” talk. Claudette tends to say more comforting things than hard truths, and Laef compliments her by being the opposite- almost anything out of his mouth is what needs to be said, not necessarily what people want to hear.

Nea and Bayonai

Bayonai (Bayo) is a Siamese cat and listen I have a lot of reasons for it. He’s a cat for obvious reasons- Baker literally describes Nea as catlike in the journal entry- as well as cats being generally friendly, but independent for the most part. Siamese cats in particular are known for being loud attention seekers like no other, and we know that Nea was the epitome of Rebellious Teen (tm) in her day. They also tend to be curious (again, in a killed-the-cat sort of way).

Bayo is my favorite daemon of the bunch, probably because I started writing him first. He and Nea are less counterparts of one another than they are the same person divided into two parts. Bayo has a little more of their caution, but he’s like the friend who is saying “this is a terrible idea, oh my god” while filming it. They have street smarts more than school smarts, but Bayo has a little bit of an edge on Nea when it comes to critical thinking.

Laurie and Aurelio

Aurelio (Ori, which accidentally means they’re Laurie and Ori) is a European robin. His name comes from the Latin word for golden. His form was really hard to find, mostly because the original survivors have just a few canon character traits, whereas Laurie Strode has a whole franchise worth of characterization to sort through. I ended up just using Halloween I and II for my form finding. I used this analysis for Aurelio and I don’t have much to say about it, other than I was relieved to finally find a form that fit.

Aurelio and Laurie are Survivors (tm) in the truest sense of the word, so in my ‘verse they’re kind of dry and cynical. Aurelio tends not to talk very much, and when he does he often says things that are too dark for the conversation he’s contributing to, and is reprimanded by Laurie. They had a perfectly normal human-daemon bond before Myers, but it changed after, and they were never the same.

Ace and Kesina

Kesina (Kess or occasionally Kesi) is an American bullfrog. She’s the only reptile form among the survivors. I’m honestly not even going to say anything else about her form, just link to the analysis because IMO it’s so Ace it hurts. Laid-back is the main trait that I like that I don’t see listed as a major point in the analysis, but frogs are chill as fuck.

Kesina says all the sarcastic and biting things that Ace doesn’t, but in a dismissively calm way that gets a rise out of whoever she’s said it to. Not that he wouldn’t, it’s just funnier if she calls Jake a dumbass in Argentine Spanish than if he does. She and Ace talk to each other almost exclusively in that dialect when they’re being snarky or sarcastic, even if they’re doing the “what do you want to have for dinner!?” routine, because no one can understand what they’re saying and it pisses everyone else off.

Bill and Portril

Portril (no nickname) is a summer tanager, a kind of smallish songbird. Frankly there’s not very much personality lore for Bill out there, even in what Left 4 Dead stuff I tried to dig up, so I went with my personal HC’s for him- grumpy and quiet but altruistic and perceptive old man. Here’s the analysis if anyone is actually reading this, but this is more for my own benefit let’s be real. There’s not a ton of real solid behavior for summer tanagers, but I liked what this person wrote so I went with it.

Bill is quiet and Portril is quieter. Bill contributes a few sentences to the conversation at the campfire every now and then, but the majority of the survivors have never heard Portril say a word.

Feng and Maeslin

Maeslin (Maes) is a numbat (google it), and tbh I should have picked a Chinese-sounding name for him, but I’m too attached to Feng having a daemon she calls Mace to change it. I’d never heard of a numbat before form finding for Feng, but I love how well the weird little things fit with her character. Numbats are specialized eaters and ONLY eat termites. They have to eat 20,000 of the things a day to stay alive. What I get out of that is that the are specialized/single-focus type people, like Feng and her gaming, and work really fucking hard to be good/keep at it.

I haven’t done a lot of thinking about Maes’ personality. I think he and Feng are a Chaotic Neutral disaster duo. He’s a very mobile daemon and tends to climb all over Feng, never staying in one place for too long- it’s a habit he learned very quickly to not bring into trials.

David and Ezriana

Ezriana (Ez) is a magnificent frigatebird and it’s SUCH a shame that she’s not male, because the main reason I picked that form for David is because of the absolute pompous showoffs that male frigatebirds are with that throat pouch of theirs. Frigatebirds are also known for being opportunistically aggressive and basically getting into fights with other species of coastal birds to steal their catches. There’s some more, non-fighty traits that made me decide on frigatebird for Ezriana, but those are really the two main reasons I picked it.

Ezriana is kinda the “kick his ass baby I got yo flower” of the pair, and she always tends to kind of stay out of the thick of it, circling overhead and yelling out insults and encouragement. Her actual personality is pretty laid back when not in conflict mode, and she’s pretty good for conversation around the campfire. Her way of talking is a little more... coherent.. than David, who’s excitable and can get a little carried away.

Quentin and Nynta

Nynta (Nyn, pronounced Nihn) is an earwig. Earwigs are tough little insects and are very adaptable and actually protect their eggs and then care for their young, showing a lot of duty and dedication. I think that fits with what I managed to gather of Quentin’s role in NoES 2010, which I haven’t actually watched. Additionally, fitting into the daemonverse, earwigs are very small, and Quentin keeps Nynta in a lanyard, so that Freddy and no one else has any possible access to touching her.

Nynta never talks, period. No one knows what her and Quentin’s relationship is like, taking into consideration Laurie and Aurelio’s slightly trauma-damaged bond, but everyone knows that Nynta probably doesn’t trust anyone. They’ve never seen her outside of her clear plastic lanyard, which locks from the inside with a one digit combination that only Nynta can open. I imagine she probably settled during the events of NoES 2010.

Tapp and Soliel

Soliel (Sol) is a Florida scrub jay. Scrub jays are committed birds, both to their mates and their territory, and keen and clever observers of what happens in their area and to their things (food caches and stuff). These to me seem like good traits to match a detective’s personality. These birds are also highly specialized to their environment, though, and are unadaptable- that combination of traits makes sense, because Tapp became borderline obsessed with the Saw case in his lore.

Soliel is as focused as her human is, and accepts facts and information readily. Being older than most of the others, she tends not to talk too much unless they’re having an interesting discussion, rather than a time-killing or social conversation.

Kate and Torelian

Torelian (Tori) is a fennec fox. Fennec foxes are super extroverted and sociable animals, and tough critters that are well adapted for going long periods of time without commodities, but not without other people around them. Kate traveled a lot for her music career, but she seems to me like a caring and outgoing person that really connected with her fans. He also matches her aesthetic, and is a cute/attractive form- perfect for a performer’s daemon.

Torelian is as much of a performer as Kate. He can’t play and instrument, but they can sing duets and are, of course, completely in sync at all times. It’s great for cheering up the campfire after rough trials and moments of (extra) hopelessness. He’s a good ear to talk to and offers wholesome advice.

Adam and Samia

Samia (no nickname) is a northern cardinal. I chose the form this morning and frankly I’m tired of resummarizing bird analyses at this point, so here ya go.

I’ve done no character exploration for Samia yet, might edit this when/if I come up with some more for her. Most of the daemons outside the first five or six I’ve done more developing here than otherwise, so we’ll see!

If you got this far you’re my new favorite human, and thank you for listening to my impassioned rambling about my two current hyperfixations mashed into one <3

[betweenlifeandfiction]

G-Dragon as a Heal me, kill me drama character

(based on drama about CEO with multiple personality disorder who meets psychiatrist with whom he has a lot in common)

You’re psychiatrist and you’re meeting friends after work. Three of you are sitting outside cafeteria when you see a group of scary looking men who appeared from nowhwere.

