#hyperfocusing all night through the cramps

[sparrow-in-boots]

ten times divorced idiots <3

[practically-an-x-man]

Prompt? (No rush, save it if you wanna)

Write a Drabble for each of your OCs with the theme of Breakfast.

Ooooh now this is a challenge! A drabble is meant to be exactly a hundred words... and I'm pedantic as fuck when I write. But I'll give this a try, thanks for the prompt!

Rae:

"Wanna go out today?" Warren asked, leaning backwards out the bathroom door to look at Rae in the bedroom beyond, "Coffee? Breakfast?" "What's the special occasion?" she replied lightly as she ran a comb through the snarls in her hair. Warren shrugged. "No special occasion. Just wanted to take you out to breakfast, is all." he said, then shot her his most charming smile, "Want to show off the fact that I've got the most beautiful girl in the world." "You don't have to chat me up, you know." Rae said, but couldn't hide her blush, "I'm already all yours."

Robin:

"Wren, honey-" Peter started, then lightly rapped his knuckles on his daughter's dining tray to get her attention. The toddler looked up, and Peter switched to ASL seamlessly: Cheerios go in your mouth. Not the floor. "Is your daughter making a mess again?" Robin asked, nursing her mug of coffee with a faint smile on her face. Peter raised his eyebrows at her, though he couldn't hold back his grin. "Why is she my daughter every time she makes a mess?" "Because she's my daughter every time she doesn't listen?" Robin fired back with a shrug, "I mean- metaphorically speaking."

Madison:

"Bravo, breakfast!" At the promise of food, the wolfdog bounded eagerly off the foot of the bed. Alex, who had been lying half-underneath the animal, crumpled inwards with a sudden, sharp groan. "You okay?" Madison asked, amusement quickly turning to concern when she saw the grimace painted across his face. "Got used as a launchpad," he muttered, clutching at his lower abdomen, "Worst alarm clock ever." "Pretty sure I've had worse." "I mean worst for people who didn't spend half their life living in the middle of nowhere." "Eh, I'll make it up to you," Madison promised, "Bravo, let's go."

Ophelia:

"Here, Ol's." Peter said, sliding a plate of steaming scrambled eggs onto the only open space on her desk - which happened to be exactly where she was working. Ophelia glanced up, vaguely startled. "Scrambled eggs at two in the morning?" "It's eight-thirty, babe." "Oh, shit- have I really been working all night?" Now that she'd been pulled from her hyperfocused trance, the exhaustion hit her like a speeding train. "Yeah. Maybe try to get some sleep?" Peter urged, setting a warm hand on her shoulder. "No promises," Ophelia shot back, "But I'll try to wrap this up. Thanks for breakfast."

Jasper:

"Ugh," Jasper mumbled, splashing a bit of cold water on his face in an effort to ward off his exhaustion. He'd been pulling late shifts at the hospital, hoping to scrape a few extra bucks after Kyle's work laptop had decided to kick the bucket. Speak of the devil - Kyle ducked his way into the bathroom, giving his partner a squeeze and a kiss to the top of his head as he passed. He stretched to grab his toothbrush, brown doe-eyes still a little bleary with sleep. "I don't feel like making breakfast." Jasper sighed. Kyle smiled. "Café du Monde?"

Quinn:

"Coffee is not breakfast." "Coffee is close enough," Quinn muttered, tugging their mug a little closer and shooting Billy a firm look, "Don't have an appetite anyway." "You want me to make you a bagel?" Billy persisted, already wandering towards the kitchenette. "What part of I don't have an appetite didn't make sense the first time?" "Made perfect sense, Q." he responded, briskly grabbing a bagel from the bread box - why did One have a bread box in the twenty-first century? - and slicing it in half, "But I speak fluent Quinn, and I know you'll feel better after you eat."

Katherine:

The break room in the museum was already awfully small, but it felt even more cramped with the press of a dozen bodies around her. Even Rexy, drawn by the scent of sizzling bacon, had attempted to press her bony snout through the door. Katherine was half-tempted to tell the more waxen-inclined to scram, under the guise that they'd melt from the heat of the stove. She restrained herself. Pancakes at midnight. It sounded like something she'd have dreamed about as a kid. But when they weren't awake in time for a real breakfast... she improvised. "Who wants chocolate chips?"

