#i did not need a microwave declaring me Child

[ace-of-drakes]

y’all i’m locked out of my microwave

[ilikeyoshi]

drops them in here. skyrim oc brainrot is real

anyway this is miriam free-winter, nord dragonborn, and cambria mede iv, imperial princess. :) because the knight/princess flavor of lesbians is FUN dammit.

miriam was orphaned in windhelm as a child and eventually adopted by brunwulf free-winter. she soaked up all the stories about brunwulf being a hero because he fought for ulfric stormcloak during the great war, and now she wants to follow in those footsteps by serving the stormcloaks, which if u know brunwulf as a character, has led to a lot of tension between him and his daughter.

despite her political allegiances, miriam is really sympathetic to the non-men peoples of skyrim, and her anger is focused on factions over people, like the empire and the thalmor. a lot of her journey involves dismantling these ideas she has in her head about who ulfric and the stormcloaks really are, and coming to the same realizations brunwulf did. but uh, she starts off with some very flawed ideas about the war, that's for sure!

cambria mede, fourth of her name, is the granddaughter of the current imperial emperor, titus mede ii. she is, to say the absolute least, a total troublemaker of a princess. having grown up surrounded by people that condemn skyrim for its resistance to empirical rule (and the many bad things that come from it), cambria starts on a different path, wanting to experience skyrim and its plight firsthand and figure out what they really need and how to provide it.

thus, she declares she's going to skyrim for a relative's wedding in solitude—a perfect excuse to get into the province and investigate—only to get caught right in the middle of the helgen incident. cambria survives and is rescued by riverwood villagers, and while she withholds her true identity from them, she immediately knows skyrim is about to be in far worse trouble than it already is with a dragon of all things on the loose, and her priorities shift accordingly.

miriam eventually meets cambria in riverwood, having been sent by the stormcloaks to investigate weird rumors about helgen shortly after the incident. by now, cambria has freshened up on Skyrim Folklore, and with half a prophecy already fulfilled with the dragons' return, she sees no reason not to believe the other half of the prophecy will soon reveal itself—the dragonborn. miriam stands out to her because of a surprising resistance to dragonfire, and suspecting her, cambria requests her help investigating the nearby bleak falls barrow, explaining that the ancient nords might still have documentation of some sort that can help skyrim against the dragons.

what she's really after, and what miriam soon learns, is proof she's dragonborn—and of course, cambria finds it when miriam is able to learn the word of power buried in the barrow. :)

as always, i named my skyrim ocs after fonts, because my first skyrim oc was named thusly and it's a fun tradition to keep up! i really wanted to more strongly incorporate the civil war than i normally do in playthroughs too, because it's such an integral part of the story, but one i tend to disregard because neither option is very good lol. instead of that being a deterrent this time though, i decided to explore it—i wanted characters who had various reasons for the choices they made, and to see how those choices change as they learn and grow. skyrim as a story isn't nuanced enough to pick a Truly Good Option at the end of all this, and i haven't found a mod that promises much better (though i haven't started that questline in my current playthrough yet, so if you have suggestions PUHLEEEEASE hit me up!!!!), but that's what Imagination and Putting My Fingers In My Ears is for.

anyway, as u can see they are my world-saving lesbians of the week. <3 i am rotating them in the microwave that is my brain at terminal velocity.

picrew credits! [1-2] [3] [4]

[peachiimilquetea]

something angsty with tenya leaving fem reader for the event? ty! prompt: “you can’t leave me. i don’t know how to survive without you.”

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” + tenya iida

a/n: bro… i don’t really like angst without the potential for a somewhat happy ending so i hope you’re ok with the fact that it’s not completely sad. i did pull on the heartstrings quite a bit tho, i hope you enjoy! check out the event here

contains: angst (obviously), iida being heavily influenced by his family, tensei to the rescue lowkey, crying, insecurities, mentions of alcohol, ambiguous ending, miscommunication

length: 2.0k

at first things had started off small.

iida worked long hours as the work of his brother’s hero agency fell on his shoulders. he tried his best to make time for you, but it always felt like your schedules could never line up just right.

you tried to work something out, quick calls on break times and cute messages around the house to remind you of one another, but most efforts fell flat.

then things started to get worse.

long and empty nights were spent building up resentment towards the man you had married. he was always doing something, something that took precedence over the vows you made when you walked down the isle no more than three years ago.

you knew his family didn’t like you that much, feeling that a marriage for love was a waste of such a powerful commitment. a commitment that could built them an empire, and boost the rank of their hero agency, solidifying a legacy for them.

tenya defied them for you, boldly declaring that he would marry whoever he wanted and that you were in it for the long haul. you were the girl of his dreams, he said, and anything that got in the way of his happiness was not something he would subscribe to. that only made them hate you more.

so when his texts of encouragement grew shorter and more sparse, and he began to have more special responsibilities bestowed upon him by none other than his father, you knew it was on purpose.

unfortunately, it was an effective strategy to chip away at a young and unseasoned marriage.

“tenya can you please just check your schedule? i really want to spend more time with you.”

he sighed and rubbed his temples as he sat in his office. why were you bothering him with something so insignificant? you knew how important this transition of power was for the iida family, for the legacy of ingenium, but you still persisted.

he could feel the anger beginning to build until he looked in your eyes and saw the sadness brimming in them. his heart squeezed in his chest as he watched you, his wife, plead with him to spend time together. when had things come to this?

“i’ll try my best, but i cant promise anything.”

at this point, that was better than anything you could’ve hoped for.

with a kiss to his forehead you left him alone to get the heaps of paperwork he had to do, spirits lifted at the prospect of spending time with him again. just like the way it used to be.

you checked the time on the microwave for the 9th time. fifty-seven minutes had passed and your husband was officially late.

you should have seen it coming really, empty promises were becoming more and more common amongst the two of you. he would promise to try harder and you would promise to cut him more slack, the constant push and pull never being enough for either party.

getting up from the barstool at your kitchen island you made your way to the wine cooler to get a drink. not even bothering to pick up a glass you slumped on the couch, kicking off your shoes and splaying yourself out, just wanting the cushions to swallow you whole and dull the aching in your heart.

he wasn’t coming.

he was never coming.

you laid passed out on the couch when iida finally came home 2 hours later. he was only stopping by for a quick break, then going back out on patrol and he completely forgot about the things he said, smiling through tired eyes as he thought, this time i’ll make it up to her.

at the very least he could clean you up and tuck you in. he could brace himself for the impending fight later, but he was concerned about you. you never drank, not unless there was something wrong.

iida easily hoisted you up over his shoulder, discarding the various wine bottles and taking you to your shared room, although he wasn't sure if it was still considered shared anymore.

he laid you on the bed softly, changing you into one of his old shirts. his fingers ghosted over your cheek as he watched you sleep, the reality of where he was sitting heavy on his heart.

he loved you and yet there was nothing he could do to help at this moment. he had to leave for night patrol. he had to leave you.

his gentle touches roused you from your sleep and your eyes felt heavy as you tried to blink them open.

“you came?” you breathed, voice sounding foreign even to yourself.

iida gave you a small smile, “im sorry.”

your demeanor did a 180 at his apology. he was sorry. he was always sorry. but sorry couldn’t fix this. not when it had been so broken.

you winced and sat up, “sorry for what? sorry that you broke your promise for the thousandth time or sorry that you’ve been such a shit husband for the past few months?!”

“______-”

“no tenya. you do this every single time! every time i want to spend time with you theres always something more important! what could be more important than your wife?!”

“______ you know my father-”

you laughed bitterly at the mention of his dad. he always had to be such a good little iida child, always on daddy’s beck and call. it made you sick.

“your father doesn’t even want us to be together! cant you see that he’s doing this on purpose! youre a grown man! not a child permanently tied to his mommy and daddy!” you spat

“hes giving more responsibility for the sake of the agency! for the ingenium legacy! why are you always so selfish when it comes to these things?”

“selfish? selfish?” you asked, incredulous. you couldn’t believe your ears.

“yes selfish. do you know how much i sacrificed to be with you? how much i already have on my plate on top of trying my best to make time for you?”

you stared in astonishment.

sacrifice?

what had he sacrificed for this relationship? he got to do what he wanted, come and go as he pleased with virtually no regard for how you felt or what you did. what sacrifice was there in that way of living?

“fuck you, tenya.”

tenya took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. he chose his words carefully before finally saying, “i cant do this. im leaving.”

you could hear a pin drop in the room. you felt your blood pound in your ears as you stood up quickly, dizzy from the alcohol but still trying to process the words you had just heard.

leaving?

“youre leaving?”

“yes, i have to go. im not doing this with you, not now.”

your heart felt like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer, as you tried to regulate your breathing. leaving. he was leaving.

“w-wait,” you feebly attempted to cling onto him as he gathered a few of his things.

“tenya you cant leave me.”

“_____ i do not want to do this right now,” he sighed, easily shaking you off and moving to collect more things. his words were buzzing around on the inside of your skull. he was leaving.

leaving without so much of a second thought. he had been planning this. still unsteady on your feet you hobbled after him as quickly as possible, desperation taking over every fiber of your body. you didn't want to lose him, you just wanted your husband back, you happiness back.

“y-you cant do that! you cant leave me! i dont know how to survive without you, tenya, please-”

“_____, just go to bed. you’re drunk.”

you trailed him around the house,“no, you don’t get to decide when this is over. i'm the one whos been hurting for months you cannot just leave me by myself.”

iida spared you one last glance before grabbing his bag, “goodbye, _____”

crushed, you sank to your knees, leaning on the couch for support. you felt like you were dying., hell, you probably were dying. you had never had so much to drink in your life, and you were desperate to make the pounding pain in your chest stop.

you cried yourself to sleep that night, waking up to the sunlight coming through the window with a splitting headache. you felt like your skull was trying to crack itself open from the inside but you shakily got to your feet, remembering bits and pieces from your fight with iida.

you could tell he didn't come home last night; everything was exactly the way you had left it last night. the house alarm was still on, and his shoes were gone.

he actually left.

anger bubbled in your chest as you thought about what had actually happened. you would not let him get the last laugh, or be the last one left, the one waiting on him patiently to pick up the pieces after trying to keep it together. you would leave too, as much as it hurt, and show him just how selfish you could be.

in a flash, you haphazardly packed a bag with essentials and had texted your friends that you needed a place to stay for a few days. you didn’t get into specifics- your heart ached too much to relive the events of the previous night- but you told them you had reached your limit and you needed to take some time to cool off.

alternatively, iida did not sleep that night. after finishing patrols, he stayed at his brother’s apartment out of pure convenience, not feeling prepared to face you after everything that had transpired between the two of you.

the dark-haired man laid staring at the ceiling of tensei’s guest bedroom, wracking his brain and trying to pinpoint how things had gone south so fast. he wanted to fix things, but really didn’t know how. he couldn’t even tell you what was broken, let alone how to begin to fix them.

his brother had tried to give him advice after listening to the entire story, but there was only so much he could do. he knew that you were right, their father was keeping him from you on purpose, slowly making tenya think that he was in the right in an attempt to break you up, but he couldn't be the one to tell him.

tenya had to come to that conclusion himself. he needed to be the one to set boundaries and save your relationship, but from the looks of it, soon any attempts would be futile.

“_____? darling?” iida called as he came into your home. immediately noticing your missing shoes, he moved to the bedroom in a flash, checking to see if you had just moved them or something.

the room was a mess, drawers left open and clothing strewn across the bed and floor. the bathroom had been cleared of almost all your essentials, and a note was left on the dresser. gingerly, iida picked it up and read it, offering up a silent prayer that it didn't say what he thought it did.

i don't know when you'll see this, or if you ever will. if you're reading it, that means you came back home but you will not find me there.

im tired, tenya.

im tired of always being the one to extend the olive branch or bend over backwards for you.

i refuse to be in that position any longer. i love you… i love you so much it hurts sometimes because i know this isn't the way things were supposed to be. but you left, and so i decided to leave too.

if a way to fix things exists, i want us to find it, but right now i need some time to reevaluate us and what that means. i hope you understand, i know you will.

if you want to reach out, im open to talking about this further, but for right now i need to think.

goodbye.

--------

[thatoneao3writer]

Yet another post of random incorrect quotes because guess who's bored again XD (sorry this ended up being so long jalkdfjalsk)

...

Tommy, during an apocalyptic scale disaster: The world just ended. And that is NOT poggers.

...

Tubbo, while in a safe house with Ranboo during the Crimsonpocalypse: Ranboo. Did you hear about the explosion at the cheese shop?

Ranboo: ...what. What cheese shop?

Tubbo, snickering: Yeah, well. The Brie was everywhere.

Ranboo: ...

Ranboo: ...this apocalypse has officially gone on for too long.

...

Bad before killing the Crimson: Hello, demons. It's me. Ya boi. *unleashes attack*

...

Tommy, just after a mission briefing: Sorry for spacing out, there's a lot of thoughts in my mind. What are we supposed to do again?

Ranboo: Thoughts? In your mind? Unrealistic.

Tommy:

Tommy: I will break into your house and repaint all your furniture & walls slightly different shades every week until you lose your mind.

(Unfortunately for Tommy, Ranboo can't remember the shade the day before and doesn't notice the difference. Tommy keeps doing it, but doesn't realize that it doesn't have any effect...other than multiple paint companies wondering where the fuck their paint supply disappeared to).

...

Tommy: That's ridiculous! I'm a big man! I'm poggers and very strong and stoic.

Tubbo: Literally yesterday you cried over dragons.

Tommy, tearing up: They can't blow out their birthday candles...

...

Tommy: I’m Mr Zoomer and I zoom and I speed and I cause traffic jams.

...

Velvet to the teller, while robbing a bank: Hello, can you help me? You see, i'm very gay and I need a few dollars.

...

Punz, during a date: No skeletons in your closet, I hope?

Sam Nook, a robot: I don’t have a skeleton

...

Karl: I'm sorry, you were stabbed?

Sapnap, rolling his eyes: Lightly stabbed. I didn't want to scare you.

...

Quackity, over text and responding to the 18 missed calls he missed from Karl while running from Schlatt (again): Sorry I didn't text sooner. Might've been somewhat kidnapped and stabbed but on my way back. Will be there in time for dinner! See you soon xoxo

Karl: SOMEWHAT kidnapped???? Stabbed??? What the HONK

Sapnap: who are they AND WHERE DO I FIND THEM I'LL FUCKING KILL THEM AND MAKE SURE THEY'LL BURN IN HELL- [insert numerous ways of torturing the person with fire]

(also hc that sapnap and quackity's form of flirting/love declaration is not "I'll love you to the moon and back" or "I'll move mountains for you", but it's threatening to hurt/kill those who hurt them - which unnerved karl at first but he finds it really sweet and hot.)

(pls don't kill me for this hc XD)

...

(around the time Sam and Ponk first started dating)

Sam, seeing Ponk in his hoodie for the umpteenth time: God, Ponk, why don't you ever wear your own clothes??? You have a million other hoodies.

Ponk, huddling in the thick hoodie: I like your hoodie, it makes me feel-

Sam: -like a thief?

Ponk, blushing: No. It makes me feels safe :)

Sam, blushing as well: ...awwwwwwww ponkie <3

...

Sam: Is something burning?

Ponk: Just my love for you

Sam: …

Ponk: And possibly also the lemon cake I was baking.

...

Ponk: Sam, ju- just please stop reheating tea in the microwave and start boiling it in a kettle like a normal person??

Sam: no <3

...

Sam, in response to a villain mocking Ponk "oh, your boyfriend has to come and save your ass again huh" when Sam arrives as backup for a mission: You're a child. An infant. Your mocking is thus infantile. He's not my boyfriend. This man is more to me than you can dream. He's the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold. His heart overflows with the kindness of which this world is not worthy of. I love this man beyond measure and reason.

Sam: He's not my boyfriend. He's all, and he's more.

Villain: ....

Ponk, blushing like hell: ...you're an incurable romantic.

...

(bonus)

Nug, during the death arena (sorry for this but this just sounded funny): FUCK being the bigger person! I'm just- I'm just gonna start biting people.

...

(bonus part 2)

(hc that quackity only opens up about his past whenever he drinks till he's really drunk and babbling and that's how sapnap and karl finds out about his past as an experiment subject.)

(and here's how one such "opening-up heart-to-heart session" might play out)

Quackity, drinking and sees Schlatt somehow show up on TV: J MOTHERFUCKING SCHLATT??? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING SCHLATT. GOD DAMN FOOL, DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD, IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE, BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS, LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKIN J SCHLATT.

Karl: ...umm Big Q, maybe you shouldn't drink any more-

Quackity: FUCKING J SCHLATT, if I wanted to get into heaven and God said fucking J SCHLATT is waiting inside, I would piss on God's feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down.

Sapnap: ...Karl, do you think we should get Puffy for this-

Quackity: FUCK that man and all he's ever done. He better have some fucked up backstory for this. If he's just some rich shithead who did all this fucked up shit for the sole purpose of his pleasure and entertainment, I will go fucking ham. Asshole's better have been experimented on himself cause if he didn't I'm going to fucking make him.

Karl, pulling his phone out: ooohkay I think we should give her a call.

Quackity: WHERE THE FUCK IS J SCHLATT. If he's still alive then I'm going to really fucking wish he wasn't and put him six feet under myself. Crusty. old. man. I'll punch J Schlatt and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist, and he will disintegrate until all that's left is one final bottle of his stupid alcohol stash, a bottle so fucking old that it has an inscription on the bottom saying "NOW You Fucked Up" in ancient Yiddish.

Sapnap, hugging Quackity and trying to gently take the bottle from him: Hey, enough of that-

Quackity, snatching it back and taking one last sip from the bottle of whiskey: I'm fine. Motherfucking screw J Schlatt. Rot in hell for all I care. Gonna go to his funeral for the sole purpose of making an eulogy. "May his memory be fucking scorched from the earth and as insignificant as the fucking worm that he was." Perfect.

(dw quackity is doing okay after that! why wouldn't he be, when he has his boyfriends to help him? :] )

- 🏒

(incorrect quotes taken from various sources - kudos if you figure out where quackity's rant is from)

[archaneanscribe]

Finally Taking the Trip to Jupiter

Vague spoilers for MGS4. Also xtremely fucking sad fair warning lol

“Snake... Dave?” Hal immediately corrected himself upon entering the room. The veteran’s (finally they could use that term, with there truly being no fights left to fight) request to drop the codenames they had maintained for nearly a decade had been a little sudden, but entirely understandable, “We think we’ve found a place to stay, for the moment. A nice house, close enough to a town that Sunny can go to school in, but far enough ouy most folks will leave us alone.”

