#i suppose we all end up writing a coffeeshop!au at some point

[dulce-pjm]

caffeine crush

word count: 4.3k 

genre: fluff, coffee shop!au

summary: all it took was one trip to the cafe to cement a friendship you never wanted. but it’s high time you fess up and call it all off. 

Yes, you’d picked up the habit last August, you’re certain. 

Classes had yet to start but, growing tired of your overbearing family, you decided to head back to campus a week or two early and get a head start while the university was still mostly empty. 

You didn’t exactly get a ton of work done, but those few weeks were relaxing. Cleansing, even. You spent your mornings wandering around campus and the surrounding area, soaking in the summer sun. Your afternoons were spent curled up in a comfy chair in the corner of the library, nose deep in a romance novel. You found yourself eating better, exploring the city and finding new activities and niche locations. At this point, you thought you would make an excellent tour guide if someone hired you. You knew nearly every corner of the blocks surrounding the university. You’d made it a game to leave no stone unturned, memorizing the storefronts and seeing what hole-in-the-wall restaurants and shops you would find next. 

You were playing just this game when you met Seokjin.

It’s not like you particularly liked coffee. It’s always been much too bitter for your taste. No amount of sugar or cream or pumpkin syrup made the drink worth it to you. 

But you set your personal preferences aside for the mission. How could you give coffee shop recommendations to your imaginary tour group if you’d never tried them out yourself?

And it was with that mentality that you tentatively stepped inside the near-hidden cafe, door chiming as you made your entrance. 

The minute you walked in, you fell in love with the atmosphere. The place was well ventilated and cool, perfect for someone like you who preferred to keep the thermostat at ‘obscenely low temperatures,’ as your sister would say. The walls were coated with muted mints and greens. Draping plants decorated the wooden shelves scattered across the far wall and the soft jazz playing over the speakers made you feel relaxed. A large chalkboard menu hung behind the counter, fresh flowers sat by the cash register. The smell of coffee grounds was undeniably comforting and potent, despite your general dislike for the drink. 

This place was perfect. You could imagine your friends applauding your efforts now, praising you for managing to stumble on such an amazing hideout, tucked away from the chaos of university campus yet still within easy walking distance. 

The cafe was almost completely empty, save for a couple about your age camped out at a corner table. You barely paid them any attention except to be jealous of their closeness as they giggled over something on the girl’s phone. 

You approached the counter, curiously vacant of any employees. You looked left, you looked right. But no one appeared. 

The couple, too absorbed in their own world, did nothing to aid you as you stood helpless in the middle of the abandoned store. You gave it a good ten seconds before you felt much too awkward standing here all alone and gave up, turning to leave. 

And just as you did, you heard a collection of scuffles coming from the back and a door swing open with a creak. 

“Oh, I am so sorry. One of our frothers broke and made a huge mess.” You spun around. And your jaw dropped. 

Before you stood the most godly man you’d ever seen. 

The first thing that caught your eye was tufts of soft lavender hair, shining under the cool vintage lights. His eyes were wide and dark and warm, making you shift on your feet when they focused on you. His shoulders were broad and wrapped in a thin, cream turtleneck despite the warm weather. You practically drooled when you caught sight of his lips, full and soft pink.

He looked just like every male romantic lead you’d read about in your spare time. A purple-haired prince charming. A knight in his shining, corporate-regulated apron. 

“Were you waiting long?” His friendly voice snapped you from your daze before your thoughts could roam further to his muscles and chest and-

“No, not at all.” Could he tell you’d just been ogling? You really hoped not. 

“Good, good.” He shoots you a relieved smile that has your knees shaking. “Well, what can I get for you?” 

Shit, he was pretty. The slope of his nose and jaw and the swell of his cheekbones looked like they’d been crafted by god himself. Not that you were particularly religious, but after this encounter, you mused that maybe one day you could be. 

You were already fantasizing about the future the two of you could forge together. Stolen kisses, cuddles by the tv, a cozy house full of little purple-haired kids. His pillowy soft lips looked awfully inviting. You wondered what it’d be like to lean onto the tips of your toes and press your lips on his, to run your fingers through his hair, to-

“Uh, is there something I can get for you?” 

Shit. You’d been caught red-handed. 

“Oh! Um... uh...” You couldn’t focus. The words on the menu were suddenly too blurry as your tunnel vision zoomed in on him and only him. “A latte! A latte is fine.”

Seokjin smiled sweetly, making your stomach flutter. 

“You got it! Just a sec.” He spun away, running back and forth between the different contraptions that look more like convoluted machines from a sci-fi movie than coffee-related appliances. 

You were still trying to collect yourself when his hand brushed yours as he passed your drink across the counter. A shiver ran unwelcomed down your spine. You barely managed to fork over a few bills when the man shook his head adamantly.

“I made you wait. This one’s on the house.”

God, he was hot and nice? How?

“Oh, thanks...” Your eyes found the small name tag pinned to his blue apron. “Seokjin.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling adorably. 

“Not a problem. See you around.” He said it like the two of you were friends and not strangers. Like he was going to miss you when you walked out the door. 

You felt his gaze on your back as you left the tiny shop, bells chiming as went. 

You knew you’d be coming back. 

And come back you did. 

You’d reasoned that it wasn’t because of Seokjin, no, of course not! You liked the cafe, it was quiet and there was plenty of room to study. 

Oh, who were you kidding? It was totally because of Seokjin. The cafe was nice, you guess, but you don’t even like coffee! Rather, you used your time spent in the shop half actually doing your work and half staring at Seokjin and letting your mind wander. It was a stress reliever, really. A guilty pleasure, to bask in his glory. 

It was a harmless habit. You got your work done and got to stare at an angel sent from heaven, and Seokjin had extra business bolstering his paycheck when you dragged your friends with you to camp out at the cafe. 

It was harmless. 

Until you’d spent the better part of four months somewhat stalking him and now he knew your face. 

So when a certain someone tapped you on the shoulder in January as you settled down for the first day of class, you really should have known this would happen. 

“Hi!” he’d exclaimed, taking the seat next to you before you could protest, not that you wanted to. “I didn’t know you were a student here.” 

It was Seokjin. Hot barista from the coffee shop, Seokjin. In your class. Talking directly to you. Except now, he’d traded his purple locks for warm brunette ones. It didn’t take away from his appeal at all though. It made him seem boyish and younger, suiting him well. 

“Oh, hi...” You were at a loss for words. Never in your life did you think that Seokjin attended your university, let alone would be taking the same classes as you. Wouldn’t you have seen him by now? How did this slip under your radar?

“Y/N, right?” His smile widened when you nodded, confirming his suspicions. 

The professor walked in a moment later, informing you all that the person next to you would be your partner for all projects for the rest of the semester. Your stomach dropped to the floor

And from then on, Seokjin was your friend. 

You’d done your best to fight it, to resist him but you were only pulled deeper and deeper. 

Before then, the line of acquaintanceship was defined, set in stone. You knew his name, sure, but only because of the context of the situation. You had no reason to talk to him, to know him. And he had no reason to remember you. 

But once he confirmed your name, claimed the seat next to you, expressed excitement at being your partner (because he’d seen how studious you were at the shop, he said- and what a lie that was), the line had been crossed and blurred. He made a point to smile at you every time you arrived to class, to ask you how your day was going and if you were planning on stopping by the cafe any time soon.

It didn’t take long, however, for fantasy Seokjin to crumble before your eyes. Your dashing prince charming turned out to actually be a gluttonous man-child. Long gone were the days of your innocent crush on him. No longer could you sit and daydream about his perfect self when you were watching him pig out on take-out dumplings and listening to the most cringe-worthy jokes you’d heard in your life. 

“So I was at this vegetarian restaurant, right?” You nodded, only half paying attention as you made final edits to your presentation on Nordic traditions. “And this girl comes up to me and starts to tell me how I’d done her so wrong and she was finally standing up for herself.” 

At that point you were interested, allowing yourself to watch his dramatics rather than your laptop screen. Was Seokjin secretly an asshole? A heart breaker? God, this couldn’t be farther from how you’d imagined him months ago. 

“But the thing is-” He paused, meeting your eyes to make sure you were fully paying attention, which you were. “I’d never even seen herbivore!”

A fully offended sound left your throat as Seokjin burst into squeaky, boisterous laughter at the disgusted expression on your face. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to fake laugh. That joke was absolutely dreadful. 

See, this is normally when relationships- dating and friendship alike- started to go downhill for you. You were much too idealistic. You set certain expectations for anyone and everyone before you ever laid eyes on them. And when they didn’t meet those expectations, it was easy for you to lose interest. Once you realized that they weren’t the person you’d hoped they’d be, you realized you’d never really liked them at all. You’d just gotten too caught up in your head, too captivated by your own imagination to recognize that you were walking into something you didn’t want.  

Seokjin, though, was different. He’d been drastically far from your expectations, absolutely. But instead of that eventual feeling of self-directed bitterness and regret for setting yourself up for failure, you felt guilty. Overwhelmed with guilt and shame, actually. Even if he had an awful sense of humor, Seokjin was great. He was kind and charming and teasing and thoughtful and earnest. He was genuine. 

Yes, if there was one word to describe Seokjin, it was genuine. But if you had to add a few more words, they would be ‘too fucking nice.’

When you were about to be keeled over in the school’s bathroom, puking your brains out with the flu, it was Seokjin that had noticed you were feeling off and chased you down after class. He’d been the one to see how sick you were, to hold your hair while you were bent over the toilet, to take you to the doctor and bring you homemade soup for dinner. 

While you panicked about the project due in the next few days, Seokjin adamantly insisted that you rest and promised that he could take care of it for you. He was unwavering in his resolve and despite the guilt brewing in your stomach alongside the nausea, you almost let yourself think he was doing this just because he wanted to, not because it was his personality. 

You didn’t deserve him. Not his friendship, not his love, not his time. He’s out of your league. Hell, he’s playing a different sport entirely. What you were doing wasn’t fair. This friendship didn’t happen because you were genuinely nice like Seokjin. It happened because you were lonely and, frankly, thirsty.

So, while you’re taking your final exam for your class with Jin, you reach the conclusion that it’s time to fess up. To admit who you really are, what your motives were, the reason you kept coming back for coffee you didn’t like. And then you’d cut it off. Not that you think you’d have to. Seokjin would see just how crazy you were and then never speak to you again. Things would be right with the universe and you’d be guilt-free, if a little embarrassed. 

Your pencil hovers over the scantron and you consider that you probably should have spent all this time focusing on the exam and not your friendship’s impending doom. 

But this class had been nothing short of an easy A, so you decide to have a little faith in yourself that even you could choose the correct answers while your mind wandered elsewhere. 

Yes, this was the best option. It’s not like you were in love with Seokjin, missing his presence and smile the minute he walked out the door and admiring the way his laugh lit up a room. Seokjin wasn’t some unreachable fantasy. You wouldn’t be retreating to your room sobbing if he was suddenly gone. He was just a person. He was just Seokjin. You could let him go. He could realize what you really were.

Easy peasy. Right? 

When you shoulder your bag and trudge out of the exam room, Seokjin is waiting for you, despite finishing a few minutes earlier. He was much too nice to other people like that. He hasn’t quite noticed you yet, too absorbed in a conversation with a fellow classmate. You indulge in his objectively perfect features for what will likely be the last time, but you don’t let your imagination wander. You just take the moment to appreciate what is in front of you. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m pretty tired...” You note the awkward, apologetic smile on his face and wonder what they’d been talking about. In that moment, his eyes flicker to yours, immediately lighting up. “Oh, Y/N!” He shifts towards you, leaving the poor girl to flounder. While he smiles enthusiastically your way, your expression is almost completely neutral. The abandoned classmate looks back and forth between the two of you, trying to decipher your relationship. You sigh, internally scolding him for wasting his attention on you. 

“Hey, Jin.” You address him by the nickname you’ve heard his friends call him. He’d never explicitly told you to call him that, but when it accidentally slipped out one day, he smiled to himself and you added the name to your vocabulary.

“Well, how do you feel? It’s over!” You shrug, shifting the backpack you always carry to the other shoulder. 

“Not as good as you do, I’m sure.” Seokjin’s brows furrow curiously and cutely, not understanding where you’re going. “You’re graduating? I’m still stuck here another year.”

“Ahh, at least the semester’s over. You are coming to my graduation, right?” You shoot him a look saying something akin to, ‘are you stupid?’

“Of course I am. You’d never let me live it down if I didn’t.” Seokjin laughs but doesn’t argue. You realize the classmate from before is long gone. You’re not sure when she left. Good, now you can tell Seokjin what you’ve been meaning to. “Can I talk to you?”

“Aren’t we talking now?” You sigh, loosely crossing your arms. 

“You know what I mean, Seokjin.” Sensing your serious demeanor, Seokjin immediately drops his teasing smile, switching his expression to one laced with concern. 

“Yes, of course. My shift starts in half an hour, though. Can we talk on the way to the shop?” 

“Sure.” Perfect, actually. Walking side by side, you wouldn’t have to watch that soft smile turn into an expression of disgust when you admitted what you were about to. 

As the two of you walk across campus and into the city, you tell him everything. You tell him how the minute you saw him, you’d thought he was the hottest person you’d ever laid eyes upon. You tell him how you came back almost thrice a week just to stare and think about him. You tell him how you don’t even like coffee, but your frequent visits to the shop have made you dependent on caffeine. You tell him how you’d had a bit of a crush on him, no, on your fantasy version of him for months. You tell him you don’t feel like that now, that you just feel guilty that this friendship existed when it was all born from a lie, from a terrible habit you couldn’t seem to break. You tell him how fake you are.

“And you deserve better than that, than me. I’m sorry I dragged you along for so long. I shouldn’t have.” You haven’t looked at him once this whole time, too ashamed to clue yourself in to what he’s thinking. “I think that’s everything.” Seokjin stays silent for a few agonizing minutes as the scenery morphs from tall, brick lecture buildings and trees into a more urban environment filled with bustling streets and colorful displays in the store windows. 

“Can I ask a question?” You jump at his voice. You’re almost surprised he’s still here. 

“Yeah.” You nervously fidget with your backpack straps, still refusing to even glance his way. 

“When you actually got to know me better, were you disappointed?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded nervous. Heat rises to your cheeks. Shit, you’d hurt his feelings, hadn’t you? Why couldn’t he just get mad or storm off to leave you in the dust? Did he think that you hated him? That you were tired of him and that’s why you were doing this? You had to make him understand. You are the problem, not him. God, why was this idiot so nice?

“What? No!” You’re frantic with worry. Maybe you were being too egotistical to think that your confession had hurt his self-image, but you were willing to take the risk. “You’re great, Seokjin. You’re sweet and thoughtful and funny- well, actually your humor could use some work -and perfect. You’re a great friend. It’s me who’s disappointing. You’ve never disappointed me, not once.”

If you could just tear your eyes from the sidewalk, you’d see that Seokjin was grinning from ear to ear, over-the-moon ecstatic your compliments. Neither of you has ever been great with words, so you hope your pep talk was enough and that his silence is a good sign. 

The skies have begun shifting away from bright and sunny to grey and cloudy. The air is thick and heavy, like it’s about to rain. Just your luck. You should have checked the weather channel this morning. 

“We have caffeinated drinks other than coffee on the menu, you know.” 

Really? You’d just confessed your most embarrassing secret and that’s all he had to say? You stumble over your words, not sure whether to be flustered (because you definitely didn’t know that) or frustrated at his unwavering good nature. 

“Oh.” You grow sheepish and pretend to find the dirt under your fingernails interesting. “I guess I had a hard time focusing back then.” Those days had long faded away. You didn’t crumble under his gaze anymore or struggle to form coherent sentences around him. He’d long lost his mystery. 

Then, Seokjin laughs. He laughs and he chuckles and giggles and you cringe. You want to crawl into a hole and never come back out. When other times you could find humor in the rambunctious sounds spilling from his lips, now it only felt jarring, like a smack in the face. He was laughing at you, at how much of a hopeless idiot you are. You suppose that was better than him feeling betrayed and never wanting to see you again. Though he hasn’t exactly ruled out the latter. 

This is what you wanted, this is what you wanted. 

You say nothing, consumed by your own bitterness, as Seokjin calms down. 

“You’re pretty stupid, Y/N.” Your face falls. 

You knew that. He didn’t have to tell you. 

You were stupid to keep showing up at the coffee shop like a lovestruck teenager. You were stupid to believe Seokjin was your friend or that he might have even enjoyed your presence. He was just too goddamn nice and you were too goddamn stupid.

As the two of you get within a few blocks of the cafe, Seokjin’s hand brushes against yours. 

“Oh, sorry.” You’re quick to yank it away, almost burned by his touch, but to your surprise, Seokjin chases after it, fastening his palm against yours and intertwining your fingers. 

What was he doing?

“What are you doing?” For the first time since you started your rambling, you look at Seokjin, gape at him. But the timing is poor and now he’s staring straight ahead, not giving you a passing glance. 

“Do you really think I would have given you free drinks and sat next to you in class and talked to you every day if I didn’t at least like you a little bit?” You’re rendered speechless, eyes bugging out of your head.  

“I- um...”

“For being an accounting major, you really are the densest person I know.” His tone is light despite his blatant insults. “Don’t you realize I had a little crush on you, too? I was so excited when I realized we were going to share a class, but you never gave me the time of day.”

Your mouth opens and closes but no words leave it, not unlike a fish. 

“I've nearly asked you out at least three times now, but I kept chickening out.” 

The entire world feels like it’s flipped upside down. It’s like gravity’s stopped working and your head is spinning and you’re dizzy and your heart as burst and Seokjin’s hand enveloping yours is the only thing keeping you from floating away into the sky. 

The revelation smacks you in the face. 

Seokjin’s a liar. Not as genuine as you’d thought, after all. 

While you spent a semester pretending you liked coffee when really you just thought Seokjin was hot, he’d spent the next pretending he was only interested in your friendship when he’d been harboring a crush on you. 

You struggle to contain the small smile on your face. Seokjin’s hand gently squeezes yours and lightning shoots up your skin and spine. 

Seokjin’s eyes finally meet yours as the two of you stare sheepishly at each other. His gaze flickers to your lips a few times and you openly ogle at his, but he doesn’t lean in. He simply lifts your entwined hands and smiles, a short breath leaving his nostrils in place of a chuckle. It’s content and peaceful. There’s no need for love declarations or romantic kisses. You think you could be happy here forever knowing Seokjin wants you by his side. 

The moment ends when a raindrop hits your nose, startling the hell out of you. 

While you’re disoriented, Seokjin laughs and tugs you into the shop, now only a few steps away. The place is rather busy for it being lunchtime, but Seokjin weaves the two of you through the throng, stopping by the staff door. 

He looks at you with slight mischief. 

“You know, since it’s raining, you should probably just stay in here. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” You want to scoff, tell him that’s ridiculous and that your dorm is only a few minutes away. But you swallow your retort and let him have his moment. 

“Good idea,” you agree solemnly with a nod. 

“Actually, you should probably just stay until I’m off my shift. You never know when the rain might pick up again.” This time, you can’t help but quirk a brow. 

“Because you’re planning to protect me from the rain? You don’t have a jacket either.” Seokjin gives an offended look, like you’d just insulted his pride. 

“No, it’s so we can get sick together. It’d be romantic.” You scrunch your nose. Having fevers and runny noses and gross coughs together? Doesn’t seem like an ideal first date. 

“Sounds romantic.”

“I’m glad you agree.” 

You’re staring at each other again, in your own little bubble, until a customer brushes against your shoulder and you’re reminded that Seokjin is technically on payroll right now. He has a similar realization and reluctantly releases your hand, blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he steps through the staff door. You roll your eyes, feigning embarrassment, but on the inside, you’re melting. 

You plop down in your self-assigned seat in the most well-ventilated part of the cafe that also has a very convenient view of your favorite barista. The semester’s over and you have no work to do, but you don’t mind, content to watch Seokjin work while mindlessly giggling when he shoots you winks in between orders. 

You don’t fantasize or wonder where this might go. You don’t think your imagination could come up with anything better than what’s in front of you. 

You do predict, however, that you’ll be spending many more hours cooped up in this little cafe. 

Old habits die hard, you suppose. 

[pers-books]

I was tagged by @thisbluespirit (thanks!) to list 5 of my top fics I’ve written. I confess, I don’t tend to think of my fics in such terms, unless it’s ‘top 5 Kudos’ or ‘top 5 comments’, but I already did that meme! So, top 5 that most enjoyed writing, are:

The Name's Wolfe, Berenice Wolfe: 007, Licensed to Thrill - I wrote this for a Kissing Prompts thing I was doing in the first half of last year (and which I’d previously done in a different fandom). It was written for the kissing prompt one sliding their hand into the other’s hair slowly and I wish I’d been able to write more of it.

It's not a date - it's just dinner at a fancy restaurant - this originated with a post of @slightlyintimidating‘s as has occurred more than once! In this case I found an old post of Sev's with a list of Berena prompts which this one: Robbie doesn’t show at a date and when Bernie gets Serena’s angry and upset text she turns up because “I wouldn’t want to waste a reservation at this restaurant.” and the Bitch Muse just ran away with it!

Bean and Gone - this was sparked by a wlw book I read, although things went differently in the book. Anyway, it’s one of two fics I wrote for @batnbreakfast’s birthday last year and it takes the Bernie-as-a-coffeeshop-owner meme to the hilt. I even designed a bloody logo for the coffeeshop, despite having no graphics skills!

The Long Road to Happiness - oh look, another one inspired by @slightlyintimidating​! Someone posted a list of Celebrity AU prompts and, as per bloody usual, my Bitch Muse leapt on more than one of the prompts. And when Sev reblogged it, she said (of the prompt “we were both child stars on the same show, your career skyrocketed and mine went nowhere, now 20 years later you’re on my doorstep at 3 a.m.” au): #or the child stars one where Bernie married big actor or director Marcus to hide #and ended up having a successful career but has suffered and now filed for divorce #then ran away to Serena to try and hide from the inevitable press clamour for her. And then this happened...

McKinnie and Wolfe: Monster Hunters - I wrote this for the Holby Halloween Monster Mash 2020. It was inspired by a collection of short stories that was my Halloween read - the idea just wouldn’t go away, so fic happened!

Jason Haynes: Matchmaker -  I was inspired to write this by this photo of Jemma Redgrave in a white vest top from her appearance in the TV show Judge John Deed. 

Bernie - my reworking of the play Barnes’ People - Rosa in which Jemma Redgrave starred as the eponymous Rosa last year.

Oblivious - I posted a list of Intimacy Prompts and invited people to pick one or two for me to write. An Anon offered me 9 - watching movies / tv shows, 13 - cuddles and 14 - sharing drinks with the additional request: just them being oblivious idiots doing all domestic stuffs and being basically “married” without realizing it. Thanks :) I absolutely LOVE writing ships from an Outsider Point of View and writing Bernie and Jason bonding was an excuse to do just that here.

Letters to a Naturalist - my first ever - and probably by now infamous! - ‘live action’ fic in which I wrote the actual physical letters in this story and sent them to @corvidden​. I’m proud of the amount of research that went into this fic, if nothing else. 

Aren't you supposed to be dead? -  Someone posted a list of celebrity AU prompts, which I reblogged ages ago and saved some of the prompts for future consideration. Randomly, the Bitch Muse decided this morning to write a slight twist on "wait, you’re supposed to be DEAD and I just recognized you at the grocery store, turns out you just didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore” au and here we are...

Oh damn! The instructions said 5 fics and this is 10! Well I’m not taking any of them back!

Anyway, tagging (with the usual no obligation to participate caveat!) @slightlyintimidating​ @corvidden​ @doctorjameswatson​ @ktlsyrtis​ @magnass​ @sententiousandbellicose​ and @lapalfruity​

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for moonanstars124

The request was for fluff, found family, annoying the extended family, and AU coffee shop vibes (which I took extremely literally). I had a lot of fun writing this (my first actual coffee shop AU!) and I hope you enjoy it @moonanstars124!

Read on AO3

*****

The Burial Grounds

“Is there even a point in telling you what I want?” Jin Zixuan asks. “As you’ve never once made what I ordered.”

Wei Wuxian beams at him. “Of course! It gives me direction. A genre, if you will.”

“You do have a specific listing for a surprise drink.” Jin Zixuan resettles a-Ling on his hip. “If I wanted that, don’t you think I’d have ordered it?”

“Well, no,” Wei Wuxian explains reasonably. He reaches across the counter and pats the baby’s cheek. “If you wanted to get what you ordered, you’d have asked Wen Ning to make it.” Wen Ning turns from where he is setting up the soup tureen to shrug in apologetic agreement.

Jin Zixuan sighs deeply. “Someday I’m going to stop tipping you.”

“You can do that on the day that you don’t like what I make you,” Wei Wuxian informs him. “I mean, you won’t, because ajie would never stay married to someone who didn’t tip. But I would understand if you considered it.”

Lan Wangji half-listens to the exchange from his corner table. It is a familiar one, enough so to be pleasant background noise without distracting too much from his book. When the proper disruption comes, it is neither unexpected nor unwelcome, as it happens every morning around this time. He has already closed his book and moved his empty cup to make room for the small chalkboard that appears in front of him.