Kestrel:

They were awoken to the heavenly smell of crackling sausage and percolating coffee. From the kitchen, they heard Warren humming under his breath. Kestrel smiled to themself. They slid off the bed and reached for their robe, tucking the soft fleece around themself. It was mornings like these that they always felt the most at home - waking up to a home-cooked meal, wrapped in soft fabrics and about to go greet their lover with the sunrise shining in through the windows... For as much as they loved the excitement in their life, there was nothing that quite compared to this.

Eris:

"Okay, so that one's... a little crispy." Rick chuckled, tossing Eris' blackened French toast onto a plate with a lopsided smile, "Try again." "It's fine, I'll still eat it." Eris insisted, reaching for the plate, "Don't want to waste food." Rick got there first, and upended the plate into the trash can before Eris could take it. The slice of toast - effectively charcoal, if they were being honest - tumbled out of sight. "This is not the fourteenth century," Rick said, reaching for the container of cinnamon on the counter, "This cost me four dollars. You can try again, I promise."

Nikoletta:

"I know you don't feel well, hon, but could you please try to eat something?" Nikoletta asked, speaking as softly as she could manage. She slid onto the bed, reaching to pass her fingers through Abner's dark, sweat-dampened hair. "Want me to make you some toast?" He offered her a faint nod, all hollowed eyes and pallid cheeks. He hadn't eaten since the prior day's lunch, sick with a flare-up of the same virus that gave him his dots. "You know you'll... you'll have to do this again. I'll get sick again." "I'll still be here. We've been through worse."

This was actually really fun! It's made me realize, looking at it all in these side-by-side snippets like this, how different the tones of my fics really are when you put them all together. Cool!

[firmamentality]

Sometimes I feel like a failure

Sometimes I just don’t feel

Falling behind on my schoolwork

Falling deeper in my mind

Basic expectations loom above me like a blade

A guillotine I’m begging to fall

Never signed up for this gauntlet of panic

I run it and come out traumatized

If I come out alive at all

And why should I expect to win a race I couldn’t even run

Failures happen every day and I guess I’m just one of ‘em

Apathy comorbid to the illness in my life

A spiral slipping downwards as I lose the will to fight

Waiting on a miracle; I’m falling ‘til I die

I don’t want to die like this but living’s getting harder

And I worry that someday I’ll change my mind

Maybe I’ll dissociate until I reach delirium

My head’s so full of thoughts that have already lost their meaning

Delusion and reality blend through fiction and dreaming

It’d probably be a death sentence to lose control of thinking

All the thoughts that run around; the steering gone; can’t stop them now

Intrusive paranoia and deluded observations spawning dangerous compulsions with no grounding to prevent them

Impulse trancendescental projected into action

What’s safe and what’s a danger blurs, but what’s it even matter

If it’s dangerous it’s not like that would stop me

I’m afraid, I’m so afraid; I cry softly late at night

Nobody hears the air sucked through my teeth

And nobody sees the grimace on my face

Last night, I failed again

My fingertips too dessicated for you to notice

The dried blood under my nails

As failure in academy bleeds into failing everything

Failure as a tumor; all consuming ‘til it’s killing me

And I’m not a bloody doctor; I can’t surgically remove it

“Compartmentalize,” What good is that when every box is dying

All I do is take some pills and hope it goes away a while

But even if it’s beaten back I’m still a broken failure

Insomniac narcoleptic, gluttonous starvation, chaotic neat freak, hyperfocused work that will never reach completion

A mess of contradictions gently resting on a balance, always changing, nearly falling, til one day it topples down and something happens and I wish I knew

I’ll either sleep in permanent fatigue or go psychotic from exhaustion

Collapsing into hunger pains or cramps from overeating

In a whirlwind of discarded trash as my brain screams to clean it

Pushing past the breaking point lest I never even start it

Oscillating in between extremes on either side

The only way to hide is escapism so I hide all day

I can’t solve my problems; can’t do anything but run away

If I don’t look back I’ll never know they’re growing

One day they’ll catch up to me; destroy my life completely, but that day is not today

And then when the end comes I’d probably embrace it anyway

When I’m gone my failure stops

Relief comes as the burden drops

An empty satisfaction’s hardly more than just catharsis

But the empty denigration’s worse so it’s still liberation

The only way to set me free is for life to separate from me; dissociation, death, or maybe just a miracle

The life I want is possible I just won’t ever earn it

I’m too much of a failure to go through with any of it

At least the end will be quick when it comes.