David simply nodded- taking a deep breath that would normally be an intake of smoke into his lungs, but he was sincere in his declaration of quitting. Even if it wasn’t for very long, he could do that much for Sunny and Hal, after all this time. The tech wiz stood awkwardly in the doorframe, posture so closed in on himself David would see the gangly nerd he once was before he had started spending more time eating and moving around than seated in front of a computer.

He still did plenty of that, but years on the run had shifted the ratio considerably until just recently.

“Out with it, Hal,” he croaked out in a voice that was becoming increasingly unfamiliar to both of them. This seemed to shock his companion out of his own thoughts, and he finally moved closer.

“Ah, well, you see- what do you want for your last name, Dave? You know I’ll be formalizing Sunny’s adoption, which means we’ll finally be obtaining,” emphasis was put on the word, because in reality it meant forging, “papers for her, and I thought you’d probably be in need of some too. We can use whatever is on your birth certificate, but if you want to pick something out yourself...”

A smile formed under Dave’s mustache.

“I already know what I’m using.”

Hal perked up, “You do? What is it?”

With the same simple, to the point gruffness he would never quite be rid of, the one legendary soldier answered in a single word.

“Emmerich.”

All sounds except the Nomad’s machinery working overtime on her last voyage and David’s unfortunately heavy breathing ceased for an eternally long moment, Hal’s face journeying between every emotion he possessed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and his attempt to stifle his sniffles failed.

He probably wouldn’t have admitted it at the beginning, but something David had always loved about Hal was his ability to keep crying. No matter the hardships he faced, the traumas, the evils and cruelties he bore witness too, he didn’t run out of tears. His compassion was a well that ran deep, and those tears were just a result of it overflowing.

“Dave...of, of course,” his expression betrayed some amusement past the waterworks, “Do you want me to list you as my brother, or-”

“You know exactly what it’s going to say, Hal.”

They both laughed now, such different sounds than it was just a year ago even. David had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and Hal had been across the room, but that distance closed as Hal kneeled on the floor, placing his hands on David’s knees. It was a gesture that David had previously classified as pitying, but he knew better, now. 

It wasn’t for his comfort at all.

“Thank you, David.”

David had half a mind to ask what it was like to kiss an old man with a mustache, but they didn’t have the time for jokes like that anymore, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

---

The eyeroll David had given when Hal told him the name of the town they’d be living in was named Jupiter was so legendary it surpassed his previous exploits with ease. But, despite how silly it was, he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest. 

They’d gotten their trip to Jupiter, just a little late.

Jupiter, Washington, was as small as a small mountain town got. It didn’t even have an elementary school for Sunny to attend (she was bussed to the neighboring, larger town). Most residents were the descendants of the people who had first lived there, so their new faces stuck out for awhile, but they eventually concluded what was essentially the truth, albeit missing some key details, and moved on- they were just two retirees, hoping to live out what was left of the older one’s life in peace with their orphaned granddaughter, nothing exciting.

Hal laughed at how huffy David had gotten at the granddaughter comments.

For the first month, their time there was peaceful. Content. Happy.

The second month, David starting being able to spend less and less time out of bed.

In the third month, he took Hal aside.

“You should stop sleeping in the same bed as me.”

His husband was a genius, he knew exactly why, but he still asked anyway.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

That he didn’t want Hal to wake up one sunny spring morning cuddling a corpse.

Tears were shed, as they always were, but he complied nonetheless. All of David’s belongings were transferred to the guest bedroom (Hal had tried to convince him to stay in the master bedroom, it was more comfortable, but David was adamant- that was where Hal would be staying in the future, and he didn’t want his ghost lingering in the air whenever he slept).

On the first day of the fourth month, right after sending Sunny off to school, Hal told him they were getting a dog for her.

“She loves those chickens, and I thought she might like another pet.”

“Or is it to replace me?” he asked, morbid mirth nearly buried under the pure gravel that had become his voice, “Seems to fit perfectly.”

Hal’s eyes, sad and weary, seemed to want nothing to do with this conversation, but he participated for his partner’s sake, “How so?”

“It’ll bark at strangers, bite the hand that feeds, and just generally be a pain in your ass.”

Despite himself Hal did laugh, not entirely bitter, “We’ll train it better than that.”

“Don’t train it too well. Won’t remind you enough of me.”

Fifth month, they had a dog. Rex, a joke on two layers- a name so common it was funny, and a reminder of one man’s shame that he’d never quite shake off. Not a husky, because while that would please David, they’d be keeping it long term and that level of energy just wouldn’t suit their needs. Rex was an adolescent Golden Retriever. 

The dog of the American dream.

Almost like he could tell David wouldn’t be around long enough to justify getting attached, Rex mostly ignored him. The feeling was mutual. 

Sunny loved them both dearly, and that was enough.

---

They had been there half a year, and Sunny made them breakfast. Her specialty, eggs fried to methodical perfection, toast just a little browner than anyone would like, maple sausage microwaved for ten seconds more than the instructions said just to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, and a glass of pulpless orange juice tucked precariously into the crook of her arm as she carried the meal to Uncle Dave’s bedroom.

It was two minutes after Hal watched Sunny depart from the kitchen that he heard a loud crash, glass and ceramic shattering, followed by Rex’s insistent barking and whining. He was on his feet and rushed to the scene, fearing the worst and finding exactly that.

“Oh, Sunny... Sunny...”

“U-Uncle H-Hal,” she barely managed through her cries. Rex, to his credit, ignored the food on the ground and nuzzled at her face, whining, confused and upset by the noises of unparalleled distress his beloved human was emitting. Stifling his own grief, Hal went over to the young girl and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

He didn’t do a great job at holding that grief in after all.

“Sunny, Sunny, Sunny... I’m so sorry... I should have checked up on him when I woke up... It’s okay, Sunny...”

“H-He’s d-d-dead. J-Just,” her stutter was exacerbated by her choking sobs, “J-Just l-like my m-mother.”

The downside of having such a bright child was that you couldn’t shield them from life’s harsh realities that easily. There was no convincing Sunny that Uncle Dave was with the birds in the clouds, or any other such comforting tale. 

He was dead and gone, and she knew that.

---

The gravestone read:

               David Emmerich

       Beloved father and husband.

All three of those titles were ones he had only worn for six months, but he had worn them with honor.•

[nxrthmizu]

love in bubble wraps.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.9k

author's note | based on a real life experience... :)

Love, you think, comes in many forms. Sometimes love is a warm, home-cooked meal that is now cooked at least once a week because you told your mother you liked it. Other times, love is laughing and crying alongside the friends you’ve known since pre-school because everyone passed their highschool finals with flying colours. Throughout our lives, we gradually come to meet the different forms of love, because it comes in all shapes, colours, and sizes.

First, we learn that love is a roof that you can always turn to when a storm blows in. Then, we learn that love is knowing that there are people who will drop everything to help you when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Lastly, we learn to interlock our fingers with the one we wish to walk to the end of time with.

Then again, love varies from person to person— Just like how the goddess of love, Aphrodite, looks different to every soul that sets its sights on her; Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder. For some, love comes in the form of a warm body to cuddle next to on a rainy day. For others, love comes in the form of a jewelled ring. For you, love comes in the form of a 6’2 man who still doesn’t know how to tame his bedhead.

Tetsurou is often too busy for his own good, always running around here and there to secure contracts, ensuring that Japan can make a name for itself during the Olympics. He books train tickets to opposite ends of Japan at least once a month, leaving before the sun rises and returning after it sets. The sun never dictates his work day, because while his coworkers work from nine to five, Tetsurou works until he finishes his tasks.

Okay, so your husband is a bit of a workaholic. And maybe not just a bit.

“L/N-san,” Your colleague asks one day out of sheer curiosity. A group of women are gathered around the snack station, sipping on cheap, machine-produced instant coffee as they gossip about their marital lives instead of working. “Now that I think about it… I’ve never met your husband, have I?”

“Ah,” You sweat-drop nervously at this. Wonderful— Your parents are already pressuring you about how Kuroo rarely visits with you— And now your coworkers, too? “He’s quite busy. He works very hard to make sure that we’ll be well-off in the future.” You respond, knowing that your reply is just a thinly-veiled way of saying ‘He’s rarely home,’.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Wherever you go, there’s always a middle-aged lady who has nothing better to do than to prey on the weak spots of your life, “It must feel lonely. You must feel so sad when you see my husband pick me up from work.” A smirk dances up her lips as she waits for you to walk into her trap, smiling as widely as a spider watching its incoming meal.

“Not really,” A practiced smile counters hers as you take a sip of your coffee. “I know Tetsurou loves me— There’s an unbreakable trust between us. He might not be home often, but I know that he’s working hard so that we can have a better tomorrow… And that’s sort of comforting, in a sense. Knowing that Tetsurou wishes for a future where we’re financially stable, where we can just spend a whole day doing nothing in each other’s presence…”

A chorus of ‘awws’ makes you blush. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the middle-aged coworker huff in failure. You mentally fist-pump the air at your victory.

“Anyway, I heard that you got engaged last weekend, Shiho-san,” Changing the topic quickly, you smile when the attention of all the ladies instantly redirects to the said woman, who blushes fiercely as they all coo at her ring. “Congratulations!”

“Oh my! He bought you such a beautiful ring… Ah, Shiho-san, you’re so lucky!”

“My husband also bought me a new bag last week,” The middle-aged woman chips in proudly, cocking her head towards her cubicle, where the leather handbag sits atop a tower of documents. “It’s very expensive.”

“That’s nice of him! It’s been forever since my husband bought me something.” Sighs another lady. Most of the group hums in agreement, sharing sympathetic looks with those that share the same fate.

“At the beginning, when we were still dating, Hayato used to buy me so many things, now…” The coworker that brings homemade cookies every New Years’ party says, looking dejected. “It’s like once we’re married, they don’t have to worry about making us happy anymore…”

“Ah, what about you, L/N-san? Does your husband buy you things often?”

You groan internally when the attention shifts to you once more. Honestly, you’re just there to listen and enjoy your coffee— Must you keep getting dragged into the conversation? “Well, personally I don’t really need my husband to buy me things to keep me happy, but… He does bring back trinkets whenever he travels.” You think about it for a while, then brighten when you remember the latest thing Tetsurou brought back for you.

“What is it?” Your change in expression isn’t missed by your coworkers, who preen with curiosity, excited to know what made you brighten up.

“Ah, it’s nothing… I promise, you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.” You chuckle.

“Come on!” “Be a good sport, L/N-san!” “We’re curious now, you can’t not tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You sigh, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Three days ago, Saturday ]

You were on the couch, binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy with the Netflix subscription Tetsurou got for you to occupy yourself with while he was out of town. Your cat, Kazume (nicknamed after your husband’s best friend) lazed on your lap, yawning once in a while and swatting at the stray threads from your sweater.

Somewhere in between your fifteenth and seventeenth episode, the front door chirped with the sound of someone inserting a key into the lock. You perked up at the noise, Kazume yelping in protest as he almost slipped off.

“Oh, sorry Kazu.” You said quickly, a smile widening your lips as the front door opened.

“I’m ho—” Before your husband could finish his sentence, you were already at his side. Kazume meowed loudly from the couch, complaining about you abandoning him for another man. Tetsurou’s eyes softened, the edges of his hazel irises worn down by exhaustion. You took his laptop bag from him, as well as the folders he has in hand, balancing them like how you would balance your three grocery bags when Tetsurou wasn’t around to help. “I missed you too, but are you sure you can carry all of my files with one hand?”

“Yes!” You replied confidently, showcasing your balance as you wobbled through the living room with all of your husband’s stuff. Tetsurou’s laugh echoed through the apartment as he followed you, his reflexes coming into play as he dived for a falling file. “Oops.” You giggled, helping him up after he practically hurled himself at the floor.

Tetsurou shook his head, sighing fondly while he hugged you from the back, taking comfort in the familiar smell of your hair shampoo. “I missed you.” He mumbled.

“Me too.” You hummed, reaching back to stroke your hands through his still-untamed bedhead.

“Oh, before I forget,” Tetsurou leapt up suddenly, chucking his backpack onto the ground. “I brought back something for you!”

“I already have like, twenty-five keychains from Hyogo,” You reminded him, “Please tell me it’s not a…” Your voice trailed off when Tetsurou proudly whipped his gift from his backpack, hazel eyes shining for your reaction.

“... So?” Tetsurou grinned widely, like a five-year-old child holding up his drawing for his mother to critique.

“Oh my god, I love you.” You declared in your 80 sq ft kitchen, grabbing the gift from him. “I’ll clean up your stuff, go take a bath and we can have dinner while watching the…'' You pursed your lips as you try to recall the information that kept evading you like an annoying fly. “... 15th? 16th episode of Grey’s.”

“You started that without me? I said I wanted to watch that.” Tetsurou pouted petulantly like a child.

“I finished all the other stuff I wanted to watch,” You told him unapologetically. “And Kazume wanted to watch it too. Now hurry and take a bath or I’m starting without you.”

Twenty minutes later, you were cuddled up to your husband, who did not bother to comb his hair (“It’ll just be messy later anyway,��� His reasoning was). Every few seconds, he would scoop some cold mash potato out of the giant bowl (The two of you were too impatient to heat it with the microwave) and feed you. All throughout the episode, there was the constant pop-pop-pop of you working your way through the giant piece of bubble wrap Tetsurou had brought home for you.

“You know, I was thinking,” You hummed as Tetsurou pressed ‘Next Episode’. “If It were any other woman, they might have slapped you for bringing just bubble wrap home after a whole week away.”

“Well, then I’m lucky that you aren’t ‘any other woman’, am I?” Your husband smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before picking up the mash potato bowl again. “Are we just going to have mashed potatoes for dinner?”

“I bought spicy instant noodles yesterday, we can have that later if you want.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Present, Tuesday ]

“That’s actually so sweet of him!” Your colleague coos as you finish your story. “Wish I had a husband like that…'' Even the middle-aged lady begrudgingly nods in agreement. For a moment, you feel a surge of pride— It was your husband they were talking about— Your sweet, hardworking, dork of a 6’2 bedhead.

“You wouldn’t be able to survive.” Another lady snorts. “That guy is away for weeks at a time.”

You hum. “Well, at least he calls back every night, regardless of how tired he is.” In the corner of your mind, you remember that he makes sure to call his grandmother every weekend, and that he sends his parents (and grandparents) money every month, that he visits your parents the first Sunday after he’s back from his trips— Not to mention that he always brings a gift of wellness products (The most recent one was a box of abalone).

The group of women swoon once more.

“Well, I guess we should get back to work,” You dispose of your paper cup in the trash, brushing your hands off. “See you ladies later.”

The moment you’re back at your desk, you take out your phone to text your husband, who is, no doubt, going to be very, very confused.

[ y/n ] 2.37pm

— we have a problem

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.39pm

— what’s wrong???

[ y/n ] 2.38pm

— i may have accidentally caused 20 women in my office to fall in love with you

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.38pm

— what ???

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

you know it's love when your dad comes home with this giant piece of bubble wrap and your mom literally squeals and snatches it to immediately start popping it on the couch while browsing facebook on her ipad

[sergeantsporks]

Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 2/7: When Mom’s Not Home

Ch 1

“I’m going to tell Belos.”

Hunter woke up with a gasp, patting the area around him. “Red?!” he rolled off of…a couch? Oh—right. When had he fallen asleep? He remembered being up, trying to brainstorm a way to open the portal, up after Camila and Vee had gone to bed—Vee had pointedly locked her door, as if that could keep him out if he actually wanted to capture her.

His palisman chirped cheerfully. Vee was playing with the bird, and Hunter dove for it, snatching Red away. “Don’t touch him!”

She yipped, scrambling back away from him.

Hunter examined the bird in his hands. Red warbled gently at him, and he leaned back against the couch, rubbing his eyes. Sunlight filtered in through cracks in blinds, and Hunter squinted. “What time is it?”

“Ten-ish.”

Hunter bolted upright. “Ten?!”

“Yeah, how do you sleep in that armor?”

“I can’t sleep until ten, I have—” Hunter growled. “Ten. Why didn’t I wake up?!” He glared at his palisman. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

His palisman cheerfully tweeted that he didn’t have to wake up at five anymore, and he needed the sleep.

Vee held out a hand for his palisman to fly to, but Hunter put a hand in front of Red before it could go to her. She frowned. “Why would Belos care if you had a palisman, anyway?”

Hunter scooped Red up. “He… doesn’t like wild magic.” He squeezed his palisman close to his chest, and Red chirped softly, as if to reassure him that he was still there. “And… he eats palisman.”

Vee’s eyes widened. “That’s horrible!”

“No it’s not!” Hunter said defensively, “He needs them—it’s not like he eats them because they’re a delicious delicacy.” He scratched Red’s head. “I just… don’t want him to eat this one.”

Vee scooted a little closer, eying him nervously. “I… promise I won’t eat Red. I know basilisks get a bad reputation, but I would never hurt another creature.”

Hunter hated the fact that his hands were trembling so bad, and he shook his head, still cuddling Red to his chest.

Camila came down the stairs, tossing a bundle of cloth down next to Hunter. “Tell me if those fit. They might be a bit big—they used to be Luz’s father’s.”

“I’m keeping my armor on.”

“Aren’t you hot?”

Hunter tugged his cape more firmly around him. “I’m keeping my uniform.”

Camila shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She sat down on the couch. “I know you’re not friends with Luz, but can you tell me anything about her?”

Hunter set Red on his shoulder, curling his knees up to his chest. “Only that apparently she’s the best girlfriend in existence,” he snorted.

Camila gasped. “Luz has a boyfriend?!”

Hunter scooted away from her a bit. “Noooooooo.”

“Luz has a girlfriend?! She didn’t tell me! Oh, that’s so exciting! What’s her name?”

“Amity.”

“Awwww, she’s growing up so fast.”

“She’s… she was nice to me,” he admitted, “Uh…” what else did he know about Luz? “She’s… she’s gotten pretty good at using magic. Even though she’s a human. She’s even going to school. I think maybe she fits in pretty well on the Boiling Isles.”

He could almost immediately sense that he’d said the wrong thing. It was something small—it was always a little detail, a tiny shift that he wasn’t sure how he’d caught—but it was enough to make him scoot further away from the human before her mood made a more obvious change. “I can’t do magic,” he continued as if nothing were wrong, changing the subject, “Born powerless.” He scratched his palisman’s head again. “Red here helps me do magic. So does my other staff.”