You avoid eye contact with each of them but you can still can clearly hear them arguing with someone.They’re very loud. Everyone is looking at them. You’re so done. Especially of the way how the one of them draws people’s attention by provoking random customers.

Hey! You’re in public place. If you got drunk, go back home. - You say out loud cause you’re feisty type of woman.

At the same time you look in the eyes of naughty looking man who just started observing you. He doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking at you.

Your friends decide to leave so you follow them but you suddenly feel someone grabbing your hand.

Don’t touch me! You say with anger, trying to push off that man’s hand but he’s holding it very tightly. He looks at you intensively.

Since now you’re my woman. he says with very serious face expression.

Are you crazy?! Or maybe there’s some hidden camera? Is it? You say half-joking, half- being angry. It’s not Joseon era. Women are not someone’s thing just because some crazy jerk says so.

Hey, leave her alone! you hear your friend coming and warning him but he’s so confident that he only looks at her with mockery.

He pulls you closer and you’re so shocked that you don’t know what to say. He forces you to sit behind him on his motorbike. He rides so fast that you hold him tight to not fall off and get seriously hurt.

When you stop next to exlusive boutiques, he’s seems to be in good mood.

You’re my woman now so you can wear any dress you want.

Oh my God, it’s not happening. I don’t even know you. Who are you? you groan, trying to go back to your sense cause you’re still shocked. He doesn’t pay attention and just starts showing you his favourite clothes.

I love exclusive brand. You will look like princess in this one.

He tells you to wear the first dress.

We’re taking it. he tells shop assistant.

What? It’s so expensive! you say loudly, not believing what you just heard.

The second one, my lady.

It’s cute. We’re taking it. Next, please.

It’s fine. Next one.

He smirks and you’re so annoyed. Some stranger forced you to do things and he acts like your boyfriend.

And he can’t stop looking.

This one is the special one but you’re wearing it only for me.

You wish. I’m done. This is crazy. I’m out. you tell him and you go back to your clothes. You’re leaving boutique but he catches you up. He takes your hand again  and looks at you for a long time which makes your heart beat too fast.

Remember this date and nickname G-Dragon. It may take a long time before we meet again but it’s our fate. he says, smirking.

And two days later you see the same looking man leaving a car and entering hotel.

You’re certain it’s the same guy that you’ve met before.

Hey, you!  you scream, not even caring that people are looking at you.

You’re that mean guy from the street. You said it’s our fate to meet again. Are you following me, pretending you’re here by accident? Are you a stalker?

Ekm.. Excuse me? he askes, totally surprised.

His face looks more subtle without make-up. He seems so confused when you tell him whole story that you’re starting to believe he really has no clue.

CEO Kwon is very serious man. How can you assume such a nonsense? his bodyguard asks with anger, blocking your way.

I’m sorry. I have to go now. You must’ve mistaken me with someone else. Goodbye. - Mr. Kwon says politely.

Um.. Ok. Maybe you were really that drunk that you blacked out.. I mean.. Sorry for interrupting. - you say, trying to disappear as soon as possible because he and his bodyguards are looking at you like you were crazy.

Few months later your patient runs away from hospital and you find out that she went to Cake Shop club. You look for her in crowded club when you hear familiar voice.

Should I say that I found you or it’s you who found me?

And here’s him again. Black eyeliner, mole on his cheek, sharp gaze, arrogant attitude.

You’re going with me. he adds, raising his eyebrows. You’re hiding your anger, trying not to say something mean.

Sir, if you’re leading double life, it’s not my business but stop telling these weird things and leave me alone.

I waited for too long. You’re going with me. NOW. - he answers, trying to lean to you but some men approach him.There’s almost fight between them but then something unusual happens and when you tell them to stop. G-Dragon suddenly moves away.

I’ll be waiting for you. -he says and joins the group of dancing men with whom he came to club. He knows you’re looking at him, he smiles and asks you to come to him.

You ignore it. You’re a bit scared. It the last time you see him on the dancefloor because you keep looking for your patient. When you notice her at the bar, you call your crew because you know she’s agressive when someone tries to stop her from doing things. When job is done and you’re leaving the club on the late night, you see someone on the street, leaning against the wall.

You’re still here..? you ask, feeling scared that this man is really dangerous stalker. What do you want? Why do you follow me?! You..

He looks at you with pain in his eyes. You can’t believe it. Did he cry? He’s shaking.

Are you.. are you not feeling well? you mutter.

He puts hands on his head and slides down on the floor. It looks like he fainted.

Oh my God! Are you sick? Please, wake up!

You’re so scared. You grab his face and try to awaken him. He slowly opens his eyes that you move back that fast that you fall on the floor. He still looks at you with his magnetic eyes.

Are you ok, miss? he asks with his delicate tone that he used the second time you met him.

I thought it’s thermal shock or cerebral stroke but you seem fine- you say with weak voice, still sitting on the floor.

Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happend to me. I’m sorry if I caused some problems. - he says, clearly tired. He gives you his hand and helps you to stand up. His way of holding your hand is much different than before. You’re starting to think that they’re two different men.

You were in very bad state. I think I should call an ambulance..

No!- he says violently. He looks down with embarrassment- Don’t call ambulance. I’m fine now. I.. I’ll be going now.

He’s ready to leave but you say:

No. Wait! I’m not going to let you go just like that. At first let’s go to eat something. You seeme weak.

You’re almost sure it’s dual personality. You’re psychiatrist. You have some knowledge and experience. Calm, shy man and arrogant troublemaker. Two extremes. Does he have alter ego? When you two sit at the restaurant and start eating he seems nervous.

I know you may be confused but does it happen to you often? Did you realized it before?

Um.. It just starts with headache and then I pass out and when I wake up..

You can tell me. I won’t judge. - you encourage him.

When I wake up, I’m in different place, usually wearing clothes that I normally don’t wear. Then.. some people approach me and tell me things about what I had no idea. Just like it was with you.

You two spend some time talking it out. You offer him some help.

Everything will ok, Mr. Kwon. - you tell him after you say goodbye and go back home. Before you go asleep, you think about a short moment when he aciddentaly touched your hand before leaving restaurant.

And meantime, the same night Mr. Kwon..

Who’s that fool? You’re pathetic, CEO. You’re weak.. You need me. It’s time for me, G-Dragon and you know it. Soon there will be only me. You’ll disappear forever.- and he hears this hostile voice in his nightmares everytime. At late night you hear a bell ringing at your door and when you open it, dangerous looking man with mysterious smile is standing at your door. His gaze seems warm enough to make you think for a while it’s still Mr. Kwon.

G-Dragon?

Bingo. - he says with smirk, entering your house, withouting even asking for agreement. It must be boring when I’m not around. I’m taking you to the best places in this country. Pack your things.

Mr. Kwon, don’t do the things that you will regeret later..

Don’t call me like this! I’m not him! he screams with anger.

Yes. You are. You’re both the same person.

If look could kill, you would be probably dead now. He holds his fury which makes you wonder because G-Dragon is always ready to fight someone but there’s always something that stops him to lash out in front of you.

He comes closer and grabs material of your blouse, looking deep in your eyes.

Stop it. you ask him and he stops but then he touches your cheek and leans to you. You hold your breath. He’s compelling for sure but he’s taking adavantage of Mr. Kwon who doesn’t realize anything.

If you have feelings for me for some reason, don’t do it.