[darkobssessions]

Death is like the doorway you don't know you've walked through.

It puts everything into perspective. It shows up all the falseness in your life. It absolutely forces you to face what you've been denying.

Death is the ultimate slap in the face. We've all felt it. The initial shock, the disbelief. The long drawn out heart cramp that is pain. The what ifs we tried harder, the regret that we didn't say what we wanted to sooner. The house of cards and dreams crumbling around us in real time.

The teacher, death, cares nothing for our sentimental platitudes. There are souls and there is harvesting, and there is logically no space in a sickness riddled vessel. Like worms and microbes decompose organic material and turn over the soil, so the intelligence of death is hyperfocused on results, an awareness on the dark side.

Our tears fertilize the gardens in our hearts long neglected. And through the dark night the trees rise again towards the light. But this night could take months. We are coping with loss. We are living a life without the one we loved, we are facing our own inadequacies and inability to keep them here longer. Blaming the system for failing another soul. But the truth is we do not know, and that is what scares us the most.

Death comes for every single one of us. In a long night, in a split second, at the very end or in the very beginning. Death is among us and inside us right now. In the car ride to work, and on the subway, and on street corners, and in the arms of an expectant mother. Death has been depicted as unfeeling, echoed in my words above on an exacting and straightforward intelligence. But I think death caresses us as we go and wonders what might come up in our place. I think death prunes a garden (in our hearts) and in his wake takes some of our most precious fruit. The gifts, these offerings don't know they will be picked, but if they knew we would thrive, would they offer themselves up? I'm thankful for all those that have died so that we may live.

But I am hurting right now for the loss of one who fought the good fight and didn't make it tonight. It's unclear where this is leading, and it's scary, for those who will feel his absence. Death didn't ask, and they didn't really say goodbye.

I hope you're free now. We'll take care of your love.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Stranded - Part 1

Steven Hyde x Reader

Note: I’ve been watching That 70’s Show all day every day for the past three days and we already know how I feel about fics that use time travel/dimension hopping so…Also, we’re pretending Hyde and Jackie aren’t together at this point for…reasons…

Warnings: Drug mention/use (weed; it’s the 70’s), some language

Word Count: 3.3k

When you came around, there was a horrible pounding in your head. Your entire body was sore, pain blossoming every time you tried to move. You groaned. Oh God. Oh no. Everything hurt. And…why did it smell like weed?

“She moved.”

“I see that she moved, dumbass.”

“Do you think she’s okay? Should I get my mom?”

“Not yet. It still smells down here. Don’t want Red calling the cops.”

“I think it’s alright. She’s coming around.”

You groaned again, clutching at the sharp cramp in your abdomen. “Shit.”

“She speaks!”

You heard the sound of someone hitting someone else and one of the strange voices, a boy, groaned.

“Shut up, Kelso.”

“I’m just saying, chick falls from the sky, you don’t really expect her to—”

“Shut UP, Kelso.”

You struggled to sit up and opened your eyes despite the pain in your head. You were surrounded by boys, four of them, all of their eyes locked on you. Two of them were standing behind the couch you were laying on, one was sitting on the chair by your feet, and the other was sitting on a coffee table in front of the couch. From the looks of it, you were in a basement. A basement that smelled incredibly like weed.

“Where…am I?”

 *Eric Forman’s Basement - 20 Minutes Earlier*

“Man, I’m telling you, the government is tooootally hiding aliens in Area 51.” Hyde leaned back in his chair, smoke billowing out in front of him.

Kelso laughed. “Dude, if there were aliens, don’t you think we’d know that by now? One of them would have gotten out.”

“Why, are you an alien?” Eric raised an eyebrow.

“What if I’m an alien and I didn’t even know it?” Kelso murmured, his eyes hyperfocused on the table.