“Spicy vegetable for the soup,” Wei Wuxian announces, flinging himself down in the other chair. It is not yet nine in the morning, and he already looks happily tired. Lan Wangji nods and wipes the board clean—perhaps not strictly necessary, but if he redoes the borders, Wei Wuxian will sit with him for longer and take a proper break. “White chocolate and cranberry scones, because ajie loves us very much. And...hm. I’ll do a blueberry mint lemonade today, I think. Do we have blueberries?”

This last is for Wen Ning, who sets down Wei Wuxian’s coffee, Lan Wangji’s refill, and a plate with two of the aforementioned scones. “We do,” Wen Ning confirms. “But they’ll go moldy soon, so you should use them up.”

“Perfect.” Wen Ning smiles at both of them and returns to the counter. Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, stretches his legs full-length, and looks around the coffee shop with satisfaction. One of his ankles comes to rest against Lan Wangji’s. Without looking up from the chalkboard, Lan Wangji puts his free hand on the table. Wei Wuxian laces their fingers together and dips a scone in his drink.

This is how mornings have gone nearly every day for a few years now. Wen Ning arrives early to open; Wei Wuxian staggers down from the apartment upstairs after being prodded awake by Lan Wangji, who claims his table and reads as the coffee shop comes to life around him. Jin Zixuan arrives at some point, bearing the day’s soup and pastries from Lotus Pier Cafe and often as not a dinner invitation for all of them from Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji earns his coffee by writing out the day’s specials; Wei Wuxian seizes the opportunity to sit down for as long as it takes him to complete the task. Then Lan Wangji gives his table over to the morning rush and goes to work himself. Cloud Recesses Books is close enough to walk to in good weather, and he gets there in time to open. When the coffeeshop closes at three, Wei Wuxian wanders over and spends the rest of the afternoon doing his own reading or debating with Lan Qiren. It is a pleasant routine, and Lan Wangji sometimes has to stop and wonder at how happy he is.

There has been a coffee shop here for decades, under one owner or another, but the Jiangs bought it only three years ago. Lan Wangji remembers perfectly the first time he visited it after that. It was Lan Xichen’s idea to see what the new management had done with the place, and they went for lunch the first month after it reopened. “‘The Burial Grounds?’” Lan Xichen reads, pausing outside the door. “Interesting name choice.”

“After the Burial Mounds, presumably,” Lan Wangji points out. “The nature preserve outside the city.”

“Ah,” his brother says. “Naturally.”

Despite the name, the inside is entirely pleasant: walls repainted to brighten the space, spider plants hanging in the windows, a detailed menu in plain neat lettering on the chalkboard above the counter, specials in the same writing on a smaller one by the pastry case. “They must outsource their food,” Lan Xichen observes, nodding at the familiar lotus image. “The Jiangs own Lotus Pier too, so it makes sense.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says. He is listening. He is.

Lan Xichen follows his gaze to the mug on the counter, which holds pens for signing receipts and also a small rainbow flag. “Ah,” he agrees. “That is a pleasing development.”

The line is long enough that they can take their time reading the menu. This is good, because it contains none of the conventional titles. The Med Student, Lan Wangji reads. Four espresso shots in a cup. Below that is The Jiejie: soooooup! (See Specials board for today’s variety). And on and on: The Peacock (a white chocolate mocha with nutmeg), The Angry Brother (chamomile and hibiscus tea), The Adorable Nephew (warm milk with honey), The Headshaker (“Decisions are hard, so let us surprise you!”). Some have less of a story, Lan Wangji thinks: The First Timer is just a latte, and The Adventurer promises undisclosed amounts of cayenne. The result is a place that feels well-loved without being unwelcoming.

“It certainly has character,” Lan Xichen observes as they near the counter. The young man who takes their orders has a quiet earnest smile; he carefully lists the non-dairy milk options for Lan Wangji.

Despite the line, they find a window table easily enough—it is towards the end of the lunch hour—and they watch the street while they wait. It is only a few minutes before a different employee appears with their orders, mugs and bowls balanced precariously enough that Lan Wangji watches the soup in some alarm. But the dishes and their contents reach the table safely, which means that he can look up when the server says brightly, “Can I get you anything else?”

Lan Wangji thinks, Oh. He only barely prevents himself from saying it aloud, and the effort keeps him from speaking at all.

“Oh, wow,” the beautiful man says, staring back at him. Then he shakes himself. “Uh. Sorry. Is this your first time here?”

“We thought we’d see what the new ownership had done with it,” Lan Xichen explains. There is laughter in his voice, subtle enough that Lan Wangji hopes nobody else can hear it. “Our family owns Cloud Recesses, the—”

“The bookshop down the street!” The server’s face lights up—lights up more—and Lan Wangji gives up any hope of forming words himself. “I’ve been in there a few times. I thought you looked familiar.” This is to Lan Xichen; to Lan Wangji, he says, “I haven’t seen you before, though.” He does not say, I would remember, but the sentiment comes through clearly enough that Lan Wangji feels his ears go pink.

“My brother just finished university,” Lan Xichen explains. The amusement has become noticeably less subtle. “He will be working with us.”

“Oh wonderful!” the beautiful man says. “We’ll hope to see you again, then. Both of you, of course.” He sticks his hands into his apron pockets. “I’m Wei Wuxian, the manager. Which is, you know, terrifying. I’m probably not supposed to tell customers that part, though.”

Lan Xichen laughs aloud now, kindly, and Lan Wangji loves his brother for the way the beautiful man—Wei Wuxian—relaxes. “We understand,” Lan Xichen says. “Starting a business is a rather stressful experience at the best of times. I am Lan Xichen; this is Lan Wangji.”

“Welcome to the Burial Grounds, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says gravely, eyes dancing. “Please do let me know if you need anything. Or Wen Ning, he’s honestly much more capable than I am.” He jerks his head towards the counter, where the young man who took their orders is wiping down the espresso machine. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I hope you’ll come back.”

“I am certain we will,” Lan Xichen assures him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes linger on Lan Wangji’s face for a moment. When he manages to nod agreement, the smile widens. Wei Wuxian ducks his head at both of them and disappears into what is presumably the back room.

“Well,” Lan Xichen says, after a moment. “This is a delightful discovery.”

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says, deeply pained. He suspects that his ears have gone full scarlet by now.

“I mean the coffee shop, of course.” Lan Xichen takes a sip of his latte and hums with pleasure. “And as a small business ourselves, it’s only right to support others in the neighborhood. We shall have to become regulars.”

Lan Wangji sighs.

He returns alone the next day, just for a coffee in the morning. The one after that, Wei Wuxian sets his drink on the table with a hesitation that already seems out of character. When Lan Wangji tilts his head in question, he says, “I, uh, made you something special. If you want the one you actually ordered, I’ll do that instead, I just...sometimes I get the idea for new things, and I thought you’d like this one.”

Lan Wangji looks at the mug in front of him. It looks like the perfectly dull mocha that he had ordered, unsure what else to get, except that there are flower buds of some kind on top of the foam. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods and takes a cautious sip. “Lavender,” he says. He closes his eyes, which helps keep his brain from panicking when Wei Wuxian sits down in the empty chair. “Salt. Something sweet, apart from the chocolate?”

When he opens his eyes, Wei Wuxian’s smile is brilliant. “Birch syrup,” he confirms. “Good, I wasn’t sure how much that would come through; I haven’t used it before. But do you like it? You’re the first person to try that one.”

“Mm.” Lan Wangji looks down at the cup again: something made just for him, not for anyone else. “I like it.” He lifts his head again.

“Oh, wow,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, as he had the first day. “Sorry, I know I’m being weird. I just hadn’t seen you smile before.”

“Not weird,” Lan Wangji says, when he finds his voice. “At least, I don’t mind.” He clears his throat. “Thank you. For the drink. You should put it on the menu.”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian grins. “I can do that.”

There is indeed a new listing on the large chalkboard the following day: Dark chocolate mocha with lavender, sea salt, and birch syrup. Lan Wangji looks at the name of it and swallows. The Beautiful Stranger, it says, printed neatly in white chalk below The Headshaker.

When he has been coming to the Burial Grounds several times a week for a month, Lan Wangji arrives one morning to find Wei Wuxian darting frantically back and forth behind the counter. “Wen Ning called out sick,” he explains, when Lan Wangji gets to the front of the line. “This is definitely my reminder to hire more staff. I meant to, since we’ve been doing pretty well, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it. Anyway, sorry, what can I get you?”

Lan Wangji looks at the smear of cocoa powder on his cheek and says, “Is there anything I can do? I do not know how to use the machines, but I could help with other things.”

“You know,” Wei Wuxian says, “that would actually be amazing. Uh, let’s see. I need to get the Specials board up but my handwriting is atrocious. Would you mind? We’ve got chicken dumpling soup and vegan ginger snaps. No drink specials because I have too much else to worry about today.���

When that task is done (“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian says, staring. “Well, I know I’m never ever showing you my writing”), Lan Wangji clears tables and wipes down the counter and takes orders. All the while, Wei Wuxian darts around the shop like a cheerful whirlwind. “Don’t you have to go to work?” he asks at one point, managing to pour a perfect latte and read the next ticket at once. “I’ll manage. I mean, I don’t know how, but—”

“I have texted my brother,” Lan Wangji says calmly. “He and uncle will cover the bookshop today.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “I feel like I should fight you on that, but also I don’t have time. Thank you.”

At three o’clock, Wei Wuxian sets the Closed sign, draws the curtains, and collapses facedown onto the couch where the college students like to study. Lan Wangji regards him for a moment, then puts down the rag he was using to wipe down the last table. He still cannot use the espresso machine, but the kettle is a more familiar creature.

Wei Wuxian lifts his head blearily at the clink of saucer on table. He sits up enough to drink his tea without spilling it, and he devours two of the ginger snaps that Lan Wangji brought over in rapid succession. Lan Wangji sits down in the armchair across from the couch and sips his own tea.

The cookies seem to revive Wei Wuxian a little. “Thank you,” he says. “Again. For the tea and for, you know, everything. How can I repay you? Not a rhetorical question.”

Lan Wangji cradles his tea, glad to have something to do with his hands. “Well,” he says, “when I came in this morning, I meant to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian looks at him, wide-eyed. “I—hang on, past tense? Did you change your mind? I guess you did just get the total immersion experience, which I’m told is a lot—”

“I enjoyed the experience,” Lan Wangji says. “But I do not wish you to feel obligated. I will not ask you in a conversation about compensation for my labor.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “Because you think about things like that, because you’re a ridiculously good person as well as gorgeous and in possession of unbelievably nice handwriting. Hold on.” He sets down his mug and goes to the counter, does something out of sight involving paper and a pen, and returns. “Here.” Lan Wangji puts down his own tea and inspects the offering: a gift certificate (filled out in a scrawl that is admittedly dreadful) for enough to keep him supplied with coffee for a month, more if he cuts down on his visits. “And I’ll get you all the tips from today, once they’re counted.”

Lan Wangji does not imagine that he will be cutting down on his visits.

“This will do,” he decides, and tucks the paper away in his wallet. “And half the tips. You worked very hard.”

When he looks up again, Wei Wuxian is fidgeting beside his chair. “Sure,” he says. “Great. So is the compensation conversation finished? Can we have the other one now?”

Lan Wangji smiles; he cannot do anything else. Deliberately, he stands up so they are facing each other. Wei Wuxian swallows, but his eyes are bright and he is smiling helplessly as well. Lan Wangji says, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian replies immediately. Then, “You mean like a real date, right? I mean, I’d still say yes either way, but just so we’re clear.”

“A real date,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“Oh wonderful,” Wei Wuxian says. “I really hoped that was what you meant. Yes. Did I already say that?”

He is still in his apron, which has great smears on it from when a cup of coffee spilled on the counter earlier. His hair is coming loose from its tie for at least the fourth time that day; there is raspberry syrup on his forehead and powdered sugar on his nose. He is very, very beautiful.

Lan Wangji reaches up and tucks one loose strand of hair behind his ear. It does very little to help anything, but it means that he gets to feel the slight intake of breath as Wei Wuxian goes still. Lan Wangji does not drop his hand back to his side. Instead, he cups Wei Wuxian’s cheek very gently. He whispers, “May I—”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, a little hoarsely. “Yeah, yes, please—”

Lan Wangji kisses him. Wei Wuxian makes a soft sweet sound and puts both arms around his neck; Lan Wangji cradles his face a little more firmly and drops his other hand to the small of Wei Wuxian’s back, drawing him in.

And so now it has been three years, or near enough. Lan Wangji dutifully writes out the Specials board every morning; the main menu also bears his script. He has met Wen Qing, who is now a surgeon and no longer the Med Student of the four expresso shots but who remains alarmingly intense. He has also met the Adorable Nephew and the Headshaker as well as the Peacock, Jiejie, and the Angry Brother, all three of whom received him with some combination of suspicion and amusement. “So you’re the Beautiful Stranger,” Jiang Cheng says, having shown up at the Burial Grounds to demand an introduction all of two days after that first date. “Hmph. He’s been yammering about you for a month; you better have been worth it.”

Lan Wangji is trying to be worth it. He plans to ask Wei Wuxian to marry him soon, and he thinks that Wei Wuxian will probably accept. This doesn’t really make the prospect of proposing any less daunting; what does is the way Wei Wuxian pulls him back to bed for sleepy kisses in the mornings, trusting and sure of affection reciprocated. Lan Wangji rather expects that he will slip and ask the question at one of these times, rather than at the dinner date he has scheduled for their anniversary. He doesn’t really mind the idea.

[taxicabinmemphis]

hey so I wanted to write some short logince hope y'all don't mind it's a human stage actor au with the dialogue prompt "you kill him you kill me" bc I had inspo for it I'm just really bored and don't wanna write my other wips and hate my musical theater class

(tw food mention, murder attempt, knives)

Logan pushed Roman back towards the fence, staring at their attacker with a fire in his eyes. He was nervous too, but he didn't let it show.

"Why did you punch Roman?" Logan asked, standing in front of his coworker protectively.

"Why do you think?" the man said. "He stole my role!"

Logan rolled his eyes. "He got the role you wanted; there's a difference."

"I want his role. And I wanted to work with you. We would make a showstopping team."

Roman scoffed from behind Logan. "There's other roles. But I really want this one, so-"

"What? I'll have to kill you for it?"

Roman snorted.

The man pulled out a knife. "Well, then. You're in luck."

Logan heard Roman back up in shock and collide with the fence. Logan's nerves rose and his face hardened.

"If you kill him, you kill me," Logan said firmly, making sure his body was fully in front of Roman's.

The man paused his movements. "We deserve to work together."

"No. We all deserve the roles we got."

"I didn't get a role."

"Exactly."

The man pointed his knife at Logan, an irate glare demonizing his features. "I will not hesitate to run you through with this to get to him."

A series of metallic clinks was heard behind Logan. The actor ignored them, but because he had an idea of what it was, decided to keep the man occupied.

"That would be highly illogical," Logan stated. "Your hands aren't gloved. The police could easily match the blade to your knife. Your shoes aren't too big; I noticed the way you were walking. There's a security camer-"

"Shut up!"

"I thought I would tell you all the problems with your murder attempt."

"I don't want to-"

Logan suddenly felt himself get pulled back and lifted by his collar. His eyes widened in shock, hands grasping at anything they could hold onto—which ended up being the metal fence behind him. He quickly realized Roman was on top of the fence and trying to help him up. Logan immediately started scaling up and over the fence as fast as he could, hearing him and Roman's feet hit the asphalt on the other side simultaneously. Roman's hand immediately clasped around Logan's and they took off in a run. They vaguely heard their attacker start to pursue them.

They ran down the street, both running faster than they ever had before. Roman spotted a crowded Starbucks nearby and dragged Logan into it.

Roman threw the door open with his free hand, Logan following his costar into the coffeeshop. The door shut behind them as customers regarded the two panting actors with alarm.

To both surround themselves with people and be inconspicuous, they entered the long line.

Logan searched his pockets for his wallet. "Oh no, I might not be-"

Roman put a hand on his arm. "Everything you want is on me."

"Thank you," Logan replied graciously. "It would be very suspicious for me to enter the line for coffee and have no money. I'll be sure to pay you back-"

"Nonsense. It's all on me, no strings or paybacks."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I want to," Roman interrupted with a smile. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

Logan opened his mouth to object.

"And besides, even if you hadn't done that, I could never let someone so handsome pay."

Logan felt his face heat up. "This really isn't the ideal time for a date, especially considering we are supposed to work toge-"

"Oh honey, no," Roman said quickly.

Logan couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Our first date will be under much better circumstances—and also not at a Starbucks," Roman continued with a grin. "There's this new Italian restaurant on 12th Street; it's not too far from the theater either. I hear it's very fancy and very good. I was thinking that we could dine there after closing night, both as a celebration and as an act of courtship."

"Are you asking me out after you almost got murdered?"

"Are you accepting?"

Logan couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face.

~

I know it's bad. I'm just really bored, sleep deprived, and don't like my current class. This was a way to distract me. I hope you liked it despite the low quality!

[useragarfield]

Hiii Lolo!! 💕 This is for the favorite fics ask game! I got a little carried away because I was so interested/excited...here ya go! 😊 🎭 😱 🥰 👩‍👩‍👧 👩‍⚕️ 🎲 ♾

If you don’t want to answer them all that’s completely fine!! Thanks in advance! Love ya!! Hope you’re having a lovely day because of course you deserve it!!! ☀️💓

(THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS DEAR. i wanted to wait to respond until i could do some deep diving and give you a real answer. as a fic writer myself, i do tend to reread my own stuff, but i don’t want to me indulgent or anything so none of it is here but sljgksg i hope YOU are having an amazing day and i’m so flattered that you cared to ask.)

😊 a fic you like to read when you’re happy

drinking salted water by grimgrace (THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN)

this fic is so familiar to me it’s like a warm, spidey scented hug. one of the first fics i read over and over because it was simply perfect with just the right amount of bittersweet. happy endings and spidey kisses? i’m S O L D

Poster Boy by MilkshakeKate (THE MAN FROM UNCLE)

milkshakekate is simply the best and my favorite tmfu writer, which is saying a lot because that is a dedicated writing fandom there and i owe them my life. anything they write is incredible, but something about the secret rendevous mid mission and all the uniform stuff really uh. got me.

Gwen Stacy and the Wonders of Spider-Sex by Jenetica (THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN)

i’ve read this so many times i could not tell you. the relationship growth? the intrigue? THE HOT SPIDEY OF IT ALL! never been and never will be disappointed by this fic.

B O N U S

the language of touch by moodyreindeer (CLOAK AND DAGGER)

alright this section of ao3 & fanfic.net is tiny for one of my favorite pairings but i fell in love with this fic the first time i read it and have never fallen OUT. it’s so genuine to them and i love it sm. idk. read it, it’s GREAT.

🎭 a fic you like to read when you’re sad―either to cheer you up or because it matches your mood

Reckless by ninemilestogo (THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN)

a truly detailed tasm au where my kids are ANGSTY but end up happy and also the best use of the comic book villian chameleon ever. although to be fair, i haven’t read enough of them.

😱 an angsty fic

may i feel, said he by sugargroupie (ONE TREE HILL)

on the surface this is smutty, but it’s my favorite naley fic OUT THERE in these streets. the writer does teenage nathan so well i yell a lot on the inside. i don’t know how many times i’ve read it.

The Man, the Mystery, Richard Castle by RachelCAstrid (CASTLE)

one of the first castle fics i stumbled upon after my rewatch and it has my whole heart!! it’s sweet and angsty and in depth, and you can’t lose by reading it. DO IT. i dare you.

B O N U S

the sole relentless tenderness by satellitesonparade (YOUNG JUSTICE)

wally and artemis will make me cry for the rest of my life, and this is one of the best writers for it, so yeah. gift yourself. read it. sob saltily.

🥰 a fic for people in love

She thinks it’s funny that they’re awkward in bed by Emma_dghc (CASTLE)

this just makes me swooooooooon. i love intimacy and little moments a lot in my fics, it’s what sells me on relationships between characters, and this did an incredible job! one of my favorite fics set in season five, which is a fic fave for me i suppose with this pairing.

by any other name by FreshBrains (DIRTY DANCING)

after i watched and fell in love with the movie i combed through the archives and THIS was my favorite one in the whole place! it’s just so, so lovely. i find that with older films it’s harder to find things that feel written true to character, and this knocked it out of the park.

Bodies at Rest by PollyLynn (CASTLE)

at this point in my life i have a read (read: a LOT) of caskett fanfics in my time and there are many more in my future, but this really stands out to me as one of my favorites. their burgeoning relationship season 5 is truly - chefs kiss - and it’s the first (or second?) fic of @pollylynn ‘s that i ever read, and without it i wouldn’t have begun to work my way through all of their incredible stuff! check them out, they are a gift.

👩‍👩‍👧 a fic that makes you your appreciate your (found) family

The Team by loveJLforever (YOUNG JUSTICE)

the og young justice crew is one of my FAVORITE found families and i envy anyone who can do GC format because that shit is taxing as hell. this is hilarious and in character and i’ve read it through multiple times.

👩‍⚕️ and a hurt/comfort fic you like.

Teach Me To Live by dontoutchthefics (PHANTOM OF THE OPERA)

at this stage in my life i kind of set up a house on ao3 and rarely dare to venture to my old place on fanfic.net, but for this story it was absolutely worth it. it’s a gorgeous phantom of the opera modern/coffeeshop au that still has singing and this authors prose is STUNNING. it was a fic i stumbled across simply due to @ilustrariane ‘s INCREDIBLE commission which i highly suggest you also check out.

🎲 one fic that made you change something about your life, and what: 

Lessons for the Lost by KayMoon24 (MULTI-DISNEY)

this was literally the first and only time that i actually connected enough to email back and forth with any fanfic writer online! their prose and respectful + in depth taking on different topics just blew my mind for a disney fic and it’s still top tier in my head. it inspired me so much i started my own (which, ain’t as good at all), but this is the best one of its kind. wherever you are kay, ilysm!

B O N U S 

The Horizons Saga by njsafkbj (link is for Part I of VII, HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON) is a gorgeous fic written before we even knew there would be another HTTYD that is so well done about Toothless and Hiccup recovering from the events of the first movie and growing and yeah.

♾ one fic you tell yourself not to reread because it makes you feel SO MUCH but you always end up going back to it

the world fits inside your arms by flyingthesky

one of the first works i ever bookmarked on archive of our own, possibly the one fic about real people that i love. it’s so lovingly written, and i see it as i guess a sort of real life au idk, but i reread it whenever i’m feeling bittersweet and angsty because it sends me right back to 2013-14 when emma stone and andrew garfield owned my life and had no clue.

B O N U S

The Next Great Adventure by brella

hands down best young justice fic i have ever or will ever read. season 3 of young justice exists in a different universe to me, this is the best fix it fic ever, and i reread it once a year to put myself through hell and back, not unlike wally in the speedforce.

HONORABLE MENTIONS NO ONE ASKED FOR

royally flushed by satellitesonparade (YOUNG JUSTICE) princess diaries wally/artemis au

Mistaken Messages by MistyMountainHop (THAT 70′S SHOW) jackie/kelso soulmate au

Acts [1-5] by lone_lilly (CASTLE) castle/beckett smutty goodness

so bad but he does it so well by greenconverses (PERCY JACKSON & THE OLYMPIANS) percy/annabeth college punk/princess au

Poor Unfortunate Soul by makapedia, Peregrine Williams, witchynick (SOUL EATER) maka/soul succubus au

and the camera flashes (make it feel like a dream) by ladililn (BROOKLYN 99) jake/amy celeb photographer/celebrity au

Silent Still by yaba (ONE TREE HILL) brooke/julian ANGSTY FIC set in 6.23

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Anathema’s Solid Right Arm” (Rated PG)

Summary: Anathema takes it upon herself to bring together two customers she knows have a crush on one another ... drastically, if necessary. (1694 words)

Notes: I had started writing this for @ineffablehusbandsweek prompt coffeeshop au, but I never got it done. So I have written it for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 Day 2 prompt 'hot cocoa/cider'. Human au. Mainly fluff.

Read on AO3.

“So, Mr. Crowley,” Anathema says, eagerly setting her cocoa and her apple cider muffin on the iron bistro table out front of her shop, right by the door where she can keep track of customers going in and out, “is he here yet?”

“Who?” her reluctant companion, who’d been there first, nursing his mug of coffee while he eyed the people walking by, asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Pfft. Who says I’m playin’?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. The man in the cream-colored coat who comes here every day at 2 o’clock for a cup of Earl Grey and a blueberry scone. The one you’ve been mooning over for weeks and weeks but refuse to say two words to.”

Crowley spots a gentleman who fits that exact bill weeding through the crowd. But by the time he reaches the coffee shop, it’s obviously not him, and Crowley groans. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“This is my shop, and you're a customer here, so I think that gives me exclusive bothering rights.”

“I liked you better when all you did was read books behind the counter and ignore the rest of us.”

“Lucky for you, you’re much more interesting than a book.”

“Lucky me,” Crowley grumbles in a put-upon voice.

Crowley isn’t exactly a friend of hers, but he is one of her best customers. He shows up every afternoon without fail at precisely 1:30 and orders the same thing each time - black coffee and the muffin of the day (which he never eats). Anathema had thought he chose her spot over other, more commercial coffee enterprises because of her homey atmosphere and signature, in-house roasted Arabica blends. Many of her customers (an older set among the locals) do. 