Camila nodded absentmindedly. “I’m going to work, now. Thank you, Hunter. Vee, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Teach Hunter how to use the microwave, kay? Be good, both of you.”

The human disappeared out the door, and Vee stood up. “Camila doesn’t want Luz to stay in the boiling isles,” she said softly, “She feels like she failed her. Maybe don’t talk about how much better off Luz is in the isles. It’s… a little upsetting.”

Hunter followed her up the stairs. “Why do you care so much? I mean—why stay here? You can look like anyone. Go anywhere. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I need magic to transform, first of all, and there’s not a lot of it out here, and second of all, I like it here!”

“Not a lot of it?” Hunter echoed, “So there is some out here, though?”

Vee disappeared into her room, closing the door. “Go away.”

“Hey! What did I do to you?”

“Why don’t you ask your emperor,” Vee responded, her voice muffled by the door.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Okay. Look. You don’t like me. Fine. But the sooner I can find anything that will get me home, the sooner I’ll leave, and you won’t have to see me again.”

The door opened a crack again. “Fine. There’s a guy who collects magic stuff. He curates a museum. If anyone has something that will get you back, it’ll be him.”

“Where do I find him?”

“Trust me, you don’t WANT to find him. He’s dangerous.”

“So am I.”

“I’m serious. If he finds out what you are, he’ll kill you, cut you open—don’t go near him. Wait until nighttime and sneak in, if you have to go at all.”

Hunter pulled up his hood to hide his ears, and Red hid inside, chirping softly. “No offense, but I think I can pass as human a little better than you.”

“No offense, but you stick out like a sore thumb in that outfit. If you’re so determined to get killed, then go ahead. Like I said, he’s the curator at the museum. That’s where he keeps his magical artifacts, too.”

“Great.” Hunter started towards the door.

“Do you know where the museum is?”

“How hard can it be to find?”

Vee chuckled slightly. “Never mind, I don’t have to worry about Jacob killing you. You’ll get hit by a car before you even reach the museum.”

Hunter’s ears burned, and he slammed the door behind him. Right. This would be fine, he just had to get to a high vantage point, and then he could find the museum. Make a mental map of the area. He surveyed his surroundings, then scrambled up onto a trash can, hopping up and using the window frame as a foothold as he grabbed the top of the roof, hauling himself up.

There were buildings as far as he could see—rows and rows of them, neat and orderly.

No wonder Uncle Belos wants to combine the worlds.

Hunter scanned the building, looking for one that looked like it would hold old stuff. Finally, he caught sight of a statue next to a building that didn’t share the uniformity of the other buildings. Bingo. He mapped the streets in his head, plotting turns.

When he got back down off of the roof, Vee was waiting for him. “I’m going with you,” she declared.

“Thought you wanted to stay away from the museum?”

Vee crossed her arms. “I’m not going to go in. But Camila wouldn’t want you to go alone.”

“Go away. I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you. I’m making sure you don’t go around conspiring with Jacob to capture me.”

Hunter started down the road. “For the last time, I’m not even a little bit interested in kidnapping you. You’re not hurting anyone here. Why would I care?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vee said sarcastically, following behind him, “Maybe because Belos chased me all the way here?”

Hunter stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You’re the golden guard, how do you not know about the basilisk experiments?”

That bothered him a lot more than he wanted to say. “Great question. I thought basilisks were extinct?”

Vee walked ahead of him, crossing her arms. “We were. Belos created us.”

“How?!”

“I don’t know, how were you made?”

Hunter rolled his eyes, jogging after her. “Well, you see, Vee, when a mama witch and a papa witch love each other very much—”

“Very funny. Look, I don’t know. Belos didn’t exactly bother shoving his scientific notes into my cage.” She looked back at him. “You really didn’t know?”

Hunter shifted uncomfortably. “I’m head of a whole coven. I don’t keep an eye on every single experiment.” Apparently. But that was Belos’ personal experiment, he didn’t need to know everything—he was head of the emperor’s coven, not the emperor.

“Maybe you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings, coven head. Belos hurt me, and all of my kind.”

“You think you’re the only one Belos has hurt? You’re not special.” The words popped out of his mouth before he could think, and Vee twisted back to look at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean—he’s the emperor—he has to punish people who break the rules—I’m just saying—”

“Well, I didn’t break any rules, except by existing, I guess.” Vee replied. She stopped. “Here we go. This is where I stop.”

Hunter gazed up at the broken-down building, then at the statue nearby.

His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

That was—

“Vee,” he asked in a strangled whisper, “Why does this town have a statue of Emperor Belos?”

Vee blinked at him. “What are you talking about?” Then her eyes widened. “You’ve seen the emperor without his mask?!”

“Of course I have, I—why is there a statue of him here, Vee?!”

“I don’t know,” she responded in a hushed voice, “Those are town founders, I think.”

Okay. Belos had been here before—he’d known that. He could ask when he got back. Right now, he needed to focus. “Where is the magic stuff?”

“In a room behind the welcome desk. Watch out for Jacob.”

“I can handle one measly human.”

Hunter pushed open the door. No one was at the desk, so he just walked into the back room. Vee was right—there was a lot of stuff in here. He picked up a training wand. Useless, at least to him. Still he tucked it in his pocket. He blinked at the back wall. It was covered in paper, pictures of the owl lady, in her beast form and regular. He traced the red lines with one finger, skipping over an old sketch. He stopped, going back. The sketch was worn and faded, but he could just make out a cardinal.

“Looks kind of like you,” he remarked to his palisman.

Red tweeted in agreement.

“Hey! You can’t be back here!”

Hunter whirled around, whipping out his coven staff. “Stay back!”

The man wrinkled his nose. “Eh, geeze, you really go out like that? Costume needs work, if you’re a little witch wannabe.”

Hunter’s ears burned. “I am not a witch wannabe! Where did you get this stuff?”

The man gave him a fake smile. “Hey, kiddo, it’s just some costume stuff, don’t worry about it, just come on out into the regular museum, okay? If you’re here for those tarot cards, they all got stolen, I’m sorry.”

“It is not just costume stuff.” Hunter jabbed a finger at the pictures of the owl lady. “I’ve met her. I know what she can do. And I know that you collect magical items.”

“You met her? Okay. Wait. I’m Jacob. You met the owl beast?”

“Yeah, she’s a real pain,” Hunter muttered, edging for the door. Nothing here could help him—and he was pretty sure that this curator guy couldn’t, either.

Jacob moved to block the door. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Don’t go!”

“This was a waste of my time. Get out of my way.”

Jacob’s gaze zeroed in on the inside of Hunter’s hood. “Is that…”

Hunter backed up, clutching his staff tightly. “What?”

Faster than he could react, Jacob lunged forward, flipping his hood off. Hunter kicked him, then slammed his staff right into the curator’s stomach. “Get back!” he warned.

Jacob gasped for air. “That cardinal—you look just like—” he rummaged around in a desk drawer, dragging out a sketch of a man with a cardinal on his shoulder. A chill ran down Hunter’s spine. That did look like him. Down to the haircut. What was wrong with this town?!

“What’s that, your creepy fanart?”

Jacob’s face turned a blotchy red. “It is not fanart, it is an artistic interpretation of what our town founder’s face would have looked like based on his statue! And except for your ears and scar, you look just like him! You even have the cardinal! Are you descended from him? Or maybe a clone, sent from Mars, and made to take his place?”

Wow. “Yeeahhh. Unlikely.” Hunter ducked around him. “Thanks for showing me your… whatever that was, but I’m going now.”

Jacob grabbed his arm. “You can’t go!”

Hunter kicked him right between the legs, wrenching away and making a break for the door. Vee was right. This guy was just insane. He slammed the door behind him, jumping over the desk and pushing it against the door. The door opened inward, so it wouldn’t hold him, but it would slow him down. Hunter burst out of the museum doors, tearing down to where Vee was sitting at the base of the statue.

“Time to go!”

Vee jumped up, running after him. “What happened?!”

“He’s crazy!”

“I told you!”

The doors to the museum burst open, and Jacob’s eyes widened when he saw Vee. “YOU!” he howled, and he sprinted after the two of them.

Hunter stopped, turning to face him. “I’ll take care of him.”

Vee backpedaled and grabbed his collar, dragging him forward. “You will not! The object is to not draw attention! Which fighting an adult in the street will most definitely do!” She yanked his hood over his ears. “You’re really bad at this.”

Jacob gave up, winded, halfway down the street. Vee didn’t stop running until they’d gotten back to the house, huffing and puffing.

“I could have handled that guy,” Hunter panted, “Easy.”

“You’re—crazy. Did you find anything that would help you get home?”

“No,” Hunter sulked, “Just a lot of useless junk.”

“Told you. What did you say that made him go after you?”

Hunter shuddered. “He went on and on about how I looked like one of those statue guys.”

“Oh, yeah. He thinks that the town founders got kidnapped and taken to the demon realm by a witch.”

Hunter rubbed his arms. “Not sure he’s wrong about that part.” That statue had looked way too much like Uncle Belos to be a coincidence. “I… guess you’re going to tell Camila about what I did?”

Vee shrugged. “I don’t know. It might come up. We like to talk about our days at dinner. Why?”

Hunter shifted from foot to foot. “No reason.”

Vee gave him an uncomfortably understanding look. “She won’t get mad. She didn’t tell you not to go there. If anything, she’ll be worried.”

“I… I put you in danger, though.”

“I went on my own. You didn’t make me. Actually, I’m pretty sure you told me not to come.”

“I just… Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Vee held open the door for him. “Camila isn’t going to hurt you.”

“I never said she would!”

“No, but you were thinking it. I get it. I used to get worried about making her mad, at first. It’s hard to imagine the adults not hurting you. I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to. But Camila’s not like that.”

Hunter’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m not like you. You were an experiment, you were locked up. I’m the head of the emperor’s coven. I wasn’t—I was happy.”

Vee shook her head. “If you say so.”

“I was!” Hunter took a deep breath. “Look, I… I’m sorry. That you were hurt.”

“By Emperor Belos. Your boss.” Vee pressed.

Hunter rubbed his arms. “Y-yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“He’s… not a good person, Hunter. You know that, right? You ran from him for a reason.”

“I was just—I was scared of getting punished. But I—I shouldn’t have attacked Kikimora. I would have deserved—”

“Why are you defending him?!”

“I’m not you, Vee! Maybe to you he was a horrible tyrant, but to me, he’s the only family I’ve got! He cares about me, Vee. Sometimes he can be harsh, but it’s just because he wants me to be my best self!”

Vee shook her head. “I can’t believe it. You actually think that!”

“Of course I do! Because it’s the truth!”

Vee jabbed a finger at him. “There’s more than one way to lock someone in a cage, Hunter. And I’m starting to think that I got the better bargain.”

Ch 3

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Part two of three. Izuku has a new goal for this tournament, and Shouto’s getting a vibe check.

[No. 39 - Todoroki Shouto: Origin]

We start off with a brief flashback from a younger Shouto’s POV, ith Rei saying that that’s fine, he’s not…

Shouto’s narration wonders when he forgot what came after that. In the present, Shouto demands to know what Izuku is planning. Everything he’s got… did his bastard of a father pay him off or something? Shouto is pissed, and dashes forward, thinking that Izuku won’t be able to deal with him at close range. Izuku reacts by dashing forward as well, ducking low as he gets close. 

In the stands, Katsuki has also notices Shouto’s slowed down, likely because of the frost covering his body. It’s different than Katsuki’s limits - kind of like magic points in a video game. The scale of that attack against Sero was probably the most he could muster.

Shouto panics just a bit, realizing Izuku had moved the instant he raised his left leg. Izuku himself is furiously muttering to himself about imagining the microwave, don’t let it explode, even as his powered-up right arm comes swinging, landing right in Shouto’s stomach. 

Of course, Izuku isn’t entirely unscathed, Shouto managing to get some ice on Izuku’s left arm at the elbow before being flung away by the force of the punch. Present Mic makes a comment on things heating up, while both Izuku and Shouto take a moment to recover from the backlash of that punch. The crowds are shocked at Izuku landing a blow, but also note that he’s the one who can barely stand. 

Shouto coughs, commenting on how now Izuku is on the offensive. He’s wondering how (I’m guessing on how Izuku finds the strength to keep going?), sending out another weak burst of ice that Izuku leaps over. Izuku comments on how Shouto’s not just slowing down, but his ice is weakening too. 

Cementoss asks Midnight if he should stop the match. It seems like Izuku’s going all out because he knows he can be healed no matter what. And he’s not feeling all the pain he’s in because his adrenaline’s pumping. But those injuries… a single healing session won’t be enough for a full recovery. Even if he wins here, he’ll be in no shape for the next match. Midnight has no reply.

Aizawa thinks back to the quirk assessment, where he told Izuku to learn to control his quirk. In the present, he notes that that control is starting to come, even if it means weaker attacks. He’s not just blindly going wild out there. In order to win, this is the best strategy for him at this point. But… even if he does know he can be healed, putting himself through all that pain takes a hell of a lot of guts.

Toshinori, however, has caught on to what the others have not, wondering what it is that’s motivating his successor. Which is a small little thing that I find neat! Toshinori’s known this kid for just over a year at this point, while the rest of the staff have only known him a few weeks.

Izuku can’t make a fist with his right hand anymore. So when Shouto sends another up-close ice attack, he puts his thumb in his mouth and uses that to flick it, destroying the ice with a crack that is equally likely to be from the thumb as it is from the ice. During all that, Shouto (or Izuku?) thinks back to Izuku’s words, about wanting to be like All Might, and for that, he has to be number one, he has to be the strongest. It might seem like a lame motivation compared to Shouto’s, but.

Shouto asks Izuku why he’s going this far. Izuku dashes in, saying he’s just trying to meet expectations. A smiling, dependable, cool hero - that’s what he wants to be. 

Shouto flashes back again for a brief instant, providing enough distraction that Izuku gets in another hit. Izuku states that that’s why he’s giving it everything! For everyone! Shouto’s experiences, his determination - Izuku can’t even begin to imagine what all that is like. But if he becomes number one without giving it his all, then Izuku doesn’t think he’s serious about denying Endeavor everything. 

A longer flashback. Endeavor tells his son to get up. He won’t even be able to defeat third-rate villains, let alone All Might, if he gets knocked down by a hit like that. Rei begs Endeavor to stop, that Shouto’s only five years old. Shouto looks up from where he’s kneeling on the floor in his own vomit, just in time to see Endeavor slap Rei out of the way while stating that Shouto is already five, and to get out of his way.

Present Shouto tells Izuku to shut up, his right side absolutely coated in frost. 

More flashback. Young Shouto is curled up in his mother’s lap, saying that he hates his father, he doesn’t want to be like him. Someone who bullies mommy - he doesn’t wanna be like that. She rests a hand on his head, noting that he wants to be a hero, right? That’s fine, he’s not… 

In the present, Izuku takes another swing, thinking back to… someone’s words about if you have a future you’re striving for, while out loud declaring that that’s why he has to win. Which I guess clarifies the earlier reasons that everyone might think this is about winning the match. Toshinori, however, is cottoning on to what’s actually happening, thinking back to his talk with Endeavor, and how Shouto won’t use his left side because of his conflict with his father, which means Izuku is…

Izuku lands his hit while stating he has to surpass Shouto. 

While the other Todoroki children play soccer under the supervision of an elderly lady, Shouto watches on from the window. Endeavor grabs him by the arm and yanks him away, telling him not to look, that his siblings belong to a different world than him. 

Shouto stumbles across his mom talking on the phone to her own mother. She states that she knows it’s not right, but she can’t do it anymore. The children, they’re like him more and more everyday. And Shouto, his left side - sometimes she looks at him and hates what she sees. She can’t raise him anymore; she shouldn’t raise him. The kettle rattles as Shouto peeks into the kitchen, nervous and overwhelmed by what he’s hearing. Rei… does not react well.

Shouto, a bandage over his left eye, asks Endeavor where his mom is. Endeavor states that she hurt him, so he had her put away. He calls her a fool, during this crucial time in Shouto’s development, no less. Shouto weeps, furious and upset, stating that he’ll show Endeavor, that it’s all Endeavor’s fault. 

In the present, he starts to talk about how he’ll show his father, only for Izuku to interrupt - 

Not quite the same line as the anime! Which I was surprised by, to be honest. Like, I get why the line was changed up for that, and both have the same meaning, but there’s… something interesting in the original version of those words as well. 

We flash back again, to an All Might interview Shouto is watching with his mother. All Might states that quirks are naturally passed from parent to child. However, that’s not the only thing that matters. It’s not just blood ties - instead, one must recognize and appreciate oneself! That’s what he means when he says it - when he says ‘I am here!’

(Not gonna lie, that bit of All Might interview actually has me thinking. That comment on blood ties makes me wonder whether he’s thinking about Nana, and that line about how one must recognize and appreciate oneself seems like a lesson both Toshinori and Izuku are needing to internalize in the current manga.)

Rei notes that Shouto wants to be a hero, right? That’s fine. Shouto isn’t bound by Endeavor’s blood. He can decide who he wants to become.

Shouto is practically in tears as he wonders when he forgot that. Flames lick at the corner of his eye and cheek, right before his entire left side goes ablaze with great force.

Everyone spectating is in shock. Tenya thinks on how Shouto had stated he’d never use his left side in battle, remarking on how he’s using it now. Toshinori realizes Izuku was trying to save Shouto. Endeavor is elated by this development. 

As Izuku flinches back from the heat, Shouto comments on how he thought Izuku wanted to win. So why is he trying to inspire him? Which one of them isn’t taking this seriously now? But he wants to be a hero too. Shouto and Izuku grin at each other, and so this chapter ends.

Not gonna lie, I kind of vibe with this version of The Line. It’s still similar to the more popular anime version, but it’s also just different enough that I am. Thinking. Mayhaps it shall be used one day in a fic somewhere.

Anywho, character sheet incoming. Rest of the Izuku vs Shouto match on Friday. See y’all then.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

15 for noumu!sorahiko au. If is possible, If not you can decide it yourself. ;-;

15. "I don't want to hurt you." | Noumu!Torino AU

*maniacal laughter*

TW: Implications of non-consensual body modifications, AFO being creepy...

//

Recently, it’s felt like Torino’s been clawing through a thick fog.

He knows what he is. What he’s supposed to be. What has happened to him, and what will happen if he fails to protect (return) the children in his care.