Before he could open his mouth again, there was a bright flash of light outside followed by a loud crash and the sound of all of the car alarms in the neighborhood going off.

“What the hell…?”

The boys all looked at the back door, slowly rising from the table. Kelso was the first outside, followed by Eric and then Fez and Hyde. There was a great big steaming crater in the grass out back, a girl with blue hair laying unconscious in the middle of it.

“Man, I think she fell from the sky.” Eric looked up into the stars as if they held the answer.

“That’s ridiculous.” Hyde shook his head. “No fucking way.”

“She has blue hair!” Fez pointed. He gasped and covered his mouth, his eyes wide. “Maybe she’s an alien…”

“Is she okay?” Eric asked.

“She’s breathing.” Kelso pointed out.

“Maybe we should get her inside.” Fez suggested, looking around for signs of cops. If he got caught with weed, he was sure he’d get sent back to his home country.

“I’ve got her. Move over, dillhole.” Hyde pushed Eric out of his way and rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt, kneeling down in the dirt to scoop her out.

Eric walked back toward the door and opened it, Fez walking in to get things on the couch ready.

“I mean, she’s pretty hot. I think it’s our civil duty to—”

Hyde cut Kelso off with a glare as he carried the unconscious blue-haired girl into the basement.

 *Eric Forman’s Basement – Now*

“Where…am I?” You asked, looking at the boys for answers.

The one that was closest to you, the one sitting on the round table in front of the couch, had neat brown hair parted to the left. He was wearing a flannel and jeans. “You’re in my basement. You were, uh, in my backyard unconscious.”

“How long have I been out?” You asked, trying to sit up, but slumping back against the couch, wincing. You’d definitely bruised something on your way down.

“Twenty minutes.” The one sitting in the folding chair across from you answered. He had curly hair and sideburns, sunglasses, and he was wearing a black band tee over a white shirt. Led Zeppelin, you noted. That and his flared jeans would indicate…

Oh God. Your head was spinning. You looked at the slick silver watch wrapped around your wrist and tapped on the screen. 1978, Point Place, Wisconsin. Holy shit 1978. No wonder everything hurt.

“You okay?”

“What?” You blinked a few times, lost in thought. “I—yeah, I’m…I’ll be okay.”

“You got a name, gorgeous?”

“Y/N. L/N.” You swung your legs over the side of the couch and put your feet flat on the floor. You stood up, but your legs wobbled too much and you wound up against curly-haired sideburns guy’s chest, his arms around you. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you back on the couch…” He gently lowered you back down and you took a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Did I have a bag when you found me?” You looked up at curly-haired sideburns guy.

“Uh…”

“I found this after Hyde got you out of the hole.” The tall lanky one with the long brown hair handed you your bag, a silver messenger bag with your things crammed in it.

“Thanks.” Hyde, you noted. Curly-haired sideburns guy was Hyde.

“I’m gonna…get you some water.” The one in the flannel got off the table and walked up the stairs.

You rummaged through your bag until you found what you were looking for: your phone. The only problem, the silver rectangle was sparking, the screen cracked badly and the panel on the back was open, exposing the wires.

“Fuck…” Well, that wasn’t good. Stranded in the 1970’s and you couldn’t even contact a ride home if you wanted to.

“What is that?” asked one of the guys behind the couch, pointing to the device in your hand.

“Walkie-talkie.” You replied quickly. You shouldn’t have taken it out in front of them, but given the circumstances, you figured the TSE would just have to forgive you. “Really high-end walkie-talkie.”

You jammed it back in your bag and slumped back against the couch as flannel guy came back down the stairs. He handed you a glass of water and you drank some down. It helped, a little. You still weren’t really sure what to do, though.

“Could I get some names?” You looked around. “I mean, I did wake up in your basement.”

“That’s fair.” Flannel guy chuckled. “I’m Eric. The long haired idiot over there is Michael, sunglasses is Steven, and that’s Fez.”

“So did you like…fall from the sky?” Michael asked.

“Probably.” You groaned, stretching. Something popped. “Yeah, I definitely fell from the sky.”