Turns out, he stopped by every day because of another daily customer of hers - a pleasant, older man with fluffy white-blond hair, and a positively glowing smile, the kind that can be described as lighting up a room. Anathema has watched the two of them religiously. To this day, Crowley has never once spoken to the man, and the man (Aziraphale is the name he gives when he orders) has made no move to speak to him either. And as it’s already nearing 2:15 with no sign of him, it seems today won’t be the day Crowley gets his chance. 

Which explains his sour mood.

Anathema watches Crowley pull apart his muffin with one hand while he searches the stream of pedestrians, not paying an ounce of attention to the fact that he’s decimating it, crumbs falling through the scrollwork on the tabletop and attracting birds from all around. 

Anathema feels for the man. She really does. She’s watched the evolution of him from the first day he walked into her shop: cocky, condescending, constantly criticizing everything from the smell of the place to the decor. But he’s softened considerably since Aziraphale, almost become a whole different person. 

There are some things about him that have not budged. He still dresses like a wealthy undertaker, sporting a pair of dark sunglasses whether it’s dreary out or fine. Both style choices make him the yin to Aziraphale’s yang seeing as Aziraphale only dresses in tones of lightest cream and pale, sky blue.

Anathem has become invested in whether or not these two end up together. There's no better time than the present. 

Christmas time.

Which Anathema considers the most romantic season of the year

(Stuff Valentine's!)

If Crowley isn’t brave enough to make the first move, and Aziraphale (whom she thought she caught more than once peeking surreptitiously Crowley’s way) won’t, then she needs to make this happen. 

Starting today, if possible.

But what if he found a different coffee shop to go to? 

What if he had been waiting for Crowley to say something and mistook his silence for disinterest?

How tragic would it be for these two to end up star-crossed!

Nope! Not on her watch!

She straightens up and peeks around at the customers enjoying their beverages on this blustery day, then beyond the dining patio to the holiday shoppers hopping from store to store. It’s easy to mistake many an older gentleman for the object of Crowley’s affections, but easier to spot him out the moment he arrives, threading through passersby like a salmon traveling upstream, offering everyone he meets a smile, a nod, and an, “Excuse me! I’m very sorry! I must get through!” 

“Look!" Anathema cheers. "Mr. Crowley! There he is!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Crowley says, but she sees the slightest twitch of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he waits for Aziraphale to blow by him into the shop for his daily fare.

Except, he doesn’t. 

It doesn’t look like he’s stopping at all, hurrying through the crowd to continue down the street.

Crowley's twitchy smile withers. Anathema’s jaw drops as she stares at Aziraphale’s back while he walks on. In her peripheral, she sees Crowley’s head bow, his lips tightening into the thinnest of lines as he sinks slowly into his mug of freezing cold cider.

And that's that.

She has to do something! If she doesn’t, Crowley is going to be miserable for the remainder of the afternoon. Grumpy and alone, he'll stay out here well into supper and, in turn, will make her miserable.

She can’t have that.

But she doesn't know how to fix things. She can’t chase after the man. He has a considerable head start. Plus, with the crowd between them, she’s not sure she'll reach him before he gets away. 

She doesn’t know what on Earth possesses her. 

She grabs up the picked apart remains of Crowley’s muffin and, without another thought, hurls it with all her might. She thought she aimed low enough to tag Aziraphale’s shoulder, or brush his arm, but obviously not when she hits the poor man square on the cheek.

Anathema throws her hands over her mouth and gasps.

Crowley launches swiftly to his feet.

Aziraphale stops walking.

“What on Earth!?” Aziraphale mutters, pivoting quickly on his heel and looking over at them in surprise. But he doesn’t see Anathema at all. The second the muffin hits its mark, she says, "Good luck!" and bolts inside the shop, leaving her red-faced companion staring, mouth agape, at the man glaring back with a cheek covered in mascarpone cheese filling.

Aziraphale must recognize the culprit is Crowley because his demeanor changes. He smiles bashfully, feeling his pockets for a handkerchief, but his eyes never leave Crowley's face.

Silently, and from her hiding place just inside, Anathema cheers.

She knew it! She just knew it! 

After a few awkward seconds of searching, Aziraphale still can't seem to find it, and Crowley, realizing that this is the chance he's been waiting for, hurries to the rescue. 

On the brief saunter over, he debates the best opening line for this situation. Hello is first on the list. Hi sounds a bit too casual. Yo pops up to make a short appearance but is brutally beaten to death. What ends up coming out of Crowley's mouth, not even a contender, is, “Here,” as he thrusts a black handkerchief Aziraphale's way.

“Oh!" Aziraphale accepts it gratefully. "Thank you so much, my dear."

"Crowley," Crowley corrects, biting his tongue hard after because what did he have against this man calling him my dear? Not a single, Goddammed thing!

"Aziraphale," Aziraphale offers. "Uh … was that your muffin?”

“No! I mean, ngk … yes, it was. But someone tossed it … I suppose?” Crowley looks over at Anathema, who has the gall to spy on them through her front window, smiling like anything and making, what he can only describe as, encouraging hand motions.

“What kind was it?”

“The muffin of the day - apple cider, filled with …”

“Mascarpone cheese, yes," Aziraphale finishes with a frown. "Was it tasty, at least?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Didn’t get a nibble of it.”

“Pity.” Aziraphale side-eyes Crowley as he watches him wipe the remaining cheese off his cheek. “Thank you for this,” he says, gesturing with the handkerchief. “I’ll get it cleaned for you.”

“Keep it. This way you have an extra, just in case. You never know when some rogue baker might throw a muffin at you again. Or a doughnut.”

“True. A jam-filled would ruin this coat. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Is it?" Crowley steps back, gives the garment a casual once over as if he doesn't have the thing memorized - every line from shoulder to hem, the position of the pockets, the lay of the lapels. "It suits you.”

“Thank you," Aziraphale says, self-consciously tugging at the seams, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. 

The two men fall silent. Anathema, palms pressed against the glass, starts dramatically mouthing, "Do something! One of you! Do something!"

Neither of them sees her, but Aziraphale says, "Now I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“I’ve never had one of the specialty muffins. Creature of habit, I’m afraid. Always order the same thing.”

“I think she has one left if you’d like to give it a go.”

Aziraphale bites his lower lip, his cheeks turning a fetching shade of rose. “Do you think … would you mind splitting it with me? Then we can both satisfy our curiosities.”

That last part sounds like an invitation to more than sharing a muffin, and Crowley, admittedly dense to those sorts of flirtations, is determined not to let it pass him by.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Anathema beams when she sees Aziraphale and Crowley heading her way, flashing them a double thumbs-up that only Crowley catches. Crowley rolls his eyes. Aziraphale looks in time to see the top of her head drop below the sill, another unfortunate chair upturning behind her. “Is that the young lady who runs the shop?” he asks, pointing at Anathema's bun bobbing away from the window towards the counter.

“I believe it is,” Crowley says dismissively.

“Is she quite all right?”

“No.” Crowley sets the chairs right at the small table and offers one to Aziraphale. “Not in the slightest.”

[yuna-dan]

1.-Soulmate au with Logince?

If you want a large Logince involving soulmates you can always read my fic Countin’ on you and one of my favorite Impossible Possible

Now that the selfless promo is over…

A long time ago I read a Marvel Fic where when Steve always had Natasha on his wrist and when he woke up from the ice, he had Antony and I was reading some prompts to get ideas and I saw something like that and decided to write it! This idea however it’s not mine, and if I find the fic where this was inspired, I’ll posted here.

I hope you enjoy this, I did enjoyed writing it but at some point I think the story got confusing?? I hope not

Taglist: @awkwardkindanerd @cas-is-a-hunter @theunoriginaldaisy @underthesea73 @mariita-2006 @prinxietyforever @peanut0303

If you wanna be add to the list please interact with this

---Warning: Off-screen bullying. Slight Transphobia. Slight Violence. Cursing.--

Logan was five years old when the tattoo appeared on his left wrist. The name Rosaline Prince was written with a blue and pink ink, with italics and a beautiful lettering for the young kid.

He remembered how when the bullies found him, he wasn’t scared because she will wait for me. When he arrived home and showed his mama his tattoo, his mama kissed his hair and said “She will always be there for you”

--

Logan used to have a treehouse, that he used to escape reality of his parents constant bickering and the bullies who never left him. He was fourteen, and he was too old to have one.

He was going to clean it for the last time, and he got boxes to put all his childhood things there, maybe one day I can show it to Rosaline he thought.

He didn’t see a step, and he fell.

He broke his arm.

The arm where Rosaline’s name was.

He didn’t think about it too much. The doctors have to put a cast on it, and he decided on a blue color (the same blue of his tattoo, that way he could think of Rosaline).

When the doctors removed the cast, the tattoo was heavily crossed out with a large, thick black line.

“What did you do?” He asked to the nurse, terrified.

The nurse was staring back at him, with the same shocked face, “I-That has never happened.”

No one had any explanation.

He cried to sleep that night.

--

The tattoo disappeared after three days.

Logan didn’t even move out of his bed.

-

He was in the school, when he felt a small itch on his right wrist. He didn’t want to pay any attention, because he was doing a test.

When he delivered the test and left the classroom, he noticed that he had a different tattoo, written in red and gold.

Roman Sanders

He felt something on his stomach, his chest tightened, and his vision blurred.

A student was passing by, and Logan didn’t think about he just knew, “Hey, I am going to passed out, call a teacher.”

“Dude, what the fuc-?”

He passed out.

-

When Logan woke up in the, the same student was next to him.

“Dude, you have to know that’s the weirdest way to meet someone.” He started ranting once he noticed Logan was awake, “What the actual fuck, man?” He hissed.

“Yes, I am okay, thanks for asking, stranger.” Logan replied, sitting down in the bed. The guy glared at him.

“I’m Virgil, by the way.”

“Salutations.” Virgil made a face, but Logan ignored him, “I am Logan.”

Virgil snorted, “You talk funny, Logan.” He cleared his throat, “So, uhm, are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”

“No, I am fine… just…” Virgil stared at him, but Logan shook his head, “No, never mind, thanks for helping, Virgil.” He clutched his right arm close to his chest.

The tattoo was touching his heart.

--

Logan was seventeen when he came out as pansexual, and it turned okay.

Logan was eighteen, when he went started college with Virgil, his roommate and best friend ever since that day.

Logan was nineteen when he told Virgil about his two tattoos.

“... and honestly, I have been researching everywhere and I just cannot find any information about new soulmate bounds.”

“Maybe she died?” Virgil offered.

“Wow, Virge, thank I need that.” He glared, and his friend mumbled a quick sorry.

“I don’t what to say, Lo.”

“I want to hate Roman, and I know I should not feel like that. He’s supposed to be my soulmate, but I just need to know what happen to Rosaline.” He sighed.

Virgil genuinely didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged his friend.

Logan definitely didn’t cry.

--

Logan was on his last semester of college and he fell exhausted, with all the final exams, his parent obsessing over his graduation party, the freaking graduation party…

Yes, he fell exhausted.

He normally didn’t like to buy coffee, but when saw the new coffee shop near his apartment he decided to try it, firstly because Virgil was with his soulmate in their shared apartment.

He sighed and rubbed softly the name Roman on his right wrist. Ever since Virgil met Patton, he felt weirdly sad and also guilty for feeling sad. He should feel happy for his best friend, and yet, here he was running away from their house because he felt sad when he saw them together.

“Are you ordering, specs?” The cashier asked, interrupting Logan’s thoughts.

“Uh, yes, sorry.” He fumbled with his wallet, “A Black Earl with almond milk, please.” The man smiled and Logan felt himself blushing, for some reason. “Anything, else?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine.” Logan squinted, trying to read the tag, “Roman S.?”

Logan felt how the air of his lungs suddenly left, but the man continued to take his order, “What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“For the tea…” Roman said, annoyed at the client. “We need your name.”

Logan spoke automatically, “You’re Rosie.” Roman’s face turned white, dropping the sharpie and cup he was holding.

“I don’t know who you are,” Roman Rosie said, “But you need to leave right now.”

“No, you…”

“No, my name is not Rosaline, my name is Roman Sanders and you need to leave, now!” He screamed, at the top of his lungs. Some clients were staring at them.

Logan didn’t want to leave, but the end he ran away.

-

When Remus entered the coffeeshop, he expected to see his twin and his boyfriend closing up. Ever since they left their dad’s house, Roman has been way happier. He started T a few months ago, and his mental health had been improving.

He was ready to pack everything off and go to home, maybe had some pizza.

He didn’t expect to see Damien and Roman sitting on a table, with a cup of tea, “I think Dad found us.” Was the first thing Roman said when he entered.

Damien was gripping his shoulder, “What do you mean?” Remus ears were ringing with anger, “Did he came here?”

Roman shook his head, and took a deep breath, “A man came. He called me… y’know, that.” He sighed, “I-I told him to leave and he, I don’t know.”

Damien interrupted, “I can take both of you to the police tomorrow.”

“No, mom will get worried.” Ro said, “I just want to forget about this.”

Remus bit his lip, “RoRo, I know but if you think Dad is back, we need to tell mom, and Damien is right, the police too.”

Roman shook his head, “No. I don’t want to.”

Remus was about to argue with his brother, because goddamit, he needed for Roman to understand that they were in danger, when the door opened violently and abruptly. Damien stood up, “We’re close, sir.”

Roman gasped, “It’s you!” He yelled, “I told you to leave me alone!” The man was getting closer and Remus hand was already on his phone, ready to call the police if necessary.

“No. Please let me…”

“If our dad sent you here…”

“No, please let me…”

Damien was standing between them, ready to fight if the moment asked for it Remus fucking love him, the man try to get closer, “Please, Roman, let me explain…”

Damien punched him, right in the eye. The guy was startled and looked back at Roman, who was holding back tears, “Roman, I’m your soulmate.”

The guy fainted.

---

Roman stared into Damien’s eyes, who was staring back at him. Remus wanted to laugh, really, but refrain himself from doing it, this was a serious moment and only a few minutes ago they all believed their lives were in danger, he shouldn’t really find this funny, not all...

Roman ran to check the guy’s pulse, and only then everyone realized the tattoo on his right wrist Roman Sanders.

“Oh my god Damien, you punched my soulmate!”

Remus laughed out loud.

--

When Logan woke up, he was in his apartment. He tried to sit up and winced when he felt pain on his back. He hissed in pain, “Yeah, sorry about that, Logan. No one knew you were going to faint and honesty, no one prevented you from hitting the floor.” Roman said.

“What?” Logan looked up and saw Roman his fucking soulmate in his living room.

“You really need to stop fainting when you meet important people, Logs.” Virgil was laughing between his sentence.

Logan groaned.

--

A few days later, when everything was explained I’m sorry I punched you, I thought my boyfriend’s asshole dad sent you and I’m sorry I called you by your deadname, but everything was confusing.

That was probably the weirdest way to find your soulmate, but they wouldn’t change it for the world.

--

They were in the coffee shop, Logan was waiting for Roman to close everything. They held hands when they walked to Logan’s apartment.

“Y’know…” Roman hummed in acknowledgment that he heard him, “It’s kinda funny.”

“What is?”

“I got your right name in the right wrist…” Logan laughed softly, “It’s almost as if the world knew about it and decided to play a pun.”

Roman laughed, “It is funny.”When they kissed that night, it felt fight, and it was fantastic.

[himbowelsh]

Thank you for answering my earlier questions! I know you've written for Grant and Talbert before (I cannot remember their ship name for the life of me) would you be willing to write any modern head cannons for them? Or any general relationship head cannons for them? Those two don't get enough love together! 🙂

gralbert.  talbant.  grantbert?  tabant?  fluck?   there are no good options here.

Modern Headcanons (this turned into a coffeeshop au i’m sorry):

Grant’s really just vibing through life, to be honest. Out of all his friends, he’s the one who’s got his shit most together, and that’s something to be proud of. So what if he’s still not sure exactly where he wants to be in ten years, or how he’s going to get there? It’s enough to just...  exist in the moment.

That moment, currently, puts him in charge of managing a small coffee shop which has become the social hub for his entire social circle. Not only is he making great cash, he gets to stay connected with old friends and meet new people every day. Plus...  he’s never short on coffee? Literally nothing to complain about.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel...  well, connected is the wrong word, because he definitely is. There are just times when he feels...  lonely. Chuck’s got a lot of friends, but he’s also the sort of guy who could stand in the middle of a crowded room and suddenly feel like he’s the only one there  ---  like no one’s really looking at him at all.

He craves attention, affection, warmth.

That’s when Dog Boy happens.

In Chuck’s defense, Dog Boy is a complete accident. The coffee shop is just supposed to be a canine free zone...  so he’s completely baffled to see a guy walk in with at least five dogs, all on leashes, and order an iced coffee to go.

The guy definitely seems like he’s in a hurry  ---  like he really, really needs a coffee  ---  but Chuck can only stare.  “Are those all supposed to be service dogs?” he asks.

“Um,” Dog Boy says.

Chuck points to the sign on the wall, which very clearly reads the coffee shop’s animal policy. Dog Boy lets out a weird noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Okay, I’m sorry, I know, but can I please please just get an iced coffee?”

It looks like he has his hands full. More than full. This coffee is going to end up spattered on a sidewalk somewhere, and Dog Boy will probably cry. He looks like he might cry right now, just for the hell of it.

Chuck gets him an iced coffee.

That should be the end of it, but a few days later, Dog Boy comes back. He doesn’t have any dogs in tow this go ‘round, but looks five times as relaxed  ---  which is really, really a good look on him  ---  and promptly deposits a twenty dollar bill in Chuck’s tip jar.   “For you,”  he declares, and winks.

Chuck just stares at him.  “We, uhh  ---  we have to split the tips between everyone on shift, and there are, like, four other people here...”

“Christ,” says Dog Boy, and plucks the bill out of the tip jar  ---  can he do that?  is that allowed? ---   and tucks it in the pocket of Chuck’s apron.     “For you. You saved my life the other day, with the coffee. Can’t tell you what sort of day I was having, but...”

He smiles, and it’s the ridiculous sort of smile that shouldn’t be allowed to exist on anyone who’s not in Hollywood   ---   casually blinding, bright enough to leave Chuck feeling warm all over.

If he had to pick the moment he knew he was in trouble...  right there. There is it.

Floyd Talbert becomes a regular in the coffee shop after that. Turns out, he knows a startling amount of Chuck’s friends.  It’s not long before Tab’s popping in nearly every day to joke around with Bill and Babe, cause trouble with Liebgott, or even confer quietly with Mr. Winters in the corner. Seeing Tab becomes one of the highlights of Chuck’s day; they never really talk, but he’s got his coffee order memorized, and everytime that bold smile flashes his way, he feels a little dizzy.

Is this...  what it’s like to have a crush?  Strange.  Unnerving.  Chuck hasn’t had a crush since middle school.   Why now...  and why, of people, on Talbert?

One look at him and that becomes a stupid question. Who wouldn’t have a crush on Talbert?

Chuck comforts himself with that knowledge   ----   no doubt, Tab’s got girls lining up around the block. What interest would he have in a barista who always adds a little extra sugar to his coffee, just because that’s how he likes it?

Tab is the sort of guy who draws people to him like moths to a porch light; he’s dynamic and popular wherever he goes. Chuck has a tight group of friends who he sticks to like glue, and would do anything for; he’s always been more content to wait in the background, observing and working silently. He doesn’t enjoy the limelight. Tab attracts it.

There’s no way they’d work together, because Tab would never notice him.

Until the day Smokey Gordon comes up to the counter with a big grin on his face, and drops something in the tip jar.  “Just for you,”  he declares, and winks.

It’s a folded up piece of paper...  and there’s a phone number written on it. Chuck blinks for a moment, confused, before putting two and two together. Smokey gave him the number as soon as Tab left the shop.

He texts it that night.   “smokey gave me this number...  this is chuck, the barista from the coffee shop”   Waiting restlessly on his balcony with a cigarette in hand, bouncing his leg like it’s running a marathon...  Chuck has nothing to do but hold his breath.

Suddenly, the phone buzzes. It startles his cat into falling off the table. Chuck nearly jumps out of his skin.

“why am i not surprised?  typical smokey”    comes the response, followed by a startlingly accurate bitmoji.   (He uses those instead of emojis?  That’s kinda narcissistic but also really cute?)

After a moment of Chuck holding his breath, searching for how to reply  (he’s a very slow texter, and it drives his friends insane)  another message comes through from Tab.

“good thing he did tho, because i’d have spent a few more weeks working up the courage”

Chuck has a heart attack on the spot.

“honestly,”   he replies,   “i’d have skipped the number and gone straight to asking you to dinner”

“wow, a gentleman!!!”      His enthusiasm is adorable.       “sounds great to me.   are you free friday?   i know a great place for burgers”

It’s across the street from a 24-hour vet clinic.

That’s why Tab wanted to go there.

They make it through half an hour of the date with Tab obviously getting restless, and Chuck is terrified he’s boring him...  until Tab abruptly sets his glass down on the counter and turns to Chuck, fresh brightness in his eyes. “Can we actually go somewhere else? I’ve got some friends you might like to meet.”

Tab works at the local vet clinic, and he’s the one tasked with walking all the dogs each afternoon. Usually they go in shifts, but on that particular day, Tab was in a rush and decided to take them all at once.

“They ran me all over town,” he declares, a funny note of pride in his voice. “I was that close to passing out...  but then I saw the shop, and I saw you, and...”

He trails off, gnawing at his lower lip  ---   his hands are occupied roughhousing with a golden retriever, while a persistent beagle noses at his elbow. Chuck blinks at Tab over the head of an enthusiastic Yorkie, and feels something warm bloom in his chest.

“Next time, I decide the date location,” he declares. Tab grins, bright and blinding as a solar eclipse. To his own amazement, Chuck feels like he’s come home.

General Relationship Headcanons:

Chuck’s mellower than Floyd in a lot of ways. He’s less emotional, better at thinking things through; when their friends are causing havoc, Tab will eagerly be swept along in the chaos, while Chuck will follow to make sure no one causes too much trouble. They both know how to have fun, though, and have equally adventurous streaks that match well together. Hiking, rock climbing, bike riding...  these are all dates they’d enjoy.

Floyd appreciates Chuck’s honesty. Sometimes he can be too blunt (”What do you think of these jeans?” “Eh, you’ve worn better.”), but he never beats around the bush, and there’s never any question whether Floyd can trust his judgement. Chuck says what he thinks, and means what he says.

Floyd is gentler in a lot of ways, and this is something Chuck isn’t used to. He’s never...  been taken care of before. He’s never been doted on. Floyd loves doting on him, and this takes a lot of getting used to.

Chuck is the first one to say “I love you”, and it shocks them both. Sure, they’d been thinking it for a while, but...  Chuck never thought he’d find the courage to voice it, but it slips out almost unconsciously. Floyd pauses in the middle of making dinner...  then chuckles softly, almost to himself, and glances back over his shoulder.  “Love you too,”  he replies, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.  To both their surprises...  it is.

Floyd’s morals run deep, and he’s got a sensitive side that’s easily stoked. Tug on his heartstrings, and he’s open to anything...  which scares Chuck, who doesn’t trust as easily. Floyd’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but a part of Chuck feels like he needs to protect him from getting hurt. That’s impossible. The first time something hits Floyd hard, and he’s left pacing into the early hours of the morning, chewing his lip raw and agonizing over what he could have done differently, Chuck stays up with him. He doesn’t try to stop him, doesn’t try to calm him down...  but when Tab finally collapses in a chair, exhausted, Chuck’s the one who coaxes him up and to bed.

After that, it’s his turn to take care of Floyd.  This is a role he falls into with much more ease...  and Floyd, as it turns out, enjoys being pampered as much as he does giving the love.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Nurse Café - Chapter 6/6: “Back to Normalcy, If Normalcy There Is“

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Fic Summary: Life could have honesty been simpler than that for Hokuto, a second-year Liteature major. There’s, however, someone out there willing to just make it easier on him.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (College/Coffeeshop AU) Ships: HokuAn (Anzu/Hokuto)

AO3 version available here.

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

Chapter Summary:  After recovery comes coming clean to your friends about where on Earth you've been lately.

Chapter Wordcount: 1.7K words

Chapter Notes: Let Subaru Enstars Say Fuck. Writing Hokuto and Subaru banter has no rights to be this fun, I swear. Anyway! I started work on this chapter right after finishing the very first chapter in, what, July? I believe the first paragraph of this is older than the entirely of chapter 2, in fact. More on NC's origin story in the end notes. Because of how long this chapter has actually been in the works for, I'm afraid it sounds a little reconstituted and mashed together. Y'know, casual "I spent 6 months on this" issues and whatnot. I'm still terrified this is OOC, as I've honestly not watched Enstars in months by now and got carried away by my headcanons and AU-ing, but oh well. I hope you'll like

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

Hokuto was walking down to his first class of the week, the one whose presentation he had eventually surrendered to and asked to postpone (not his proudest achievement), when he heard a very familiar sound: Subaru Akehoshi’s signature high-pitched voice resonated through the corridors, accompanied by ferocious-sounding footsteps rushing in his direction, lacking any kind of discretion or concern for whomever else may have had the misfortune to be sharing this very corridor with him.

 “Ho-kke!!”

Akehoshi jumped on him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and almost making him tumble and fall. If his face wasn’t so naturally inexpressive, someone else would have noticed the panic suddenly enlacing his mind.