He seems disappointed, hearing this and he moves away.

You’ll be mine someday. You can’t keep pushing away a man with such a charm like me. So that’s why I’m not going to waste my time. You’re going with me.

And then suddenly..

What are you doing?! It’s 5 am.

He pushes you inside a car and closes door. He starts the car and you look at him with anger but he smirks.

I didn’t plan to take you with me by force but you always make things difficult.

Me? I make things difficult? Look who’s talking. - you answer and he still keeps smiling. For some reason you can’t be angry with him. It’s almost morning.

He stops a car and you two go outside. You notice amazing view in front of you.

Do you still regret being here? he asks with a bit sadness in his voice.

You shake your head and smile lightly. His way of expressing himself is fierce but it’s certain that both of them are lonely.

You could just tell me that you wanted to spend more time with me. There’s no need to force someone.- you tell him.

Being polite is Kwon’s thing. When I want something, I take it.

You can hear contempt in his voice and so move closer.

I’m here for you. Not only Mr. Kwon but also you. - you tell him, taking his hand and putting head on his shoulder.

He’s happy but clearly surprised. He didn’t expect it from you. You can feel his scent and warmth of his skin. It happens so fast when he just leans to you and kisses you.

It feels even better than you expected and you put hands on his shoulders. He suddenly stops kissing you. His gaze is absent and he presses hands to his head with pain on his face.

Are you ok?

I don’t know. What happend?

G-Dragon came back but don’t worry. Nothing bad happend. - you explain to him. Throught next months you keep trying to find right theraphy for him but it’s not easy.. When he’s talking with you as Mr. Kwon he’s sincere and tries so hard to make things better..

But when he’s back as G-Dragon, it’s much harder..

When G-Dragon comes back it seems like he resent you for continuing theraphy but on the other hand Mr. Kwon seems getting better when you’re around..

You’re noticing his natural charm and sense of humor. You actually started living together..

You obviously start flirting but none of you will admit that you have feelings for each other.. Yet..

You two grow up as a friends but one day you notice he looks at you with special fondness.

Like I was saying.. I can see progress..

What? you ask him and then he pulls you closer. Your heart beats faster.

Thank you. he whispers, holding you and leaning to kiss you.

You will be fine, Mr. Kwon. you say. That’s short kiss but you still feel dizzy.

Of course I will be. You’re my amazing therapist after all. I wanna keep you.

The way he says it sounds a bit like G-Dragon and you’re starting to understand that he’s not just alter-ego but a part of his personality that in some twisted way was helping him to survive. When one night you notice he’s got a nightmares, you touch his face and try to calm him down.

Everything’s fine. I’m here.

Tears are falling down his cheeks. You can’t help and you kiss his lips.

So you love him.- you hear him murmuring. You look at him, surprised. His face expression makes you confused because Mr. Kwon and G-Dragon used to look at you the same way but now you can see he’s furious.

G-Dragon..

He fiercely gets up from the bed and throws off all things from the table. You can feel pieces of glass hurting your foot.

You both try to get rid of me and now you’re kissing this bastard! he starts screaming with pain in his voice.

You’re the same person. I told you many times. Just accept Mr. Kwon..

Get out my way!

What?

I’ll be here for a while so don’t expect for your pathetic Mr. Kwon to come back.. Unless.. you will choose me.

He grabs your wrist and looks at you earnestly.

But when he sees your sad face expression, he lets go of your hand.

You’re leaving his house but only next day when he texts you a mesage:

I’m sorry. For everything. I hate living like this. I don’t want to be the second one in your heart. If you care about me a bit, come and say goodbye to me properly.

So you come back because you’re worried. It starts raining. You meet halfway. He’s sitting on the bench.

So you care about G-Dragon too or you’re here for Mr. Kwon?

Both- you answer shortly. You start running to him. He stands up quickly and when you hold him and kiss him, he kisses you back with passion and pull you so close that you barely breathe. Or it’s just the way how he makes you feel..

I love the nice you and the sassy you. you tell him and he can’t stop smiling.

He doesn’t have to say anything. You know he’s in love with you like crazy too.

And you realized you love both of them who just became a one person.

[bullymagnet]

submission: kabaedactyl

i originally planned for this to be a stress-relief ficlet for aged up bullmag but 3k words later this happened so..here u go…i also took some material from this blog, which are all linked: this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, and this. There’s also a voltron comic reference that's here. - dactyl

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Max and Johnny started dating in middle school.

It was an awkward, bumpy start. They never called themselves ’boyfriends’ in middle school, it was unheard of, you’d never tactical friendship fuse with your boyfriend — that’s another subject. If you did it with your boyfriend, you’d tactical boyfriend fuse, which was another day’s work. So, at first, they didn’t call themselves boyfriends. They called themselves best friends. They were best friends who, in late, ungodly hours of the night, watched Slenderman and Bigfoot documentaries and have conspiracy theories about whether or not they’re real. They were best friends who tested out the point to their spectral abilities, including biting literal pieces of wood and metal and trying to lift trains just because it was attracted to your metal, magnetic bat.

Throughout their years in Mayview middle school, they never counted themselves as boyfriends. They were best friends, through thick and thin.

They were plenty of summers that included Mayview’s lakes and ponds and public ditches large enough to jump in. One summer, their first summer as not-boyfriends-but-best-friends, Max got so fast at changing into bathing suits by just hearing Johnny’s voice and the tuptuptUPTUP of his feet that he could discard all of his clothes and get into a bathing suit quicker than Johnny could get to him. Johnny, consequently, got much faster that summer. (Did you know that Johhny’s natural hair is black? It’s darker than Max’s. Max was so surprised his soul left this dimension.)

That summer, Johnny also found out that Max unapologetically and horrifically, without fail, bit into every single ice cream cone he got. Not only does he do it more than once but once he figured out that Johnny is physically disturbed by it he did it more often. Every chance he got. He bit into popsicles, ice cream, ice, literally anything cold that would send chills up someone’s spine if you bit into it. He did it. His will was more powerful than anything Johnny had ever seen.

The first Halloween they spent together they dressed up as each other. Max got his father to buy all the crappy, dirt-cheap red dye he could get, and dyed his entire head red. He stole Johnny’s shirts. Despite Max’s epic parkour core strength, Johnny has way more muscles, and it hung loose around him. Johnny stole every single cap Max owned and put them all on at once, including ‘borrowing’ Max’s father’s insolent children shirt. (Everyone knew Max’s shirt wouldn’t fit him, after all.) Once they saw each other that Halloween, in their ridiculous get-ups, they both cried with laughter. They were the most ridiculous goofballs anyone had ever seen.

The school years and summers after included epic fights and slime monsters and big wolves with spectral abilities. It included researching mediums and putting “No, Google, I am not asking for Amazon t-shirts I’m talking about GHOSTS” into search bars at late, late hours of the night. It also includes weird trips into Mayview’s woods (but not far enough to the barrier) trying out weird tests of their spectral abilities. It’s also good to test their strength — Johnny can bench press Max easily, but can he bench press Max and about fifty other indistinguishable pieces of metal lying around? (Yes.)

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At the very end of middle school, they became boyfriends. It was a very quick change but it didn’t impact their dynamic. At fourteen, they were completely done with beating around the bush about their boyfriend-y-ness.

They can thank Suzy and Isabel’s relationship for that.