“Well in that case…” Fez leaned against the couch, his face very close to yours. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“Yeah, it hurt a lot.” You touched your neck and winced. Yeah, that was definitely gonna bruise. “Could I get some ice?”

Steven got off of his chair and walked to the freezer up against the wall. He fished around before handing you a bag of frozen peas. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You held the bag to the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“Where are you from?” Eric asked, sitting back down on the table.

“Not around here.” You sighed and raked your fingers through your very blue hair. If you’d landed a few decades later, that might have been alright, but you were definitely going to stick out. “My ex dumped me off here. I’m kind of stranded.”

“Well, you can stay here for a while. I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind.” Eric offered. “I mean, they let Hyde stay here.”

“Welcome to Forman’s, home of orphans and misfits.” Steven—Hyde—chuckled, leaning back against the chair. “We can blow up an air mattress in here.”

“No, Mom might come down to do laundry, I can’t have some random girl out in the open.” Eric looked to you and amended, “No offence.”

“None taken.”

“Then we’ll blow up the air mattress in my room. I don’t care.” Hyde shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Thank you.” You shifted the bag of frozen peas, sighing at the slight bit of relief the cold brought.

“Come on, Fez, let’s get the mattress set up.” Michael started walking back towards the room Hyde was staying in.

Fez winked at you. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You didn’t really fall from the sky, though, right?” Eric asked, still confused over the whole ordeal.

“My head hurts…” You murmured, avoiding the question.

Shrugging, Eric stood up. “I’m gonna head up to my room.”

“Night.” Hyde nodded. He looked at you for a moment, considering you quietly before saying, “I like your piercings.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You reached up to touch one of the studs in your earlobe. “I like your shirt.”

“You like Zeppelin?”

“Hell yeah.” You grinned and so did he.

“I knew I liked you.”

 *Eric Forman’s Kitchen – The Next Morning*

“Y/N, honey, I am so sorry to hear about what happened to you.” Eric’s mom, Kitty, set a plate of pancakes in front of you. “You’re welcome to stay in the basement until we get it figured out.”

“Great.” Eric’s father, Red, grumbled. Hyde had warned you about him. Said he was a bit of a hardass. “More teenagers.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Forman. I promise I won’t be here long. I’ve just gotta make a few calls and get some things arranged.” You took a bite of fluffy pancakes. “These are amazing, Mrs. Forman. Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course, dear. It’s about time someone appreciated my cooking.” She shot a look at Red, but he was too preoccupied with his newspaper to notice.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you had any tools. A little screwdriver and some pliers.”

“You need tools?” That got Red’s attention. Hyde’s too. They both sat at attention. “Hear that, Eric? The girl knows how to use tools.”

“I heard.”

“I have some you can borrow. What size do you need?”

“Probably the smallest one. It’s some very fine detail stuff.”

“I’ll get some out of the garage later.” Red folded the newspaper and set it on the table. “You know, the blue hair and piercings had me skeptical, but maybe you’re not so bad. Teach Eric a thing or two while you’re at it.”

“Will do, sir.”

“So where are you from, Y/N?” Kitty asked, smiling.

“Up north. Tiny little town. My ex-boyfriend and I stopped here for gas, and…well, you know the rest.”

“Sounds like a total dillhole.” Hyde shook his head. “You’re better off.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” You shrugged. “Life is full of adventures. I guess this is just going to be one of mine.”

“Well, if it helps, it’s never boring around here.” Eric said, taking a bite of his pancakes.

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, that definitely helps.

***

A while later, you were sitting at the little round table in the basement. You had pulled Hyde’s usual chair up to it and were focused intently on the “walkie talkie” in front of you. You were wearing a pair of protective goggles, your work gloves covering your hands.

“What are you doing?” You jumped at the voice behind you, but when you turned to look, it was just Hyde standing there.

“Trying to fix my walkie talkie.”

He thought for a second, looking at the device in front of you. “That doesn’t really look like a walkie talkie.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, using the pliers to twist some wires together. “It doesn’t.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah.” You screwed the panel onto the back of it and thankfully, it came to life, the screen, though it was cracked, glowing blue as it started up. You exhaled a huge sigh of relief and rested your head on the table for a second. “Oh thank God.”

“Are you sure that’s a—?”