“Back off, Akehoshi,” he responded to the assault, watching his friend get down and walk next to him.

“You usually bite harder than that, Hokke! What’s up? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other!”

“…it’s been, what, a week at most? I wouldn’t call that ‘a while’.”

“It’s just not the same without you, Hokke! I’ve missed you friend!”

To be fair, he had missed Akehoshi and simply didn’t want to admit it to the latter’s face. Doing that was like yearning to be discredited. He’d have to work on that dishonesty of his later.

“I suppose so,” he replied with some doubt lingering (truly, someone as much of a social butterfly as Akehoshi couldn’t have missed him that much, right?).

 “Hey, Hokke, tell me something! What’s happened to you? You’ve disappeared from the surface of the planet, Ukki and I got worried, and Sally wouldn’t tell us anything about your whereabouts! Anzu seemed really worried about you too…”

Oh God, was this guy really going all out on him? Was it legally allowed to embarrass someone in public like that?

“It’s a long story,” he half-heartedly replied.

Akehoshi’s glaze didn’t let up. He was coming for actual answers and Hokuto wasn’t all too keen on giving it to him in public like that. He had somewhat of an image to keep as a student representative in the university, he found that important to keep for himself, and this excitable boy wouldn’t do that. Not while he was alive, at least.

 Suddenly, more footsteps came in their direction, prompting them to both turn around. Coming towards them were Anzu and Isara with Yuuki trailing not far from them. All shone a smile, to which Akehoshi replied with more excitement. Truly, this guy seemed unstoppable and always full of energy. Hokuto suddenly found himself somewhat envious of this, before focusing back on the incoming conversation, wondering how he’d unbury himself from having to reveal why he had gone missing for an entire week.

“Hello everyone!” Anzu said in their direction, her lovely smile as on point as always.

“Hi everyone!” Yuuki continued, waving at them, Isara doing the same right afterwards.

Akehoshi rushed towards them. Well, there was nothing better to do than follow him, he supposed… At least, it’d be a good way to begin returning to normalcy.

 As they walked back in the direction to their classes, questions rose up.

“Ah, Hidaka, you’re back!” Yuuki noted with a bright smile. “Where have you been all that time?”

“Yeah, Hokke, where in the world were you?! Our routine doesn’t work the same if it’s without you, y’know!”

He didn’t know if he should have been flattered or offended to that remark.

“I had…” How was he supposed to lie about the reason without actually lying about it either? “I had a lot of things to take care of.”

“Still,” Yuuki makes another note, albeit his tone drops in happiness, “you weren’t there on Tuesday for your own presentation! The prof didn’t know what to do with you missing, he hadn’t seen that coming.”

“Frankly, never did I,” Akehoshi added. “A day without Hokke around isn’t a normal day!”

They were pushy, but he couldn’t hold it against them. He had vanished for an entire week, after all, of course they’d ask about it.

“Hokuto, I think it’s time you tell them what’s actually happened. We’ve respected you not wanting us to do that on our terms, but… These two were worried sick you know!” Isara finished to convince him.

 Despite the embarrassment already piling up in the back of his mouth, Hokuto nonetheless cleared his throat and tried finding the exact right words. He’d have liked to keep that awkward week in the sands of time, but alas, the peer pressure happened to be a little too strong to withstand.

“I, hmm…,” yeah, no, that remained hard to put into words, “may have collapsed last Friday night.”

A thick silence settled. While Isara and Anzu exchanged slightly awkward glances, Akehoshi and Yuuki had be shut for good, the former blinking furiously and the second staring with a distraught expression and agape mouth.

“W-wait, really?! L-like, collapsed-collapsed?!”

“Yes, that kind.”

“What the fuck Hokke.”

“Huh… Y-yeah, what h-he – what Akehoshi said,” Yuuki added with a tiny, clearly confused laugh.

 He scratched the back of his head. This was making him maybe more nervous than the entire process of making that cancelled presentation…

“I don’t exactly remember much from it.”

“Let me do that recap for you then,” Isara suddenly chimed in. “Friday night, you went into a café, realized you picked the wrong one, ordered an espresso at eleven in the evening, passed out on Anzu who was supposed to close the shop, and she tended to you for most of Saturday afterwards.” (Did he have to mention that? He could see Anzu growing red as he said that). “I think that’s all you need to know guys!”

Hokuto wanted to bury his face in his hands and disappear right here and there; alas, miracles didn’t exist, did they.

 “You do look much better than when I last saw you, though, Hokuto!” Isara resumed the conversation.

“Mao is right! You really do look better, I promise,” Anzu added, and if it wasn’t his fever coming back, then he didn’t think he’d like to acknowledge what it was. “You still look a little tired though, are you sure you should be attending class right away?”

“It’s only a couple of lectures, nothing I can’t pull through.”

“…Do I need to remind you that you said that about your presentation too, Hokuto…?”

 That made Yuuki jolt in place.

“Wait, you ran yourself sick just for that presentation?!”

“Unlike what Isara is saying, it’s not just that presentation.”

“Speaking of that presentation, Makoto, do you remember for what subject it was?”

“I think it was for the History class. I mostly remember the prof looking kind of pissed…”

“So that was the subject this was for! Hokuto didn’t quite remember it and I was curious.”

“Wait, Hokke, you didn’t remember that when Anzu asked?!”

“Man, Hidaka, you really must have been exhausted to the bone to forget something like that…”

Everyone was trying to kill him, especially Akehoshi’s barely contained amused giggling.

“Anzu, why did… That didn’t amuse you back there!”

She gave him a glance, suddenly much calmer, her smile dropping.

“That was because it meant there was a ton of problems on your end, Hokuto. Come on, do you think that was a normal thing?”

“I never said the opposite…”

“I know. I just try to make that amusing because, frankly, you scared us all to death, not just Mao and I.”

“Oh, yeah,” Akehoshi added, “you don’t even know how much Ukki and I asked about you for days! These two really wouldn’t tell us much even if they did!”

“Sorry for that again, guys. Hokuto really insisted on us not telling, or at least, he mumbled about that in his sleep…”

“I actually remember asking you that, Isara. I wasn’t entirely braindead.”

Akehoshi and Yuuki looked thoroughly confused. This was at least proof that they had successfully been kept out of the loop.

 “Still,” Yuuki asked, “why didn’t you want us to know? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I don’t think you’d ever want to see what unfolded there.”

“Well duh! Of course we don’t wanna see you be sick beyond your mind or somethin’ Hokke! Anzu and Sally talk about it as if you were gonna die!”

“Plus, we’re friends. Isn’t the whole point of friendship to help each other out in times of need?”

“They’re right, Hokuto,” Isara completed their argument. “You were also helping your grandma at the time, right? The poor woman looked worried for your life back there!”

“This was merely me fulfilling my obligations as her grandson. Still, I suppose you are right. I obviously couldn’t have survived that alone.”

“I think we can all testify to that…” Isara seemed a little jaded, but nonetheless smiled again as he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “So, next time, don’t hesitate to call for us when you need help, ’kay? We really don’t want you to run yourself to the ground like that again!”

The three others hummed and nodded almost in unison. All he could react with was a sigh and a tiny smile (that was most likely not even visible on his stiff face).

“Lesson learnt.”

 Their conversation eventually took its usual course, deviating (to his relief) to other topics. By the end of the main hallway, he found himself with only Anzu, the both of them heading towards different rooms almost facing each other.

“Ah, before I forget. Thank you very much for… all of this, Anzu. I don’t even want to know where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for you.”

“As much as I also don’t want to imagine that, I’d have said an ER. Again, really, Hokuto, you don’t need to thank me so politely! It’s a normal thing for friends to do. You’ve done that for me before, haven’t you?”

“That’s true…” (And these weren’t such good memories, as it mostly reminded him of bitter concern).

“Just avoid doing that next time you feel in a pinch, okay? I’m sure we’ll all be glad to help. I know I will…” Her voice trailed off and so did her eyes, looking in the distance. He naïvely started doing so as if someone or something would arrive.

“I’ll make sure to, then.”

 They stared at each other, red, for a couple moments before Anzu snapped out of it first.

“Ah, sorry, my class starts real soon! See you around, Hokuto!”

“See you later then.”

As they went on their separate ways, he could only confirm something: if his heart was beating this profusely, it had to mean he had very clearly come down with another illness altogether. In hopes that, just like his collapse, Anzu could help him fix his own issues…

[myownsuperintendent]

New Fic: “Old and New” (1960s AU Part VI)

When Monica meets John Doggett, she wants to know him better, even though he's different from most of her friends. Their relationship, however, brings many complications.  This is part six in my 1960s, and it is set after all the other parts, in 1973, making it now technically 1970s AU.  It would help to read the other parts, especially the third, first.  Rated G, pairings are Doggett/Reyes and Melissa/Reyes but both are more in the UST vein.  Also here at Ao3, and the whole series is here.

.....

They met by chance.  But she always did like meeting people.

It was at a meeting Monica had gone to—one about Central Park, about how bad it was getting there.  She’d hoped the meeting would be practical, that they’d talk about things people could do to help clean it up, even if they were only small things.  But, like a lot of meetings she found herself going to, it ended up in an argument, or a bunch of arguments, if you wanted to get technical.  One guy called another a pie in the sky dreamer, and that guy retaliated by calling him a bourgeois pig.  That kind of thing happened a lot too.  She was used to it.

It wasn’t worth sticking around longer, she decided, and she picked up her bag to go.  There was a guy on the way out too, clean cut, brown hair.  He caught her eye and smiled, a nice smile.  “Wow,” he said, nodding back towards the two arguing guys, one of whom had just knocked over a chair.

She laughed.  “Par for the course at these kinds of meetings, unfortunately.  Everyone’s heart’s in the right place and nobody can agree.”

“Well, disagreeing is one thing,” the guy said.  “It doesn’t mean they have to shout about it.”

“You make a good point,” Monica said.  They were out on the sidewalk now, still heading in the same direction.  “Have you been to any of these meetings before?” she asked him.  It sounded corny, she thought.  Come here often?

“No,” he said.  “I haven’t been back in the city that long, actually.  But I was thinking—it would be good to join something.  And I thought the park, because…well, it’s outside.”  He looked at her ruefully.  “But I thought we’d be getting organized.  Making plans to actually do some work there.  Not just bickering.”

“You’re speaking my language,” Monica said.  “I’d always rather be doing something.  My friends say I leap before I look, half the time.  But what do they know?”  She grinned at him.

“That’s a good trait,” he said, seriously.  “Taking action.”  He looked at her for a moment, and then he laughed.  “Hey, we’re getting into the deep questions before we’ve even introduced ourselves.  I’m John Doggett.”

“Monica Reyes,” she said, taking his outstretched hand.  “Are you from around here, originally?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, and she laughed again.  “Yeah, I grew up here.  You?”

“I came here for college,” she said.  “But I decided to stick around.”  They walked along—they were almost at the subway now—and she was getting one of her ideas, probably another one of the kind that made people accuse her of jumping into things.  “Would you want to go to the park together sometime?  Just to see what we could actually do?  We could pick up trash, at least.”

He looked surprised, but then he smiled.  “Hey, that sounds great,” he said.  “When were you thinking?”

“This weekend?”

“I’m not sure what I’ve got going on,” he said.  “Could I call you?”

“Sure,” she said—she still had the flyer she’d picked up about the meeting, and she tore off a corner and scrawled her name and phone number on it.  “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him.

“Thanks.”  He folded it and put it in his pocket, carefully.  “I’ll call you soon, then.”  They were at the subway now, and he was going uptown and she was going downtown, so they didn’t say much more than goodbye.

Melissa was in the kitchen when she got home, making tea.  “Hey, Monica,” she said.  “How was the meeting?”

“Not that great,” Monica said.  “Just a lot of arguing.  You know the kind of thing.”  Melissa nodded.  “But I talked with a guy,” Monica said, “and we might go pick up trash together or something like that.”  Melissa nodded again, looking a little distracted, and Monica squeezed her shoulders gently.  “How’re you doing?”

Melissa shrugged.  “I’ll bounce back,” she said.  “It was the right choice, I know.  Sheila and I wanted really different things.”

“Doesn’t mean it has to be easy,” Monica said.  “You know I’m here if you want to talk, though.”

“I know,” Melissa said.  “Thanks, Monica.”  The kettle whistled, and she took it off the stove.  “It’s just going to be weird,” she said.  “You know we’re supposed to be planning that demonstration together.  For Lesbian Feminist Liberation.  And now it’s going to be…well, weird.”

“You want me to join the committee?” Monica offered.  “I can be your buffer.”  Melissa looked a little dubious, which Monica couldn’t really blame her for; she wasn’t sure she’d be an effective buffer, since Sheila didn’t particularly like her.  They’d tolerated each other, while Melissa and Sheila were together, but Sheila always seemed to have an issue with Monica liking both women and men, which Monica wasn’t about to apologize for.  “Okay, maybe not,” she said.  “But I’m here to talk, anyway.  Or we could all go out some time.  You and me and Starchild.”

“Yeah, that could be fun,” Melissa said.  “Thank you.  Really.  But I know I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will too,” Monica said, and she hugged Melissa quickly.  “I’m going to go write in my room now,” she said.  “But you can knock any time.”  Melissa, now installed at the table with her mug of tea, nodded again, and Monica went into her room.

She’d kept a diary all her life; she liked having somewhere to sort out her thoughts, other than in her own head.  Tonight, she wrote about Melissa, about hoping she’d be okay, and mostly about the meeting, and talking to John Doggett, who seemed interesting, and wondering when she’d see him again.

.....

That didn’t take too long.  Starchild tapped on her door the next evening, saying there was someone on the phone for her, and she answered and it was him.  He said Saturday morning would be good for him, if she wanted to go to the park, and she said that worked for her.  When she got out of the subway at Columbus Circle, she saw him standing outside the entrance to the park, and she hurried over.  “Hi,” she said.

He looked startled for a moment, but then he smiled at her.  “Hi,” he said.  “Right on time.”

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Monica said as they walked into the park.

“No,” he said, “not at all.”

“I brought supplies,” she said, holding up her bag.  “Garbage bags to collect things in.  And apples, in case we get hungry.”

John smiled again.  “Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” he said.

“I try to be prepared,” she said, smiling back.

“Were you a Girl Scout?” he asked.

“I was, actually,” she said.  “The whole time I was growing up.  I even worked at my old summer camp, when I was in college.  Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Yeah, I was one of those,” he said.  “I always liked the being outside.  We used to take a bus out of the city, to go camping.”

“I loved camping too,” Monica said.  Some of the girls in her troop hadn’t liked roughing it, but she had never minded.  “Looks like we could pick up some of that stuff, over there,” she said, pointing, and they walked towards a heap of papers, crumpled, looking windblown.  “You said you’d recently gotten back to the city,” she said, as she stooped to gather the papers into one of her garbage bags.  “Where were you before this?”

“Vietnam,” he said.

She didn’t know why she should be surprised, but she was.  “Oh,” she said at last.  “Well, I’m glad you made it back.”  Did she sound like an idiot?

If he thought she did, he didn’t show it.  “Thanks,” he said.  “So’s my family.  So am I,” he added, after a minute.  “It wasn’t—well, it’s probably no surprise to hear this now, but it wasn’t what I expected when I signed up.”

Now she really was surprised, even though she told herself that she shouldn’t be.  The fact was that most of the guys she ran into, certainly the ones she actually hung around with—well, they’d done everything they could to avoid being drafted, and they definitely wouldn’t have signed up voluntarily.  She knew Dana and Melissa had some experience with this—their brother had gone, and their parents were very much for the whole thing—but she didn’t, even with her family.  Her parents had been against the war from the start.  So had most of her friends.  She’d never really had to have the kind of firsthand, person to person debate that Melissa was always talking about having at home.  And even if she had, of course, this wouldn’t be the time or the place for it.  You couldn’t debate what someone had gone through.

“I bet not,” she said, eventually, feebly.  “Well, I am glad you’re okay.  I’m glad we’re out of there.”

“Thanks,” he said again, and they picked up the rest of the papers and walked on.

But after that they had fun, after all.  He made a face at her while picking up a banana peel that was right next to a trash can— “I understand,” he said, “it was too far to walk”—and she found herself laughing.  They saw spots getting cleaner from their work; it was a drop in the bucket, maybe, but it was something.  They talked about other things they thought the park needed, places where the grass was dead or the pavement was potholed.  And then they just talked about other subjects entirely: erstwhile Boy and Girl Scout adventures, movies they’d seen recently, their favorite places in the city.

“I’ve never been there,” she said, when he told her about a coffeeshop he liked.  “I’ll have to try it.”

“You should,” he said.  “I could show you, sometime.”

“That sounds great,” she said; she suspected that she was blushing, faintly.

They stopped around eleven-thirty, their garbage bags filled.  “A good morning’s work,” Monica said.

“Absolutely,” John said.  “If you want to do more of this…let me know.  Like I said, it’s good to get out and do something.”

“Oh, I’m happy to do more,” she said.  “Same time next Saturday, maybe?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah, that sounds good.  I’ll call you to make sure.”

“Great!” she said, and then he waved, and then he was gone.

.....

She was meeting Langly for lunch that day, so she went there straight from the park.  He was already outside the diner, and he raised his eyebrows at her as she approached.  “Why are you carrying a garbage bag?”

“Oh,” she said.  She looked around, found the nearest trash can, and deposited it.  “I was in Central Park.  Cleaning up.”

“Some kind of group thing?” he asked.

“No,” she said.  “Just me and one guy.”

“Some kind of weird date?”

“No!” she said, more vehemently.  “Just trying to make the park nicer.  Anyway,” she added, “are you really one to talk about weird dates?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Monica,” he said, as they walked in and sat down at their usual table.  “I’ve never been on a weird date in my life.”

“You took Karen to that documentary about cadavers,” Monica said.

“And she loved it,” Langly said.  “What’s your point?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said.  “That you’re both weird, I guess.”  She smiled at him.  She was still sort of surprised that he had a girlfriend of any kind, honestly, but he’d met Karen at a party at Dana and Mulder’s—she’d gone to medical school with Dana—and the two of them had hit it off.  Monica liked Karen, though, and she thought the two of them were good for each other, not solely because of their shared taste in weird documentaries.

“That’s a given,” Langly said.  “Anyway, who’s the guy you were cleaning the park with?  If it wasn’t a weird date.”

“Just someone I met last week,” Monica said.

“Anyone I know?”

“I doubt it,” Monica said.  “His name’s John Doggett.”

Langly shook his head.  “Yeah, I don’t know him.  What’s his story?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said.  “He just moved here.  He’s looking to join stuff.”  She was aware that she was leaving it very vague.

“You could tell him to come to the protest next weekend,” Langly suggested.

“Hmm, maybe,” Monica said.  “I don’t actually have his number.”  This was true, she realized, but it was also a good excuse.

She told herself she was being a coward.  She could spend time with whoever she wanted to spend time with, and they didn’t all have to see things exactly the same way.  If Langly judged her for spending the morning with John, he wasn’t being a very good friend to her, and if she acted like John having been in Vietnam was something she had to hide from Langly, she wasn’t being a very good friend to either of them.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Langly had already started talking about another subject entirely: Frohike’s attempts to modify a TV Typewriter.  And it was easy to listen to that, and to ask questions, and to talk like they always did, without bringing up anything that might change that.

.....

“I was thinking,” Melissa said, the next morning when they were eating breakfast.  “We should start planning for Thanksgiving.”  They’d done Thanksgiving together, the last couple of years: her, Melissa, and Starchild, Langly, Byers, and Frohike.  Karen had come too, last year, and Sheila, when she and Melissa were together.  Monica and Melissa always took charge of the cooking; the food was pretty traditional, even if the vibe decidedly wasn’t.

“Yeah, good idea,” Monica said.  She put jam on her toast.  “Is everyone going to be around?”

“I think so,” said Melissa.  “I know I am, anyway.  No surprise.”  There was always a defiance in her voice when she talked about this; she hadn’t been invited home for any holiday in almost three years, since she’d come out to her parents, and Monica knew that she would never say how much it bothered her in so many words.  “I told Dana she’d probably have to shoot the pope to stop being the good daughter.”

Monica briefly pondered the circumstances under which Dana might shoot the pope: it was a funny image.  That wasn’t the point, though.  “Their loss,” she said.

“It is how it is,” Melissa said.  “But yeah, I think everyone’s going to be here.  Anyone different you think we should have this year?”

She thought of John, even though she didn’t know how much sense that made: for all she knew, he was part of a big family, ready to welcome him to Thanksgiving dinner with open arms, the farthest thing possible from their band of Thanksgiving misfits.  But she did, anyway.  He seemed unmoored, she thought—he’d as much as admitted to her that he was trying to find things to do, people to know.  And she didn’t want to be afraid to be among those people.

“Actually,” she said, “there’s this guy I met at the meeting last week.  He’s just come back to New York and he’s looking for people to spend time with, I think.  Maybe I’d ask him.  If that sounds all right.  I don’t know if he’d be interested in coming, but I’d like to ask.”

“Sure, that’s no problem,” Melissa said.  “Just let me know.  What’s his name, anyway?”

“It’s John,” Monica said.  “We were cleaning up in the park together, yesterday.”

“Nice,” Melissa said.

“Yeah, he seems like a really nice guy,” Monica said.  “He was telling me he just got back from Vietnam.  Recently.”  She felt better once she’d said it.

“Ugh,” Melissa said.  “For him, I mean.  Not at him.”

Monica nodded.  “He said it was a lot different from what he expected.  When he signed up.”  She let out her breath.

But Melissa didn’t say much of anything.  “I bet,” was all, and then she sat down at the table with her toast.  It wasn’t an embrace.  It wasn’t a rejection.

.....

They were cleaning in the park again: a different area this time, a little further uptown.  Monica liked seeing the different places: she’d spent time in the park, of course, but she hadn’t nearly covered all of it.  She said as much to John, as they walked.  “How about you?” she asked.  “You’ve probably seen more of it than me, growing up here.”

“Maybe not, though,” John said.  “When you live somewhere, it’s easy to take it for granted.”

“You’re probably right,” Monica said.  “I guess I get into a rut sometimes, and I haven’t even lived here that long.  I like to explore, but then I’ve got my usual haunts too.”

“Exactly,” said John.  “I was thinking about that, now that I’m back.  All the places I’ve spent a lot of time.”

“You’ve still got to show me that coffeeshop,” she said.  Was this hinting?  She hated hinting.

“Sure,” he said.  “I haven’t forgotten.  We could go there for lunch after this, if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy,” she said, and then she didn’t know quite what else to say, so she bent down to sweep some trash into her bag.  It turned out to be a used condom, which only added to her confusion.  “Maybe I should bring gloves next time,” she muttered.

“What…oh,” John said, looking.  “Yeah, don’t touch that with your bare hands.”  He looked more awkward about it than she did.

“I’ve seen worse things, you know,” she said, quickly.  She didn’t want him thinking he had to protect her.  Or that she was about to get hysterical at the sight of a condom.  Or that kind of thing.

“Yeah, so have I,” he said.  He started laughing, then, and she joined him, and when they walked on the moment felt comfortable again.

The coffeeshop was just the kind of place she liked—small and cozy, clearly with its crew of regulars.  They settled at a table in a corner; she got tuna salad for her sandwich, he roast beef.  “Have you been coming here all your life?” she asked.

“Not when I was a kid or anything,” he said. “When I was a teenager, more.  With friends or dates.  And then it just became one of my favorites.  It was one of the first places I wanted to come, once I was back.”

“Oh,” she said.  It always seemed to be a presence, in their conversation, in her thoughts, at least.

He looked up.  “Monica, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“About what?” she asked.

“Me being in Vietnam,” he said.  “You were against it, right?  Probably protested?”

“I…how did you know that?” Monica asked.  “I’d never…I mean, I didn’t want to say anything…”

He grinned.  “First,” he said, ticking off the points on his fingers, “you acted damn weird when I mentioned it.  Second, there’s the whole way you act.”

She didn’t know if that was meant as an insult.  “The whole way I act?”

“Yeah,” he said, waving a hand, “your whole…thing.”  As she continued to stare at him, he added, “Well, the way you talk.  And you obviously go to a lot of these social meetings.  And your hair and your…your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my hair and my clothes?” Monica asked.

“Nothing!” he said quickly.  “I didn’t say anything was wrong with him.  You have a certain style, that’s all.  A woman who went to protests style.  And thirdly,” he said, before she could speak again, “you have that pin on your bag.”

Monica looked down at her bag.  She’d gotten the pin a while ago, but it was still there, with its picture of a hand giving the peace sign.  Peace Now, it read.  “Oh,” she said.  She half laughed.  “Yeah, I guess that would be a clue.”

“It’s not a big deal,” John said.  “Honestly.  Not for me, anyway.  I hope it’s not one for you.”

“Of course not,” Monica said.  “Absolutely not.  It wasn’t…I was against the war, but not against any individual person, you know?  I don’t believe in that kind of thing.  Stuff like this, it’s bigger than that.  And besides, you’re my friend,” she added, quickly.  Yes, she felt like he was, already.

He smiled at that.  “Yeah?  Glad to hear it.  So you don’t have to act weird, then, when I bring it up.”

“Okay,” Monica said.  “That’s good.”  She took a bite out of her sandwich.