Isabel never backed down from a challenge and calling Suzy her girlfriend was certainly one challenge she never could have backed down from. Suzy, ever the devoted journalist, referenced Isabel as her girlfriend whenever possible. Dimitri and Colin had no problem with it. They weren’t going to let their newspaper be exclusive for anybody. They were going to be an all inclusive, pro-lesbian middle school newspaper.

They were stuck in this eternal war with Suzy and Isabel and their own competitive feelings. Suzy loved being a public affectionate monster with Isabel, much like Johnny was to Max. Isabel and Max were stuck in an indefinite war about which boyfriend/girlfriend was better to cuddle with and better to wrestle with. Suzy was a tangle of limbs and too much energy to vent out, so she won the title of Cuddle Master Champion. But Johnny was a beast in wrestle-and-smooch matches, so he won the title of Wrestle Kiss Master Champion.

Finally, one day in Mayview’s own local high school, Suzy had demanded what they called themselves. “This isn’t a middle school newspaper anymore,” she had said to them while they passed each other in between classes. “This is serious Business with a capital B, boys! What is your relationship?”

Johnny and Max looked at one another for a solid second before resignedly nodding and turning back to the two girls. “Boyfriends.” they said at once, smiling.

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High school was no less messy than middle school was. Though, Johnny and Max got acquainted with each others’ ghosts. Scrapdragon had a superiority complex, apparently, and liked to shove Max into the heightened state of perception and then talk through his body. It scared Johnny out of his mind the first few times it happened, which involved lightning-fast talking and a few kicks to the stomach. After a while, Scrapdragon became a nuisance, and Johnny responded in whatever he could muster in the language it spoke, depending on its tone. More often than not, Scrapdragon was sarcastic, and Johnny was teasing.

Forge was a much weirder case. Despite his standoffish nature, he was intelligent, which often butted heads against Max. Forge only forcibly pulled Johnny into the heightened state of perception during battles, when Johnny got distracted by Max, in order to keep him safe. During the early parts of high school, Forge took up the majority of Johnny’s concentration, since he kept asking questions about human culture, their methods of education, and questions about Max and Scrapdragon. (“What is… a Scrapdragon?” “How am I s'posed t'know?)

Now older, they had a fairly good idea on mediums and tools and the differences between them and, sometimes, when they saw a spooked kid on the way to Mayview middle school they made sure to say hello and make sure to tell them that ghosts aren’t scary, if you know how to handle them right. Most of the kids were being taught by Mr. Spender, who taught history, and the wonder duo made sure to tell them he was a pretty good guy to talk to about ghosts. He knew all about ghosts and all their business. Then, when they had to go to school, Johnny and Max would wave bye and head to school, as well.

The two of them got noticed early on as the couple who were six feet into the world of ghosts. Not only that, but Max’s house — which was conveniently the upper story of the convenience store down the block — would get visited by kids who liked to confirm rumors. Max and his family and Johnny and his family all came up with various stories and tangents and hour long theatrical acts to get the kids to leave them alone.

Max did his best impression from the woman from Long Island Medium, telling people weird, half-truths. Johnny struggled to keep a straight face whenever Max did things like that, at first. After a while, Johnny joined his boyfriend. They both would cry and sob and be so melodramatic people couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds.

There were some doting moments, as well. Max had become a monster about affection, especially alone. He also lost his filter, over the next couple of years. It included him practically clinging to Johnny’s waist and mumbling things like warmer into his chest, which made happiness bubble in Johnny’s gut as he, cooperatively, warmed up his body. He had gotten better at the whole 'I-have-a-ghost-made-out-of-fire’ thing and could control the fire that now inhabited his body at will. When he got rowdier, however, he tended to breathe out smoke after a particularly epic stunt. Max thought it was cool.

They got more clever as they got older. They stayed doting and devoted, just as bigger, busier boys. They were still the twelve-year-old boys in bigger, taller, lankier bodies. Johnny was rowdy and kind-hearted and talked too loud during class and did arts-n-crafts during English. He got nearly all As during high school, though. Despite his rowdiness during class he was an excellent note-taker when people talked to him about classes and teachers and subjects — something god knows Max did often. Max mumbled and ranted and went on long-winded tangents to help his brain digest information and Johnny took that information and made good notes and got good grades.

They went through ridiculous montages of chasing after ghosts and going through terrible, terrible plans. Johnny has said, “wait, watch this.” one too many times to make Max worry — each and every time Johnny did them, he would be fine. Each and every time he did that, after every stunt fail and every success, after every triumphant leap of faith and roundhouse kick to a ghost’s face, Max always made sure to compliment Johnny on his talents. "You know, Johnny, I’ve known you for six years now and you still somehow don’t fail to amaze me.”

The whole Activity Club was sparking with life along with the wonder duo, even as young adults. Isaac was still as emotionally constipated as ever, but he got way cooler looking. Scars ran up his arms and neck and whenever he used his spectral abilities, they glowed with an electric sky blue. Isabel was lovingly nicknamed the Tool Minute Dater because she could only stick with a tool for like, two months. Whatever she did, she did fantastically, and did it with her bullheaded force. She became broad and tough and was the perfect bodyguard to her small, curious, and invasive no-filter girlfriend. Ed’s tool stayed with him, getting bigger, and he’s much broader and much more agile than he was in middle school. He’s still Isabel’s best friend, he’s just as obnoxious about video games as he was, but he is one heck of a real fighter.

Spender was less and less seen, as a Mayview middle school teacher, but he was on missions occasionally. Each and every mission he was one brought chaos to the team. He’ll stuff every single member into his little tiny gray Hybrid car and they would get a move on to whatever dangerous activity they were on to next. Isabel sat in the passenger seat, Johnny would double up with Max, Ed would be squished in the middle, and Isaac would be on the other side. Johnny and Isabel’s bright red spectral energy would butt heads against the spectral energy of Isaac, which was just as lively. Isaac’s energy, like lightning, would spark and bubble at sporadic times. Max’s black energy would grow as time went on as his embarrassment grew. Ed’s green energy and Spender’s bright yellow energy never stood a chance.

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At eighteen, the wonder duo became legends. After graduating from high school, they both got arrested and went to jail for a night. It was a beautiful moment when two ghost-chasing eighteen-year-olds got arrested. It was for trespassing and loitering and unlawful entry. The ghost was volatile and going to hurt someone, Max would have reasoned, but ghosts don’t make sense to police. Not when Max and Johhny’s clothing is torn, their hair is disheveled, their faces are flushed, seen in an empty, abandoned building in the middle of the night, closer to two am than midnight. If Johnny had said they were ghost hunting, Max wasn’t sure he could stomach the embarrassment.

It didn’t stop the police from asking, though. “So, why were you two in there?” His tone ran dry when he said there and Max grimaced. The ride there was intolerable to begin with, they didn’t need to interrogate them to make it worse. Max’s tiredness was creeping up on him and he wasn’t sure he could give them a coherent answer. Luckily, Johnny noticed, and stepped in.

“Someone said online that this place was s'posed t'be haunted. 'N it kinda was, doors openin’ an’ closin’ without anybody bein’ there. Some mo—uh, wails, an’ stuff comin’ from the walls. We couldn’t figure out what was happenin’, then y'all showed up.” Johnny offered his hand to Max, who gladly accepted it, and they both gave each other a reassuring squeeze.

“Ghost hunting? Like those tv shows?” Said the driver, who was slightly broader than his partner. He had a rather obnoxious worm ghost clinging to his hands, slinking back and forth. It left an intangible slime trail that Max and Johnny couldn’t help but make faces at.