“I’ve gotta make a call. I’m gonna hop outside.”

“Okay. I think the Circle is gonna get started up down here. You want me to roll you a blunt?” He offered. A 1970’s boy offering you his precious weed? You never imagined that happening in your life…

“I’m alright, but thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Alright.” He nodded, trying not to watch as you walked out the door, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about you that was just…different.

You walked into the chilly night air. It had taken you almost all day to get your damn phone working, and you could only hope the temporal chip was working or you’d really be screwed. So, hesitantly tapping on your horrible ex-boyfriend’s contact, you exhaled a long sigh. A few rings later, he picked up.

“Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you fucking asshole! What gives?!”

“What’s this about?”

“You stranded me in the goddamn 1970’s! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Listen, sugar, it’s nothing personal—”

“Bullshit, Jaxon! You get back here and take me to the station right now or I’ll get you banished to the fucking middle ages, you hear me?”

“I wouldn’t take that tone of voice with me, little lady. You’re not in any position to be making demands. Maybe I’ll just have to tell the society you deserted…”

“I’ll get you for this! You hear me? You will not get away with this.”

You could just about hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “We’ll see about that.”

The line went dead with a click and when you looked at the screen, there was a message that read: Temporal Chip Corrupted. Take to Repair Station Immediately.

“Fuck…” Tears fogged up your vision and rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe you were crying over that asshole, but you were. You were stuck in the 1970’s and you’d used your only call to talk to the one person in the entire Time Society of Earth that didn’t give a single shit about your wellbeing.

A wave of hopelessness washed over you and you collapsed onto the grass, your phone laying on the ground beside you as you sobbed into the starry night.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You weren’t sure how long Hyde had been standing there, but he was walking towards you, his hands jammed in his pockets and his sunglasses, for once, off of his face.

“No…” You shook your head and sniffled, wiping at your tears with your hands. “I…” You choked on tears. “I’m stuck here.”

“Well hey, we can get you a ride back home. Kelso has a van, Red has a car, we’ll figure it out, okay?”

“It’s not that simple.” You shook your head.

Hyde knelt down on the grass next to you, a soft look on his face, his eyes exposed to you and sparkling in the starlight.

Your heart raced, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the look he was giving you or because he was onto your secret. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Are you…” He started, the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Are you an alien?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No. No I’m not.”

“But…”

“I mean, I guess you were kind of close, though.” You looked at him, weighing your options. It might not be so bad to have someone in on your secret. Then, at least you wouldn’t be alone. “You can’t tell the others, though, alright? The less people that know, the better.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“I’m from the future, Steven.” You whispered. “I didn’t fall from the sky, I got pushed out of a time machine.”

He was quiet, staring at you for a long time. “Well, fuck. That’s not good.”

“Yeah. I mean, eventually someone has to realize I’m gone, but…he could cover up my disappearance really easily. I…” A tear rolled down your cheek and you stared at the grass. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

“You’re gonna stay right here.” He tilted his head, slowly reaching out to tilt your face up so he could look at you. “We’ll take care of you. Help you figure out a way home…”

“Thank you.” You sniffled, smiling finally. Yeah, this wasn’t ideal, but things could be worse. At least you weren’t alone.

“Let’s get you back inside, yeah? It’s cold out here.” Hyde stood and helped you to your feet. His arm settled around your shoulders.

When the two of you got back into the house, the Circle was mostly gathered. Hyde pulled up a chair for you right beside his and you sat down next to him while the boys started smoking. A few puffs in, he patted your thigh, looking over at you.

“I’m gonna get a soda. You want anything?”

You motioned him closer, and he leaned in before you whispered, “Has Pepsi been invented yet?”

He laughed. “Yeah. I’ll get you one.” Hyde walked across the basement and up the stairs, leaving you with the other three.

“You and Hyde are awful cozy.” Kelso smirked. “Don’t tell me he already claimed you.”

“What, is he not this friendly usually?” You laughed.

“He didn’t even give me a chance to impress you with my foreign charm.” Fez pouted, shaking his head. “I was just saying how girls don’t fall out of the sky. Doesn’t that mean I get the one that does?”

“I mean, I don’t know how long I’m gonna be around.” You shrugged. “I don’t do long-distance. I wouldn’t get too attached.”