Sensei is a merciful man with more resources at his disposal than Torino can comprehend; it’s incredible how they’ve managed to evade recapture for so long. It must be a trick. A set-up to show Shigaraki Tomura the only truly reliable protector is Sensei himself, and to show Torino that he has not yet reached peak performance.

(A cold surface. Surgical instruments. IV lines and plastic tubes, the unpleasant hiss of a machine doing Torino’s breathing for him, a doctor, the doctor declaring the need for a rewiring, as though Torino was not made of flesh and bone and nerves, as though Torino did not need anesthesia--!)

Torino is too aware that he’s been modified. A dozen times over.

The question he asks himself, especially when he tends to the almost-dead boy’s wounds, is if the doctor wanted Torino to give or take. If this almost-dead boy was going to be rebuilt or repurposed.

He supposes the former is true now that his loyalty is in question.

He hasn’t fought the doctor in years, it seems. Then again, Sensei used to supervise the early appointments, always there to provide a helping (restraining) hand, interested in the upkeep of his brother-weapon-prisoner.

Torino is lucky. The almost-dead boy is lucky. Shigaraki Tomura’s luck remains to be seen.

Today Torino took Tomura with him to a convenience store. They need to restock their current safehouse’s pantry, and also, Torino had wanted to give the boy a treat. The convenience store they visited had a microwaveable oven to serve customers hot food.

As they walk back, Tomura happily eats chicken nuggets from a styrofoam take-out box.

Neither of them are talkative creatures. This peaceful interlude suits Torino just fine, which is of course a sign for the gods to ruin his day.

“Torino-san,” says Tomura quietly, knocking his shoulder into Torino’s thigh. He’s tiny for a child, especially one related to--to--

Torino acknowledges the boy with a mute nod, and takes the plastic bags of groceries into one hand, ushering his charge behind him.

A large man, just a little taller than Torino, stands at the gates of Torino’s latest safehouse (a condemned apartment building fenced in by a brick wall). His yellow hair is slicked back into a mullet, with two bangs sticking up like a vee for victory.

As Torino peers at the man’s square-jawed face and shadowed eyes, he is discomforted by the similarities to All for One-Sensei-Onii-san.

But Sensei would not be wearing this garish pro-hero costume.

He does not think Sensei would have hired such a character as this, either. There’s a distinct lack of subtlety and vindictive malice to the man.

It does not change the fact that Torino and his charges have been found yet again. He’s running out of boltholes, even though he can barely remember where he got the safehouse locations from.

“Hello,” says the large man. Friendly. Loud. “It’s a fine morning, isn’t it?”

Torino grunts.

“No need to fear,” the intruder says soothingly, and he means to say something else, but Tomura blurts, “I am here!”, with shock in his voice. Shock and fear? Torino tries to prevent his charge from stepping out from cover, but the boy is willful.

“You’re All Might!”

“Ahahaha,” says All Might.

Torino’s sluggish thought process finally crabs up to speed, sharpening into a familiar fight-or-flight reflex. Most pro-heroes are well-meaning but utterly inept. All Might, however, is actually a name Torino knows has been a thorn in Sensei’s side for a while.

Familiar. Disquieting. If Torino has not been sent to cut short All Might’s career, then it’s because Sensei has not deemed Torino capable of killing him.

Tomura’s partially-gloved hands clench at the styrofoam until it squeaks in distress. Hotly, he tells All Might, “We don’t need you! Go away! You’re too late, anyway!”

“Too late?” the pro-hero echoes.

“Hush,” rasps Torino, touching Tomura’s shoulder. The child turns angry red eyes up to Torino; they are shining wet with tears, and from experience, Torino knows the child will angrily scrub his skin until he’s caught in a prickly cycle of itchiness.

“Make him go away,” Tomura demands.

“Wait,” says All Might, “can’t we talk this out?”

But Torino has already locked eyes with Tomura. Torino tips his head into a nod, and passes Tomura the groceries. His helmet hides the rueful smile when Tomura’s arms cannot lift the plastic bags high off the ground.

Tomura sticks his tongue out at Torino anyway, like he can sense the amusement.

“Do it quick,” the child says, bossy, because even though Torino takes care to, ah, throw the trash away from attentive eyes, Torino nevertheless throws away the trash. “He’s like the number one, so if he has a big fight, there’s always a camera on him.”

“And that’s why I’ve come here without a news team behind me,” All Might interrupts. He takes big, showy steps away from the gates, going sideways with his hands raised placatingly. He seems to not mind standing in the middle of the street.

It’s an empty part of town they’ve holed up in, but Torino won’t even let Tomura tempt fate like that. All Might is a bad role model.

“You’re an attention whore!”

Torino makes a warning noise at Tomura. Where did he pick that up? Miraculously, All Might does not take this to heart. In fact, the pro-hero cracks a smile.

“You’re the second kid I know who doesn’t like me very much.”

“Stupid!” spits Tomura.

“I get that sometimes,” All Might agrees.

Before Tomura can unleash any other insults and accusations, Torino ushers him to the gates, keeping a watchful eye on All Might. He gently pushes the child to the building. Tomura stubbornly stands his ground.

“Pack,” says Torino. “Wake Oboro.”

“We don’t have to leave,” Tomura argues.

“Go,” he rumbles. He turns around, trusting Tomura to follow orders, and is gratified to hear the patter of tiny sneakers hitting pavement, a creaking door open and shut. Across from him, All Might waits.

He has a peculiar expression.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” All Might says.

(A cold surface. Sweat drying on overheated skin, lungs shuddering with cries Torino isn’t totally certain he let out. Did he give the doctor the satisfaction? Leather restraints and IV lines. Sat in a chair, All for One-Sensei-Onii-san tuts and tidies Torino’s hair, a tender touch that Torino hates, hates, except he’s parched for kindness.

“Otouto,” he sighs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”)

Torino breathes in filtered air, slides into a stance, blankly aware that all he is ever meant to do is buy time. Waste time. All Might will be an impossible pro-hero to beat; Torino specializes in decisively quick killing blows. The longer he is stuck in a fight, the worse his odds are.

“Let’s be reasonable—”

Torino launches himself forward.

[destielreboot]

Something Worth Celebrating

Summary: Dean’s tired of Cas not understanding his not-so-subtle hints that he’s in love with him, so panics his way through using a movie to make his point clear, as if that makes any more sense.

Words: ~3.8k

Read on AO3

Dean never really celebrated his birthday, not in any way that mattered. It was a date that marked him maybe surviving another year, and he figured it couldn’t be all that accurate a marker anymore given that he’d died so many times. Was he supposed to subtract the four months in Hell? Was his birthday now after Sam’s? None of it mattered much, and he was not about to accidentally jinx himself or something by celebrating an arbitrary day. Instead, he grumbled all the way home about the snow and salted roads being bad for Baby, then immediately went to his room and started flipping through his movie collection with the hope a new case wouldn’t come in for at least a few hours.

“Dean?” Cas knocked once and swung the door halfway open. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch. I figure I deserve a bit of R&R after the week we’ve had.”

“Of course. Ghouls are never particularly pleasant, although the hunt went well, all things considered.”

“Hell of a lot better than the last one. You stickin’ around for a while?”

“I have no plans to leave.”

Dean looked back down at the drawer full of DVDs and smiled softly. “Good. It’s nice to have you here.”

“Dean? Can I… watch the movie with you?”

“Uh, yeah, as you wish.”

Dean’s hands shook slightly as he picked up a DVD case. It was dumb—so recklessly stupid—and if it didn’t work out, he’d have to live with that, but Cas hadn’t said a word about the mixtape. Not a damn thing about something he’d spent hours anxiously perfecting. Odds were good this would go over his head as well, but hey, at least they were spending time together. And not even Cas would leave during a movie unless there was an emergency, right?

“What are we watching?” Cas timidly sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, the usual comfort level gone as this was Dean’s space, and Cas had become nothing if not respectful of that boundary.

“A classic from my childhood.”

“It’s designed for children?” Cas narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“No, it’s—it’s about… pirates and thieves, sacrifice, rewriting destiny—” The words slipped out of their own volition, as they weren’t quite true, but then again, Dean wasn’t solely focused on the plot of the film. “Um, it’s about overcoming evil forces, fighting for those you care about, and outsmarting the enemy.”

“No cowboys?”

“No cowboys,” Dean chuckled as he put The Princess Bride into the DVD player. He plopped down onto the bed and kicked his feet up, instinctively patting the place next to him so Cas wouldn’t stay perched on the edge. “Settle in, I think you’re gonna like this one.”

Cas inched closer, far too conscious of Dean’s repeated complaints about lack of personal space to get close, but he let himself relax slightly as the movie started.

“This time period is inconsistent with most pirate-centric media. Dean, what does this ill child have to do with the plot you described?”

“Shh, just watch.”

Cas begrudgingly obliged, although biting his tongue was never his strong suit. He’d joined Dean for enough movie nights to know his questions would not be answered, and silence was the preferred initial viewing state—aside from laughter, that is; the uproarious joy that bellowed from his best friend never failed to elicit a smile from the angel.

The first few times he heard Westley say “As you wish” seemed inconsequential, as Dean had been incessantly quoting movies at him for years, and it wasn’t difficult to see why he would relate to this roguish character. He was vaguely aware of Dean glancing back and forth between him and the screen, no doubt to make sure he was paying attention, a task that would be much easier if he didn’t feel Dean’s eyes on him quite so often.

For the most part, Cas did well at keeping quiet, though certain absurdities in the movie had him itching to ask questions.

“What is the point of her throwing herself down this hill? I understand that it’s too steep for comfortable walking, but there has to be a more convenient way to reach the bottom.”

“I guess it’s supposed to be sort of romantic?” Dean shrugged. “She’s just been reunited with Westley after believing he’d died; she doesn’t want to waste time getting to him.”

“Hmm.” Cas looked pensively at Dean for a moment, then turned back to the tv with a hint of a smile.

“Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while,” Westley declared.

“Do you believe in the existence of true love, Dean?” Cas asked innocently.

“I—uh—um—I’m gonna go grab a drink,” Dean stammered. He did his best to nonchalantly leave the room, an action made far more difficult by his pounding heart. Once safely in the hallway, his pace quickened dramatically. If he was going to have a panic attack, it’d be away from prying eyes. Jack may have been at Jody and Donna’s, but Sam was home—he couldn’t see him like this. Diverting his path, he headed for the Dean Cave instead and sunk into one of the recliners.

He knew it was stupid to be panicking over something so small, but this was the closest he’d ever come to outright stating how he felt, and it was scary, goddammit. Growing up, he would’ve been beaten for even entertaining the idea—John didn’t raise no goddamn fruit—and that intense unease had settled itself into his very being, become a core tenet of his identity. Undoing several decades of damage was more difficult than he’d ever imagined, but fucking hell, he wanted to try.

It took longer than he’d hoped for his breathing to return to normal, which amped up the fear that Cas would come looking for him, and he realized on his way to the kitchen that he’d probably need an excuse. He grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge—maybe Cas would drink one, maybe Dean would end up chugging both—and turned to go back before thinking better of it. He pulled some popcorn out of the pantry and tossed it in the microwave, hoping Cas wouldn’t know how quickly it cooked. Once it was done, Dean took a few deep breaths to steady himself, dumped the popcorn into a bowl, and walked as calmly as possible back to his room.

Coming back with a snack seemed to somewhat assuage Cas’s concern for Dean having been gone so long, but Dean could tell he would be asked about it later.

“You missed the Fire Swamp and something called the Pit of Despair? I can’t find much validity in the mechanics of the machine, although the concept is interesting. Taking time off the end of life, which is by its very nature uncertain, rather than reducing to a set number of years.”

“Try not to think about it too hard.” Dean smirked, holding out the second beer as he settled in. Cas habitually accepted the offer, even though everything tasted like molecules. He didn’t mind too much; partaking always seemed to make Dean happy, a sight Cas didn’t see nearly enough.

“I agree with the pestering child on this one, killing off the hero of the story this early makes no sense. Unless, of course, they live in a world like ours? Is there someone who can return his soul to his physical form, as I did with you?”

Dean choked on the handful of popcorn he’d just stuffed in his mouth. Cas looked on, worried, as Dean coughed and took a swig of his beer.

“Uh, no, nothing like that… They’ll, uh, they’ll explain it.”

“Hmm. Are you alright, Dean? You seem… preoccupied.”

“What? I’m fine.” He picked up the bowl and held it out. “Popcorn?”

“Dean.” Cas took it from him and set it further down the bed as he pivoted to face Dean, sliding a bent leg across the blanket between them.

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes. “I said I’m fine, Cas. You’re missing Billy Crystal.”

“We could pause the movie, if you’d like. Ordinarily I wouldn’t push—”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, sure. Can we just… not do this right now?” He raised his hands in resignation and let them drop without looking, one landing on the outside of his left thigh, the other on Cas’s knee.

Dean immediately felt heat rush to his cheeks as they stared at each other, unmoving, for an undetermined amount of time. He was vaguely aware of the Miracle Max scene happening in the background, containing yet another discussion of true love, and he prayed Cas wasn’t paying attention. This had to happen now?

“Dean?” Cas asked softly, finally breaking the silence enveloping them despite the continuing movie, which was obviously oblivious to the quiet scene of bi panic unfolding in front of the screen. “You seem uncomfortable and in distress. Can I—”

“I’m fine!” Dean responded a little too loudly, too quickly. He jerked his hand back, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fist, his thumb rubbing over his fingertips, as if trying to force the feeling of touching Cas’s knee into his memory.

Cas continued to fix him with that concerned gaze he was all too familiar with, so he downed the rest of his beer as a distraction. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw Cas run his own fingers over his leg exactly where Dean’s hand had been, but surely it was out of discomfort, right? Friendly pats on the back and occasionally the knee were common enough, but accidental lingering touches? Not so much.

“I need a refill. You?” Dean asked, although he didn’t wait for an answer, once again quickly making his way down the hall.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Dean just about dropped his empty bottle, having not noticed Sam seated at the kitchen table with some sort of preposterously healthy grain bowl in front of him.

“Will everyone stop asking me that?” he huffed, his free hand on his chest. “I’m fine.” He set the bottle on the island and pulled the fridge open. They were down to their last few beers, and, simultaneously thinking too much and not enough, Dean turned around to search for something stronger instead.

“Don’t bullshit me.” Sam gave Dean his best bitch face—probably the best he’d seen in years—and stood, crossing his arms. “Is this about what happened with the ghoul? Because there’s no way we could’ve—”

“Yep, that’s it. Congrats, Dr. Phil, you’ve done whatever psych crap and managed to cure me. How on earth do you do it?”

“Dean.” Sam followed him out of the kitchen and back toward the library, where they’d most recently stashed their rolling booze cart—yet another feature of the bunker Dean still couldn’t quite wrap his head around, although he had to admit it was rather nice.

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me, I’m fine. It’s been a long week, cut me some slack.” He unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle and poured a generous amount into a glass. Sam shot him another exasperated look. Dean sarcastically saluted as he backed out of the library.

He stopped just outside his door and took a quiet breath, releasing slowly, urging the tension in his chest out with it. He glanced in and couldn’t help but soften at the view in front of him: Cas was engrossed in the wedding scene, albeit a bit confused by the clergyman. Dean watched him take a drink of his beer and wince, an instinct he almost always suppressed around others.

Once Inigo, Fezzik, and Westley were back on screen, Dean sauntered back in. Cas immediately turned and smiled at him, but his brow furrowed at the sight of the whiskey glass. Dean shrugged and took a sip, savoring the slight burn and the slow spreading warmth. He flashed Cas a reassuring grin as he sat down on his side of the bed.

Everything was fine, it had to be. Besides, Cas had definitely missed some important dialogue, so all Dean had to do was get through the end of the movie and shrug all his anxious behavior off as lingering effects of the hunt; there was a good chance Cas wouldn’t believe him, but if he got adamant enough, he’d be left alone. Not that alone was what he really wanted, but it was better than rejected or ridiculed, and he was far too accustomed to being by himself—yet another thing to thank his father for.

They got through the rest of the movie without another incident, even if the silence was a tad tense. As the credits rolled, Dean glanced over and noticed Cas was frowning.

“So… uh, did you… did you like the movie?”

“I still have many questions that have gone unanswered. Or, rather, we were otherwise occupied while they were explained, I suppose.”

“We did, uh, miss a few things.”

“Also, I’m no expert on the matter, but I’m old enough to know with relative certainty that there have been kisses more ‘passionate and pure’ than that one. I assume this particular kiss isn’t leading to the consummation of their relationship, as carnal desire would prevent it from being pure, I suppose, but I’m afraid I cannot agree with the story’s assessment.”

“The slow-burn romance wasn’t drawn out enough for you, huh?” Dean laughed.

“She only believed him dead twice, Dean. I think our own experiences have reduced the impact of that. Besides, their relationship required more exposition. With what we were given, you can’t expect me to be truly invested.”

“Maybe she should’ve died at least once, just to shake it up a bit.”

“My sentiments exactly. Westley cannot understand the same levels of grief without experiencing it firsthand, and it’s always more interesting to allow characters beyond just the hero the chance to die. Imagine how monotonous our lives would be if we only consistently lost one of us.”

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a goofy smile plastered on his face. His shoulders shook as he laughed, the bed eventually shuddering along with the movement.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny, Dean.”

“It’s just… Our lives are so ridiculous. No one else watches this and thinks it’s not realistic enough because only Westley dies and gets resurrected.”

“I’m aware it’s outside of the usual human experience, of course, but I also can’t help but—” He paused, eyes widening slightly. “Never mind.”

“C’mon, Cas, you know you can’t do that! Say it.”

“I’d really prefer keeping it to myself, thank you.”

“Cas, dude, just say it.”

“You won’t let this go, will you?”

“You know I won’t.” Dean smirked.

“Fine,” Cas sighed. “I can’t help but see similarities between the characters and, well, our family.”

“Oh, of course, I project us onto characters all the time! I’m Westley, right?”

“Buttercup, actually.”

“I—” The smile slipped from Dean’s face. “You see me as the princess? Why?”

“You’re both stubborn and remarkably willing to sacrifice yourself for those you love.”

“You know, I did not show you this movie just so you could turn around and attack me,” Dean grumbled, but he flashed Cas a small smile so he wouldn’t take the complaint too seriously.

“I feel it’s a proper evaluation of your character.” Cas shrugged and grinned back.

“Does that make you Westley, then?”