“Are you going to eat the rest of your chips?” he asked her.

“No, probably not,” she said, relieved at the subject change.  “You want some?”

“If it’s okay,” he said, taking a few.  “I’m always hungrier than I think I’m going to be.”

She finished her sandwich, thought.  “Speaking of food,” she said, “I wanted to ask you.  A bunch of my friends and I, we do Thanksgiving together every year.  People who don’t have a lot of family, or whose family’s far away, or they don’t get along.  Things like that.  And I wanted to invite you.  Not that I’m saying you don’t have family.  Nothing like that.  Don’t feel like you have to come.  I just wanted to…to invite you.”  Tripping over her own words, again.  Nicely done, Monica.

He didn’t look at her like he thought she was being an idiot.  “Monica, that’s really nice of you,” he said.  “It means a lot.”

“It’s low-key,” she said.  “We always have fun, though.”

“I bet,” he said.  “I’m not…I’m not sure yet if I have plans for Thanksgiving, though.  What’s going on with…with my family.  Do I have to let you know right now?  Or can you wait a little?  I don’t want to mess up the amount of food or anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Monica said.  “My friend and I get pretty into cooking, but we don’t start two weeks out, you know.”  She grinned at him.

“Understandable,” he said.  “Hey.  Your friends who do Thanksgiving together.  Are all of you hippies?”

“Without exception,” she said.  “Is that…”

“Nah,” he said.  “I told you.  Not a big deal.  Just curious.”

The waitress brought the check over, then.  They split it.

.....

It wasn’t a big deal to John, maybe.  But it seemed like it was a big deal to everyone else.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s a bad person,” Frohike said.  He’d made similar statements over the course of the evening, as they all sat around eating and talking in the living room.  “Not him specifically.  I’m just saying, Monica, maybe you shouldn’t have jumped the gun and invited him for Thanksgiving.”

“Well, we’re the ones who host,” Melissa pointed out.  “And who do all the work.  I say Monica can invite whoever she wants.”  Monica gave her a grateful look; she was glad of the support, even if it didn’t seem to stop Frohike.

“Yeah, you’re the hosts,” he said.  “But still, you have to think about the whole group.  First of all, we don’t even know this guy.”

“Well, I know him,” Monica countered.  “Two years ago, you brought someone you barely even knew yourself.  At the last minute.”

“Esther?” Frohike said.  “Yes.  But she was really cool.”

“She ate an entire bowl of stuffing,” Monica said.  “By herself.  How’s that for not thinking about the whole group?”

“Yeah, that was my mom’s recipe,” Melissa said.  “We put a lot of work into that.  We would have liked a spoonful, at least.”

“This isn’t about stuffing,” Frohike said.  “This is about this guy Monica invited.  Second of all, what makes you think he even wants to come?  He didn’t give you a real answer.”

“Because he’s not sure if he can make it yet,” Monica said.  “That’s called being respectful of other people’s plans.”

“That’s called hedging,” Frohike said.

“Yeah,” Langly said.  “Definitely hedging.”

“It’s not hedging,” Monica said.  “He said he’d let me know soon.  The next time I see him, probably.  So what’s your point?”

She knew what his point was, really.  It was what she’d been afraid of.  “He doesn’t seem like someone we’d usually have for Thanksgiving,” Frohike said.  “That’s all.”

“Because he was in Vietnam,” Monica said.  “And because he volunteered.”  She wanted to be sure she was reading this right.

To their credit, the guys didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about.  “Well, yeah,” Langly said.  “That’s what Frohike’s talking about.”  And next to him, Frohike nodded.

“Wow,” Monica said.  “What ever happened to being open?”  She could hear her own voice, loud, and she wondered if she was being too defensive, overdoing it because she didn’t want to admit that she’d been surprised too, when John told her.

“There’s being open,” Langly said, “but there’s taking personal responsibility for what you’ve chosen to do, too.  He had to know—”

“Plenty of people didn’t, at first,” Monica said.  “You know that.  And you haven’t even met him.  People have their own reasons for choosing things, you know.”  She looked around at the group, hoping that somebody else would back her up.

“We don’t always know where people are coming from,” Byers said, some hesitation in this voice.  “He could have had his reasons.”

“That,” Starchild said, “sounds like something that someone who was overly attached to bourgeois institutions would say.  You do know that not everyone has to follow the crowd?”  This wasn’t really about Thanksgiving or about John, Monica knew—it was about Starchild getting in a dig at Byers, whom she’d dumped again last night.  She doubted that Starchild honestly cared that much about who came to dinner.  But at the moment, it didn’t exactly make her feel any better.

“You’re right,” she said.  “Not everyone has to follow the crowd.  So I’m having John here for Thanksgiving dinner, if he can come.  Because he’s my friend, and he’s a good person.  And you guys—you don’t have to love him.  But you can’t act like a bunch of jerks.”

No one seemed to know quite what to say to that.  Eventually, Langly grinned and said, “We always act like a bunch of jerks, it’s the secret of our charm,” and Melissa squeezed Monica’s arm and turned over the record they were playing, and they started talking about ordering food.  The conversation was over, but it didn’t feel finished.

.....

She got together with John that Saturday, in the park as usual, and they had lunch again.  “Well,” she said, after they got up from their table, “I guess I should get back.”

“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “I’ll just go home and hang around, probably.  How about you?”

“No, nothing,” he said.  “Do you want to see a movie, maybe?  Before you go home?”

“Sure,” she said, quicker than she might have, but he smiled at her and didn’t seem to notice.

They saw The Way We Were—some of her friends had been talking about it, but she hadn’t caught it yet, and neither had he.  It moved her more than she’d expected, especially since there were parts to which she wasn’t entirely paying attention.  She was paying attention, instead, to John sitting next to her, watching him out of the corner of her eye.  Mostly he seemed to be looking at the screen, which was natural, but he caught her eye once and smiled.

She didn’t know what this was.  She didn’t know what it meant, them being here at the movies together, but it felt different from picking up trash in the park, even from having lunch.  Somehow, she didn’t want to ask him, but she wondered if he wanted her to.  He hadn’t offered to pay for her ticket—she wouldn’t have expected him to, anyway, but that seemed significant.

When they were leaving the movie theater, heading to the subway, he said, “Monica.  About Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah?” she said, like it hadn’t been a big deal.  “Are you going to be able to make it?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I am.  I’m looking forward to it, too.  Should I bring anything?”  He grinned.  “I’m not much of a cook, but I thought I’d offer.  I could bring a bottle of wine, at least.  Or some cider.”

“That sounds good!” Monica said.  “I’m sure we’d drink it.  I’m really glad you can come,” she added.  They were at the top of the stairs, now, leading down into the subway stop, and she paused and hugged him quickly, before she could stop and overthink it.  “Oh!” she added.  “Let me write down my address for you.”  She didn’t have paper in her bag—she never did, when she needed it—but she found a matchbook eventually and wrote it down on the back of that.  “There,” she said, handing it to him.  “We’re going to eat around two, I think.  But people usually trickle in earlier.  Whenever you can make it.”

He nodded.  “Well, I’ll see you then,” he said.

“Yeah, see you then,” she said.  He waved as he was walking away, and she waved back.

.....

“Hey, there you are,” Melissa said, when she got back to the apartment.  “I was just going to get started with dinner.  Do you want to help?”

“Sure,” Monica said, putting her bag down on a chair.  “Speaking of dinners.  John is coming for Thanksgiving.”

“That’s good,” Melissa said.  “Right?” she added, after a minute, when Monica didn’t respond.

“Well, I think it’s good,” Monica said.  “Because he’s someone I like.”  She knew she was leaving the wording vague, but she didn’t have any better wording on hand.  “I’m just still a little worried about everyone else.  I hope the guys won’t start anything.”

“If they do, we’ll kick them,” Melissa said firmly, setting a bowl down on the counter.  Monica didn’t see that that would solve much of anything, but it made her smile, even so.  “He’s your friend, and that makes him okay in my book.  It’s not like the rest of us are so perfect.  If he’s willing to put up with Byers and Starchild…”

“You think they’ll be back together by then?” Monica asked.

“Oh, they’re back together already,” Melissa said.  “As of this afternoon.  Starchild said not to expect her home tonight.  I suppose they could break up in the next week, though.”  She smiled.  “Seriously, though, Monica, I’ve got your back on this one.  So you don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks,” Monica said.  “That really does mean a lot.”  She got a pan out from the cabinet.  “I do see what the guys are thinking.  I just think they’re wrong.  If they knew him…”

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  “I’m not going to lie—I would have been on their side, a couple of years ago.  But the war’s over now, and it’s not like this one guy caused it, and you said it wasn’t what he expected.  And I’m sure that’s true.  And I’m at the point where—people can change, you know?  We all did stupid things, once.”  She shook her head.  “I guess I’d rather save my rage for the system.  And the people who really deserve it.”

Monica wondered if Melissa was thinking about those people, with the aggressive way she was currently chopping vegetables.  “Were you at the committee today?” she asked, cautiously.  “With Sheila?”

“Yeah,” Melissa said, after a minute.  “But I’m not mad at her, you know?  I’m just…I’m still working through the whole thing, I guess.  It’ll be weird,” she added.  “Not having her at Thanksgiving.”

“I know,” Monica said.  “That’s natural.  But we’ll still have a good time,” she added.  “The guys are bound to do something entertaining.”

“Here’s hoping, I guess,” Melissa said, and they went on making dinner.

.....

One of the main struggles of Thanksgiving, every year, was finding the space and the chairs.  Their living room was decent-sized, but that was before you tried to jam a table in, and they didn’t keep that many chairs around on a regular basis.  This year they’d put the guys in charge of bringing extra chairs and were curious to see the results.

They showed up in the late morning, when Monica, Melissa, and Starchild were cooking, with four of the required additional chairs and one overstuffed ottoman, which Monica could hear banging along the stairwell long before she actually saw it.  “What is that?” Melissa asked.

“An ottoman,” Frohike said.  “You want to sit on it?”

“Not especially,” Melissa said.  “You brought it.  Why don’t you?”

“All right,” he said, parking it next to the table.  “Suits me fine.”

“We brought cookies, too,” Langly said.  “And this tomato salad.”

“Thanks,” Monica said.  “You want to leave them on the table?  Is Karen coming?”

“Yeah, she said she’d get here a little later,” Langly said.  “And to tell you she’s still bringing the cranberry sauce.”

“All right!” Monica said.  “Well, things are still cooking.  But we can eat chips or something until then.”

There wasn’t room for everyone in the kitchen, by any stretch of the imagination, and they took turns moving in and out.  At one point, Monica walked back in to find Starchild seated on the counter, Byers in front of her with his arms around her waist and his lips pressed to hers.  “Would you please do that somewhere else?” she asked.  “We are cooking here, you know.”  She was still baffled by them, sometimes, even when she was no longer particularly surprised.

“What are—oh Jesus,” Melissa said, poking her head into the kitchen.  She and Monica both started to laugh, and Starchild and Byers laughed too, after a minute.

“All right, all right,” Starchild said, hopping down.  “When’s your guy getting here, Monica?”

“Not sure,” Monica said.  “I told him to be here by two.”

“Okay,” Starchild said, shrugging.  She led Byers into the living room, presumably so they could consider whatever it was that they were doing.

Karen showed up around twelve-thirty, with her cranberry sauce, told them that the food smelled great, and thanked them profusely for inviting her.  “These days, with my residency, I’m so busy I never go anywhere,” she said.  “And I rarely eat anything more complicated than a sandwich.  So thank you.  Really.”

“It’s no problem!” Monica said.  “Yeah, Dana was telling me how busy she’s been.  Same for all of you, I guess?”

“You can say that again,” Karen said.  She flopped down next to Langly on the couch.  “But today, I’m not doing anything but eating and sitting.  That’s what I’m thankful for.”

“To eating and sitting!” Frohike cried, waving a glass, and everyone more or less joined in the toast, laughing.

Monica found herself glancing at the clock a lot, over the next hour and a half; she wasn’t necessarily expecting John before two, but she knew it was a possibility, and she was eager to see him, whatever everyone else thought.  It’s going to be fine, she told herself.  You’re freaking yourself out for no reason.  And Melissa squeezed her arm and smiled at her while she was mashing the potatoes, and that helped too.

When two rolled around, though, and the food was ready and on the table, there was still no John.  “You said he was definitely coming,” Langly said.  “Right, Monica?”

“Right,” Monica said.  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.  We can probably start eating.”

They took their seats on the table.  “Who’re we waiting for?” Karen asked.

“A guy Monica knows,” Frohike said.

“My friend John,” Monica said, thinking that he deserved more than just a guy.

“Oh, okay,” Karen said.  “I don’t think I’ve met him.”

“Yeah, none of us the rest of us have,” said Langly.  “He’s a mystery man.”  He was smiling as he said it, but Monica still felt on edge.

“I’m surprised he’s not here yet,” said Starchild.  Monica wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.  It wasn’t like Starchild was so big on timeliness, usually.  She knew she was overthinking things, now, but she couldn’t stop.  She made herself take a serving of stuffing and concentrate on eating.  The others talked around her, about work and politics and movies and books, but she couldn’t take it in.  This wasn’t how she wanted Thanksgiving to go.

“Look, I’m going to call John,” she said after about half an hour.  “I want to make sure nothing happened.”  She got up from the table and walked over to the telephone, which was all of three feet away.  There was never a ton of privacy, when you lived with two roommates, but she felt it acutely now.  She didn’t have his number, she realized, so she took the phonebook from the table, hoping he was in there.  He was.  She dialed.

“Hello?”  A woman’s voice on the other end.

“Hi,” Monica said.  “Is John there?”

“Can I tell him who’s calling?”  Her voice didn’t reveal anything, only leaving Monica with questions that she knew she couldn’t ask.

“Yes, it’s Monica,” she said.

“Hang on just a minute,” the woman said; Monica heard her putting the phone down and calling, “John?  It’s someone named Monica.”

He picked up the phone quickly.  “Monica?  Hi.  How did you get my number?”

“The phonebook,” Monica said.

“Oh.  Right.”

“Are you…are you still coming for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked.  “We’ve started—”

“Right.  I’m sorry,” he said.  He’d cut her off, something he’d never done before.  “Yeah, something came up just yesterday.  I meant to call you and then I forgot.  I’m really sorry.”

“It’s…I understand,” Monica said.  “But I’ll see you soon?”

“Thanks for understanding,” he said, which wasn’t an answer to the question.  “I really have to go.  Happy Thanksgiving, Monica.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.  “Bye, then.”

“Goodbye,” he said, and he hung up quickly, before she could think about saying anything else.

She went back to the table.  “Something came up,” she said.  “He can’t make it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Melissa said.  She gave Monica a sympathetic look.

“Yeah,” Langly said, and the others nodded.  But she knew that, aside from Melissa, nobody really meant it.  That made it all worse, and it was pretty bad already.  She couldn’t concentrate on dinner, not even on the pies, which were usually her favorite part.  She tried to take part in the conversation—she had plenty of friends here, she told herself, John wasn’t her only friend—but she couldn’t laugh like she usually did, not even at Langly’s selection of bad jokes about turkeys, which he brought out every year.  She joined in the clean up afterwards, because she didn’t want to be the person who didn’t do her part, but all she really wanted was to lie down on her bed, write in her journal, and try to figure out what had gone wrong.

Maybe she would call him again, she thought.  By this time, the guests were gone (Starchild with them) and she was putting the last dishes away.  She knew it was a bad idea, that she couldn’t hope to achieve much by it, that anything she heard would probably be something she didn’t want to hear.  But he was her friend, like she’d said.  She wanted to know what was going on.

She probably would have done it, too, but Melissa was on the phone when she went into the living room.  “Yeah, we had a pretty good time,” she was saying.  “How about you?... Well, I’m not surprised…When are you getting back, Dana?  We should get together…Yeah, that makes sense.  Call me…No, no, it’s okay.  I’ll talk to you soon, then…Thanks for calling, guys, really…Bye, then.”  She hung up and then turned to look at Monica, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway.  “Dana and Charlie,” she said, in explanation.  “They’re at our parents’.”  Monica nodded.  “Come and sit,” Melissa added, gesturing to the spot next to her on the couch, and when Monica did she leaned her head against her shoulder.

They were both quiet for a few minutes.  “Thanksgiving stinks,” Melissa said, at last.

“It sure does,” Monica said, leaning her head against Melissa’s, and they were quiet again.

.....

Monica waited for John to call, which was something she hated doing.  Sometimes she told herself he would probably call soon, sometimes she told herself he probably wouldn’t call again, and she didn’t know which she thought was more likely.

He did call.

It was about a week after Thanksgiving, and he didn’t say much on the phone, but then he never did.  He asked if she wanted to go to the park again that Saturday.  She had questions and she didn’t know how to ask them.  She said sure.

He was there on Saturday, at their usual time, in their usual spot, looking like he usually did.  Their greetings were the same too.  But when they started walking, looking for trash to pick up, he didn’t pay attention like he usually did, and then he turned to her suddenly, putting a hand on her arm.

“Hey,” he said, “I want to talk to you about something.  Can we sit down?”

“Sure,” Monica said.  They found a bench and sat.  She felt like she wasn’t in control of this, anymore.

“You’re probably mad,” he said.  “Since I didn’t show up last week.”

“I’m not mad,” Monica said, and that was true, anyway.

“But you probably want to know why I didn’t show up,” John said.  “Right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Monica said.  “I mean, if you want to tell me.”

“Sure I do,” he said.  “It’s just that it was a little unexpected.  You see, my…my wife and I—”

“Your what?”  A little unexpected for him, maybe.  For her that didn’t begin to cover it.  She’d speculated, after what she’d heard on the phone, but she hadn’t thought this.  Marriage seemed so solid, so unchangeable, and never more beyond her experience than in this moment.

“My wife,” he said.  “I know I haven’t talked about her.  Before.  It’s because the two of us were—”

“That seems like a big thing not to talk about,” Monica said.  “A pretty big thing.  I would have told you if I were—”

“I didn’t talk about her because we weren’t really together,” John said, cutting her off again, like he’d done on the phone.  “And that wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.  Not because I don’t trust you, or anything, but because I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.  We’d been having issues since I got back.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.  A part of her was angry, now, maybe unjustifiably.  “Oh,” she finally said.

“We got married really young,” he said.  “After high school.  I don’t know…it is what it is.  Things were different after I got back.  Obviously, maybe.  But that was hard on both of us…and we haven’t been living together for a couple of months now.”  She watched him, trying to make out the story beneath the vague words.  “So I didn’t think we’d be together for Thanksgiving, and I said I’d come to your place.  But Barbara, she called and said she thought we should try again.”  Barbara, that was his wife’s name.  “That she wanted to have Thanksgiving together.  So we did.  And that’s…that’s it, I guess.”

“You could have told me,” Monica said.  A stupid thing to say.  This wasn’t about her.  She wasn’t important here.

“Maybe I should’ve,” he said.  “I wasn’t sure how.”

They sat on the bench for a minute.  “So how was it?” she asked.  “Your Thanksgiving?  Did you…the two of you…”  She wanted it to have been good, she realized.  She didn’t want this to have happened for nothing.

“I don’t really know,” he said, and she wanted to cry.  She couldn’t even be mad, like she wanted to be.  She couldn’t tell him…what?  That he shouldn’t have been so nice to her?

“Well, I hope you both figure it out,” she said finally.

“Thanks,” he said.  “I hope so too.”  They were quiet.  “You’re right, I should have told you,” he said, after a minute or two.  “I’m not sure why I didn’t.”

“I wish you had,” Monica said, because that was true.  Maybe this wasn’t anyone’s fault, one way or the other.  But it would have been a lot easier if he had.

She wasn’t really looking at him, but he turned now, to look into her face.  “Believe me, I never meant to make you believe something that wasn’t true.”

“I know,” Monica said.  “I know you didn’t.”  She didn’t think that of him; she didn’t want to think it.

“I hope we can still…”  He trailed off, gestured at the park around them with one hand.

“Yeah, me too,” Monica said.  “But maybe today…do you mind if I go home?”

“No,” he said.  “No, not at all.  I get it.  Really.”

He walked with her to the subway.  “You can call me,” he said.  “If you want to get together again.”

“I will,” Monica said.  “Honestly.  You’re my friend, and…I will.  Just not right away, maybe.”

He nodded.  “You’re my friend too,” he said.  “And a damn good one.  And I’m…I’m sorry about all this.”

“I’m sorry too,” Monica said, but she didn’t hug him this time.  She couldn’t let herself, she decided, so she just waved as she walked down into the subway station.

.....

Melissa was home.  “Hey,” she said, looking up from the book she was reading as Monica came in.  “You’re back early.”

“He didn’t come for Thanksgiving because he’s married,” Monica blurted out.

“He’s married?” Melissa asked.  “What an ass!”

“No, it’s not like that,” Monica explained, sinking down onto the couch next to Melissa, letting her put her arms around her.  “He’s…they were separated.  But they were trying to work it out.  And anyway, there’s nothing wrong with it, being married.  I have other friends who are married.  Dana’s married.”  She knew she sounded ridiculous.

“But you feel differently about this guy than you feel about Dana,” Melissa said, “or your other married friends.  Right?”

“Right,” Monica said.  “But that’s not his fault.  He never…I was reading things into it that weren’t there.  I was being—”

“Monica,” Melissa said, and her voice was gentle and stern at the same time.  “We’re not in a court of law.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You can just be upset, if you want to.”  She looked at Monica’s face.  “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Monica said.  “I do.”  She didn’t know how to say what she felt.  “It’s just…he could have told me,” she said, and then she started to cry.

Melissa hugged her close.  “Of course he should have told you,” she said.  “I’m so sorry, Monica.  This kind of thing…it always feels awful.  Whatever the circumstances, whatever you tell yourself.  You can’t change how you feel.”

Monica didn’t have anything to say to that.  She just let Melissa keep hugging her, while she cried.

.....

Monica spent most of the next few weeks hanging out with her friends, especially Melissa.  She didn’t really want to talk about what had happened—she couldn’t change it, so she wanted to move on—and they did other things instead, going to the movies or cooking together.  They had dinner with Dana once, on one of her rare free evenings, and they laughed together over Chinese food, and Monica felt more carefree than she had in a while.

It was just at the end of the year that she got in touch with John: she wanted to leave her bad feelings in 1973.  She didn’t quite feel up to calling yet, so she wrote him a letter.  She didn’t talk about what she’d felt, because it couldn’t come to anything, she knew, and it wasn’t a possibility she wanted to leave open anymore.  Instead, she told him that she’d enjoyed spending time with him, that she’d been shocked but that she wasn’t mad, that she hoped he and Barbara were doing well.  She didn’t ask him to call her or to write back.  She couldn’t be that firm about it, still.  She found his address in the phonebook, and she mailed the letter before she could second guess it.

She told Melissa that she’d sent it, when the two of them were hanging out on New Year’s Eve; they hadn’t felt like going to the party at the guys’ and were watching an old movie on TV at home.  “And do you feel better?” Melissa asked.  “Now that you’ve sent it?”

“Yeah,” Monica said.  “I do.”

“I’m glad,” Melissa said, smiling.  “You need more of the blanket?”  Monica nodded, shifting closer, and they kept watching the movie.

They switched over just before midnight so they could watch the ball drop in Times Square.  “I wonder what they’re doing over at the guys’,” Monica said.

“Everyone’s probably looking for someone to kiss at midnight,” Melissa said, laughing.  “I wonder what Starchild and Byers will do for the occasion.”

Monica laughed too.  “Too bad we’re missing it.”

Melissa tugged at the corner of the blanket.  “Just as well, I think,” she said.  “It can be a little sad.  Being alone at these things.”

“Hey, we’re not alone,” Monica said, and Melissa shrugged.  “Seriously, we’re not.”  She didn’t like Melissa saying that, didn’t like the thought that they were alone.  On the TV they were counting down, and Melissa wasn’t even looking at her.  “Here,” she said finally, wildly, when the countdown reached zero, and she leaned in and kissed Melissa.  She didn’t do it for long, but it wasn’t exactly a peck, either.

They both pulled back at the same time and looked at each other; Melissa looked stunned, confused, which was the same way Monica felt.  But then Melissa kissed her again, experimentally, and it felt nice, and Monica was about to lean into it when Melissa pulled away again.

“Sorry,” she said.  “Monica…we shouldn’t.”

“I…okay,” Monica said.  “I’m sorry.  I was out of line…I don’t know what I was thinking…it’s okay if you don’t…”

Melissa put a hand on her shoulder.  “Hey, it’s all right,” she said.  “It wasn’t that I didn’t like it.  Or that I don’t like you.  I just think…we’re probably not ready for this.  It’s a little sudden.  Don’t you think?”  Monica nodded, slowly.  She knew Melissa was right.  Sending the letter had made her feel better, but maybe not entirely, not yet.  “Okay, good,” Melissa said.  “Because I really don’t want to jump into something.  I’ve done that before and it was…”  She chewed on her lip, looking thoughtful.  “Lousy,” she finally said.  “Really lousy.  And it…it ruined some things.  And I wouldn’t want to ruin things with us.”  She was looking right at Monica now, and she was smiling.  “Because I do like you.  And I actually think this could work…if you wanted to revisit things, at some point…but just not now.  Not all of a sudden, like this.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Monica said.  “A lot of sense.  You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” Melissa said.  “I’d tell you if I were.”