“Better let him know that before he does.” Eric warned.

You nodded. “Believe me, he already knows.”

Hyde returned a few seconds later, settling in beside you. He set a Pepsi can on the table in front of you and you admired the label, noting how different it looked than the cans you were used to. But when you cracked it open and took a few sips, it tasted just the same as it always did.

You talked to the boys for a while, bullshitting your way out of their questions and absorbing as much as you could about the situation you’d landed in. You had a feeling that blending in wouldn’t be too hard, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t have to be careful not to blow your cover the rest of the way.

Eventually, Fez and Kelso went home and Eric went upstairs to his room, leaving you and Hyde alone in the basement.

“How far in the future?” He asked. When you said it, you could tell the question had been on his mind all night.

“Pretty far.”

He sighed, chuckling to himself. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“I’m stationed in 2020 in a space station orbiting earth. Time doesn’t really…pass there. It’s a null area. It’s been 2020 since…well, since I’ve been there.”

“Fifty years? Is that math right?”

“Yeah, just about.” You finished off your Pepsi.

“Damn.”

“Yeah, damn.” You sighed, raking your fingers through your blue hair, the decades standing between you ever-obvious. “I, uh, forgot to ask Kitty for some of Laurie’s old clothes. To sleep in.”

“Oh. Let me grab you one of my shirts. Hang tight.” He walked back into his room and came back with a band shirt and a pair of shorts. “These should work.”

“Thanks, Hyde. Being here isn’t easy, but you’re…you’re making it a bit easier.”

“Well, I’m nothing if not a charmer.” He smirked.

You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning to walk into the bathroom and change. When you emerged a few minutes later, he was out on the couch, some show playing on the screen, the volume down low.

“I’m gonna get to bed, I think.”

He turned around to look at you, his voice caught in his throat when he saw you in his clothes. You looked good. Really good. He snapped out of it. “I’ll be in there soon.”

“Night.”

“Goodnight.” Hyde turned back around to face the TV. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t help thinking he was lucky you’d been stranded there.

Part 2

[unacaritafeliz]

number five for holsom and 65 for nurseydex! or vice versa! whatever you’re feeling!

I just did #5 for nurseychow (it would’ve been great for holsom though!) so here’s #65 ‘I brought you dinner’ for nurseydex! It took me while to remember a time when I wasn’t perpetually bitter and personally hurt by the dip flip fiasco so I could write something sweet, but I think I got there in the end.

Also in case it’s not obvious, this takes place a few years after they graduate from Samwell.

The thing is Nursey’s never really been good at essay writing. Well, that’s not strictly true; Nursey writes amazing essays, with descriptive language and concise explanations and bibliographies so good some might even say he gets a kick out of writing them. The problem is that sometimes he gets so hyperfocused on writing that he just… forgets to keep track of regular things, like eating, and sleeping, and not self-isolating in his apartment for a week because Foxtrot’s visiting Whiskey and Tango and there’s no one to check up on him.

Well, apparently no one except the person who’s just rung his doorbell, making Derek nearly fall out of his chair with surprise. He’d honestly forgotten there was anything else in the world except for him and the goddamn grad school paper he’s been writing all week.

Slowly, he gets up and stretches, letting his body adjust to not being cramped into his desk chair like it’s been all day. He rubs at his eyes, trying to bring his focus back to the real world. It’s 9:30pm on a Friday according to his clock; his paper is due in ten days, and Foxy’s been away for seven. He thinks he ate packet ramen for lunch today, but he’s not sure. It could’ve been dinner last night. It all seems a little blurry.

He walks toward the door.

The doorbell rings again. The person on the other side is clearly impatient for an answer. It makes him think of Dex, of the distinct lack of chill his old defense partner constantly had back in college. Dex only lives a few hours away, Nursey thinks absently. Maybe he should go visit him once the paper is done.

Nursey peaks through the eye-hole of his front door. The person outside is staring at the ground so he can’t see their face, but the bright red hair is as good an identifier as anything. He frowns, wondering if spending the past week isolated in his apartment has made him so lonely that he’s imagining Dex is here.

He swings the door open.