It took Dean approximately two seconds after the words left his mouth to process what he’d said, fear twisting his stomach into knots as he realized the implications of it. Cas, on the other hand, chuckled quietly and looked down at his beer bottle.

“I suppose Westley saving Buttercup from the quicksand does mirror me pulling you out of Hell, at least a bit.”

“Lightning sand. Way cooler than quicksand,” Dean corrected, latching on to anything that would distract from his question.

“Ah, yes. Lightning sand. It’s no match for Hell, but I don’t need to tell you that.”

“Yeah… Hey, I don’t think I’m ready to turn in for the night yet, would you want to watch something else? You can pick, if you’d like.”

“As you wish.”

Dean froze, his hand halfway to his whiskey glass, the gears in his head screaming into motion. It wasn’t every day that Cas made a movie reference, especially one with such a blatantly romantic connotation. He was well aware of his own intention in saying it before the movie, but was Cas just emulating him? Picking up on yet another of his habits? Or— No, no. Dean had to remind himself that Cas wasn’t human, that he couldn’t experience affection the same way, that everything else had completely escaped his understanding.

He figured he’d put his foot in his mouth enough times that evening, he should just change his mind about stretching this out any longer, just go to bed. But the thought gnawed at him, the silence had continued to the point of becoming awkward, he needed to say something.

Dean turned to face Cas and swallowed down his pride and insecurities, hope and fear clashing across his features. Cas was waiting patiently with a soft smile, his bright eyes crinkling beautifully.

“Did you just—” Dean whispered, his voice getting caught in his throat.

“I believe so. Did I use the line incorrectly?”

“No—I… I just never thought—”

“That’s fine, too,” Cas quickly cut him off, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“Cas.” Dean reached out and tentatively brushed his fingers lightly across the angel’s stubbled cheek before settling on his shoulder, thumb resting softy on the side of his neck. “Why do you think I said it?”

It was as if someone had just powered Cas back up, he so nearly glowed with joy, and Dean thought to himself that this was the most angelic he’d ever looked. Messy hair, glassy-eyed, and all, he was stunning.

Dean felt the knots in his stomach unravel, the weight he’d been carrying for so long lessened. The hesitation of entering unknown territory faded as it started to sink in that Cas wanted this, too, and he stopped thinking, painfully aware that if he thought about it too much, he’d never do it. And he so desperately needed to do this.

He leaned forward, making his intent clear while also looking for consent, and Cas eagerly met him in the middle. It wasn’t the most graceful kiss, as they were both a little out of practice and had yet to learn each other’s rhythms, but Dean was looking forward to learning.

Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s and sighed contentedly.

“With a little more practice, I think we could top Buttercup and Westley’s kiss.”

“I’d like that,” Cas laughed, his warm breath tickling Dean’s nose.

“Their slow-burn seems almost boring next to ours.”

“Oh, speaking of…” Cas straightened up suddenly, causing Dean to have to catch himself before he fell face-first into the angel’s shoulder.

“Speaking of?”

“I missed how they brought Westley back,” Cas said sheepishly. “Would you mind explaining?”

“A little distracted, were you?” Dean smiled cheekily and leaned in for another kiss, something he could never imagine getting tired of doing.

“More than a little.”

Dean launched into a detailed explanation of the Miracle Max scene, the chocolate-coated miracle pill, and the plan to break into the castle before the wedding, going so far as to include all the dialogue he could remember off the top of his head. Cas tilted his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder and laughed at the exaggerated voices, each distinct and absurd in their own way. When the story was over, they slipped into a comfortable silence, Dean’s arm snaked around Cas’s waist, personal space no longer a concern.

After some time, Cas glanced at the clock on the nightstand and was startled to find it was nearly midnight.

“Oh, before it gets too late…” He lifted his head and placed a hand gently on Dean’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Dean. I would’ve gotten you a gift—”

“There’s nothing I want more than this.”

…

The following morning, Dean woke up early and decided to make breakfast, tossing some slabs of bacon on a baking sheet to crisp up in the oven. Sam stumbled in a few minutes later, drawn in by the aroma. He gave Dean a questioning look and was met with a broad grin.

“Rise and shine, Sammy! Are you going to eat like a normal person, or do I have to separate your eggs for you?”

“I… uh, just the whites would be great, thanks.”

“Normal person breakfast, it is!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned on the coffeemaker, but he smiled quietly to himself, glad to see Dean had gotten over whatever had been bothering him the night before.

Cas wandered in as Dean pulled the bacon out of the oven, and Sam just about choked on his coffee; instead of his usual trench coat and suit, Cas was wearing a soft purple and blue flannel he’d most definitely pulled from Dean’s closet, and he’d neglected to button nearly the entire top half.

“Mornin’, sunshine!” Dean slapped his hand away from the hot tray and passed him a mug of coffee instead. “You lookin’ to burn yourself?”

“I’m an angel, you ass,” Cas chuckled, stepping around him to reach the bacon. “I can do what I want.”

“You can’t even taste it properly.”

“Dean, too much grease is bad for your health,” Cas deadpanned as he took a bite of the still steaming rasher. It was hotter than he’d anticipated, but nothing a little grace couldn’t fix.

Sam cleared his throat loudly and gestured at the stovetop, where the eggs were burning.

“Fuck!”

“Good morning, Sam.” Cas took a sip of his coffee as he walked toward the table. “How was your night?”

“Evidently not as good as yours.” Sam looked up at him in stunned disbelief. “You two finally figure your shit out?”

“Hell of a way to phrase it, but yeah.” Dean beamed as he set the plate of bacon on the table, his other arm slung around Cas’s shoulder. “This idiot’s in love with me. Who knew?”

“Practically everyone else,” Sam laughed. “But I’m really happy for you guys, I don’t know anyone more deserving of this. One request, though, seeing as Jack and I live here, too.”

“Shoot.”

“Minimal PDA in communal spaces?”

“No deal.” Dean grinned and promptly pulled Cas in for a kiss.

[trashyswitch]

The Importance of Cleaning

Patton is dusting the living room, and just can't resist a good surprise tickle attack on Roman with the duster! This simple little decision turns into a full-blown tickle fight!

This is late, but it's still October! Therefore:

This is Tickletober Day 26: Tools

Patton was walking around with an apron on, dusting the house with a rainbow feather duster. Roman was singing to himself while brushing his hair in front of the kitchen mirror. As Patton was dusting above the microwave, he was silently planning a way to scare him right out of his egotistic trance. Patton looked at the feather duster in his hand, and immediately got a fun idea:

Patton slowly walked up to Roman as quietly as he could, and slightly shook out the feather duster to get some of the dust out of it. Then, Patton snuck below the mirror frame, up to Roman’s back and fluttered the feather duster on Roman’s sides.

“aaAAAAHAHA!” Roman screamed, doubling over and grasping his sides.

“Peek a boo!” Patton greeted with a giggle.

Roman giggled and shook his head at Patton. “You DARE mess with the almighty prince?” Roman teased, pointing at Patton with the brush. Patton giggled and nodded before sticking his tongue out at the man to annoy him further. “Ooooho! That’s it!” Roman sprinted up to Patton and wrapped his arms around him. He lifted the father’s arm up in the air before scratching his brush up and down Patton’s upper ribs!

“HahahahAHAHA! EEEHEHEHEHEHE!” Patton squealed, bouncing around and wiggling to get away from the brush.

“A peek a boo right back to you!” Roman replied. Roman moved the hairbrush down to the lower ribs and onto his belly next.

This made Patton guffaw and bounce even more! “NAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHORRY ROHOHOHOHO!” Patton begged to him.

“On? You’re sorry? Well, I’ll let you know that I forgive you! But I am NOT sorry for what I’m about to do next:” Roman told him.

Roman moved the brush to Patton’s back ribs and brushed up and down rapidly. Patton wheezed and shook his head helplessly as more laughter soon left his mouth. “NOOOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!” Patton pleaded.

Roman lifted an eyebrow. “Is it really that bad? I doubt it’s as bad as you’re saying.” Roman reacted. “Would you prefer it if I used your feather duster?” Roman offered.

“YEHEHEHES PLEHEHEHEASE!” Patton immediately replied.

Roman nodded as he placed the brush down, and took the feather duster from Patton. Lastly, Roman moved the feather duster around Patton’s belly and fluttered everywhere else he could reach.

“HAHAhahahaha! Tihiihihicklihihihish!” Patton giggled.

“Is that better?” Roman asked him.

Patton nodded his head and watched as bits of the feather duster fluttered in and out of his belly button. It was soft, and so ticklish! And he was loving it! This was totally worth it! “A flutter-flutter-flutter! A flutter-flutter-flutter! A tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle ticklllle!” Roman teased evilly.

Patton giggled more and hung his head. The softness of the feather duster was starting to kill him slightly, and was making him go into a small giggly high. “Tihihihicklihihihish! Toohohoho tihihihicklihihihish!” Patton told Roman through his giggle fit.

“Is it really too ticklish for you?” Roman asked. “Cause a little reminder that when I was using the brush, you were laughing a lot more.” Roman mentioned.

“Thahahat’s dihihiffeheherent!” Patton protested.

“Different, you say?” Roman asked, sparking an idea in his mind. Patton felt his face flush a slight red color as he realized his mistake.

Letting Patton’s hands go free, Roman picked up the red brush off the ground and held it within his left hand. Then, Roman brushed the hair brush on Patton’s right side. “Which one tickles more?” Roman asked. “This?” He asked, referring to the brushing hairbrush.

Patton shrieked and bursted out laughing, jumping backwards in ticklish surprise. Roman only walked himself forward further to catch up to Patton, and started tickling Patton’s left side with the feather duster. Patton guffawed and only giggled. “Thehehehe bruhuhuhush ihis wohohohorse.” Patton admitted.

“See? What did I tell ya?” Roman asked.

“Meeehehehehean! Yohou’re a meheheanie!” Patton told him.

Roman gasped suddenly and placed his busy hands on his hips. “Meanie?! Since when am I mean? I’m never mean!” Roman reacted proudly. “I’m only demonstrating the difference between hairbrush tickles…” Roman paused for a moment to brush Patton’s side with the brush. This caused Patton to cackle hysterically, and fall right onto his back to get away. “-and feather tickles!” Roman finished off before extending the handle and tickling Patton’s belly with the feather duster.

Patton rolled around back and forth on the floor. He was a giggling, squealing mess of hysteria at this point. “Ihihihi’m sohohoho gehehetting revenge fohohor thihihis!” Patton warned him.

Roman snorted. “Puh-LEASE. Like you can even scare me…” Roman muttered.

A few hours later, Roman was chilling out on a sofa with a Nintendo Switch in his hand. He was playing The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild, when he was caught by surprise by a scratchy, ticklish feeling on his toes. “AaAh!” Roman yelped, dropping the switch onto his lap.

“Having fun, Link?” the man with glasses asked him with a smirk on his face and a...toothbrush? in his hand?

“Uuuuuh...why the toothbrush?” Roman asked. “And more importantly, has it been used?” The prince added.

“First off: it has not been used. No mouth germs have touched this toothbrush. And second of all:” Patton replied before wrapping his hand around his ankle. “I need to get my revenge! And YOU sir...have not brushed your toes yet.” Patton told him.

Roman’s nervousness suddenly paused.

He blinked once. He blinked twice. “...Brushed...your toes…” Roman slowly clarified, staring at Patton like he suddenly had 2 heads.

“Well, of course!” Patton reacted, before lightly pushing the toes back. “It is always important to take care of your hygiene. And if there’s one thing that kids ALWAYS forget…” Patton explained as he lightly stroked the manual brush under the first and second toe, “It’s to brush your toes!” Patton declared happily.

Roman’s mouth widened into a wobbly smile and immediately burst into giggles and short laughs. Patton was casually brushing a toothbrush back and forth against his toes like he was brushing his child’s teeth! And he was being very precise too, making sure no inch of skin was left unbrushed and unhealthy. “PAHAHAT! LEhehehet’s tahahalk ahahabout thihihis! Plehehease? Thihihis is wehehEHE- HAHAAA!”

Roman’s protests were quickly interrupted by a simple stroke under the tiny pinky toe! “Ooooooh! Does Ro-Ro have a veeeerry ticklish pinky toe???” Patton teased, smirking as he pushed the pinky toe back and very lightly stroked the skin underneath.

“WHAHAHAT DOHO YOHOHOHOU THIHIHIHINK?!” Roman shouted at him.

“What do I think?” Patton repeated, acting surprised that Roman would even ask a question like that. “I think your pinky toe is ASTONISHING! The amount of nerve endings that hide within this teeny tiny spot, is mind-blowing!” Patton told him as-a-matter-of-factly. “Heck! I’d even say that Logan would be mind-blown too!” Patton added as he kept stroking the pinky toe.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP! EHEHEHEVIHIL! EHEHEVIHIHIHIHIL!” Roman yelled at him.

Patton paused his tickling. “I think you forget that I’m practically a golden retriever! I can’t be evil!” Patton teased.

Patton moved the toothbrush over to Roman’s inner arch, and brushed the bristles up and down with the handle facing down like a hairbrush. Roman just about DIED! Roman threw his body absolutely everywhere and began hiccuping while he laughed! It was the cutest and the funniest thing Patton had ever heard!

“OHOHOHOH MY GOSH! IHIHIT SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE DYHYHYIHIHING!” Patton bursted out laughing, dropping his toothbrush onto the ground right then.

Roman’s hiccuping lessened back onto laughter as he struggled to get his breath back in. The ghostly strokes of the toothbrush were still tickling his foot and toes, making him still laugh and giggle as he recovered. Who knew such a simple tool could tickle him so much?!

“Ihihi...ihihihi cahahahan’t…” Roman told the father.

Patton crawled up to Roman’s side and laid down beside him. “You can’t what?” Patton asked, wanting him to finish his sentence.

“Ihihihi cahan’t...behelieve you would dohoho thahahat toho me…” Roman told him.

Patton lifted an eyebrow. “...Whaaaat do you mean?” Patton asked. “It was just a bit of revenge. Plus I can now add this toothbrush to my mental list of tools I can tickle people with!” Patton added.

Roman widened his eyes at that. Hold up, what?! “You...have a list of tickle tools?” Roman clarified.

“Yeah! In my head! Do you wanna hear all of them?” Patton asked.

Roman was about to tell him ‘no’, because…….no. Just no. But Patton had already started!

“Feathers are the most obvious one. But anything similar to feathers, like certain plants, feather cat toys, paintbrushes and even makeup brushes will work really well too! Markers, specifically paintbrush markers, can work WONDERS on any ticklish spot on the body! But don’t be expecting Da Vinci quality art.” Patton explained with a wink.

Roman was covering up his face with his hands as the flush of red on his cheeks, soon covered his ears. Patton smirked and decided to keep going.

“There are rough tools you can use on a ticklish person as well! Hair Brushes like the one you used on me, and toothbrushes are the PERFECT rough tools that will guarantee a big reaction! There are also claws you can buy on Amazon-” Patton took a moment to summon them onto himself. They were black, glittery claws that looked like something meant for a goth girl. “See? Rawr!” Patton teased, curling his fingers and clawing the air with his fancy claws.

Roman verbally whimpered. “Noooooo!” Roman whined, his blush growing a little darker in color.

“Awww! What’s wrong, Ro-Ro? A little...claw sensitive?” Patton asked, before very lightly drawing his index claw on the side of his neck.

Roman dropped his hands from his face and instinctively curled his neck onto his shoulder. His hands were curled into fists while his arms were pushed up against his chest. He looked like a jumpy, flustered mess.

Patton giggled at this reaction. “Such a cutie!” Patton teased, stroking one set of his claws down the back of Roman’s forearm.

Roman actually spazzed out and weakly pushed Patton’s hands away from him before flopping onto his side. Patton just laughed further at this adorable reaction and unsummoned the claws. It didn’t take long for Patton to continue his infodump on the huge variety of tools that can be used on people. From Q-Tips to claws, to baby oil and massagers, the tools for tickling are surprisingly endless!

From that day forward, Roman made a mental note to run away if Patton is holding one of the mentioned tools in his hand.

Also: My trip to Toronto went good! We followed the strict regulations, and only went to the hotel and hospital. And as far as we know: None of us have COVID! (Or, none of us are experiencing symptoms of it.)

[dented-nado]

“Alright, come here you.” With trinity if you’d be so inclined? 👀 💙💙💙💙

[I am absolutely inclined, I also wrote this from Clark’s perspective for the first time

Not fitting in, was a feeling Clark knew to be universally felt, at least from what he was told. So it was simultaneously one of the most common feelings, yet, by nature it implied meant you felt completely alone and out of place. There was a point in time when he was a child, before he knew he was an alien, before he knew he had powers where he’d say he had a pretty normal life.

But in another sense… while he was human looking in appearance, even back then, Clark felt out of place for other reasons. He remembered getting bullied by other boys often. He wasn’t sure what was so different about him. Later on, briefly, he thought his alien-ness was the reason, that somehow people knew he wasn’t from earth, didn’t belong, even if they didn’t know he was an alien specifically.

He remembered coming home trying to hide the fact he was crying because he had been picked on all day, then picked on because he got upset at being picked on, and feeling guilty about making his ma and pa look at him so sad and worried. His dad sat down with him one day, and Clark had asked that question that had to be hard for any parent.

“Why don’t the other kids like me? Is there something I did wrong?” Clark had asked solemnly right around the age of 8 as he rolled a toy car back and forth on the steps to try and distract himself from feeling upset still.

His pa had sighed, put a hand on his back and said “At some point those kids learned to seek out and pick on anything even a little bit different from them. I’m not sure if kids are… ‘just like that’ or they get it from their parents… but you need to know Clark there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault they keep singling you out.”

“How do I make them stop?” Clark asked with a little sniffle.

His pa was silent for a long moment as he took a deep thoughtful breath. “I don’t think you can make them stop. You can’t control how people treat you, as unfair as it is. But what’s important is you see its just that, unfair. Those kids have something else going on, that has nothing to do with you, so they just want to make you feel miserable and get a reaction out of you. So you know what the ultimate revenge against those kids trying to make you miserable is?”

Clark looked up at his dad curiously. “Throw eggs at them?”

Jonathan chuckled and shook his head. “No. How you get back at them is you don’t stop being kind. You’re a good kid Clark, don’t lose that, no matter how much words hurt, you don’t take them to heart because they aren’t true… and even if it’s still hard and stings now the best thing you can do is not let them take that kindness away from you. Because you know what happens if you let them take that away?”

Clark shook his head.