“Good,” Monica said.  “And I think I would like to…revisit things.  When we’re ready.”

“We’ll find our time,” Melissa said, and Monica believed her.  She snuggled closer to Monica under the blanket and picked up her glass.  “To a wonderful 1974,” she said, and Monica tapped her glass against hers, believing that would be true too.

[cyanmnemosyne]

Yuletide Letter (2018)

Dear Yuletide Writer,

First of all, thank you for taking the time to write me a fic! These last few years I've been increasingly drawn to tiny fandoms, so I always look forward to this opportunity to share the love with other people who love them too. :D

I've tried to provide some commentary below for each of my requested fandoms, in case it's useful to you, but ultimately Optional Details Are Optional, and I'm sure I'll enjoy what you come up with regardless of if your heart takes you in a different direction. :)  

AO3 name: darkcyan

Requested fandoms:

Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

Suisei no Gargantia | Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet

Ghostverse - Alex Yuschik (Podcast)

Foundryside - Robert Jackson Bennett

[ hiding the rest under the cut, because I tend to write a lot XD ]

General Preferences:

I have no preferences regarding length, tense, or POV; feel free to do whatever seems right for the story.

Stories with emotional warmth are my jam: fluff, found family, battle couples. People learning to trust / coming to love each other, and people for whom their mutual love and/or trust is already their bedrock. I don't need the entire story to be lighthearted from start to finish, but the stories I love most are the ones where even if the characters have been through Some Shit in the course of the story, by the end they're in as good or better a place than when they started. 

If you feel like doing an AU, go for it! :D I like it best when the characters feel "true" to their canon personalities, as filtered and changed through the different lens of how the AU differs from canon. I do have a slight preference for AUs that provide opportunities for interesting worldbuilding (e.g. scifi AU) than the more-typical coffeeshop/college AU. 

In general, if you're the sort to enjoy doing a deep dive into worldbuilding (AU or canon), I'm happy to come along for that ride, too. :D  

Time travel fic is one of my guilty pleasures. XD I have no need for the exact mechanics to be explained; going down the canon-divergence-with-foreknowledge path is completely OK with me. :D

I love it when female characters are their awesome selves

This is not an exhaustive list, so if you don't see something in my DNW list, you're welcome to either send me an anon ask or just assume it's fine. :D

DNW:

Onscreen sex. Fade to black or references to it happening offscreen are fine if you feel it’s important to the story, but if we’ve gotten to the point where we’re talking about limb positions, my reaction is almost certain to be somewhere between bored and extremely uncomfortable.  

Even if it’s not explicit or onscreen, please no rape / noncon / dubcon. 

I’m not a huge fan of drug / addiction plots either

Relationships, romantic or otherwise, where there’s a significant power imbalance (especially if it’s abused) tend to really bother me. 

I also feel pretty strongly about free will and freedom to choose, so “I’m taking away your choices by hiding things from you / doing things behind your back For Your Own Good” narratives mostly just make me want to punch things, no matter how good the supposed justification is on the part of the person doing it. 

Cheating and other forms of deliberate, sustained dishonesty within a relationship. Poly relationships are completely fine :D all that I ask is that all people involved are as aware of who else is involved / what else is going on as they want to be. 

Gratuitous drama.  If a misunderstanding could be resolved by the characters just sitting down for five minutes and talking to each other, and the only reason they don’t is ~*~reasons~*~, then I start getting really annoyed, really quickly

Character bashing. Even the characters I personally dislike are the heroes of their own stories.  

If I wanted to hear about awful people being awful all the time and how awful everything is as a result, I’d go watch the news. (… Someday I would like this statement to be less true than it was the previous year, instead of more. ;___;) There can be awful people, they can do awful things, but I’d really prefer they not be either the majority or the focus of the story.

Fandoms:

Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

Requested character(s): Nel Zelpher, Clair Lasbard

Spoiler notes: I’ve played the game. (I'm also about halfway through the manga, but so far not super impressed by its characterization of Nel, so feel free to ignore it completely. :) )

Preferred pairings: Nel/Clair or gen

So, Nel was my official first ever video game crush. This was a bit difficult for me to explain to my young, theoretically-straight self at the time, but she was so cool that I didn’t bother to think about it too hard.

When we are introduced to Clair as her partner, and every single scene in which the two appear makes it clear how strong their bond is – it was a foregone conclusion that I would start to ship them as well. And Adray’s obnoxious insistence on trying to find a husband for Clair just made me even more determined to headcanon them as lovers (or at the very least secretly pining for each other) in addition to partners.

If you don’t ship them romantically, but just think they’re great platonic partners, I’m sure I’ll still enjoy it whatever you come up with. But in case there’s any doubt, I also very much ship them. :D <3

And whether they're romantically involved or not, I love their dynamic – these two strong-willed, intelligent, fiercely competent women, working towards a shared goal that they both believe is more important than themselves. I love how deep and unshakeable their trust is – and how even though it clearly tears Clair apart to send Nel out into a situation that they both know may not be survivable, she’ll do it anyway. And Nel will go.

I don’t have any specific prompts in mind – if you want to write about a mission Clair has to send Nel off on, and the tension between their fear for and their trust in each other (and the knowledge hanging over both of them that they’re doing something that they see as more important than them both), great! Want to just do fluffy interactions during a brief break from the action (do they get vacation? How many people do they have to bribe to get vacation at the same time?), or after the war is done and things are a bit more settled, go for it.

In the narrative path where Nel goes with the party into space, does she think of Clair and all the stories she’s going to tell once she gets back (if she gets back)?  What does Clair think, being left so much farther behind this time than any other time before?  What stories does Nel tell when they’re reunited?

Got an idea that’s burning in your mind and has nothing to do with any of these? I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you come up with. :)

Suisei no Gargantia | Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet

Requested character(s): Ridget, Bellows

Spoiler notes: I’ve watched the show, the OVAs, and the movie.

Preferred pairings: Ridget/Bellows or gen

I came to this show because I was in the mood for mecha anime, then stayed because I fell in love with the cinnamon roll main character, his slice of life struggles to find his place, and the interesting worldbuilding.

… And the badass-with-a-mile-wide-streak-of-imposter-syndrome Fleet Commander and her best friend (or more?), the irreverent excavation team head.

Ridget and Bellows don’t interact a whole lot over the course of the show, but every moment counts and it is clear even in those moments how deep their respect and appreciation for each other goes.

Talk to me about Ridget, who’s so afraid to mess everything up but determined to shoulder the responsibility anyway.

Talk to me about Bellows, who is one of the most effortlessly competent people on the ship and has a warm heart to match.

I’d love to see a story about the two of them and about how much they mean to each other, or a situation where one or both of them are supporting each other.  Anywhere in the timeline is fine with me. :D

(For the record: I ship these two characters, like, a lot.  But if you don’t, know that I’d still love to see a story about their entirely platonic friendship. <3)

The other characters are more than welcome to show up, too. :)

Ghostverse - Alex Yuschik (Podcast)

Requested character(s): Five, Hyeon

Spoiler notes: I've listened to the story

Preferred pairings: Five/Hyeon or gen

I stumbled across this story earlier this year, and my heart was immediately stolen by how elegantly it portrays a very interesting science fiction / fantastical world and the growing friendship of these two characters, through nothing more than a series of texts between the two.

So really, what I'd like from this prompt is more of the same. :) Do you want to explore this fascinating world, where giant mecha run by chronically sleep-deprived pilots are the only thing that stands between what's left of the world and destruction by the ravaging of (I would assume) equally giant ghosts? I'll happily read any of it.

Or dig deeper into these two characters: Hyeon, who feels so constricted by his lot in life, but still tries his best to live up to it (modulo some text complaints, because really, who wouldn't?). Five, who's driven to not only pilot a mecha, but to be one of the best; who has turned his inner grief and darkness into a sword that he uses to stand between the ghosts and others, that they not suffer as he has.

I'm most interested in what might happen after the story ends: now that Five and Hyeon have met face-to-face, what happens next? Does it change their relationship at all? What does Seven Sparrows Sleeping look like in the aftermath of that last attack, and does that affect Hyeon at all?

But honestly: whatever story you give me, I'm sure I'll love.

As usual, while I do ship these two characters, I'd also be happy to see a story where their relationship remains platonic.

And while it would be fun to see a story told solely through texts, in the mode of canon, please do not feel like that's a requirement - I'd be just as happy to see a story that uses a more standard prose format. :)

Foundryside - Robert Jackson Bennett

Requested character(s): Berenice Grimaldi

Spoiler notes: I've read the book

Preferred pairings: Berenice/Sancia if during/after the book; gen otherwise

I read this book recently, after hearing rave reviews, and while it took a while to get going for me, I ended up really enjoying it: both the characters introduced, and the world they inhabit. Alas, that last I heard book 2 doesn’t even have a release year yet. 😭

And perhaps my favorite was Berenice, Orso's quieter, blazingly competent counterpart. (And, in fact, one of the biggest contributors to my eventually liking Orso as well was the fact that he clearly understood and respected just how competent Berenice is; that their partnership was a partnership, as much as it initially looked like he was just peremtorily ordering her around.)

I'd love to see more stories about Berenice -- how did she start out? What was working with Orso like when they first started working together, and how many times did she have to put her foot down before he started listening to her and treating her as an equal?

What was she thinking and doing, in the parts of the book where she's not on-screen or not the POV character?

Or, if you feel like speculating -- what does she think of Orso's new merchant house (aside from "nice job rules-lawyering yourself out of getting brutally killed 👍"), and what is she doing to help make it a success? Is she taking on a teaching role with all the new scrivers he's brought in, or learning from them? Has she found any other people with talents like hers to train as well?

The bits and pieces of Berenice/Sancia we got during the book were quite cute -- I especially like the scene where Orso's trying to give her romantic advice and she's like "lol I'm way ahead of you" -- so if you'd like to explore more of their relationship, I'd love to see more of that as well! Is Sancia still touch-shy? How do they negotiate that? Alternately, now that she's gotten this ridiculous powerup with no real downsides (at least, none we've seen yet), how does that affect how she interacts with the world and with Berenice?

Given that their relationship seems to be pretty much canon at this point, if you include Sancia in the story I'd prefer that the story acknowledge that. But, is probably obvious from all the above commentary, if you'd rather <i>not</i> focus on their relationship, that's 100% fine with me, too -- the main thing I want is more of Berenice being her awesome self. :)

Note also that I find the magic system rather fascinating, and as a programmer myself am amused by how it "feels like" programming. So if you'd like to dig into the magic system and play around with it some more, I would absolutely be on board with that, too. :D

... And that's it!

I hope this letter has been of help, and am thoroughly looking forward to seeing what you come up with. :D

[dracosollicitus]

“Sugar Sugar”: Chapter Two

Lots of anons and your replies told me that I should probably publish the next chapter of the Sugar Daddy Damerey AU. 

First Post is Here

Thanks to @dame-reylo-ve for the gorg moodboard <3

PS: if you want to see the rest of this fic (I have a lot more planned) let me know <3

Chapter Two (rated M, for sexual content at the end), Word Count: 5396 words

“We should really talk about a contract,” Mr. Dameron said after he’d paid the bill – he’d frowned when Rey instinctively reached for the check, and she’d sat on her hands, blushed and whispered sorry, which seemed to more than mollify him.

“A contract?” She blinked, twice, trying to understand. “I’m sorry, but what do I need a contract for?” She hated documentation. Hated it. She had a file at her apartment, filled to the brim with documents. Her intake form from when she was five, and they had found her in that wretched place. The subsequent stacks of forms from foster homes she’d been dragged to after they couldn’t find any family; the foster homes she ran away from (police reports to go with that, reports listing her runaway status), and then dragged back to. The forms Unkar Plutt had filled out when he’d gotten his hands on her at fourteen –

The form he’d made her sign at 18, promising she wouldn’t work anywhere but at his junkyard. Finn had found that one, right after they’d become friends, and shook his head violently, loudly insisting this isn’t legal, Peanut, he can’t hold you to this, and she hadn’t believed him, had cried and insisted it was real, she belonged to Plutt, belonged in the junk, and Finn had called Ben Solo, a friend of a friend who was a high-powered lawyer who sat her down and shook his head at the document that had been haunting her and told her she was free.

He’d also encouraged her to burn the document, to kill her past – but Rey liked reminders. She needed to remember not to trust people.

So when Mr. Dameron said contract, she balked. “There’s no need,” she said, as Mr. Dameron tilted his head at her, not quite frowning, but not looking happy either. “I won’t – I wouldn’t tell anyone about … what we are.”

He frowned softly and shook his head. “No, Rey, it’s not just an NDA, although that’s part of it. This would be to protect you just as much as me. Make it clear what you should expect, and what I should expect from this. I’ll have my lawyer write something up, and we can look it over at lunch next week.”

And Rey had agreed because something about the soft openness of his face made her believe him, made her believe it was for her own good, and then she went home and writhed against her sheets, her skin too small for her body. Before she could fall asleep, her phone buzzed on the floor next to her mattress, and she rolled over to check it.

Her phone was a second generation iPhone that she’d salvaged from the trash – had watched, indignant, as a frat boy had chucked it the second he opened his new phone – and kept alive through sheer skill. Sure, she was mildly worried it might actually catch fire some day soon, but it worked. And she’d pieced it together, kept it alive. It was hers. But she didn’t often get texts.

[Unknown Number]: I had a great time tonight, sweetheart. I hope you sleep well.

Rey blushed. No one had ever sent her a goodnight text before. She had a limited data plan though, so she fretted about sounding a response – you could ask him to get you the next step up in your data plan, the calm, calculating part of her brain pointed out – but then she did, not wanting to seem rude. And it was sweet of him to think of her.

She saved him to her contacts (you have five full friends now, Smith!) and then responded.

[Rey]: Thank you for dinner, Mr. Dameron. Can’t wait to see you next week. Xx.

She fired it off before she could think better of it and then shrieked quietly into her pillow. She was never that flirty. X’s? Like she was in middle school still? Rey Smith, who never so much as sent a folded-up love note to a would-be paramour, suddenly dotting her texts with kisses – what was next? Emojis?

What the fuck.

She hadn’t even done it to be performative, she knew. She … really wanted Mr. Dameron to think she had a good time. She wanted to make him happy.

Fuck. If only she could afford therapy.

Rey giggled hysterically at the thought of asking her sugar daddy to pay for a few sessions of therapy, I mean, I clearly have some unresolved issues, but then frowned. She knew, really, why the idea of a contract had bothered her. It, like all the other documents in her life, would be a constant reminder of what she was. An accessory, an unnecessary addition, something that could be removed and moved and taken away, left behind.

Rey didn’t want to be a piece of paper to Poe Dameron. She wanted to be more. Wanted him to smile at her on her own merit, not because she was a young woman who agreed to spend time with him in a monetary, controlled transaction. She wanted to – to  --

God. She was already fucked.

***

Across town, in a penthouse that overlooked the majority of Coruscant, Poe Dameron looked up from the open document that his lawyer had finished, express, this evening. There’d been past documents to start from, of course, from other girls who’d entered into this arrangement with him – but Poe wanted it to be perfect. It needed to be perfect, and different, and he was probably being selfish, but he wanted more than anything for this to work. Not fizzle out after three months when the girl moved on, understandably, to a younger, more suitable man, one who wasn’t quite as fucked up, one who didn’t hide behind his money as a poor exchange for intimacy.

His phone had buzzed – it was past midnight, and he hadn’t expected a response, but his heart skipped a beat, seeing the now-familiar name on the screen.

[Rey Smith, 12:21 a.m.]: Thank you for dinner, Mr. Dameron. Can’t wait to see you next week. Xx.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t even asked her to call him Mr. Dameron. A part of him – unconquerable, so it would seem – almost wanted to let slip his military career, let her know that it was technically Major Dameron. But wouldn’t that call forth a whole lot of uncomfortable questions that he’d feel obligated to answer? Poe shook his head. That was the beauty of this arrangement. They didn’t need to ask each other uncomfortable questions.

But I’d tell her, he thought randomly. I don’t know why, but I would. Poe clenched his fist and stood to fix a drink. He stood in the window overlooking the city and sighed through his nose. Three hours with her, and she’d gotten under his skin. What was he doing?

It started when he realized she had no idea who he was. At first, he worried that Paige had told her to play it cool, to not let it slip that she recognized his name, his story. But Rey Smith was guileless. She blushed and giggled and had no idea which utensil to use and when – and he was charmed. Immediately. The second she said his name, Mr. Dameron? the syllables sounding so damn right in her voice, rounded slightly by a British accent – he knew. He didn’t want to mess this one up.

Poe went back to the contract only to save his changes and then headed to bed, a full two hours earlier than normal. He looked at the text one last time, greedily, before he fell asleep, focusing on the two small x’s at the end of the text.

Maybe she’d let him kiss her.

There’s a thought.

***

Drawing up the contract was not nearly as awkward as Rey feared it would be. A car had pulled up outside the coffeeshop she was studying at – even if she couldn’t afford fall tuition for her Master’s, she could always keep studying, and the coffeeshop had free WiFi – and Rey waved at the driver nervously.

“Ms. Smith?” The man unfolded himself from the car and opened up the door for her. Rey frowned – she really could have done that for herself, no need to inconvenience anyone – and nodded.

“I’m Rey,” she said, sticking her hand out. The chauffeur raised his eyebrows but took the offered hand.

“Snap Wexley,” he said cheerfully. Rey hopped in, and he returned to the driver’s seat. It was a nice car, and Rey hummed appreciatively at the sound of the engine. It was efficient, and no-nonsense, and probably the nicest car she’d sat in – she’d taken apart nicer ones, of course, but she was sitting in this, which was worlds different.

“Do you work for Mr. Dameron?” Rey asked curiously while they pulled away from the curb.

“I do!” Snap grinned at her in the rearview mirror, and Rey smiled back.

“For how long?” She asked, fiddling with the strap of her bag, an old crossbody she’d found thrifting six months ago.

“I left the Army a year ago, and Mr. Dameron offered me the job so I could work while I went to school,” Snap said, turning left and getting on the expressway towards uptown. The sky lightened up considerably while they drove around from her side of town, which Rey rolled her eyes at. Of course, rich people got nicer weather, too.

“Oh! What are you studying?” She could see a stack of textbooks on the front seat, and Snap’s neck turned a little red.

“Aeronautics and engineering. It makes sense, right?”

Rey frowned. The comment didn’t make a lot of sense, but she didn’t want to be rude. “Aeronautics is super cool,” she enthused, slightly wincing at her diction. Whatever. She was young, she could sound young. And it was super cool. “I went for Mechanical Engineering, myself. I love taking things apart and putting them back together. Got me in trouble a lot when I was younger.”

Got me evicted from more than one house. She didn’t add that part.

Snap laughed and shook his head. “I can’t imagine you being in trouble.”

“And what does that mean?” Rey pretended to sound indignant.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just supposed to believe that you were a troublemaker, ever. Your shirt has daisies on it, Ms. Smith.”

“It’s just Rey,” she corrected hurriedly, and she snorted, looking down at her outfit. A comfortable grey shirt with daisies on it, skinny jeans, and converse. “Maybe these are poisonous daises. Real bad ass stuff. Weaponized flora.”

Snap laughed harder at that, and they spent the rest of the drive snarking back and forth.

She felt much more relaxed by the time they pulled up outside of an upscale restaurant. Rey shook her head when they got out, sliding quickly to beat Snap to the door. He huffed in pretend annoyance, and Rey stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his tongue out back, and Rey heard a familiar voice.

“Rey?” She and Snap startled apart, both looking like kids who’d gotten their hands caught in a cookie jar.

“Mr. Dameron!” She squeaked. God. Oh God.

He was even hotter than she remembered. All the research on this sort of dynamic that she’d done the last four days threatened to fall right out of her head at the sight of him. He was wearing a plum button down tucked into grey pants, and his hair was much more tame today. Was this his lunch hour? Did he work? Rey stumbled forward, and when he held his hand out, she took it, expecting them to shake again.

He kissed her knuckles instead, bending at the waist to brush his lips over her hand, and Rey shivered, not unpleasantly. Her skin prickled into gooseflesh despite the fact that it was seventy degrees, and Mr. Dameron looked up at her under hooded eyes. They held eye contact for easily five seconds, long, agonizing, eternal seconds, and Snap cleared his throat.

“I’ll get going then,” Snap said, and Rey startled and looked back at him.

“It was lovely to meet you, Snap!” She beamed at him.

“It was absolutely a pleasure to meet you as well, Rey.” He tipped his hat at her, got in the car, and pulled away back into the light traffic of mid-day.

“Charming my employees?” Mr. Dameron asked, and Rey looked over at him, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Should I be worried?”

“Definitely.” Rey smirked at him before she remembered why they were there, and she frowned at the building behind him. “Why do I get the feeling that a plate in there costs more than what I spend on utilities each month?”

“I mean, it probably does,” Mr. Dameron sounded unbothered, and Rey sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not dressed very nicely,” she pointed out. “When you said lunch, I was thinking, like, burgers or something.”

“I’m fairly certain they serve hamburgers here,” he teased. “And if they don’t, I could ask them to.” She had a feeling people didn’t say no to Mr. Dameron; he was an odd combination of charismatic and demanding. She fidgeted all the same. “What is it?” He looked concerned now.

“Could we – could we go somewhere less fancy?” Rey asked. He opened his mouth, probably to argue, but she plowed forward. “I just – the idea of sitting somewhere nice, looking like I don’t belong, when I already know I don’t – it’s really stressful.”

The therapist she’d managed to see for five months in undergrad was probably applauding somewhere. Mr. Dameron looked taken aback, like that honestly hadn’t occurred to him.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I’ll just step inside and cancel the reservation. Do you want to look at Yelp and see what’s in walking distance?” He smiled at her and went into the building, and Rey opened her phone, calculated how much data it would take to download an app like Yelp – she tried opening her browser, remembered that she turned off data for Chrome, and went back in to turn it on in her settings.

She was still fumbling when Mr. Dameron returned. “Sorry!” She stammered. Making people – especially men who were larger than her – unhappy still freaked her out, even after years of self-defense classes and a complete awareness that she could take down most people with extreme ease. She just did not like to displease people. Ingrained reaction. “Sorry, so sorry, my phone is –“

“On its last legs?” Mr. Dameron didn’t sound condescending, but he did shoot her phone a weird look before pulling out his own – and was that model even out yet? – and typing in something rapidly. She saw a folder tucked under his arm, and she squirmed realizing that must be the fabled contract. A pen was in his front pocket, and the sunlight was hitting his cheekbones just right, and –

“Good hamburgers, two blocks over,” he reported, grinning at her when he looked up and caught her staring. “Do I have something on my face?”

There were a hundred and one witty comebacks she could have gone with, but Rey opened her mouth and said, “You’re just really handsome, is all.”

Oh, fuck you, Smith.

His grin softened into something that made her heart clench, and he held out his arm for her to take, nodding in the direction of the new restaurant. Rey unthinkingly slipped her hand through his own, and not through his elbow, realizing halfway through her motion what he had intended. He didn’t seem to mind. At least, she hoped he didn’t.

“So, I saw the address you sent.” She’d dropped a pin at the coffeeshop. She wasn’t ready for him to see where she lived. “Do you go to that coffeeshop often?”

“Yeah,” Rey smiled at the sidewalk while they walked. “Maz has really good tea.” And she lets me drink it for free, a pastry thrown in too, if I fix her appliances every now and then. “And it’s in walking distance of my apartment, which is nice.”

“You live with Paige’s younger sister, right? Rosie?”

“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” Rey laughed. “Rose hasn’t gone by that nickname for as long as I’ve known her.”

“I knew her when she was a lot younger, I guess,” Mr. Dameron allowed, and she snuck a glance at him. He looked thoughtful, and he wasn’t looking at her, so she re-directed her attention to the sidewalk.

“But she is my roommate, yeah,” Rey remembered that he’d asked her a question. “For now.” She lived in a nicer apartment, for now. She had someone to come home to, for now.

“Moving soon?” They turned left and continued walking down the block. The storefronts looked a little more accessible, a little more homey now, and Rey saw a diner at the bottom of the hill. She hoped that was their destination.

“Rose is moving out with her boyfriend, Finn. He’s my best friend,” Rey said that last part proudly. Finn Trooper was the best person she knew – they’d even tried the romance thing when they were 18, but after a disastrous series of events and dates, they’d laughed and decided to be platonic soulmates; he’d met Rose a year later, and they’d been together ever since. “And they want their own place.”

They’d invited her to come with them, of course, but the rent was just a little more than she could afford, and she knew they were just being nice. Because they were both nice people. No one would really want her tagging along when they were starting a nice, new shiny life.

“So you’re hunting for a new apartment, then?” They were slowing as they neared the diner, and Rey’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. If he heard, he didn’t comment. “I know a realtor who can help you find a good deal.”

Christ. If the apartments she were looking at required a realtor, she probably wouldn’t be here right now. She’d be swimming in a tub full of money, like Scrooge McDuck. Unbidden, the image of Poe Dameron swimming in a bathtub of money came to mind, which made her snort and also blush.

“No, no,” Rey said as he opened the door for her, and she walked into the diner. “No, I’ll find something.” She actually had her eye on a place for 900 a month. It was over in Niima, a neighborhood of Coruscant that was less than stellar, but it was near the bus stop, and the metro, and the building had a lot of families in it, so it couldn’t be that bad.