“You look like shit,” Dex says in greeting. He strides in past Nursey and sets two large tote bags down on the kitchen counter. “Like Jesus Christ, Nurse, when was the last time you took a shower? Or, like, slept?”

If this is some hallucinated version of Dex then at least it’s on brand, Nursey thinks. He reaches out and wraps his hand around Dex’s arm. His skin is warm beneath Nursey’s fingertips. He’s real.

And Nursey’s being weird.

S'wawesome.

“Nursey?” Dex asks. “What are you doing there, buddy?”

“I, uh…” Nursey starts, unsure of what to say that won’t make the situation weirder. “What are you doing here. Dex?”

Deflection has always served him well.

“Oh!” Dex says, the tips of his ears just beginning to go pink. “I, uh, I brought you dinner.”

Nursey blinks. “Dinner?”

“Well I know that you’re a complete human disaster at exam time,” says Dex, starting to unpack Tupperware from the tote bags. He’s not making eye contact with Nursey. “Well actually you’re a human disaster all the fucking time but, you were always worse at exam times. And I know you’ve got a paper due next week, and since Foxtrot’s with Tango and Whiskey and you weren’t answering your fucking phone I just thought… dinner.”

Nursey suddenly feels lighter, warmer, happier. Dex was worried about him, Nursey realises, so worried that drove for four hours after work on a Friday to bring him food and make sure he was okay. Nursey can’t help but smile at the fact that Dex still has his back.

“I mean, my pasta isn’t as good as the stuff I used to get you from Annie’s,” says Dex. “And my rhubarb pie doesn’t even come close to Bitty’s but… I don’t know. I thought you might like some real food instead of the packet ramen and microwave meals you’ve probably been eating all week.”

Dex looks up shyly at Nursey and Nursey’s heart swoops. God, it’s been three years since college and yet he’s still so gone for this boy.

“Were you worried about me, Dex?” Nursey singsongs. He’s deflecting from his feelings again, but he’ll also never get tired of pushing at Dex.

The shy look on Dex’s face is immediately replaced by a scowl. He doesn’t mean it. Nursey isn’t fooled for a second.

“No,” Dex says.

“Do you… care about me?” Nursey says, with a dramatic gasp.

“Of course not,” says Dex. “That’s gross.”

“Oh William,” Nursey says, dramatically throwing himself on the couch. “You do care.”

“Oh my god!” says Dex, throwing his hands up. “See if I ever do anything nice for you ever again!”

Dex stalks past Nursey toward the door and Nursey instinctively reaches out to snag his wrist. He rolls up off the couch to look Dex in the eyes.

“No, seriously,” says Nursey. “Thank you, Dex. I really needed this. I haven’t really been taking care of myself since Foxy’s been gone, obviously.”

Maybe his brain still hasn’t fully rebooted from essay-writing mode, but Nursey leans up and presses a soft kiss against Dex’s cheek. It’s the boldest move he’s ever made. Even in college, when the SMH routinely showered each other with physical affection, Nursey was never brave enough to do anything with Dex that could possible be read as romantic, too afraid to take a chance.

It’s worth it though, for the way Dex’s entire face turns bright red. It’s just as endearing as it was in their senior year of college, and Nursey can’t help but think maybe he’s been scared of nothing this whole time.

“Y-you really need to take a shower,” Dex stutters. Nursey’s proud that he can still make Dex stutter after all this time. “Have you even washed once since Foxtrot left last week?”

“Well, it’s not like I was expecting my old d-man to show up and take care of me,” says Nursey, playfully punching Dex in the shoulder. “But fine, how about I go shower and you grab your stuff from the car and unpack?”

“I was going to stay at my brother’s,” Dex protests. “I didn’t want to distract you from your paper.”

“Dex, it’s chill,” says Nursey, relishing the eye-roll he gets for his word choice. “I can write with you here. Besides, if you don’t stay here, then who is going to make sure I actually eat this food and go to bed on time?”

Dex crosses his arm and considers this.

“Fine,” Dex finally says, in a tone that Nursey thinks is trying to sound put-out but misses by a mile. “I’ll stay. Now go shower, you complete disaster.”

Nursey doesn't miss the way it sounds fond

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