“You’ll end up just like them, and maybe you’ll end up hurting another kid just the same way they did you.” He said seriously.

“Oh…” Clark said thoughtfully, now rolling his car on his hand. “I don’t want to be mean like they are. If there’s another kid like me I want to be their friend, not hurt them.”

“That’s the spirit.” Jonathan said, hugging his son just as Martha came out to call them both to dinner.

—-

Years later, with all the fighting, all the enemies gained, Clark never ever forgot that. No matter how many times Lex Luthor pushed his buttons, or how damn hard it was sometimes to try so hard to save everyone and still be treated like a walking bomb that could go off and kill everyone at any second… he still held that message close to home.

It didn’t mean things didn’t hurt. It didn’t mean that sometimes harsh words and people trying to kill him didn’t… you know… sting to put it lightly. It had fought so hard to stay kind, stay open, be patient… he wasn’t going to stop after all that work he had already put in.

When he had first met Batman… well… having kryptonite brandished in his face even just as an explanation as to the fact the Joker was in metropolis with a ton of the stuff wasn’t exactly giving Clark a very good first impression. He thought Batman, that Bruce was going to be just plain mean. He was distrustful, antagonistic, and sure didn’t seem to be going around looking to make friends. So, Clark had closed off to him at first.

But then… well… he met Tim, the newest Robin at the time when Bruce had been kidnapped and mind controlled by Braniac, and suddenly… with Bruce raising a kid like that, Bruce being entirely an asshole plain and simple just didn’t make sense anymore.

Then they started the league and began working together. Clark liked… no loved the idea of working on a team, not just because of the potential for saving lives, but because he thought it’d be… nice to feel not so alone around a bunch of others who felt pretty odd and alone themselves. Even with Batman declaring himself 'not a full member’ at the start, he was clearly engaged. What at first had annoyed him was now… kind of funny, and a little charming. When Batman said “I work alone” he really meant something more like “I’m worried about my ability to work with a team, but at the same time I can’t help but want to support this”. When Batman would say “Would you all stop goofing off?” he deep down meant “if you keep this up, I’m going to start laughing and break character”.

He also grew close to Diana, who seemed to have the level-est and most patient mind out of all of them. Clark figured you would have to having lived so long and having lived through so much. It didn’t mean she couldn’t get annoyed or loose her temper a little bit if someone was doing something morally objectionable, lying out their ass to the literal goddess of truth, or treating a serious matter like it was nothing, but it did mean she was better than him or Bruce at being able to be fair and look at an issue from many sides or be able to see a deeper side to those others might have already dismissed or written off. It was…. well he admired it quite a lot, and he could tell by the way Bruce would sometimes smile or look at her… he admired her a lot too.

He had, been able to see himself getting close to Diana when he met her… but Bruce…

Bruce was constantly full of surprises. Even after knowing him for several years, it always felt like he was always discovering something new about him, or noticing something else. He’d always thought kindness and goodness was something worn on your sleeve but Bruce… Bruce probably had the kindest heart he had ever known, But he kept it locked away, encased in shadow, afraid of letting anyone see it, so he kept it guarded and close to him. Clark hadn’t seen it, at first, but once he did, it felt like seeing a bright shining star on a pitch-black night. Rare, precious, and beautiful.

Maybe that was overly poetic and sappy of him to think, but he didn’t care, it was what he thought.

Outside of just things that were part of Bruce himself that caught Clark off guard… he also didn’t expect that those piercing ice blue eyes would suddenly start to… do something to him. They were undoubtedly striking. While Diana’s eyes were fiery and intense and made him feel just as hot as being on fire, Bruce’s eyes seemed to stare deep into him, freeze his breathe and cause it to catch in his lungs, heart speeding up to compensate for not being able to breathe. Clark had nearly died of shock when he realized the first time those eyes had made him swoon.

He found himself looking and Bruce and Diana with not just admiration but… something else. Something he wasn’t yet sure how to speak. His mouth felt like sandpaper whenever he tried to say it, even when he and Bruce locked eyes and realized they had been feeling the same way, it took Diana… talented as ever at bringing the words that needed to be said out of people, for those words to finally be spoken between the three of them. He loved her for it, he loved the quiet way Bruce had confessed, when he had realized that Bruce’s hands would sometimes start trembling when he tried to be more open with how he felt since he was forcing himself to say things that were hard for him, things that scared him despite needing to say them. So he and Diana took his trembling hands in there’s and their trinity was fully formed without another word having to be said.

After that, even with battles, and angst, and drama that just seemed to follow them everywhere… there came the things that were just… domestic. It was fun, really, since Bruce especially hadn’t let himself do domestic or particularly romantic things for a while… he’d sometimes stumble around their relationship in some of the sweetest and most endearing ways. He loved when he and Diana would exchange looks because their bat did something adorable (even if said bat would never admit he was cute because he’s batman he’s supposed to be scary apparently). While Bruce’s “Brucie” persona was notoriously flirtatious, it seemed all the suaveness went out the window when he really had people he deeply cared about to flirt with.

At this point, Clark was utterly unsure of how he could ever not adored this man, and was so grateful to have him and Diana in his life, and that he had held true to his father’s advice from so long ago so he could be open to really seeing both of them.

—-

“For fucks sake Clark I can make popcorn, I’m not completely hopeless, you just put the bag in the microwave…” Bruce began carrying a bag of not-microwave-popcorn over to the microwave.

“Boo, that’s not the kind of popcorn you microwave though… you have to do it in a pot with vegetable oil.” Clark said following Bruce in circles around the kitchen as Bruce tried to stay a few steps away from him.

“It’s in a bag isn’t it?” Bruce protested, frowning. “I can handle popcorn.”

“Please let me just show you how to do it at least don’t put it in the microwave you will set it on fire.” Clark pleaded ignoring Diana trying not to start laughing at their antics as she sat at the counter.

Bruce grumbled and half hardheartedly threw the bag of popcorn on the counter. “fine. Show me your ways 'oh popcorn master’ ” Bruce said with an over-exaggerated bow.

Clark bowed right back “Right away your majesty, if you’ll please allow me escort you to the stove o’ prince of ye olde Gothhhh-ham”

Diana cracked up at Clark’s teasing putting one hand on her head as she watched Bruce turn red and cross his arms. “Alright, Alright, stop stroking my ego before I get a big head about it.” Bruce said with an eye-roll only barely holding back a little amused smile.

Clark laughed. “Fine if I have to.”

Diana stood as Clark put the pot on the stove, bringing the lazily tossed popcorn bag over as she joined Clark’s side with a smile, putting a hand on his back and letting it linger.

“Alright, come here you.” Clark beckoned Bruce who was still standing with his arms crossed on the other side of the counter.

Bruce let his arms drop to his sides and wandered over to stand by his boyfriend and girlfriend and pay attention to the popcorn lesson.

“Alright, you just put about this much oil…” Clark explained as he poured it into the pot. “Then about this much of the popcorn kernels… then we cover it, put on the medium heat and… we wait…”

Bruce looked at the covered bot then at Clark. “That’s it??”

“That’s it!” Clark chirped.

“…I could have done that.” Bruce grumbled.

Diana planted a kiss on Bruce’s cheek, leaving a light lipstick stain. “But it’s more fun together… don’t you think?”

“…Maybe.” Bruce mumbled in response, now fully starting to smile, which now had Clark giddy because god now he can see those cute little dimples Bruce has when he smiles

Clark laughed and cupped the back of Bruce’s head, pulling it forward a little so he could press a kiss to the top of his forehead and run his hand through his hair. “That’s 'yes, it I am having fun with you two’ in Bat-speak.”

“Bat-speak” Bruce mumbled, his ears turning a little red only to jump when the first “pop” came from the popcorn pop.

“This better be good popcorn for taking longer to make.” Bruce said, narrowing his eyes at the pot like he wanted to fight it.

“It takes longer but we’ll have a bigger batch quicker to last the three of us and the jumping beans through movie night. Especially since we’re watching pixar movies tonight, I’m going to be bawling my eyes out and eating my feelings.” Clark joked.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow at him “jumping beans???”

“Yeah… you know, the kiddos, since their beans and they do a lot of jumping when crime fighting.” Clark said very matter-of-fact-ly.

“kiddos… jumping beans…” Bruce ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t let Damian hear you calling him that or he’ll be obsessing over how he’s "clearly not a bean” for the next thirty minutes.“

Diana chuckled. "I suppose like father like son…”

Bruce looked over at her. “What is that supposed to mean? How so??”

Clark chuckled. “Babe you spent thirty minutes arguing with us last week on how…” Clark cleared his throat and put two fingers behind his head to mimic the bat-cowl and purposefully did a poor impression of Batman’s voice despite the fact he could mimic it perfectly if he wanted to. “I’m not cute where why would you even think that? What possibly could have made you think that I’m Batman.”

Diana laughed, throwing her head back at Clark’s impression of their bat that was turning redder by the second.

“Point taken.”

Once the popcorn was done, they poured it into one bowl for the three of them, and three for the bat-kids to sort out amongst themselves and went to the living room… or rather the watch-room because of course the manor had it’s own theater that Bruce had installed just for the kids that now came in handy for movie nights.

“About time, we thought we were going to have to start without you guys.” Dick quipped, getting up from his sprawled out position across the couch.

“You can’t rush art.” Clark told him, handing him one of the bowls, smiling over at Bruce who was handing Damian one of the bowls and Tim the other so they wouldn’t argue with each other over it. Tim set his down to share with Stephanie and Cass while it seemed Damian had quietly decided that that bowl was his and his alone as Bruce suspected might end up being the case.

Dick took a bite of the popcorn and nodded. “Your right, popcorn is a very delicate and fine art that isn’t to be trifled with.” He set the bowl on top of Jason’s head to further tease him no doubt for sitting on the floor.

“If you don’t move that bowl in the next five seconds I’m going to send it flying.” Jason said, which only made Dick crack up as he gingerly moved the bowl to sit beside Jason’s head on the couch instead.

Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head as he reached backwards to grab and handful of the popcorn.

Diana pulled Bruce’s current favorite red weighted blanket over the three of them as Clark and Bruce got settled in, Bruce sandwiched between him and Diana very comfortably with their own bowl now in his lap as they started the movie.

As it began Clark heard Bruce let out a quiet sigh and whisper. “This is nice… I like this…”

“Yeah… me too…” Clark whispered back, draping his arm behind Bruce’s shoulders, Diana doing the same as they sat together, surrounded by family, just having fun with each other.

Clark relaxed into the moment, fixing it in his memory as one of the many times he now felt completely and utterly safe and accepted… like he really belonged.

And he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 3 Review & Rundown

Oh boy oh boy, this sure was a heck of a time wasn’t it? Not quite as panic inducing and chaotic as last week with the Hound playing fetch with Oscar’s body, but I still felt a great deal of dread and unease as things took a turn for the negative. Hopefully I can properly explain how.

We begin on a black screen as Ruby pants and groans in a way that made me worry I had put on the wrong video. But no, she’s just winded from riding the tube up to Atlas, and we see her stagger out to see the rest of the group awaiting her. Nora is being painfully held by the ear for what she did to Weiss last episode, but she defends herself by saying it was the kind of thing you only get to do once in a lifetime so she should be happy about it. Blake is the last one to pop out of the tube, and she seems to have had a real bad time coming up. Hair a mess, a little of balance, out of breath, she has good reason to want to NEVER do this again. May asks Penny for directions through the base, though she calls her “robo-girl” when she does it which isn’t the greatest nickname. Penny does a 3D scan of the base and pulls up a map for reference, or something cool and digital to that effect, its more of a visual thing than something you can explain. She gives a rapid series of perfect directions, much to everyone but Ruby’s wide eyed amazement. Ruby is just smugly impressed that her gal pal can do this sort of cool thing. Penny also takes this chance to assert that she would much prefer being called by her actual name. Ruby gives a smug “heh” that May is getting told off, to which May scoffs. Kdin herself has commented that this was meant to only be indignation at being chided for the nickname, not any annoyance at Penny being insistent on what she is called. Personal identity is something May understands well, and she does call her Penny from that point on. So it’s nothing to go insulting or slandering May over.

May puts up her invisibility bubble, and they head off. We see them standing around in an elevator waiting to reach their floor, a very relatable bit of comedy, before taking a few hesitant steps back as it stops on an early floor and two soldiers get in. These two are outside the bubble so they can’t see our girls, but it’s still a tense situation. They get to their floor and sneak around the soldiers while they’re busy talking about how creepy Salem’s horde waiting in the air is, and Nora plays a little prank by hitting every elevator button on the way out. The soldiers are so confused and annoyed! Reaching a door with a security checkpoint, Penny pops one of her fingertips off to reveal a USB insert that she plugs into the terminal to use Pietro’s credentials without his hand print. Ruby is quite impressed by this cool new tool, as would be expected of the weapons buff. May asks which way to turn, and Penny informs them that next they will need to go directly through the central command room. There are a lot of people crowded together and walking around, and May’s Semblance is not equipped for that kind of navigation. Fortunately, we get an answer in the form of what I’d like to call the Pennydex. She explains, with a fun cartoony visual, that Ruby’s Semblance allows her to do much more than just move fast, she actually breaks down to a molecular level so her mass can be negated and she can move faster. So, as we saw briefly in episode 1 of Volumes 4 and 6 with Nora and Weiss respectively, she can do the same to other people and transport a group since the mass of a whole group wouldn’t matter if they’re all just flying molecules. TLDR: We were misinterpreting Ruby’s Semblance the whole time and she can use it to get them through the crowded room easily. And judging from Ruby’s look of shock and confusion, she’s been misinterpreting her Semblance too. Harriet did say that her power is unlike anything she’s ever seen before back in V7... Blake continues to be the funniest member of the group by pointing out how Penny knew this was possible before Ruby did, and all Ruby can do is remind her (and us) that Penny also figured out Blake’s faunus identity before Ruby had. Not exactly painting yourself in the brightest light if your only rebuttal is further proof you’re not that perceptive... 

With the opening of a door we shift scenes to Ironwood explaining himself for being tardy to... whatever it is he’s doing, and blaming it on how busy today has been. Meaning he’s probably killed someone else offscreen. The only thing that pisses me off more than that idea is whom he’s talking to: Watts, working for Ironwood to try and hack Penny under threat of execution from two armed guards. Point all the guns you want, Jimbo, this WILL backfire on you in a tremendous way. As quickly illustrated in a podcast about this episode by an IT professional, it is VERY bad business to hire a malicious hacker who has made no efforts to prove his stance with your security or what he will do with his skills has changed. If you can’t understand the jargon on his screen, he will use your ignorance to stab you in the back and turn this in his favor. But it is at least fortunate for Ironwood that Watts is here, because he points out that Pietro’s credentials are in use within the compound and it’s a little uncertain if the general would have noticed that without someone there checking the system. Naturally, as the paranoid man he is, Ironwood declares a security breach and a code red lockdown, authorization to use lethal force granted. Hey, I said this was fortunate for Ironwood, not for our heroes! The girls are of course panicked and worried, Penny checking the systems to see the tubes have been sealed too so they can’t leave how they came in. May is ready to swipe an airship for them so they can bail immediately, but Penny is resolute that the mission can still be achieved. Nora gets a good idea on how to make this work, and we see May sneak into the control room while cloaked to trip a guy walking by with a cup of coffee. His mug, labeled #1 Dad Dud, flies through the air and the hot coffee spills on a coworker’s computer and lap. This poor guy Bill who just wanted to drink some good bean juice, gets screamed at by another employee while the victim of the spill runs screaming out of the room to change pants. Bill is apparently notorious for not heeding the sign they have pinned up to say no food or drinks in the control room, and while the angry guy lists off his misdemeanors Ruby swoops up the rest of her friends and zooms through the room towards their destination while everyone is occupied with Bill. There’s a theory Bill is actually Velvet’s father Will Scarletina, since according to Before the Dawn he does work in Atlas, but considering the kind of guy Bill seems to be I would kinda hope otherwise. He microwaved salmon, for Christ’s sake! Unforgiveable!

The girls, minus May who went elsewhere to get a ship for their departure, emerge from Ruby’s petal blur safe and sound... except Blake. Penny, Weiss, and Nora have all been carried by Ruby before and are used to it, but this is Blake’s first time traveling Air Rose. So while the others look very proud of a triumphant Ruby, Blake is panicked and trying to steady herself. We next see them walking along an ominous looking bridgeway to a door with an electrified field in front of it. Penny does her USB insert thing to take down the electric barrier and unlock the door, and the others ready themselves to fight whoever might be on the other side. Instead, they find an empty room with several terminal pillars, a couple chairs, and one central interface computer that Penny will be using. After the door closes, Nora notes that the electricity started up again. Penny sits down at the terminal, and after taking a moment to breath and prepare herself notifies Pietro over whatever comms they use that she’s ready to start. It’s cute that she calls him dad, reminds me that yeah they are a family. What’s much less cute is that Pietro then remotely takes control of Penny from all the way at Amity so he can use her to perform the complicated process they need to make the launch plan work. The size of her irises and pupils changes, as does the color of her irises from green to yellow. Makes me very wary of the fact that her eyes were briefly red in the intro... especially since Watts is on the job to try and hack into her. Knowing her being remotely controlled is already possible in how she is programmed is TERRIFYING. Ruby is understandably a bit confused and taken aback by Pietro’s voice coming from Penny. “Penny” starts the complicated task as Ruby watches and probably has no idea what she’s looking at, and we cut over to Nora as she looks around the room. She passes by Weiss and Blake, and Blake is the one to voice her concern for Yang’s group. Makes sense she’s so concerned, she’s an only child worried by the fact that Ruby and Yang butted heads like that. Weiss is a sister so she knows what it’s like for siblings to fight like this, she knows it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other less or are on opposite sides. They just have different ideas about what’s right. Clearly she’s drawing from her own feelings on going against Winter at the end of Volume 7. Nora also tries to reassure Blake by talking about how strong and talented Jaune and Yang are and how much Oscar has grown as a fighter. Blake and Yang both seem impressed and reassured by this appraisal, while we the audience know this is very far from the current truth, since Oscar has been stolen away and Yang was unable to protect him. But what is also noteworthy is that she said nothing about Ren. She notices her own gap in information and tries to offer something but... she has no idea what Ren is right now. She hates feeling like she’s losing him, like she has less and less of an understanding who he is than ever before despite the years they’ve spent together, and she’s unsure if she should blame him or herself for this. This time Blake is the one with sage advice pulled from her own bittersweet experiences. When you’ve been at someone’s side for as long as they have, your identities become intertwined and you can lose track of what is really you vs what is a part of them mixed in. It’s important to keep a firm grip on who you are, to be your own person outside of that other person. Clearly, this is a warning to not make the mistakes she did with Adam, for Nora to not blind herself with obsession and attachment to this partner she trusts so much. They don’t say this flat out, but we can read between the lines. It’s a very nice moment from Blake, but it only worries Nora more. She’s had Ren in her life for so long, she really doesn’t know who she is as an individual. That’s a bit sad to think about, but Weiss tries to look on the bright side and says this can be an opportunity for Nora to do some self discovery and find who Nora Valkyrie truly is on her own. All Nora can think of to define herself though... is the value of her strength and her destructive capability. That’s all people expect of her, and she is finally getting a chance to prove herself beyond that.