They seated themselves, which already meant this place was more her speed. Rey didn’t even bother looking at the menu, just chirped “Biggest burger you have!” at the waitress, who snorted at Rey’s eagerness, and then looked over at Mr. Dameron.

He was regarding the menu with a strange look on his face, and when the waitress cleared her throat, he startled. “I’ll have the biscuits and gravy, thanks.” The waitress nodded and walked away, and Rey leaned over the table to smirk at him.

“Biscuits and gravy?” She teased. “Do you even know what gravy is?”

“It’s basically meat in condiment form, right?” He was absolutely deadpan, and Rey rolled her eyes at him. The food came out alarmingly quickly after they’d made some more small talk, and she wasted no time hoovering down her entire burger.

Mr. Dameron had eaten about half of a biscuit, slathered in homemade gravy, by the time she crunched her last pickle spear. He looked absolutely shocked, and mildly impressed. “Hungry?” He asked. “Or are you practicing for some kind of competition.”

“Where I grew up, you ate your food quick before someone could take it away from you,” Rey shrugged. “If they even bothered feeding you.” She frozen taking a sip of her water at the look on Mr. Dameron’s face.

He set his fork and knife down carefully. “What?” He asked. His stare was arresting, and Rey couldn’t look away. She flushed with embarrassment, then. She shouldn’t dump this on him. Whatever was going on between them, it didn’t come with the necessity of him shouldering her tragic backstory.

“Nothing.” Rey whispered and looked out the window. “Nothing that matters.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She didn’t answer the question, and instead asked one of her own. “So. The contract?” She nodded her head towards the folder he’d set down next to him on the table. Rey wiped her fingers on her napkin and reached out for it. “May I?” Mr. Dameron handed it over, but he looked no less pensive while she opened the folder.

Her brow furrowed while the unfamiliar words swam past her eyes. A lot of legal jargon, something about ‘discretion’ and ‘privacy’ – this must be the NDA. She shrugged. “This part looks fine, I don’t intend on telling anyone. I mean, Rose knows because of Paige, but Finn’s my only other friend, and he isn’t very nosy.” She held her hand out without looking up, and Mr. Dameron placed the pen in her palm. Rey signed quickly and flipped to the next page.

“Oh.” She squinted and frowned – why did legal documents have to have such tiny font – at the list of clauses Mr. Dameron had provided. “Three dates or events a week, maximum, one date a week, minimum…provision of allowance…” there was a blank next to ‘ in the amount of,’ and she looked up at her dining partner.

Mr. Dameron smiled at her. “I figured you could give me a figure, and we could write it in.”

“Uhm,” Rey looked down and then back up and then back down. “Well...I mean, isn’t like, twenty dollars normal?”

“…An hour?” Mr. Dameron’s face twisted in confusion when she glanced at him.

“No, like, a week.” Rey snorted. “God, Mr. Dameron, my job doesn’t even pay me twenty dollars an hour.”

“You want an allowance of twenty dollars a week?” Mr. Dameron still didn’t look any less confused, but amusement was creeping into the corners of his expression.

“What?” Rey closed the folder to wave it at him. “I saw it on TV once. Allowances are like, twenty dollars a week.”

“Sweetheart.” Mr. Dameron reached across the table, and she took his hand without thinking. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand soothingly, and she took a deep breath, waiting for him to speak. “How about we set it at 2000 and move on from there?”

“Two…thousand…” Rey spluttered for a minute and then shook her head. “No. No, it’s too much.”

“I want to give it to you,” he said. “Please. It’s…sort of part of this.” Rey frowned and then tapped her fingers against the folder. She owed about 50 grand in student loans from undergrad…twenty five or so weeks of this, and she could pay it off. And hadn’t she just read, bolded, underlined, in red: ‘no sexual contact shall be expected as part of the relationship; any sexual contact will be initiated by both parties and under full, adult consent of both parties outside of the pre-arranged relationship.’ It’s not like taking his money meant that she was expected to do sex work. And she’d even considered that method of paying the bills a few times in her life – she just didn’t like the idea of sex enough to consider it, preferring to work with her hands.

What an odd arrangement she’d stumbled into, then. Paige Tico would either prove to be her salvation or her destruction.

Mr. Dameron was still talking while the gears of her mind whirred. “… We can always increase it later, if you want, but that would be your independent spending money. It’d be nice if you bought things, and I could see you using them, of course, it’s…something I’m interested in, but then there will be the things that I buy for you, and –”

“Okay.” Rey cut him off and flipped the folder back open. She scrawled $2000 in the space provided in the allowance clause and then signed rapidly at the bottom of the page. “This all looks good.”

“There’s still another page.” His smile was impossibly fond, considering this was their second meeting, and Rey turned to the next page. “And if there’s anything you want to change, let me know.” Her eyes skipped down the page, catching on certain phrases:

R. S will let P. Dameron know of any necessary expense, so that he may cover it –

R. S will consent to weekends away, not to exceed one weekend per month –

R. S be provided one copy of key to P. Dameron’s Coruscant residence, to be used at signatory’s discretion, but to be surrendered at the termination of contract –

This contract will be revisited and edited as needed, or terminated, in three months, on September 15, 2018.

“Three months?” Rey asked, not looking up.

“It’s to see if this works out,” he said steadily, as if expecting the question. “This would be a sort of probationary period, where we learn about each other, see if we’re compatible to continue in this sort of arrangement. Either one of us can agree to terminate it before then, however. We’d just have to sit down and renew it by that date.”

Rey shrugged and signed the last few lines, initialing here and there where necessary – noting that he’d already filled out his lines  – before closing the folder carefully. “Can I … can I have a copy of this?”

“I’ll have it sent to your apartment later today,” he smiled and took the last bite of his meal, sopping up the gravy with his biscuit. “God, I haven’t had this in forever.”

“It’s fairly easy to get,” Rey teased. “I’m sure one of your cooks could make it for you.”

“My mom used to make it, actually,” Mr. Dameron said quietly. “Haven’t had it since she passed.”

“Oh.” Rey flailed internally. She didn’t know if her mom had been a cook. Her mom wasn’t even really much of a mom. Is now when she should say well, my mom sold me for drugs when I was four, so … ? She went for, “Was she southern?”

Was. She. Southern.

WhatthefuckiswrongwithyouRey?!?

Mr. Dameron didn’t seem affronted by the question, but the sadness in his eyes dimmed somewhat. “No, actually, she was Cuban. But she moved to the South when she was a kid, and that was one of her favorite foods. It always reminds me of her, though, when I see it or think of it.”

“Food connects us to our past,” Rey said. “Reminds us of who we were, and who we are.” She was thinking, in all honesty, of the meal she’d eaten at 14, after Unkar had beaten her again for breaking something that she had sworn was already broken, the half-mangled sandwich she found out back of a restaurant in town – she’d eaten it, lip still bleeding, her hands raw and sore from working too much, but she’d eaten it, and she’d known she’d survive, no matter what, she could do any fucking thing she wanted to, if she could only survive, and –

Mr. Dameron beamed at her, breaking her reverie. He had no idea the turn her thoughts had taken, obviously, and Rey wasn’t about to tell him. “Exactly.” He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through for a fifty – Rey’s eyes almost fell out of her head while she watched him go through his wallet (and she totally would have pickpocketed him six years ago, the man had more money than God, what the ever loving fuck, there had to be more than eight hundred dollars in there). He set the money on the table and held his hand out for her. She didn’t hesitate in taking it, and they strolled out onto the street, the folder in his free hand.

“So,” he said, releasing her hand to take out his phone. He typed quickly while talking. “I have an event on Friday. I’d like for you to be my date. It’s black tie; send me your measurements, and I’ll take care of everything.” Mr. Dameron finished typing, and he smiled at her look of surprise. “Send me your address too, will you? I’d like to send the copies of these forms over, and probably a few other things.”

“Okay.” Rey nodded, unquestioningly, but then she remembered – “Um. Would it be alright – I mean, if I came to you? After I got ready? I don’t want – it’s just.” Rey sighed and buried her face in her hands. “Your car would stick out on my street, and I want to respect your privacy.” Also, I live in general squalor and I’d rather die than see you figure out where to hang your Armani jacket in my shitty ass apartment.

“Of course.” Mr. Dameron smiled at her, and Rey sighed in relief, dropping her hands from her face. “Until Friday, then?”

“Until Friday,” she confirmed. Rey leaned in and kissed his cheek on impulse. “And don’t worry about sending for Snap, I can get home just fine on my own.” She squeezed his upper arm and darted down the street towards the metro before he could fight her on it or even say goodbye.

Friday. Three days away. She could do this.

She paused right before swiping her metro card at the entrance to the station – fuck. Now she needed to shave.

***

Poe watched the girl leave with utter bemusement. She was fiercely independent, that much was sure – twenty dollars? And she’d said it like it was a lot of money? God, he was going to have so much fun spoiling her rotten – and while normally that would have irritated him in this kind of arrangement, Rey blew off the normalcies of the typical dynamic with a mixture of bravado and innocence that was deeply, troublingly alluring.

He went back to work and left his phone in his bag during a series of meetings, but he had a text waiting for him in reward when he got out around 6:30.

[Rey Smith, 4:25 p.m.]: This is so weird to put in a text! But I’m 5’7”, and my measurements are 32, 23, 34. I’m a size four, I’m pretty sure, and I wear a size 8 shoe.

[Rey Smith, 4:26 p.m.]: Oh! And my favorite color is green. Anyway, thank you for lunch. See you on Friday. Xx

The damn kisses again. Poe was going to lose his fucking mind at the memory of her soft lips against his cheek from this afternoon – what had inspired her to do that? She had seemed almost as surprised as him at the action, and she’d scurried away before he could react properly.

Out of his last five relationships, all of which involved some version of the contract they’d signed today, three of them had been sexual. And they’d been deeply exploratory, very kinky – but ultimately a little dissatisfying, a little performative. The women had all assured him they enjoyed the sex, and he’d enjoyed it too, but he knew now he couldn’t look for sex while also paying someone’s way.

But Rey Smith’s large, doe eyes were just tempting enough for him to be inspired to think about, say, bending her over the desk in his office and fucking her forty stories off the ground, her breathy voice panting ‘Thank you Mr. Dameron, thank you’ with each thrust – maybe pressing her against the glass, stripping her completely naked while he took out his cock and remained completely dressed, holding her hands above her head while he fucked her from behind – setting her on his chair, throwing her legs over his shoulders, and finding out if she tasted as sweet as her laugh – running his hands over her lithe, perfect body, whispering how beautiful she was in her ear while he rocked into her gently, his name a soft exhalation in his ear while they both meandered their way to a warm, loving climax –

Holy shit. That was definitely a new one. Poe’s eyes flew open, and he dragged his hand over his face. He couldn’t expect that, any of that – especially not that last fantasy, where she was very obviously his girlfriend – from her. It wouldn’t be fair.

He needed to regain some of his self-control.

[yoolee]

50 SLBP Prompts

I am having an off morning. For a lot of reasons. My primary method for handling these bouts is to chug water, and pour the nervous energy into whatever the heck comes to mind and hope the heartbeat thing sorts itself out while I ignore it, so, here you go. Some of these will be terrible. Most of them will be ridiculous because it’s me y’all I don’t write angsty or meaningful substance-y stuff it’s all ballet and feather boas. Don’t judge me on how many superhero ones there are I’m on a kick. AND WHATEVER you don’t have to do anything with them if you don’t like them but you can if you do

Yukimura

Yukimura and MC are having a fight – Saizo is off on a mission, so Nobuyuki has to fix it.

“I don’t think he can get redder. Unless…” “Oh no,” started the chef, “Not a chance.”

Usually Saizo handles the ninja missions, but this time you and Yukimura have to go to undercover and please stop laughing Saizo we’re trying okay.

Saizo

Soulmate AU where when your soulmate first speaks to you, the words appear permanently over your heart – which incidentally, is why Saizo kept his mouth shut when you met as children.

Superhero (villain?) AU where the little fox half-mask is not fooling anyone. Except you, probably.

You’re very tired of Saizo trying to push you away for your own good, so you decide to turn the tables. Sort of.

Ieyasu:

You get three wishes and Ieyasu has to grant them – but he’ll do so as he pleases, so, be careful what you wish for.

Ieyasu’s ticked off a vengeful spirit and now one or the both of you can only say the exact opposite of what you mean. If it’s Ieyasu,  would you even notice?

You are about 99% certain that the local supervillain’s civilian identity is the cute jerk with a sweet tooth who never tips when he visits your restaurant and this time when you are kidnapped you decide to offer to cook while you wait for your hero to show up. Bonus points if your local superhero is a super grumpy Mitsunari who is unhappy with how many times you end up in this guy’s clutches come on seriously have you no self-awareness

Mitsunari:

Librarian AU where someone’s book is overdue

You’re supposed to be a respectful retainer of Hideyoshi but look at you, you’re scrawny and don’t know how to hold a sword, I’m going to fix that.

By insulting you that person also insulted Hideyoshi’s taste and I can’t have that we are having a makeover session now and when I am done with you you are going to show them that you are a stunning, gorgeous creature if it kills you.

Hideyoshi:

Cinderella story where Hideyoshi puts Nobunaga’s sandal on MC and declares it’s a fit.

You’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask Hideyoshi out on a date and it finally happened only you also realize that he sort of set the whole thing up and you two going out was his plan all along.

Hideyoshi is assembling a superhero team, and has to convince the Fox (Mitsunari) and the Strategist (Hanbei) to join, all while keeping his own personal Lois Lane (…MC) in the dark about his secret identity, and the head of the superhero syndicate (Nobunaga) happy.

Toshiie/Inuchiyo

This creepy guy (Magistrate) won’t leave me alone, quick, pretend to be my fiancé so he’ll stop

We’re at a festival and I finally confessed but there were fireworks and you didn’t hear me, now what

Soulmate AU where the last words spoken to one another appear on your hands the first time you meet, and you were just a kid and don’t really remember but I do, and I’m not sure I ever want you to know because they broke my heart.

Mitsuhide:

Mitsuhide runs a daycare and his most problematic child is actually his landlord, Nobunaga

It’s been four and a half centuries since Honnō-ji, but like clockwork, Mitsuhide and Nobunaga are standing across from one another, on the umpteenth reincarnation and umpteenth confrontation, and this time, it’s going to end differently. 

You’ve fallen in love with a book of poetry and bought everything the author’s written and you’re just gushing about it to some poor stranger on the train while on your way to culinary school and surprise, turns out he’s the author? 

Nobunaga:

Nobunaga is an ACTUAL Demon King and all you did was spill some spices and salt while reaching for the first aid kit, you weren’t actually trying to summon him, you swear.

After the number of times that Nobunaga has made MC be Princess Kaguya for one of his tournaments, the moon is actually starting to suspect she might be, and has let her know that it will be reclaiming her on the next full moon.

Modern political leader Nobunaga is super excited to drag his new personal chef on a private jet because the meeting he has to attend JUST HAPPENS to be in the same place that’s famous for its high quality ingredients and whoops we have to fend off some would-be assassins while in the air nbd.

Shingen:

MC is working for Kenshin, Shingen decides he wants her with him instead.

Vampire AU (he has a thing for biting, k?) – bonus if chef!MC is frustrated she can’t cook with garlic anymore or is panicking because she HAS been cooking with it this whole time

Shingen decides he should write an autobiography, but his retainers keep interjecting their own thoughts and perspectives whenever he leaves his notes out.

Kenshin:

AU where Kenshin owns a flower shop

MC has a date so she frantically asks Kenshin for styling help because he’s fashionable right? Except he decides she looks way too cute to handover to someone else.

Every item in his treasury has a story – it’s just not the one he tells to other people.  

Masamune:

 Surprise! He actually IS a dragon. And in all his time as a dragon, no one has ever dared talk to him until this little chef heard his dragon tummy rumble and made him porridge, and now he’s walking around as a human and hey look, this restaurant has porridge and it smells familiar…

 All Masamune wants to do is read his book in peace. It’s not going well.

 This whole time I thought you were Yahiko but I went to your restaurant to meet your sister and ‘Yahiko’ greeted me and now I’m not sure if your parents are just bad at names or if something’s up.

Kojuro:

 Adventures in Babysitting: The Early Oshu Years OR Teenage Kojuro is going to have ONE night of not being a responsible adult before the existential terror of being responsible for these two guys who have been through so much and have no one else really hits home.

 I’d really like to take you out on ONE date that doesn’t end in bandits attacking, but here we are again, you brought your weapon right? 

 Several years ago, a cursed object was sent as a ‘gift’ to Kojuro but it got lost in his messy room and you’re cleaning it and whoops, should not have picked that up you’re cursed now. Except, the cursecaster didn’t account for half a decade of inactivity...

Shigezane:

 I’m sorry you got dumped because the other person fell for Kojuro but I think you’re really cool but I don’t know how to tell you that so I’m just going to feed you and hope you pick up on it or that I get the gumption to talk to you before you’re done eating. 

I THOUGHT my personal superhero who keeps rescuing me from all these supervillains (and my restaurant’s jerky landlord) was the quiet customer with the eyepatch but it’s actually his cousin and I just found out by accident and was not expecting that. 

 You are bound and determined to protect the castle at all costs in Shigezane’s absence so when a burglar breaks into his bedroom in the middle of the night you don’t even hesitate to hit him with a vase. Too bad it’s actually Shigezane, who got home and just didn’t want to wake everyone up.

Side Characters:

Kagieie: We’re on a mission for Kenshin and the weather got really bad and so now we’re stuck at an inn that only had one room left.

Kanetsugu: Kenshin’s retainers all rally to (try) and give the man a relaxing spa day.

Toramatsu: Our boss is a total jerk and I can’t believe he is making you go get coffee (that he won’t even drink) for the eleventh time today and it’s almost 2 AM there’s no way I’m letting you go alone but—oh wait the elevator’s stuck.

Kiyohiro: I tried to build a snowman but it wasn’t the same without so I came to see you and whoops now we’re snowed in.

Oichi: Nobunaga may have disappeared, but Oichi is not about to let the Oda clan fall under anyone else’s leadership– she’s taking history into her own hands.

Nobuyuki: Your small restaurant is about to be taken over by a large corporation, lucky for you your favorite customer has a plan – whether you’re going to like it or not.

Tadakatsu: No one actually ever noticed you were in disguise, but since your cooking is too good to risk, you got assigned as a page to Tadakatsu.

Kansuke: After being invisible nearly his entire life, Kansuke decides that for one day – ONE day – he is going to be memorable.

Hotaru: Accidentally tells the MC to ‘do what whatever she wants’ instead of making it a suggestion

Generic Retainers #1-#3: All we wanted was some peace and quiet and a decent job but somehow we always end up getting beaten up by these samurai over some girl – and oh shoot, she just walked in.

Yasumasa: I really hate this girl but I am also SORT of addicted to her cooking and she got tired of Ieyasu’s BS and went back to her home in Kyoto and now I’m in Kyoto and her restaurant is RIGHT. THERE. smelling amazing and such.

Ye Olde AU List

Coffeeshop AU

Corporate AU

College AU

Mermaid AU

Fairytale AU

Circus AU

Mafia AU

Band AU

Sports AU

Bodyswap AU

[fansplaining]

Transcript: Episode 72: Alternate Universes

(episode | show notes)

[Intro music: Awel by Stefsax]

Flourish Klink: Hi, Elizabeth!

Elizabeth Minkel: Hi, Flourish!

FK: And welcome to Fansplaining, the podcast by, for, and about fandom!

ELM:: This is Episode 72, "Alternate Universes."

FK: I'm excited about this because we have both been falling down an alternate universe rabbit hole, and we are inviting Morgan Leigh Davies to come and fall down that rabbit hole with us this time.

ELM: OK, first, Morgan. She is the cohost of Overinvested with Gavia Baker-Whitelaw, and she is a critic and a fanfiction writer, author of at least one very popular high school AU.

FK: True.

ELM:: So that's point one, and I'm very excited to talk to her about this. Point two, you've been falling down an AU rabbit hole? I didn't know this.

FK: It's mostly been you but you dragged me with you.

ELM: Oh! [laughs] I'm so proud!

FK: For people who haven't followed along Elizabeth ran into X-Men: First Class like a freight train.

ELM: No no no! It was last month, in the beginning of March, I had to fly first across the Atlantic and then across the country within 48 hours of each other. And I always try to do some work on the plane, but on the second one I was just like, fuck it, I'm watching as many movies as possible.

FK: Reasonable!

ELM: So I watched Finding Dory. Made me cry. Frozen, made me cry. Lego Batman movie. [FK laughs] Did not make me cry, but I enjoyed. So at this point I was telling my friend this and she was like "were the parental controls on? And did everyone around you think that you had a problem?" And then I watched X-Men: Days of Future Past, which I had not seen and I had only ever seen First Class also on a plane and only half-watched it and barely remembered it.

FK: And then it hit you like a freight train and then you fell down a rabbit hole and in the rabbit hole in addition to the rabbit was also a lot of AUs and then you dragged me down too.

ELM: You know, yes. [laughs]

FK: And so now...

ELM:: There is a disproportionate number of AUs in the X-Men. It's like the new franchise. Right? There is some acknowledgement of the 2000s movies, but it's a separate premise. And it seems to be a fairly dormant fandom, a stagnant fandom, because most of this was done 6-7 years ago. Right?

FK: Right. X-men is sort of fragmented into, I feel like it's people who care about the comics and the 2000s movies; there's a small number of people who care a LOT about Wolverine...I mean, they're not a small number, but anyway.

ELM: Yeah, a lot of people seem to care about him! But then yeah, there's a separate...it seems like kind of a separate fandom from people who are into X-Men as a concept. Or teens. It's not really about teens. Anyway, so for context, I think people know this who listen to this, I am not historically...have not really been an AU person. I love canon-divergent AUs. Right? Love them. But...

FK: You're all about them.

ELM: I think when I took our Tropes Survey, I think I said "no" to most of the AUs. And it was like, if you can really sell me on it, I would read a... I don't know. Actor AU, or a...whatever. I'm trying to think of some examples of ones on the list.

FK: Yeah, but you were not like, Oh yeah. AUs. I love 'em.

ELM: No, in fact I said I do not love them! I dislike them. Right?

FK: Yeah!

ELM: And I still feel this way for a bunch of the fandoms I've been in! I just, no. So when I initially looked at this I was like, oh, that's disappointing that they're all AUs. But then I started reading some of them. There are so many good stories! I really don't understand it! I'm so confused! Because I have read tons of AUs in the past. Just cause I dislike them, it's not like I dislike them sight unseen, you know? I'll be like, agh, this has nothing to do with the characters! Or, this is trivializing everything that was important about the original stories! Or whatever. And I don't feel this way at all right now, and it's very confusing to me.

FK: I hope that we can clear up some of that confusion. I...

ELM: You've been reading the stories I sent you!

FK: Yeah, and also because you've been having this crisis [ELM: laughs] I've been thinking more, because I have also written some extremely canon-divergent AUs, like I had this big project of incredibly canon-divergent Harry Potter, which is so far that it's almost not even a canon-divergent AU, right? Literally everything is different from the moment of Harry's birth, so...what happens at that point?

ELM: That's a canon divergent AU!

FK: It still is, but it's definitely very far away. And I've been thinking about all the other AUs I've liked, [silly voice] The AUs I've loved and left [ELM laughs] you know. So I'm really excited to talk about this. I don't think, until recently I don't think that I ever really thought of this as such a divisive or...I don't know. We've talked about AUs a bunch in the past but I've always taken it from the perspective of "yeah those jerks outside of fandom dissing coffeeshop AUs!" Whereas now I'm like "do they have a different role in fandom than other kinds of fic? Let's think about this!" So. Let's think about this!

ELM: Great, OK. So I'm excited to talk to Morgan. Who, by the way, also...Morgan has been my guide through X-Men AU.

FK: Like she's the Virgil to your Dante?

ELM: That's the most accurate and true.

FK: [laughing] Does this...I'm not Beatrice or something in this metaphor, am I? I can't be Beatrice! That's not how this works!

ELM: No, you're coming too! Sorry, you're comin' down. I don't know what to tell you.

FK: OK.

ELM: Yeah.

FK: Well, shall we call Morgan and enter the underworld?

ELM: Let's do it. Let's call Virgil.

[Interstitial music is by Jahzzar]

FK: OK! I think it's time to welcome Morgan to the podcast! Hello Morgan!

Morgan Leigh Davies: Hello!

ELM! Thank you for coming on. I'm really excited about this.

MLD: Very happy to be here!

ELM: OK before we talk about the most important topic ever, the alternate universe fanfiction, you should introduce yourself first, just so people know who you are.

MLD: My name is Morgan Leigh Davies, I am a writer and podcaster, I cohost a podcast Overinvested about pop culture with Gavia Baker Whitelaw, with whom Elizabeth also does a sort of fandom newsletter every week. So that is why I am here. To talk about fanfiction.

FK: In order to close this circle, Morgan, you realize that you and I have to have a project together and then...

ELM: It's true.

MLD: To truly incestuously make this happen. People frequently will tweet at me about The Rec Center, which is your newsletter...

FK: Happens to me all the time also!

MLD: I don't do this! But thank you! [laughing]

ELM: Do people also think that the Rec Center is a project of your podcast? Cause people...

MLD: No.