“Just like those shows,” Max said. He blinked, like he was forgetting something, before he added another word, “Sir.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed as nonchalantly as possible, “Sir.”

They were only in jail for the night. They didn’t do anything bad in the building. They didn’t break any fences or do anything to the private-owned property. They didn’t put up any graffiti. When they got their items back and left the police station, they quickly told the group chat.

[ 10:01 ] max 👻 guys guess who got arrested

[ 10:01 ] isabel 🔪 im telling suzy

[ 10:01 ] ed burgz details??????

[ 10:01 ] isaaaaaac Do we even want to know.

[ 10:01 ] here comes johnny it was SO COOL

[ 10:02 ] here comes johnny boom bam POW THWIP SHA-BANG KA-POW

[ 10:02 ] here comes johnny then we were in jail

[ 10:03 ] isabel 🔪 suzy says johnnys text isnt sufficient

[ 10:03 ] max 👻 tell her thats all shes getting

[ 10:04 ] isabel 🔪 she says she hates the both of you

[ 10:10 ] isabel 🔪 in college, i will not be so lenient!!! i will have ALL the details, you will soon know your fate!!!!!! -suzy

Suzy did not get all the details. She ended up getting all the stories, but it was like a comedy trope in Fast & Furious. Every time Johnny or Max opened their mouth to tell the story, out came completely different, completely contradictory, completely riduculous stories. She also got jokes. She got hours of Max’s tearful tangents about how hard it is to be dating a criminal. It’s even worse when he accidentally went on a tangent about wanting to be married to a criminal, or wanting to propose to a criminal — she regretted ever asking.

And when she didn’t ask, they alluded to it anyway. They would vaguely reference the Night or the Incident. The Activity Club got to know it as the Night but there were several instances where it was referenced with a variety of different names. The Day, the Building, the Fight with the Man, the Argument with the Two Men. It sounded like a twelve year old’s horror story on fanfic.net and it drove all of the others up the wall.

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When they turned twenty-one, it kind of became unbearable to just be boyfriends. Nine years, now, nine years of being boyfriends and best friends and each other’s support and fighting partners. Nine years is a lot of time to be dating and nine years is enough time to look at someone who you’ve been dating non-stop and say, yeah, that’s him. (The love of one’s life.)

Johnny and Max are sappy, affectionate boyfriends. They always had been, even during their friendship fuses fighting against each other in deadly dodge ball matches and fighting slime monsters. It was almost tooth-rottingly sweet. Their many shenanigans could have been listed off as a Halsey song or a surreal 80s love song with the right instrumental. They rode on the back of Target carts during sunsets when Target didn’t have a lot of people in their parking lots. They found the Karaoke places with the nicest people working there and the dumbest, sweetest 80s love songs they could. They bought Wiis and Just Dance and Rock Band just to jam out together. You bet your butt when Johnny and Max found out that electric ukuleles were a thing they bought one as soon as they could find one. Their relationship was mesmerizing and they didn’t stop for anyone.

Johnny and Max, at age twenty-one, were comfortable with one another; they were both on their brand new apartment’s couch, exhausted, half-dead, and ready to sleep for thirty years, but it was comfortable. This new thing to them was comfortable. This new thing should be overwhelming and strange and new but since they were twelve they’ve been doing this. At Max’s house, they slept together, one top of one another, half-dead and entirely brain-dead. At Johnny’s house, they slept, ready to become the next Sleeping Beauties. On the bleachers or under them, in their high school, sleeping, because they couldn’t make it to P.E. because last night was so exhausting. Suzy would snap pictures from her terrible antique polaroid camera that would blind them for long enough to let her get away, but they were furious, and chased after her for days. The pictures always ended up on the high school newspaper, though, despite their best efforts. They would sit on Johnny’s motorcycle that he got for his twentieth birthday and it included a lecture from one of his moms, who was chewing him out for using her motorcycle for years and without a license.

But it’s in their apartment, half-asleep and doting, when Johnny piped up. “Muxxy, will you marry me?”

And it’s half-asleep Max, who said, “Of course. This was goin’ t'be permanent t'begin with, wasinnit?”

Johnny smiled at that, that kind of butterfly-squeezing-gut-bubbling happiness that seized you and every bit of you. The kind that gave you shivers despite feeling warm all over. “Yea, 'course it was. Go back t'sleep.”

Max nodded off. “Y'too, Johnny.”

Johnny nodded off, too, with a soft “I love you, Max,” leaving him as he fell back to sleep. Though, he swore he heard it returned.

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That night, they took everything seriously. They got the rings. They told everyone. They told Suzy over the phone and as soon as they said the word marriage they could hear Discord’s dial tone and Colin and Dimitri’s voices as she translated every last detail. They’re running their own independent paper and blog called Mayview News Now! and they report everything that happens locally. Johnny and Max were going to outdo Mulan’s off-screen wedding and invite the whole of Mayview and they were going to get awesome wedding gifts.

They were going to talk to every single contact they know. They were the famous wonder duo of Mayview and gods and ghosts alike will know that their determination doesn’t lack in any amount. They’re going to get the biggest, prettiest venue possible and have the most wonderful wedding and do it Johnny-Max style. They’re going to have the funniest wedding and no one in Mayview — no one in the world is going to be able to top it.

The wedding reception is beyond what anyone could have thought. It might be labeled as a catastrophe, with both of the grooms’ suits trashed beyond repair and all the pent up strength they’ve been giving to ghosts who can barely feel anything at all were now all over each other. Johnny and Max specifically and insistently requested no glasses in this event. No glass cups, no glass punch bowls, replace the windows with plastic or aluminum foil or wooden screens, just not glass. And they were right to be persistent.

The wedding had delved into a food fight.

Johnny threw the first hit. Of course he did. It was a small one-bite snack and it had nailed Isabel in her face. Suzy took a sharp intake of breath before she gave her girlfriend, — bride to be — two bite-sized snacks and then smiled devilishly at the newly wed couple. Isabel’s spectral energy lit aflame which only egged on Johnny and then they were head-to-head, with every other guest and waiter getting in the crossfire.

Not only was that something to witness, Ed threw something at Max. The no-good biased capital g Gamer had thrown the second throw. Max vaulted a counter with ease and grabbed a discarded crab leg. He then smiled and it was war from then on.

It became a mess of food and laughter and surprisingly calm wait staff. There were really amazing and drastic and dramatic measures taken, tactical formations and a lot of people on the catwalks, people with the capability to jump onto a counter, then grab onto a wall, then hoist themselves onto the catwalks above with nothing more but calloused hands and freewill. Despite the discord that was all around them, it was fun, and the only thing regrettable was the trashed suits and fancy dresses that people wore, despite the wedding’s formality only being casual-wear.

At the end of it, in the trashed interior, with the wait staff patiently behind the counters with the ice chests full of soda and cold sweet tea and orange juice and energy drinks; with the people hiding behind walls with fairy lights dangling from the ceilings and on the walls in dazzling formations; with the people laying flat on catwalks with trashed, mushed food in their hands; with the wonder duo in a tactical husband formation standing in the midst of it all, in their trashed suits and funny grins and shaking hands because of pure adrenaline; and then they laugh.

It’s roaring. It’s thunderous. They’re all laughing. At twenty-one, Johnny and Max are married, newly wed ghost-hunting partners, and they just had a food fight for their wedding reception. And they love this experience and each other so much.