Before Blake or Weiss have a chance to reassure her, they hear some promising beeps from the computer and rejoin Ruby and Penny. Pietro explains through Penny that he’s cloned the imprint of Ironwood’s computer signature onto Penny, so when they run the launch sequence for Amity the system will connect to her to get clearance instead of going all the way to this terminal to get it from the General. She finally returns to being herself, and says she’ll be sure to rejoin her friends once the launch is done so she can help finish the evacuations, buuuut Pietro has a different idea. He wants her to stay on the tower with him and Maria, but Penny wants to be here and help her friends who need her. Ruby does her best to be diplomatic about this, but she has to agree with Pietro. If Ironwood was right about the tower being unreachable by Salem’s forces then it will be the safest place for the Winter Maiden powers until Salem is beaten or leaves. So maybe Penny should stay there, at least for now? Weiss agrees, while Blake tries to change the subject and say they should head to the hangar and GTFO. Penny unlocks the door while lamenting how often folks are having to do things they would rather not. Appropriately enough, the Ace Ops are waiting on the other side looking for a fight our girls would probably rather not be having. With all the authority of a neighbor at your door to ask for their vacuum back, Harriet insists they’ll be bringing Penny “home” now. RNBW are quick to draw their weapons in defense, and it becomes a verbal spar instead. Surprisingly, it’s Vine who steps up with the speech to convince Penny. And just like the General, its full of negging and gaslighting to make her think she only thought she’s been doing what’s right but really she needs to do what Ironwood says. That she’s not protecting people unless she’s getting the relic for Ironwood. Which is, of course, bullshit because 60% of the people are in Mantle and the General has expressly stated he wants to abandon them to die in favor of keeping his already well fortified 40% up in Atlas safe. Penny tries to defend herself and her position on things with Mantle, but Hare and Elm have a pretty damn backwards way of remembering the end of Volume 7 because they call Penny ungrateful and blame her for Winter being in critical condition. Let’s try to imagine how that dramatic climax would have gone without Penny being there, hm? Winter wouldn’t have been able to get through the arctic vortex Fria was creating without dying of sheer cold, Cinder would have burned through with rage or spite or just been closer when Fria finally collapsed and died. Penny saved Winter’s life twofold and delayed Cinder long enough for Ruby to come in and make the Fall Maiden panic and leave. Get bent, bootlickers...

Marrow and Harriet try to rapidfire good cop bad cop Penny into backing down and surrendering her access of the vault to them, but Ruby uses actual logic and says boosting Atlas into the sky won’t stop Salem, it will only harm more people and delay the inevitable. Or at least, she tries to but hot tempered Hare yaps at her to shut up or she’ll get arrested just like Qrow. Threatening Ruby is more than Penny is willing to allow, and she takes the clear bait to step out of the server room only for Harriet to close the door behind her and leave the other girls trapped behind solid steel and deadly electric current. Penny uses her Maiden powers and her sword array to put up a good fight, but it’s still 4 vs 1 and their teamwork starts to overwhelm her, especially when Marrow uses his trump card Semblance to immobilize her for Vine to put cuffs on her. Meanwhile Weiss tries to use her Summon Knight to break down the door and even the odds, but the electric field is too much. She and Ruby lament how unfair this is and hope Penny can last a little while, but we are seeing how poorly that goes. Nora decides she has to step up for the clutch play, repeating the only 2 things she thinks she can do. “Be strong, and hit stuff...” So she jabs Magnhild into the power source on one side of the door and starts absorbing all the electricity into her body, screaming like Goku going Super Saiyan 3. And the analogy fits, because lightning runs across her skin in cool jagged bolts of pink and her hair stands on end. With a swing and a scream, she bashes the doors in and knocks the Ace Ops back a bit before they can cuff Penny. But all things must come with a cost, and this blows through all her Aura and she passes out with a momentary glassly look in her eyes. Not only that, the pink faded but the lightning patterns are still on her skin as an extensive set of scars consistent with the Lichtenberg figure observed on people actually struck by lightning. In terms of predictions for future consequences, serious electrocution like this has been documented to result in paralysis to some limbs, brain damage or memory loss, and sometimes even blindness. I worry those last two could be possible, since she was already having a hard time determining who she was without Ren so now she might completely forget who she is altogether, or she might lose her sight completely. I don’t know if RT would dare to do that, but we do have Yang’s arm as an example of their willingness for consequences... Regardless, the heroes are now down a woman but they’re still ready to fight for their friend. 

Ironwood bitches and moans about losing the chance for the odds to be stacked in his favor since he can’t win this encounter otherwise, but Watts has a new plan for the Ace Ops. Harriet doesn’t like the new orders, but Marrow is ready and willing to obey. Elm quickly swipes RWB over the edge of the walkway before they can do much to fight back against the already winded Atlesians, and by the time Ruby can scoop up her teammates with her Semblance (thank goodness she learned to do that today), the damage is done. Harriet maneuvers behind Penny and yanks one of her swords out of her back with a heart wrenching pluck of the connecting string. Like pulling off a butterfly’s wing... especially since in this world weapons are supposed to be like an extension of your soul. With the sword yoinked their job is done here and they all bail, though Marrow has a remorseful look back at the teens as if he knows he’s trapped on the wrong side. Guess we know why he agreed to this plan so quickly, it was a grab and go rather than a total takedown of their former friends. Blake is the first to point out how incredibly sus this behavior was, but they don’t have time to fully ruminate on the situation because they’ve also done what they came to do and they need to GTFO. Carrying Nora, they meet May in the hangar where her jaunty greeting is cut short by the sight of the ginger girl’s injuries. They need to get her somewhere safe, so they violently bust out through the doors. While in the open air, Penny says her goodbyes and they reveal the ship can be a convertible so she can fly away. Ruby and Penny share a tender but deep hug, and Ruby promises they’ll see each other soon. I just worry when they do it will be on opposite sides of the battlefield, and this worry is not helped by the final scene. The Ace Ops deliver Penny’s sword to a satisfied Ironwood, though Harriet would have been happier taking all of those meddling kids down. Watts cryptically implies that with a piece of Penny’s tech they can make her join them, and anyone who doesn’t trust him immediately knows by “them” he means Salem. And that’s the worrisome note we end on this week. Will next week be better? With the element of future knowledge/ the curse of this review being a week or so late I can say NOPE.

[eyes0ny0u]

Pastel Mafia

@quagmireisadora finished Chapter 2 - FINALLY! TT ^ TT

CHAPTER 1: A ROUGH DAY

CHAPTER 2: WHEN THE GOING GETS ROUGH

Kibum sighed as he entered his apartment. Leaning against the door as he took off his shoes. He glanced at the microwave clock he could see from where he stood: 2:18 am. He's got maybe three hours before he has to get up for his part-time job at Albert's, a fancy bakery in the upper east side, at the opposite end of town. He would love nothing better than to sleep in tomorrow, but Albert's paid the best out of all his part-time jobs, and he got tips. 

Right now, he needed all the tips and extra hours he can get. His last roommate had bailed on him, leaving him with an entire two-bedroom apartment to pay. He had begged his landlord to let him pay for his half of the apartment and will get him the rest later.

Kibum remembered the call from St. John's collection department, he still owed them a portion of last month's installment. His fist clenched at the embarrassment of admitting to a total stranger he didn't even have five dollars to his name. His last one disappeared when he lost his wallet.

Kibum trudged to the tiny kitchen and pulled out the leftover Chinese from his bag, thankful that the shift manager had let him take home whatever portions were left. He popped the take out carton into the microwave and looked around his apartment, with its peeling paint and cold air - he had barely turned on the heater since winter began. He was sleeping with thick clothes on, the thermostat just above '5' at the dial. 

Kibum's eyes landed on the syllabus stuck to the fridge. The tears exhaustion couldn't squeeze from him poured at the thought that he will have to stop school. 

 God, he was tired. 

 So tired - but life didn't care. 

 Kibum wiped his cheeks. Squaring his shoulders as he pulled the warmed up Chinese and dug in. No use in indulging his tears. He didn't have enough food to drown his feelings.

  - O -  

 "Carlos Amarillo at 57, was confirmed to have passed away by his son, Gian Amarillo today. No details were given to what caused the business tycoon's sudden death. Amarillo, who was the head of the Amarillo Group conglomerate, was a noted businessman and humanitarian in the area -," Jinki tuned out the late night news, lips tightening at the praises. 

 "What a bunch of hypocrites," Taemin sneered at the TV. "Not a month ago, they wanted Amarillo's head for Hawthorne Bridge!"

 "Had they pushed a little further, they would've found proof of involvement," Minho interjected. 

 "They would have gotten paid off or threatened," Jinki said, reviewing the report on the shipment of electronics that arrived yesterday. "Or found their contact dead."

 "True," Minho agreed, swirling the scotch he had been nursing since the news started. "What do you think Junior will do?"

 Jinki leaned back, loosening his tie. He'd never worked with Gian before. All he knew about the new head of the Amarillo was that he was in the business, and he was ambitious.

 "I heard Gian was banished from the main family for running that side deal with Salazar," Jinki said, referring to a semi-prominent Mexican cartel. "So, I'm not sure if he's going to declare war or be open for business."

 "My money is on declaring war," Taemin said, slurping an oyster. "If he wants to gain the respect of his father's men, he'll be doing just that. I mean, you did when you took over the business."

 "Yeah, but Gian has a hater with his father's numero uno," Minho said, leaning over Taemin's oyster bucket to reach for the charcuterie board. "Rumor has it Vincenzo Benotti might be the old Amarillo's love child."

 "Really?" Jinki asked Minho. "I've never heard of this."

 "I'm not surprised," Minho shrugged before popping a cracker piled with pate and cheese into his mouth. "It's parlour game rumours; some drunken Amarillo lackey may have blabbed over drinks or said out of spite. You know how it is."

 Jinki turned to his computer and pulled up the file on Carlos Amarillo. Under the 'Known Associates' directory, was a picture of Vincenzo. The man had black hair and brown eyes. Just like Amarillo Sr. Being Italian that didn't mean anything. But something about the slant of the man's jaw reminded Jinki of Carlos. 

 "Minho, investigate Vincenzo," Jinki ordered. "I want to know everything. What town his ancestors were from to the brand of their favourite red wine."

 Jinki wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but it was worth investigating. Lovechild or not, Vincenzo might be vying for the top seat. Gian Amarillo could need some help with ensuring his position in the organization. His deal with Carlos Amarillo may not be as dead as he thought it was. On life support, but it looked like it could be revived. 

 He just needed to convince either Vincenzo or Gian that he would make a good ally despite the little fiasco last week. What're a few bullets between business partners? In their world, it was practically considered a nicety. 

 "By the way," Jinki suddenly remembered his pet project. "What do we have on the guy who saved my ass last week?"

- O -

 Albert's was, as usual, teeming with yuppies, grabbing their trendy breakfast before heading off to work. Kibum rang up orders as fast as he could, but his mind still on the unpaid bills he needed to take care of. Kibum glanced down the line, trying to determine how much longer the rush was going to last. With detachment, he noted the quality of apparel Albert's clientele sported and envied the financial security, all of them exuded. 

 "A croissant and a large of your medium roast, please," a woman with flawless makeup and Gucci bag said, barely looking him in the face as she pulled out a Valentino wallet. Kibum punched the order in; $15.08 for Anna. A breakfast for Anna was Kibum's meal budget for 3-days, courtesy of his employee rate at the Dong Fan Chinese restaurant.

 "An espresso please and the fruit and protein box," man in gleaming Rolex and Balenciaga briefcase ordered. His suit was probably Italian, ranging around $5,000.00 to $8,000.00, depending on the make—the leather briefcase around $2,000.00. The Rolex was at least $3,000.00. The guy's entire ensemble would have more than paid off his grandmother's hospital bill. 

 Sir, would you mind pawning me your Rolex so that I can get the hospital off my back? Kibum silently asked the yuppie who didn't bother leaving a tip. 

 "The yogurt parfait and medium-light roast, please," a red-head regular asked. The diamond engagement ring on her finger was so big; it was at least 2 carats with a platinum band encrusted with tiny diamonds. Kibum's entire year of schooling was sitting on that woman's ring finger. 

 Would you mind lending me your ring so I can enroll? Kibum asked the woman in his head as he flashed his practiced smile when she dropped a toonie in the tip jar. I would like to make more of my life than bussing tables and waiting on people. Please. 

 The next customer was dressed in a simple navy blue pinstripe suit. One could say the man didn't belong in the "fashionable" line. Working at Albert's for the past three years had taught Kibum how to size people at a glance. Gauging where they belong in the socio-economic ladder had become his weird expertise. Though the outfit was simple, borderline plain, the perfect fit of the shoulders and elegant drop of the knife-edge crease of the pants said tailored. The understated silver - most likely platinum - watch and leather loafers screamed old money.  

 "The blueberry muffin and a tall medium roast, please," the man said, handing Kibum a fifty dollar bill. 

 Kibum barely stopped an eye-roll. C'mon, dude, it's barely 8 am. Have a little sense, and don't drop a bill so large so early in the morning. "Sir, do you have a smaller bill?"

 "No change?" the man asked an eyebrow raised. 

 "Unfortunately," Kibum said with a fake apologetic smile. 

 "Keep the change then."

 "Sir, your total is $12.30," Kibum exclaimed. 

 "I don't have a smaller bill," the man said as he placed the bill on the counter and walked away.

 "Sir -," Kibum called out, but the next customer stepped in front of him. 

 Kibum punched the payment on auto-pilot and dropped the change in the tip jar, almost feeling nauseous. That was hella over the top, and somehow assholish in its extravagance. But he was thankful for the extra cash he was going to get. 

 After his shift at Albert's, Kibum rushed to the bus stop for his afternoon shift at Dong Fan. The bus was pulling away from the curb when he arrived. Kibum gritted his teeth against the frustration surging through him. He was going to be late for his shift and that meant income loss. 

 Kibum took a deep breath to stifle the string of curses rising from his chest. He took out his phone to call the restaurant but noticed he had an email from St. John's. He was tempted to ignore it but tapped on the icon anyways. 

 Kibum blinked at the message. He scrolled up again to check the sender. Yeah, there it was, St. Johns Hospital. But something was wrong because the email contained a receipt for the amount he owed the hospital.

 Confused, Kibum clicked on the phone number in the signature, brow furrowing as the call went through. After being transferred to accounting he asked about the status of his account. 

 "Your account is up to date."

 "Excuse me?"

 "Your balance was paid for in full yesterday."

 "By whom?" Kibum asked still in disbelief, afraid to believe. "I didn't make the payment," Kibum said. "No one else would make the payment."

 "Payment came in electronically from Jjinggu LLC," the agent answered. "It could be one of those angel-sponsors."

 "What's an angel-sponsor?"

 "They're anonymous individuals or organizations who will settle random accounts as part of their charity work."

 "And you don't know their names at all?"

 "No, I'm sorry. Payors are not required to identify themselves."

 "Ok... but you're sure, they made the payment against my account?"

 "Yes, sir," Kibum heard the operator's smile. "I'm one hundred percent sure, Mr. Kim." 

 "OK," Kibum whispered. "Thanks."

 "Was there anything else I can help you with?"

 "No, that's it."

 Kibum disconnected the call, reeling from the relief. Tears pricked his eyes as the weight of the debt lifted off of his chest. Kibum cupped his hands over his phone, holding it against his forehead. 

 "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Kibum chanted in whispers, collapsing on the bus stop bench, trying to contain the tremors running through his body. Glad for a very long time he was alone. 

[stray-writer-glitch]

okay, that’s it, it’s time for a movie and cuddles

Pairing: Chan x reader; Minho x reader (both platonic)  

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1,020

A/n: Wrote this at 1-4 am I am blaming any mistakes on that. This really is just some self-indulgent platonic cuddles. Thank you @arqueritefrost for helping me find which boys to write this for. 

Masterlist 

                                                           + + +

You looked up from the book you were reading Anne of Green Gables cause nostalgia was a thing when you heard the front door open and close. There was a telling groan from the hall. 

"Evening Minho." You called. "How was work?" 

"Hell." Your roommate dragged himself into the room flopping onto the couch. "I got yelled at by three different soccer moms and two separate football dads about toilet paper and paper towels. Another dozen people wanted to know when we'll restock the rice." He complained to you. 

You had set the book aside once he'd started talking manners. This wasn't the first time Minho came home annoyed and dead tired. Hearing out his rant was really the easiest way to get him out of his angry headspace, and as he ranted you felt an idea blooming. Once he was done you made your proposition. 

"How about you take a shower, I make a pillow fort, we drag Chan out of his cave and all of us have a movie night and cuddles?" 

"Are you implying I stink?" He raised an eyebrow at you, a slow grin crawling it's way across his face, well at least his humor is back. 

"Not at all, just that you smell like retail and the boys lockers at school." You grinned back. 

"I hate you." He sighed, heaving himself up and trudging his way towards the bathroom. 

"Love you too!" You called after him. Getting up you marched towards the bedrooms, you were on a mission to get all the pillows and blankets. Once all of your fluffy comfort creators were in the living room, and the shower was going, you decided to raid the boys’ rooms. 

Minho's was easy, don't touch the blanket hanging over the window but everything else is fair game. You knocked and promptly entered Chan's room after hearing a mumbled something. The room was shrouded in darkness, the only light source being Chan's laptop sitting on his desk with Chan resolutely in front of it. Your (other) roommate looked tired and done with whatever was on that laptop, it looked like an essay. 

"Chan, we are so having a cuddle fest as soon as I get that fort built." You declared. The curly headed boy looked at you, bewildered, as you got to work taking all the blankets and pillows from his bed. 

"At this point I'm not even going to question it." Was his only remark before turning back to his laptop. 