[seattlegrace-rpg]

Welcome to the group as OC Thomas Jr. “Tas” Evan Oneeri, Sam! Please create and send in your account within 24 hours! Looking forward to RPing with you! 

OOC INFO: Name: Samantha(I go by Sam) Preferred pronouns: she/her Age: 24 Location/Time zone: Oklahoma, USA/Central Time Zone Expected amount of activity:  Sun-Fri after 11AM to around 1AM Sat from 11AM to 5PM Role play experience: I have RP’d since I was 13 almost exclusively through Facebook, fandoms I have been in are Hetalia/Greek myths/Worm/Pact/Fandomless OCs/Marvel

ORIGINAL CHARACTER: Name and age: Thomas Jr. “Tas” Evan Oneeri, 19 

Face Claim: Leebo Freeman (blonde)

Position (Intern/resident/fellow/attending of what area): Long Term Patient/Involved in a study for his Osteogenesis Imperfecta type IV/Aspiring Medical Administrative Assistant

Biography for your character: Thomas Jr. was born the youngest of three children, half brother to the other two. His mother died giving birth to him. She hadn’t been seeing a doctor regularly during her pregnancy and her eclampsia wasn’t caught nor was he ever seen in ultrasounds before his birth. Right away it was obvious there was something wrong, his spine was badly deformed, his legs were bowed in, he’d suffered multiple fractures in the hard birth, the whites of his eyes were tinged blue. Tas was diagnosed with Type IV Osteogenesis Imperfecta at one week old. However that was only the beginning of his problems. Tas’ father, Thomas Sr., in his grief of losing the love of his life and unable to control his anger turned heavily to alcohol and began to verbally abuse then physically abused his two older sons. Isaac, the oldest, kept his mouth shut and his head down to avoid attention. Marcus, the second oldest, worked up the courage to tell one of the doctors while at an appointment for the then two year old Thomas, who had gotten his nickname of Tas because of his difficulty pronouncing his own name. By two Tas’d had surgery to try and correct the bowing in his legs and was recovering from that when the social workers came. His father was arrested and the three were placed in foster care as their only known living relative their uncle, Jonathan, was currently in jail for taking the fall for a murder his twin brother Thomas Sr. had committed when they were seventeen. Isaac and Marcus were adopted within three years being as young as they were as well as healthy, unfortunately to different homes despite trying to keep them together. Tas wasn’t adopted and remained in foster care bouncing around from home to home until he was around fourteen when an older couple adopted him, Elizabeth and Wendy Nelson. Tas doesn’t remember much about his brothers and the foster homes he had stayed in stopped giving him their letters or the letters were sent to the wrong address and were never forwarded, they stopped being sent when they weren’t returned even in the scrawling of a five year old. The foster homes he was in and out of were neglectful and often times just abusive and because of his disease he was often labeled too much to handle and was passed on to someone else quickly. He was told why he was put into foster care by his parents when he turned sixteen. Because of his condition and childhood he became severely depressed and has issues with attachment and abandonment but hides it best he can with jokes and pranks. When he turned nineteen he was told about a program to study his disorder at Seattle Mercy Grace and moved away from his adopted parents in Cleveland, Ohio, all the way to Seattle. He has a small studio apartment paid for by his parents that’s very close to the hospital so he often walks to it when he can. Now that he’s on his own he decided this fresh start was a good time to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with his life. With his limitations it was difficult, but he settled on what he knew best. Hospital life. He enrolled in an almost completely online eighteen month program to become a medical administrative assistant and wants to work for the new hospital he’s been sent to. Personality wise, Tas is a huge flirt and a troublemaker. Since he can’t get his energy out playing sports he gets his kicks by pulling pranks and telling jokes and teasing as many people as he can. He’s smart, funny, mischievous and very charismatic. He became fluent in Spanish just to trip people up. Despite that he’s easy going, doesn’t like causing actual trouble and prefers to keep his antics at a fun, if not slightly annoying, level for everyone. When he’s alone is pretty much the only time he drops that fun easy going attitude, showing the sadness in him. He has not made any attempts to contact his half-siblings, father, or uncle despite knowing they are out there. He likes to bird watch and sketch and play video games. Physically Tas is both blessed and cursed. He has short curly blonde hair he often keeps gelled back, sky blue eyes with the whites tinged a light grayish-blue, and very pale fragile usually bruised up skin. He’s handsome despite his illness, his face is shockingly angular, with a hooked nose, high cheekbones. And he’s tall, one thing that makes him stand out from the others with his condition, standing at 6’1”. However he’s really thin weighing 140lbs with not so much muscle, can’t get too much exercise in. With his spine being curved the way it is he is cocked to the left slightly but the surgeries he had to fix it made that much less obvious. The same goes for his legs, which still bow but it can only be noticed if you’re looking for it. He’s got multiple scars from surgeries to fix fractures and breaks as well as his legs and spine. He wears mostly tank tops and t-shirts in all colors often with inappropriate sayings or images, a dark purple button up denim jacket, usually blue jeans that aren’t too tight fitting on the legs, and purple converse that match his jacket. He has a necklace that is a choker with two black leather bands and a silver feather hanging from it. He has a personalized cane that can fold up that he uses and is almost never seen without, with a silver raven’s skull as the handle and the shaft black with plumes of purple smoke painted along it. The jacket, shoes, and cane were gifts given to him by his adoptive parents when they told him he was going to be adopted by them, the necklace a gift from the staff of the hospital he’d been going to for years. Medically, he has a slightly S shaped curved spine. He does have asthma because of his chest wall being mildly deformed. Has had surgery for Basilar Invagination at around 1 year old and that is still monitored as they weren’t entirely sure it was successful. Has had full dentures since he was 4 years old. He has fractured most of the bones in his arms and legs countless times as well as his right hip and right collar bone at least once and severely broke his left leg and right arm resulting in surgeries, as well as breaking his other limbs a few times less severely and only resulting in casts, all due to being more adventurous and less careful than he should be. When he does get bigger fractures they often get infected resulting in long hospital stays while they work on getting the infection under control. He has had multiple surgeries that have gotten his spine to the okay point it’s at now and to fix his bowing legs which are barely able to be seen unless you’re looking for it. He has valvular heart disease, two of the valves are smaller than they should be, but he hasn’t had any major issues with it yet previous doctors said his case is a watch and wait. He will occasionally have seizures, one of them is what resulted in his broken arm and a small skull fracture but he hasn’t had one in about two years, his speech is slower because of a big one he had when he was 6 years old. He also has not so great hearing. It’s not so bad to the point he needs hearing aids but if you don’t get his attention first or speak loud enough when he’s not looking he won’t notice you’re talking. He is given Pamidronate every month or so, regularly takes anti-inflammatories and pain relievers, as well as smoking weed despite being told constantly not to for many reasons and does his best to hide that habit. He nearly constantly gets all manners of tests done on him so he’s got a very busy schedule.

Ship(s): With chemistry, he’s pansexual

Anti-ships: None

Writing sample (at least three paragraphs, in character. Must be in third person.):  RFP

[thedoctorishereguys]

Rules: I was supposed to tag 25 people. I’m not doing that. I hate tagging people. Do it if you want to. It passes time.

I grabbed the open tag from someone or another. IDK. It’s on my dash quite a bit today. Hello, whoever I grabbed it from!

LAST: LAST THING I BOUGHT: Coffee. LAST STORE I VISITED: CVS, but I work there. Uh. Fuck, I haven’t gone to any store in like months other than my work. Uh. Gas station, I guess, for my smokes? LAST TEXT MESSAGE: “I can come in for work now if you can pick me up. TY.” LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Everyone says don’t, sung by Raul Esparza. LAST THING I ATE: Shit, when did I even eat last? Fuck. Um. Yeah, this would be easier to answer if I ate more than like once a day. I think steak? Maybe? Idk, really. HAVE YOU EVER: DATED SOMEONE TWICE: Nope BEEN CHEATED ON: I don’t think so? But I wouldn’t put it past the bastard I was with, really. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: … Honestly, y’know, that’s complicated. I regret the relationship I was in, but I don’t regret having been sexual in general with that person? So… yes and no? Idk. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: Yes. My great-grandmas have been gone 12-13 years now and I still have trouble talking about their deaths. BEEN DEPRESSED: I have bipolar disorder, depressed is one of my main emotions. BEEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: Way too many times to count. IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU: MADE A NEW FRIEND: Yes FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: No. But I haven’t fallen in love either. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: Yes MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: Yes. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR TRUE FRIENDS WERE: Yes. In all the good ways, found that people I didn’t realize were close really were. I ended up in a psych ward due to a complete mental breakdown, and I realized I had an entire support network that I never thought to ask for help from before. Just everyone in my life really rallied around me. One of my friends, who generally hates driving distances, drove almost an hour to the hospital to see me, sometimes more than once a week (I was there for almost a month). That same friend also hugged me when he left, even though he is the least touchy-feely guy in existence. One of my work friends got really worried about me when I stopped coming to work, but he still didn’t pressure me to talk about it, just asked me what he can do to help, but told me that he doesn’t need to know what happened, only what I’m willing to share. I did tell him everything, because he is a good friend, but he was so good to me. People I hadn’t talked to in ages, because I was isolating severely beforehand, came and visited, or called, and it was just so touching. Even now, a couple months later, people will ask me how I’m doing, and my best friend (the one who drove couple times a week to visit) makes sure to call me several times a week just to check in, just so I don’t end up in that situation again. After the first psych ward visit (I had two this summer), I attempted suicide, and I called that best friend in a panic that I needed to get to the hospital, but I didn’t want my parents to know what I had done, so I didn’t want to call 911, and he came and got me right away, and he stayed at the hospital for almost 2 hours, until they took me back into the psych ward. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: Yes, a coworker, but she does that to everyone, although I think I’m her special project. I don’t much care. GENERAL: HOW MANY PEOPLE ON TUMBLR DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE?: Uh… no one, I guess, but I still defend I know enough about one to count it, so there. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: No and thank god. I’m not an animal person. I used to have lizards, but they died on me. I like lizards. I wanted snakes, but my mom (with whom I still live) said absolutely fucking not. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME?: Nah, I like mine. Wish people would pronounce it right, but that’s a different matter. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING?: 6 fucking a.m. Which was only because I was due in at work at 7, otherwise, I am not conscious before 1pm, and often sleep until 3. WHAT WERE YOU DOING LAST NIGHT?: Hm. Work until 8pm, which was hell, and then fucking around on the computer until like 1a.m. Which may explain why I feel like death today. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: Getting to drive again? Coffee with a girl next week? Seeing my best friend again? HAVE YOU EVER MET SOMEONE NAMED TOM?: … Honestly, I’m sure I have, but none come to mind. Must not have made a huge impression on me. WHAT’S GETTING ON YOUR NERVES RN?: Not much. I’m too tired to give any fucks about anything. Uh. The existence of 7 a.m. I’m pretty sure the devil invented mornings as a punishment for our sins. BLOOD TYPE: A positive. I used to be a blood donor, so I’ve known my blood type for years (I am no longer a blood donor, because the last time I donated, I got so sick my doctor was tempted to transfuse my blood back in.) NICKNAME: I don’t have one. And that’s fine with me. There are no ways to shorten my name, it’s only two syllables, and I don’t particularly care for pet names. Dear and sweetheart and honey are just… ugh. The only one I like is ‘babe’, and obviously, that’s not one I’ll let many people call me (I do have a coworker who calls me that, but she’s awesome, so she can) RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. ZODIAC SIGN: Which one’s the zodiac? Is that the one with the animals, like the rat and the horse and ram, or is that the one with the astrology crap, like Cancer and Aries and Taurus? Either way, I’m a horse and a Sagittarius. And it makes no fucking difference. The year you were born in has zero effect on your personality, and the gravitational pull of the planets even less so. Actually, people have done the math, and the gynecologist present exerts as much gravitational pull on you (because all objects exert gravitational pull, not just planets and stars) as some of the planets on the horoscope, so if you really want to blame someone for your failings, why not the doctor who birthed you? The whole thing is an utter load of nonsense, really, bullshit fucking pseudo-science idiots keep falling for because they need something to believe in, because the stark reality that there is nothing guiding their lives and everything is random is too bleak. (This bleeds into my problems with religion, too, by the way, but I have a measure more respect for that, because at least it instills some level of ethics, which astrology utterly fails to do. But only a measure more.) PRONOUNS: She/Her FAVORITE TV SHOW: Doctor Who, Doctor Who, Doctor Who. All the goddamn way, do not take away my Doctor Who. Every other show can go off the air before you take away my precious Doctor Who. COLLEGE: I went to a state school. HAIR COLOR: Black with purple. LONG OR SHORT: My hair? Or other random body parts? I don’t have a penis, otherwise I’d totally make a dick joke here. My hair is as short as I can get it. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEBODY: Totally! And she said yes to a date, so score! And then there are fictional characters and celebs, and I really need to be better at tagging my posts so @hawkland doesn’t slap me one of these days. FIRSTS: FIRST SURGERY: Breast reduction, 2009. FIRST PIERCING: Ears, 2014. FIRST BEST FRIEND: … First? You honestly expect me to remember that far back? Fucking hell. FIRST SPORT YOU JOINED: Basketball? Soccer? Idk, it was one of those two. FIRST VACATION: That I can remember or that I went on? Because the first that I know of was Slovakia. The first I can remember was… Huh. Hungary, I guess? FIRST PAIR OF SNEAKERS: Who the fuck remembers their sneakers? I couldn’t tell you what sneakers I own right fucking now.   EATING: What are you asking me? First time I ate? First thing I ate? I’m guessing so, since this is under firsts… Well, is breastmilk a food or a liquid? Let’s go with food. So first food was around 10 minutes old and it was breastmilk. WTF is wrong with you? Who else would say anything substantially different? Sure, maybe they had formula instead, but no one is going to say, “Oh, I first ate at 25, and it was a fine steak dinner.” If they do, they’re an alien. DRINKING: Listen, seriously, what the hell? I’M ABOUT TO: Idk. Take a nap, maybe? LISTENING TO: Nothing, I feel no compulsion to surround myself with noise at all hours of the day and night. WANT KIDS: Fuck no. Not ever. GET MARRIED: Sure, if I find someone I like and who can, at least, tolerate me. CAREER: Ideally. WHICH IS BETTER: LIPS OR EYES: For what? Lips are good for kissing and sucking and integral in speaking, which help with things like “I love you,” eyes are good for looking and part of communication. Really. How do you pick? HUGS OR KISSES: Hm. Toughie. Idk. SHORTER OR TALLER: I like my men taller and my women my height. As I’m mainly interested in women… OLDER OR YOUNGER: My age. ROMANTIC OR SPONTANEOUS?: Uh. I’m not a fan of spontaneous, really, I don’t like shit sprung on me. But I’m too awkward to pull romantic off, I usually stick my foot in my mouth about a minute in. Planned out, at least. SENSITIVE OR LOUD: Yeah, these two really aren’t mutually exclusive. Sensitive doesn’t mean you’re not a screamer 😉

HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: Depends what you’re looking for? I mean, I know sometimes I just want sex, and that’s fine, that’s totally OK. And sometimes I want a relationship. It depends what you want. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: Yeah, hesitant isn’t usually in my wheelhouse. Depends on the situation really. But I’m not a troublemaker, per se. HAVE YOU EVER: KISSED A STRANGER: No. Not really? DRANK HARD LIQUOR: Yeah. A lot of it. I’m a recovering alcoholic, and vodka was my drink of choice. LOST GLASSES/CONTACTS: Nope. If they’re not on my face, they’re on my nightstand. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: I’m open to it. I don’t see anything wrong with being sexual, as long as both parties are clear on what they want. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: I’m honestly not sure. BEEN ARRESTED: No TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: Yes FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: Yes DO YOU BELIEVE: IN YOURSELF: Some of the time. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: Yeah, no. You can feel lust, attraction, whatever, at first sight. But love? The most you can love at first sight is the idea you have built up in your head of that person. You don’t know that person at all when you first meet them, how can you love them? HEAVEN: Yeah, see my rant above about religion. I’m an atheist. No heaven. SANTA CLAUS: … I did not just get asked this. Yes. Of course I believe in Santa Claus. And the Easter Bunny. And the fucking Tooth Fairy, which was always the most imbecilic of the lot, and really just there to see how much we can stretch childhood innocence. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny at least have some kind of sense for a child, but now we’re trying to convince them there’s a goddamn fairy who’d rather have a tooth than money? Who the fuck came up with this? Are we just outright saying children are fucking dumb little shits who’ll believe any fool thing we tell them? Because, yeah, of course most of them do, their parents, who they trust unconditionally, are telling them these things, and telling them about the Tooth Fairy – and Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, by the way – is an exploitation of that trust, and of childhood innocence. We do it because it’s cute that little kids fervently believe in a magical man who brings presents, instead of the truth, which is that their parents love them, and that because they love them, this one day, they are given gifts, out of that love, and on a holiday that had become about familial love. How is that not a better story? Why does some magical shit need to get involved? And the contortions people put themselves through to keep Santa alive for their children, it’s absurd! (Also, don’t tell me Christmas is not about familial love, because it absolutely is – yes, it’s a religious holiday too, but I think Jesus would approve of it being about love, given his beliefs).

Ugh. Santa Claus. Fucking hell.

[dragonslaved]

grimmons or tuckington

porque no los dos

Grimmons

who cooks normally?: simmons. grif is better and knows what to do, he just also doesn’t care

how often do they fight?: CONSTANTLYYYYYYY they’re an old married couple by season 2, that was just foreshadowing

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: if it’s when they’re fighting, grif goes to smoke and nap, simmons goes to run diagnostics tests or nerd shit. if it’s just day to day…… same story

nicknames for each other?: “lazy asshole” and “supernerd” 

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: this implies anyone would pay. I 100% believe grif would dine and dash leaving simmons scrambling because no grif!! they have to pay!! before he runs after him because he doesn’t want to get left behind

who steals the covers at night?: simmons

what would they get each other for gifts?: they actually do try to put

some effort into gifts for each other when they count (birthdays, anniversary) so grif always gets simmons like. some big nerd gift or a new d&d book or how to books because he knows simmons likes learning how to do new shit. simmons gets grif so many hard to find snacks that he has to have shipped in from other places, that grif can’t just mail order to be delivered. 

who remembers things?: simmons is very loud about the things he remembers. grif claims he doesn’t remember shit, but he’s always correcting simmons when he clearly does remember a lot.

who cusses more?: grif. forever and always.

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: emotionally? tell each other to suck it up when they’re in front of the others. privately actually attempt to talk about it because talking is what they do best but they’re also kind of bad at it. physically, holy shit they lose their minds depending on the severity. one gets shot or mortally wounded, there’s a lot of shouting and demanding for help. one gets a papercut, there’s a lot of shouting and demanding for them to shut up it’s not that bad oh my god you had body part transplants and this is what you’re crying about.

who kissed who first?: simmons kissed him first. grif never really saw the need since hey they know where they stand with each other but simmons is just !! nOPE GONNA SMOOCH.

who made the first move?: before any first kiss, grif. simmons gets too wrapped up in his own head initially humhawing over everything so grif gave him that nudge. after that, it’s all simmons.

who started the relationship?: griiiifffff he’s a lot more self aware than simmons is and how he feels without running himself in circles (usually)

Tuckington

who cooks normally?: Tucker. Tucker 100%, Tucker who was stationed for years in a canyon with an AI that barely remembered who he was and Caboose who gets too distracted to remember to take care of himself beyond eating a snack. Wash knows how to cook uuuhhh microwave meals tbh, whatever is less trouble because he’s been through so much and depression meals are a thing.

how often do they fight?: ALSO CONSTANTLY. While Simmons and Grif fight over inconsequential bullshit, a lot of Tucker and Wash’s fights are about Big Things that they use inconsequential bullshit to start. People think they’re fighting over Tucker using the last of the milk, but it’s really about that one thing Tucker said that one time that got under Wash’s skin and was eating away at him.

what do they do when they’re away from each other?: Wash does a lot of work out, yoga, meditation. Watching cat videos or playing with his own cat if they’re in a domestic place they can have one. Tucker either sleeps, angry jerks off, or calls Junior. Tries to read but honestly his attention span doesn’t allow much for it. 

nicknames for each other?: Listen I’m pretty sure “Asshole” and “Buzzkill” is the only answer here no matter what I think.

who is more likely to pay for dinner?: Wash usually, 9 times out of 10. Tucker does it for the Very Special Occasions when he’s trying to be romantic before it all blows up in his face.

who steals the covers at night?: Both of them. Wash ultimately is a self-heating furnace but he still rolls over and takes the sheet with him half the time. 

what would they get each other for gifts?: Tucker always tries to focus in on what Wash likes. So self help books, cat books. Every now and then he’ll throw in an erotica fiction or something to see Wash blush. Just really simple things because he knows Wash appreciates those more than big extravagant things. Wash usually gets Tucker hair care products, skin products. But every now and then it’ll be something big, like a trip to some amusement park or something. The boy loves dumb things.

who remembers things?: Tucker. Tucker has to remember enough for both of them since Wash has a hard time remembering himself some days.

who cusses more?: Tucker. Every time he says something Wash is just “DEEP BREATH ok that’s fine.”

what would they do if the other one was hurt?: Emotionally, they give each other space before coming back after way waaaay too long to talk about it. Physically, they make sure the other isn’t like. Dying before destroying the heck out of whatever hurt them. Tank? Punch it to death. Papercut? Rip that paper to shreds with screams of “Tucker no those had the only copy of the instructions to put together this Space IKEA coffee table!!”. It’s bad.

who kissed who first?: Wash made that first move after long enough  of fucking around and life’s too short so why not.

who made the first move?: Wash. Again, life’s too short and he ad a moment of clarity and because Tucker was still figuring out himself and his realizing he’s bi.

who started the relationship?: Tucker. After enough regular meetups he just straight up asked hey so uhhhhhh are we like exclusive now or, and Wash kept trying to tiptoe around saying Yes before Tucker just laughed and kissed him and said yeah I get it, we’re good.