"Smart choice." With your hands full of pillows and blankets you nodded and marched out of the room.

The shower stopped running a few minutes after you'd gathered all of your building supplies in the living room. You got to business. Carpet was good and all but you decided to lay down a few thick blankets as well. Sofa cushions became walls and the sheets made a good roof, with the now-bare couch at your backs becoming the perfect table for snacks. Pillows for comfort and so many stuffed animals. During your building the cats made their way over. Soonie and Dori decided to claim their spots inside the fort early while Doongie supervised the building of said fort from her perch on the back of the sofa. You were nearly done when you heard Minho come in. 

"Nice." He immediately made his way inside, cuddling his baby fur-child. 

"I swear he only ever leeches off me, never volunteers his help, I tell you." You complained to Doongie, who gave a consoling blink. 

"No smart human would ever volunteer in your presence." You heard from inside the fort. 

"I'll get the popcorn if you'll get Chan." 

"I get first movie pick or you're helping me." He bargained. 

"It better be a good pick." You grumped, making your way towards the kitchen. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drag the Aussie out of his den, you just didn’t trust Minho in the kitchen...or with the microwave.

A few bags of popcorn later, you heard Chan's voice just a bit down the hall whining about being used as a bartering chip. Moments later you were back in the living room, now with two large bowls of popcorn. 

"Chan, how’s your day been? Haven’t seen you all day.” You commented much too cheerily, crawling into the fort and situating yourself between the boys. 

“Weren’t you both at home the entire day?” Minho snatched one of the popcorn bowls setting it between him and the sofa-cushion-wall. There was a smirk on his face. It was a definite improvement over the tired annoyance from earlier, as was the smell. 

Chan groaned. “I don’t think he left his room more than twice today.” You chuckled. 

“Essay for English, lab and homework for bio. I’m majoring in music comp, why the hell do I have this homework?” He grumbled. 

“Aww, hug?” You consoled. He nodded and wrapped his arms around you. You hugged back, gently playing with his hair. You honestly needed this just as much as he did. You felt another set of arms wrap around you from the other side, Minho has joined the hug, and Chan reached one of his arms around you to hug him too. 

You sat there for a while, just hugging. Eventually Minho reminded you that he was the first to pick a movie and you all settled in to watch after a few rounds of complaining. 

A few hours later found you with your head against Minho's shoulder and Chan's head in your lap as you played with his curly hair and listened to Minho ramble about his workday. There was a movie playing on screen but it was mostly there for background noise. Soonie was in Minho's lap and Dori was curled near your knees, Doongie being Chan's little-spoon-cuddle-buddy. Chan was sound asleep and you were drifting in and out of it too. Minho's voice paired with the murmur from the TV made you sleepy and comfy. Like a cat in a ray of sunshine on the bed. That's what Minho's voice was. Airy and soft while still present and warm.  

[writethehousedown]

And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Three (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: hello! welcome to chapter four of zyan tries her best to juggle all of the characters. i think we’re pretty much done as far as introductions go? so here’s where things start to get interesting. hope you enjoy! my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca - and frey is an angel for beta-ing.

“Is that a hickey?” Jan asks during their improvised breakfast.

It’s still early, so there aren’t many people at the beach just yet. The Sun is up and shining bright, and Gigi is so sleep deprived she forgot about the purple spot in the crook of her neck.

Gigi shakes off the tiredness and blinks repeatedly, her cheeks getting as red as a tomato when she notices all of her friends are staring at her. She decides that there’s no point in lying and sets down her plastic cup with steaming hot coffee Jackie somehow managed to prepare.

“I had sex with someone last night,” she simply says with a shrug. The screeches from her friends hurt her ears, but she had seen them coming.

“What? When did your hoe ass get a hook up?” Brita exclaims, “Did you download fucking Tinder again, sneaked out when we were all asleep, and came back?” Gigi laughs at Brita’s incredulous tone, though she’s nervous and her cheeks are still red.

“Ew, no, you know I don’t do dating apps. That’s how my ex happened,” Gigi says, matter-of-factly, “You see, Nicky was hoarding the tent with her inflatable mattress—”

“Hey! I did ask you if you wanted to sleep with me!” Nicky complains, folding her arms, though a laugh fights to escape her mouth.

“Yeah, and I told you my name’s not Jackie,” Gigi deadpans, and both Nicky and Jackie shut their mouths. She smiles cheekily and goes on. “Anyway, as I was saying; I left the tent, walked along the beach, found this girl all alone, talked a bit, and I guess it just happened.”

She purposely leaves out that the girl was no one other than Crystal, and they entered the sea, floating near the shore until, much like Gigi predicted it, she fell off the board and Crystal had to drag her back to the shore. The fabric of her tank top stuck to her skin, making her shiver like crazy, and Crystal tried to help her warm up, she really did — but one thing led to another, and before Gigi knew it, Crystal was sucking on her neck as her hands pinned her down.

The girls holler, not believing what they’re hearing. All of them say some sort of variation of there’s no way your game is that good, and Gigi just lets them talk as she sips on her coffee.

Her phone rings in her bag so she aims for it, juggling to unlock it. She bites back a smile when she sees the notification from Instagram.

@crystalandmeth has started following you.

Gigi wants to smack Crystal for having such a handle. No wonder she couldn’t find her when she searched her up after that night at the bar.

*

Scarlet vaguely scans the pool; it’s just opened and it’s still fairly early, but there are girls sunbathing, taking pictures, and some children playing by the edge of the tiny pool, splashing each other. She smiles at that. Sometimes she even likes the kids - when they’re not pushing each other into the big pool and Scarlet has to prevent a child from drowning, that is.

The hotel is medium sized, but since it’s the summer, there’s not a room that’s not booked. She knows. Her mothers have owned it for the last twenty years. She grew up running around the halls and with the noise of the tourists settling in their rooms, dragging their suitcases with big smiles plastered across their faces.

Though her mothers have insisted that she didn’t have to work at the hotel during the summer if she didn’t want to, Scarlet had decided to fill the position of lifeguard for the morning shift until they find someone else. It’s not as if she minds, anyway; she has nothing better to do, since all of her friends traveled outside the country for their vacations, leaving her stuck in the island. That’s the downside of being friends with stuck up rich kids, she supposes.

She tells a few kids to stop running, brings back a volleyball that ended up landing on the deep side of the pool, and that’s about it, for the most part. The morning shift is very laid back; the pool usually gets crowded during the afternoon, but that’s Adore and Courtney’s problem.

Lunch time rolls around before she notices it, and she closes the pool with a relieved sigh, immediately going to the cafeteria.

Scarlet picks a frozen burrito and asks one of the ladies working at the cafeteria if they can pretty please heat it up with the nice microwave they have in the kitchen. Belinda rolls her eyes with a playful smile and squeezes Scarlet’s cheek before complying with her wishes.

“Damn, I didn’t know we could ask to use the good microwave,” a voice pipes up from her side. Scarlet giggles and turns around to look at whoever said that.

She’s met with the sight of a gorgeous woman with pink wavy hair. Scarlet licks her lips before answering.

“Oh, no, that’s uh, that’s staff privilege.” She shrugs, and the woman clicks her tongue, visibly disappointed. Scarlet looks at her plate and cocks an amused brow when she sees the bland vegetarian sandwich. “I don’t think you’ll need the microwave now, though,” she points out, nudging at her plate, and the woman stifles a laugh.

“Ah, that, yeah. This is all my stomach can handle right now — one of my friends got a little too carried away doing the drinks last night,” she comments, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Scarlet chuckles, she knows the feeling.

“Hangover food? Been there. I’m a little bolder though, I prefer French fries with a lot of ketchup,” she replies, just when Belinda hands her back her burrito. Scarlet blows a kiss her way and turns her attention back to the woman, slightly biting her lip before speaking. “D’you wanna sit together? I mean, unless you’re waiting for your friends.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m not waiting for them, I’d be stuck here for hours if I was,” she dismisses it with a wave of her hand and laughs. Scarlet thinks she has a pretty laugh. “I’m Yvie.”

“I’m Scarlet,” she introduces herself with a shiny smile.

*

Crystal sighs as she juggles her phone, struggling to put it on speaker as she currently is trying to make a decent lunch — never mind the fact it’s four p.m. and she skipped breakfast to sleep in.

She finally manages to put it on speaker and Vanessa’s voice fills the room, her tone far too annoyed and one Crystal’s grown to know all too well.

“Can you believe it, Crys? She’s but a child, and the bitch is almost thirty! I’m disgusted,” Vanessa rants, and Crystal almost snaps her optic nerve with the way she rolls her eyes.

“Vanj, hold the fuck up. Plastique is twenty two, in case you didn’t know, and Brooke is still twenty seven; the gap isn’t that big,” Crystal says. “’Sides, you two broke up last year, it’s obvious that she has moved on. So why don’t you focus on your hot bodybuilder girlfriend before I steal her off you.” She smiles cheekily when Vanessa gasps offended on the other side of the line.

“Hey! Plastic, Plastique, or whatever her name is, looks like a fucking teenager. How was I supposed to know?” She defends herself; Crystal can almost see her folding her arms with a childish pout. “Kameron is doing some gigs in California, photographing for an ice skating tour or some shit. She’s busy, but I did invite her for the competition.”

“Ajá.” Crystal is more focused in her lunch, making sure to cut the pepper as thin as possible. She knows it would’ve been easier to just order takeout, buy a soda from the drugstore around the corner, and settle in the couch and watch some garbage TV, but sometimes she misses the taste of a home cooked meal.

Vanessa goes on, talking her ear off about Kameron and how happy she is with her. She rolls her eyes; for someone in a happy relationship she sure talks a lot about her ex.

“…But that’s enough ‘bout me. What happened with you last night? Jaida came back way before you, bitch, and you reeked of sex. Like, you could barely walk straight, and you weren’t that shit faced. Spill, Glass,” Vanessa changes the topic, and Crystal nearly cuts her finger with the knife.

Her cheeks heat up when she remembers what happened at the beach with Gigi. Crystal doesn’t know if telling her to take off her soaked clothes on a whim had been a good or a bad idea, but she doesn’t regret anything — even if she still has sand in her scalp.

She clears her throat before speaking, glad that Vanessa can’t see her awfully red cheeks.

“Well, uh, remember Smoothie Girl?” she begins, throwing the pepper in the cooking pot. Vanessa musters an affirmative response. Crystal breathes in deeply. “So, like, Jaida and I finish our thing, and she tells me we should stop sleeping around, and I got excited, thinking she wanted to go on a date or something like that. But no, she actually meant that in a literal way, and naturally, I had already embarrassed myself,” Crystal rants with a groan. Vanessa just listens, “So, she left and I just. Stared at the water I guess. Then Smoothie Girl appeared out of nowhere, shit happened, one thing led to another, and suddenly I was pinning her to the ground.”

There’s silence on Vanessa’s end for what seems like an eternity, and Crystal proceeds to cut the chicken in tiny cubes, trying to not let her nerves get the best of her. She expected Vanessa to screech so loud she’d end up deaf.

“So, what you’re tryin’ to tell me is that your cheesy ass got ditched, and instead of moping around for a week, you went and slept with someone else right after?” She inquires slowly, as if she’s talking to an infant. Crystal rolls her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit, Glass,” Vanessa declares calmly, “There’s no way in hell. You’re bullshitting me. You’ve been chasing Jaida Eleanor Hall’s ass for two years now—”

“Hey! That’s not true. It’s been a year and a half,” Crystal defends herself.

“—a year and a half, and you didn’t feel the least bit heartbroken? Really?”

Crystal shrugs, but soon realizes that’s stupid; Vanessa can’t see her.

“Vanj, you act as if I was in love with Jaida, to begin with,” she points out, perching herself against the countertop for a moment. “The girl was hot, I won’t deny it, and the sex was great — but, like, I told you I didn’t think we’d ever be something serious. I don’t hold any grudges against her.” And it’s true. Crystal’s disappointment at the moment had been magnified by the fact she made a fool of herself by misunderstanding what Jaida meant, and the alcohol usually made her a more sensitive person, if that was even possible.

Vanessa stays silent for a moment yet again, until she hears a loud sigh and some rumbling. Crystal frowns as she throws the chicken to the cooking pot, turning up the flames.

“Alright, I believe you, Glass. Now tell me, you and Smoothie Girl…?” She leaves the sentence hanging, prompting Crystal to complete it.

She laughs shortly, before checking her phone and seeing a notification from Instagram. She grins cheekily, wondering if Gigi had waited so long to follow her on purpose.

*

Jaida takes a spoonful of ice cream, trying not to choke with laughter at Monique’s re-telling of the previous night. She’d been gone for a short while, though apparently that didn’t prevent shit from going down.

“You should’ve seen Vanessa’s face when Brooke left with Plastique, oh my God, it was priceless,” Monique tells her, as enthusiastic as ever. Her ice cream melts more and more with every second that passes, but she can’t bring herself to care. Except when Monét tries to steal some of it, apparently. “Girl, had I known the bitch was that bold, I wouldn’t have invited her. I’d like her to still be alive by the end of the week.”

“Hey now, it’s not her fault Vanessa isn’t over Brooke,” Monét cuts in, “Plastique hardly knew any of y’all. She may not even know Brooke is Vanessa’s ex.”

Jaida hums in agreement, her mouth still full of ice cream. The three of them are staying at the same hotel, and they’re lucky enough there’s a good ice cream shop around the corner, so they decided to take the day off and just hang out. Not that the hangover allowed them to do anything else in the first place.

“Also, Vanessa’s a grown woman; I don’t think she goes around pitching fights because her ex’s over her, she’s better than that,” Jaida adds, wiping the rests of ice cream off her face.

Monét and Monique agree with her, and the conversation drifts to various topics, though Jaida notices they’re making an effort not to bring Crystal up. She appreciates it, because right now that’s a can of worms she rather not open.

It’s not that she regrets being with her, it’s more like she hates herself for dragging their thing for so long, and by the way Crystal bit her tongue and nodded wordlessly when she told her she rather stop this, she can tell she hurt her — at least to some degree, because the rest of the night she’d acted as if nothing happened and everything was cool. Jaida doesn’t know if it was faked or not.

Monét and Monique start to argue about something, probably about how they’re not going to be easy on each other just because they’re girlfriends now; they go way too fast for her to catch up, especially since she’s still eating her frost mint ice cream and can’t be bothered about their relationship right now — she hears about it on the daily, anyway.

Jaida brings the spoon to her lips when she looks past Monique’s shoulder, looking at the entrance of shop, and she freezes for a moment. She blinks repeatedly, until she knows for real this is not her eyes deceiving her; the same woman as last night is seating near the entrance with someone else, chatting and laughing and looking even prettier in the daylight.

She squints, trying to remember her name; Jen, was it? She’s pretty sure she heard her friend say it, but she can’t remember that well.  

Jaida pulls her gaze away when she realizes she’s staring, and tries to focus on whatever Monét and Monique are talking about. But soon she feels someone looking at her, and she steals a glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye; she finds that she’s staring back at her, but she quickly withdraws her gaze.

Jaida smiles against the spoon. She doesn’t question how is it possible she ran into her again, especially considering the island is big and the chances of seeing her again were slim. Perhaps it’s a coincidence.

“I’m telling you, ‘Nét, this bitch had an edgy phase!” Monique exclaims, tugging at Jaida’s arm, causing her to accidentally throw a good chunk of ice cream on her blouse. Monique stays still for a moment as Jaida fumbles with the tissue paper. “I’m sorry, girl,” she says, with her tone so high pitched and full of regret, Jaida finds it hard to get mad at her.

She sighs dramatically, leaving the tissues aside and standing up. “Don’t worry, sis, it’s no big deal. I can wash this, anyway.” She shrugs. “Though I’m expecting you to buy me a pina colada next time we hit the bar,” she teasingly says before leaving to the bathroom.

She can hear Monét’s laugh and the smack Monique gives her on the arm, pitching the blame for Jaida’s ruined blouse on her. Sometimes Jaida swears neither one of them knows the volume of their own voices.

She wets a tissue and gets the ice cream off her skin before it gets sticky. The bathroom is tinier than she expected, but at least there’s no one else.

Or so she thought.

“Sweet baby Jesus, Nicole, how did you manage to burn the eggs?” a voice speaks from one of the stalls, and Jaida jumps a little.

A woman comes out from one the three stalls, holding her phone in the crook of her neck as she washes her hands. Jaida stiffs a little when she notices it’s the girl from the beach. Jen (or Jan), apparently, remembers her too, because she stops for a moment when she sees her, biting her lower lip before speaking again.

“Nicks, just, don’t touch anything else from the kitchen. Jackie and I will come back in a moment — please don’t listen neither Gigi nor Brita, they’re as bad cooks as you, 'kay?” She hangs up and sighs loudly, drying her hands before putting the phone back in the pocket of her shorts.

“That’s quite an interesting daycare you got there,” Jaida comments lightheartedly, throwing the tissues to the trash. The woman chuckles, turning to see her.

“Keeping toddlers in their twenties alive is my passion,” she deadpans, playing with the hem of her shirt. Jaida laughs shortly. “I’ve heard they’re easier to take care of once they’re thirty,” she comments with a cheeky smile, making Jaida laugh again.

“I wouldn’t have my hopes up if I were you,” Jaida replies, checking herself in the mirror and making sure she’s wiped off all the ice cream

She sucks in a quick breath, looking back at the woman, who’s perched against the sink, texting someone.

“Hey,” she says, catching her attention. “This probably sounds crazy, but is there any chance you were at O'Ahu beach last night, looking for a ball, maybe?” Jaida wonders, and almost right away she sees Jen (or Jan) cheeks lit up.

“Oh, Jesus, I was hoping you wouldn’t remember me. That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry.” She covers her face with her hands and Jaida laughs softly, coming some steps closer.

“Girl, it’s fine, for real,” she assures her, and Jen (or Jan) slowly uncovers her face. The rosy tone in her cheeks makes her look cute. She bites her lower lip before continuing. “I did mean it when I said I can’t be mad at a pretty girl.”

Jen (or Jan) smiles sheepishly and laugh, tucking a strand of lose hair behind her ear.

“Well, I meant it too when I said you’re not so bad yourself. I didn’t mean to finger gun you, though.”

Jaida laughs, and for a moment she forgets she has to go back to Monét and Monique. They strike up a conversation, and Jaida learns that her name is Jan and not Jen, and that she blushes a deep shade of red whenever she compliments her in any way. Jaida thinks she’s the cutest girl she’s ever met.