ELM: People think that it is, which makes more sense with us because it's about fandom. The podcast is as well, right. But they'll be like "on the Fansplaining newsletter..." and I'll be like "No!"

MLD: No, I don't think so, I think they just get confused because I think in their heads Gav and I are, like, two extensions of one person because they listen to the podcast and so we're very intimately connected in their brains.

FK: See, whereas I feel like people think that Gav and I are the same person somehow even though she's literally been on the podcast with me and Elizabeth and we're nothing alike, but...

ELM: It's fine, it's fine. I hope this is setting the record straight for everyone.

FK: Alright alright already. AUs though. I'm really excited to hear what you have to say about them, because I think you're the one among us three who's actually written a significant AU story in addition to reading them copiously.

MLD: I have, I did, I wrote one called "Middletown" in the Captain America: Winter Soldier fandom four years ago. Which is terrifying. And it was I think it's safe to say very popular, and it was an interesting experience because I wrote it because I hate high school AUs and it was a high school AU. And so I suspect it was a slightly different exercise than when most people set out to do this, although perhaps I'm wrong? But it was kind of like an anti, sort of anti-AU AU writing experience. Although I think a lot of my fanfiction writing, which I haven't been doing recently, tends to be kind of reacting against things in fandom as opposed to embracing them. I suppose I'm a contrarian. [all laugh]

ELM: OK wait. I also hate high school AUs. Flourish, I don't know how you feel about them.

FK: Mostly not great.

ELM: I'm curious to know Morgan why you hated them and what was the subversion happening, and I don't want this to sound like you wrote a fancy subversive one and all the other ones are garbage. I think that...

FK: I feel certain that there are things to like about high school AUs!

ELM: Something about the trope just doesn't work for me.

MLD: I mean I have not read all of them. I'm sure there are other good ones out there. The ones that I have read in the past, not in many years, some of them I enjoyed, many of them I did not. The one I wrote sprang out of conversations I was having at the time with gyzym, Kady Morrison, who I was working on something with then and we kind of just were having this ridiculous chat conversation about "what if all the Captain America characters were in this ridiculous high school?" but she also is not a huge fan of high school AUs, as I recall it, from those conversations, and the thing that always really bothered me about them was that the characters never acted like they were actual teenagers, and then at the end of the story everything was really great and the romance was resolved and it was perfect.

Whereas most people do not wind up married to their high school girlfriend or boyfriend. That's not how it works.

ELM: I don't know if you've read Harry Potter but I thought that's what happens actually always! So...

MLD: [laughing] Right. So it was just kind of the falsity of those narratives, which I get can be comforting to some people and if that's what you want that's fine but it's not appealing to me particularly, so the high school AU that I wrote really heavily features zits and body odor and teenagers acting like real assholes, in an unpleasant way. And when I was writing it, I thought that only adults would like it, because it's kind of...very lovingly rude to teenagers. In a way, it literally explicitly says "teenagers are dumb," which they are, and I say that totally lovingly, teenagers are amazing but they're also idiots, I was completely stupid at age sixteen, it's fine.

It was really interesting seeing the reaction to that once I'd put it up, because the people who responded the most intensely were obviously teenagers who were like "this is my life! Oh my God!" and I was very moved by this. But I was thinking about this topic before we started recording, and the sort of different fandoms I've been really deep into at various times and the ways I've engaged with fanfiction around them because you, Elizabeth, have been reading all this X-men fanfic and we've talked about it a little bit and the last fandom I think I was really crazy into in an insane way was Captain America several years ago, and I read a lot of fanfiction and I don't think I read almost any AUs, despite writing one myself, and I don't think I was very interested in them, and I was thinking about what made that not appealing to me in that context vs. X-Men, which is the AU heaven?

FK: It's interesting to me because I also said I didn't like high school AUs but I think that for me the reason I don't like them is I don't want to go back to high school. Nothing was good there. And I also don't have a strong positive feeling about the tropes of high school...I mean, who doesn't like, whatever, Rock N' Roll High School or Mean Girls or whatever. but...

ELM: I've never even heard of the first thing you said.

FK: Rock N' Roll High School, the greatest high school movie ever made?

ELM: Morgan, do you know this? I don't know this.

FK: I'm gonna make you watch this.

ELM: You said this in the same breath as Mean Girls, which is a masterpiece.

FK: This is so good.

ELM: Better than Mean Girls?!

FK: In a very different way.

ELM: OK.

FK: It's about fandom, too!

ELM: OK now I'm scared of this.

FK: It's about a girl who is a fan of a band and brings them to her high school.

ELM: OK?

FK: It's great! Anyway, I don't have a super super positive...that's not a trope that I love, and also I think it's really hard to translate characters into high school in a way that feels real or that it's saying something important to me. Do you know what I mean? There's some tropes where I'm like, "yeah, haha, it's not really saying anything that he's a duke now..." [everyone cracks up] "...and this is Regency England, but I fuckin' love Regency England, so I'm gonna go and enjoy this." Almost always there's no deeper meaning there, but it's a trope that I love, so who cares?

But in order to bring someone along into an AU space that's not already that, I feel like I want to get something...I want it to have meaning that they've been put into an AU. I want it to uncover something about the characters for me. I don't know.

ELM: That's funny, cause you're saying...and I think it's interesting, Morgan's saying she doesn't like high school AUs because they don't act like teens, and I agree with...not that there's any opposition here. I feel the same way as Flourish, in that when I've read them I've found that they also don't feel likethe characters. So then what are they? You slapped some names on the cast of Saved by the Bell? [laughing] I'm trying to think of a high school show. 90210? These are two absurd examples.

FK: Dawson's Creek...?

ELM: Did they act like teens? I don't think so!

MLD: Most shows about teenagers do not feature characters who remotely resemble teenagers, for instance, I have never seen an episode of Riverdale but everything I see from Riverdale I'm just like what is happening?! Who are these people?! I feel so old watching it. I'm just like, this is a culture that is beyond me and yet despite me feeling old watching it it's not that this is what the teens act like now, it's clearly [laughing] there's just, this is an alien thing that no human has ever behaved in this way at all, right? I feel like teen shows tend to be like that. They're just not of this world, and I think that AUs are kind of like that too, although in a different way. And that's not appealing to me, because even if really good AUs where the characters are kind of just original characters but written really well, sometimes I can enjoy that, but if they're just nonsense in whatever the specific genre is...I don't care.

FK: I guess that regardless of how the characters are written, and how much relationship they have to canon or not, I feel like if you're not interested in the location they're put in...I also don't want to read a college AU because college to me is neither aspirational nor a rosy time to look back on and dream about. Maybe someday it will be.

ELM: Wait, pause, do you feel like...have you guys read many college AUs? I've read some. College AUs to me always seem to be just about dorms, and...has this been everyone else's experience, or have you not read many of them?

MLD: I have only read a few. I feel like there are way more, at least recently - in quotes, "recently" - grad school fics and that is because more people writing fanfic [laughter] today are graduate students! And I can appreciate a grad school fanfiction. That's fine. College, no thank you, I do not need this. And I went to school in New York City so my experience was very different from the big state school or small liberal arts college type, "you're in the middle of nowhere and theres a dorm."

ELM: Dorms and quads. I just feel like there's a lot of dorms in these.

FK: What I wanna know is why do we stop at grad school? Why don't we have some college professor AUs where people are really getting into it with the conflict, some people have tenure, you're stuck with each other forever, you've got some pretty high stakes in this situation!

ELM: Flourish, I don't know if you're aware that in 95% of all X-men AUs Charles Xavier is still a professor.

FK: Well that's true. [all laughing]

ELM: They literally never, ever can give him a different job. It's extraordinary to me. Sure. Professor. Of the same subject.

FK: But they don't really get into, like, him fighting with someone over tenure cases in my experence.

ELM: Sometimes!

FK: Really?

ELM: Well, not over tenure. He always has tenure.

FK: Over other people's tenure cases!

MLD: I also have an answer for this: it's because the people writing fanfiction are graduate students. [all laugh]

FK: In graduate school did you not put your professors under even more of a magnifying glass to try and figure out the politics? I feel like I was way more invested in departmental politics as a grad student.

ELM: Is this cause you ended up marrying your professor?

FK: Well, that is how it ended. [all laughing]

MLD: I was totally fascinated by all my professors during my master's but that particular kind of thing was not so interesting to me and it was not the kind of thing that we had access to. You do get more access as a grad student, but...

ELM: Also in the UK, both Morgan and I went to grad school in the UK, and the system is quite different and so my grad school professors...I don't think any of them were full professors. You can have been teaching for 20 years and not have the title "professor."

FK: Yeah it's a much bigger deal which is fun when you go to the UK with someone who's a full professor here, like my husband, and then he gets treated really nicely.

ELM: They just handed it to him! To be fair he has been a professor for a long time at this point.

FK: That's true thank you.

ELM: Yeah. [all laughing] Now I'm calling him old.

FK: Good thing he doesn't listen to this podcast.

ELM:: He does not listen to it! Don't worry. OK. So do you guys, Morgan, you brought this up, you feel like in some fandoms you do it some fandoms you don't. Prior to dying and going to Hell and only reading X-men fic [all laughing] it's more of a purgatory right now. I was personally staunchly, who cares if other people do it, but personally I was like "oh I don't read stuff like that. I don't read X is a blank and Y is a blank." Or here's this scenario. And now I cannot stop and I'm worried about myself. and I'm wondering if it's...I don't know. I'm wondering about those as texts, working across fandoms or within fandoms or that kind of thing. Those are the questions I have about that.

MLD:: I was trying to think about these general topics before we started recording and I think the way I tend to read AUs is that I run through all the good canon fic in a fandom and reject the AUs and then when I get really desperate I start reading the AUs [laughing] And some of them are really good! But at first I'm like "ugh, I don't want to read that!" [grouchy noises] And then in some fandoms I just can't do it, it just will not click in my brain, but it tends to be a step...a last resort thing.

And for some reason, X-men, there's...I don't know what it is, there's a property that it has that is...the AU is actually the preferred object for me. [laughter] The platonic ideal of the X-men fic is not a canon fic, it is a ridiculous AU.

FK: But I think this actually may relate to stakes and ethics, though, because I too have this thing...I love One Direction and 99% of all One Direction fanfic is AUs and I cannot read them. I just can't. I can't do it. Don't make me. I know they're great. I know. I've been recommended all of them. [all laughs]

But. When I'm reading Reylo fanfic, like you, the preferred version of Reylo fanfic is definitely an AU for me. I'm like yeah, obviously they are both rising music stars in the late 90s. Why... [all laughing] It's a great story by the way I will put it in the show notes. It's really good.

ELM:: What kind of music stars I need to know!!!

FK: He was a really good...he had an album of folk, but it was all stolen from his grandfather's, things his grandfather had written and he never told anybody, and then he got snookered into making a deal with Snoke and had to become the front man of this awful Linkin Park like band, which is miserable, and she is a folk singer-songwriter like Jewel sort of, and there's a lot of butterfly hair clips. And it made me so nostalgic. [all laughing]

ELM:: OH MAN.

FK: The point I was trying to make was, I think there's something in both of these cases where you've got these weird messed up ethical situations and it's sort of easier to just enjoy a story when no one's killing anybody, you know?

MLD:: Here's my response to that: I also enjoy the Reylo dynamic in the Star Wars films [all continuing to chuckle] but I absolutely cannot read AU fics because the whole point is that it's bad and AU fic would make me feel gross. Sorry! Because if you have to acknowledge the badness... I have not found almost any good fic period because it's just very hard to do, right? The whole dynamic is just very complicated.

FK: Yeah, it is.

MLD:: Whereas X-men also has this complicated ethical stuff, but in the X-men films, it is treated so nonsensically [all laugh] that it just doesn't matter! The basic tone of those movies is just garbage. So you can write whatever the fuck you want! There are some fics that treat stuff seriously, with much more weight than the actual movies do, that do a really good job of it, and then there are some AUs that are just so dumb but in a smart way that are also really fun. But I think again the tone of those films is just...this is so absurd that you can kind of get away with doing anything, and I think that that's why I like all those AUs so much. You have these two characters who are really really compelling, the queerbaiting is so through the roof that you're dying to read SOMETHING.

ELM:: It's shocking, honestly.

MLD:: So whatever! It's fine. Whereas I think the Star Wars stuff for me, I don't think those movies are perfect but the pathos of the stuff in them seems more real to me than X-men which is just like "BLEAH! Whatever! I guess Magneto blew up a city or something this time! Whatever, he's gonna be back, it's fine." [all laughing]

ELM:: He always comes back, don't worry about it!

MLD:: Exactly! It feels fake.

FK: I don't disagree with you...I think that the reason that I like AUs in the Reylo space is because they consciously are like "nope, we're not dealing with that! We're not even gonna try to deal with the question of is he or is he not... he didn't kill anyone in this universe! He maybe ruined a couple of musical careers, but whatever it's fine! We're just gonna live with it." You know what I mean? It sounds like whereas with X-men it never mattered in the first place, so.

ELM:: Yeah, I mean, you can treat it seriously. Like you said, there's definitely some fics that take it much more seriously than others. I read the Quicksilver fic, by the way. The Septembriseur fic. It made me cry.

MLD:: This is a good friend of mine who wrote one about Quicksilver and it is a genuine work of art.

ELM:: It's a work of art.

MLD:: Seriously deals with trauma...she's the best writer I know. In any genre, anything. She's so gifted. You read that and you're like, this is both a piece of fiction craft-wise genius, but also all the emotional stuff is so deep and affecting and then you can just go read for instance the X-men fic that I wrote which is none of those things!

ELM:: Morgan, I love your fic so much!

MLD:: I'm very proud of it, and it's perfectly well written, it's fine, but in terms of the deep emotional stakes? Not so much!

FK: I have not read your X-men fic so I cannot speak to this.

ELM:: You should read it immediately afterwards. It's a delight. Genuine delight.

FK: OK. I will read it.

ELM:: I read it before I knew, I did not realize who had written it because it was very highly rated on the AO3. I'm not biased.

FK: I was away, this is following on from something aways back in the conversation, you're gonna have to forgive me. Your point that you can treat it seriously is true. One of the fics you recced me that I hadn't read before, I think you recced it as "they're dicking around in Amsterdam being dicks"?

ELM:: Douchebags, douchebags.

FK: Douchebags, not dicks.

ELM:: Morgan recommended this to me so that's a passed-along rec.

FK: What's the title of it?

ELM:: It's called "i guess i should say thanks or some shit." And the author, I think we know the author but it's been orphaned on the AO3, so it's by no one.

FK: It's orphaned, so it's by orphaned.

ELM:: Anonymous genius.

FK: Anonymous genius. So this story is, you know, Charles and Erik have their powers and they're bumping around Amsterdam being douchebags, but there's no killing of people, there's no Holocaust backstory it's strongly implied, I think, although I only read it once so...

ELM:: No, it's set in the relatively recent...

FK: Right! It's set recently.

ELM:: There's no Holocaust.

FK: I didn't think so, I was trying... oh, you're right, they have cell phones. So it's set recently. Whatever. So all the stuff that's super super super high stakes is gone, but they're still talking about reading people's minds and stealing bikes and ethical questions about having powers.

ELM:: The classical ethical question: Should you steal a bike?

MLD:: If you can and no one will catch you... [all laugh]

FK: So it treats telepathy very seriously in a way that literally nothing in X-men ever has in canon!

MLD:: That's one of my favorite fics ever in any canon, I've read it so many times, I love it so much! And I think what you're saying is totally right about it dealing with these questions in an interesting way, and I also think that what makes it so good is that it does not present either Charles or Erik as a remotely appealing person.

ELM:: Yes, which is canonical!

MLD:: They are just awful, in a way - exactly. In a way that's really fun to read about! They're very entertaining, and it's not like you hate them anything, cause obviously then why would you want to read this romance story about them? But they're both plainly just dreadful people. And that to me is so much more enjoyable as just writing period, as a general statement, than a story that tries to make the characters really good. Obviously it's, you can write fiction about good people that's also really compelling, that's fine, but I just read something I'm not going to say what it is that definitely did the thing where it's sort of like, "this person believes in all the right social justice stuff!" and I was like "this is boring to me." That can sort of weigh on a story after awhile, whereas this one in particular was just like, no. [all laugh] They're just assholes!

FK: I think part of that has to do wtih the changing of the stakes. I think it can be really tempting, if you're in a super super super hyper dramatic situation, like, OK, we have to have a hero in here, someone's blowing up a city! I read a lot of post-apocalyptic books just because I like the setting and almost always there's a man and he's the embodiment of American manhood and he's doing all the right things. [everyone laughs] I'm like OK great. And depending on what someone's political views are the embodiment of American manhood could be a lot of different things. Sometimes he's an antiracist, sometimes he's a gun nut! Depends who's writing it!

ELM:: Flourish, what books are you reading?! I didn't know about this secret love of yours!

FK: I just like postapocalyptic stories!

ELM:: Starring American men. Continue.

FK: I had actually never read Stephen King's The Stand because it's 10 million long but I have an Audible account now so I was like "let's maximize my Audible account," so obviously I got The Stand, because it's really long and I pay as much for it as I do for a short book. And every character in that so far is miserable. I'm like, I hate you all, this is glorious, Stephen King you did a good thing! But it's hard because you can see there's these moments in the story you want the person to be a hero, because the stakes are so high, like, surely this is gonna be the moment! ...no. But I think that in AUs it's like that. If the stakes are really high you're like "make him a hero."

ELM:: Not necessarily. If we bring it back to...I love that we're extensively discussing one fanfiction that everyone should pause and go read it and then you'll know what we're talking about [all laughing] but I also feel like the moral grey areas that both of those characters can occupy even in canonical situations or high stakes canonical-ish situations where there's some sort of supervillain or whatever, obviously they're still going to be occupying those moral grey spaces and they are both kind of douchebags always. But when they are saving the world, it's not necessarily that you get a pass, it's just that it's a little less stark I feel like. Whereas an AU can kind of strip that away and give you more space to sit with that ambiguity in a way that...I don't know. This is how I feel about a lot of blockbustery stuff too. It doesn't really give you that space and that's one thing I think fanfiction does. Maybe not always just AUs. Obviously lots of fanfiction does this.

FK: You mean, like, you're watching a two hour movie and it's like blam blam blam we have this story and it's action-packed and then OK, I didn't have any time to think about whether it was a good idea to do that or not...right? Is that it?

ELM:: I don't know, can you think of any...even Black Panther which I really liked, I don't think had enough time to sit with the complex moral questions they were asking. I think they did a better job than a lot of other big blockbustery superhero movies but I still feel like they had to go relatively quickly.

MLD:: I think a lot of that is also just a function of being a film versus...

ELM:: Being a hundred thousand word fanfiction?

MLD:: Or a novel or whatever. I think Black Panther was really incredible, I don't think it was the most politically deep movie I had ever seen in my life... this is very off topic. But it's a movie made directly for children. So that's fine. But I think something like X-men, as I was saying, you watch the movies and they're nonsense with occasional moments of "oh that could be interesting if they actually did something with it," and that's what all the fanfic does, is mine those occasional moments of potential insight. [laughing] For hundreds of thousands of words! Which is great.

ELM:: But then what's that distance when it's just brought over into an AU?

MLD:: Well, that's the question and I think that's why I tend to avoid reading them until I'm so desperate that I [laughing] can't get away from it. With X-men as we were just saying there is something bizarrely compelling about all of them that I don't even know that I have the full answer except what I was proposing. And in other fandoms it gets interesting cause I think there can be a tendency to write generic romance novels about white men under the auspices of a fandom which is risky.

ELM:: This is something that I actually kinda wanna dig into and I'm wondering if we should take a break, cause we're kind of at a halfway point, and pick up from there.

FK: Sounds good, let's do it.

[Interstitial music by Jahzzar]

FK: OK, we're back, and we're gonna talk a little bit about Any Two Guys stories, because this is an important question in the world of AUs. For those of you who don't read a lot of fanfic, of which I think there are some, Any Two Guys stories are stories that could be about any two guys! Not just the people you're supposedly in the fandom for.

ELM:: So this is a long time criticism of slash fandom in general, not just with AUs, right? The dark haired man and the light haired man. [all laugh] The taller man and the shorter man.

FK: The older man and the younger man.

ELM:: It's true! [MLD: hooting]

MLD:: We could go on and on!

ELM:: I will admit, this is one of the reasons I've always had a low key bias against this kind of AU. This is not the first time that I've read AUs, obviously, but it's just like...when you hit a point not too far in where you're like "this has nothing to do with the characters, you've just slapped their names on it," that's the point where I get to feel a little resentful, and I don't know if that's fair, because I kind of feel like there's plenty of people who know...it's deliberate. It's not like they think they're doing some deep read on the original characters; they're just telling a story. But then it's like, what am I reading? I'm just reading a story starring the actors of the canon [laughing], the namesakes of these two characters. All right.

FK: I feel like one question is, what is fanfic for? Because part of fanfic is for interrogating the original text, obviously, but part of fanfic is also sometimes about desire or emotional... when I say desire I don't mean just lust. I mean also emotional engagement in fantasy people, who may or may not be the characters in the story. The characters in the story might be the starting point for those fantasy people, but let's be real, my headcanon of Scully is definitely not canon Scully. She's just not. She's better. [laughs] I wonder sometimes whether "any two guys" stories are also about the stuff that people bring to reading it, as much as they are...it's more like, here is a story that could be just a gay romance novel, but I know that you're going to paratextually bring this stuff to it, and therefore it's different than if you were reading it just as a romance novel.

MLD:: Well, obviously this stuff gets written in the groupthink of a fandom. Usually. Some people write things...

ELM:: I love what I would call "intertextuality" you just called "groupthink." It's really good. [all laugh]

MLD:: That is the way I think about fandom! It's all groupthink. I wrote quite a bit by my standards of Captain America fanfic, I think more than for any other fandom, and that was definitely the most clearcut experience I have had of fandom groupthink in the sense that...

ELM:: Engaging as fanon as much as canon.

MLD:: Right. There were certain trends that would happen and then I would push back against certain things in my writing, but it wasn't just me, you could sense that there would be this push back against something and then something else would come up and it was...I think that happens in most fandoms once you get to a certain size, but it was the most clearcut and visible to me in that one, which was really interesting to observe, and I think I conceptualized it most clearly in that. I was like "oh, everyone is putting their brains into the same space and stuff is coming out." Which was really fun, even if some of the stuff coming out I found very aggravating [laughing] A lot of the appeal of writing this stuff was that experience of knowing that everyone that was going to read your thing would be informed by all the other stuff that they were writing.

Which is kind of interesting for me to think now, cause I still get comments on some of that stuff, obviously sporadically, and I know that people coming to it now if they're coming to it cold are having a very different experience. Which is fine, it's just not the same thing. So if you're writing a two guys AU in that context, obviously it is a different thing. But for me that's still not massively appealing because it strays away from the questions that were appealing to me. For instance, in the Captain America stuff, which tended to have to do at some point with canon even if they had spiraled out to fanon stuff that we'd all made up and agreed upon collectively, even though it...you know? I'm rambling at this point but I think you get what I mean.

ELM:: That makes total sense.

FK: What you just said makes complete sense, and it's interesting to me when I think of an AU that I really love that many people really love, "The Student Prince," which is a Merlin AU, but I hate Merlin. I watched the first episode [over laughter] and I turned it off in anger because what did you do.

ELM:: Wait, you've only seen one episode?

FK: Yeah, I hate it!

ELM:: That's the foundation of your hatred?

FK: It was not good. I couldn't. It was like a Did Not Finish book. Sometimes you get into a book and you're like, Did Not Finish. Exactly like that. I settled in planning on watching all of it because I liked some of the fic, and no. But it's also a Kate and Wills AU...

ELM:: Because it's set at St. Andrews, right?

FK: So I was coming at it as the Kate and Wills AU that happens to have gay Merlin and Arthur in it [all cackle] and everyone else who read that I'm pretty sure was coming at it from the Merlin AU that happens to be about royals, and now it makes so much more sense to me the things that I liked and cared about in that fic were very different!

ELM:: It's really good. But do you think that people were coming into it because of Merlin? That story was in the Rec Center last week, and probably not for the first time, and when I looked and checked the link, that has half a million hits on AO3.

FK: I don't think all those people watched Merlin.

ELM:: I don't think those are all Merlin fans. Obviously it's a relatively popular fandom but still. What a compelling concept!

MLD:: This is interesting too though is the phenomenon of people reading AUs when they aren't familiar with the source material at all, which people definitely do and I've had people send me things and be like "this is so amazing, it doesn't matter that you haven't seen the thing, it's an AU, it's so good," and I just can't bring myself to do it. I just...it doesn't. I'm sure they're right, but I just can't, I don't care.

FK: For whatever reason people do this with me for SGA all the time, Stargate Atlantis, and I have seen more SGA than Merlin but somehow it just doesn't, I can't, no.

ELM:: But I feel like there are a lot of people for whom that works, right?

FK: Yeah, well, obviously it works for me for some things, because I read the Merlin fic! [all laugh]

ELM:: So why does it work for you for some things and not others? It needs to push your buttons in some other way then. Apparently it needs to be about dukes or princes or something, cause you're a total monarchist.

FK: Monarchist all the way down. Well, I think also with Merlin it helps because it is itself based on something. I think that if I had never seen Sherlock, but I had read Sherlock Holmes, I could probably read some Sherlock fanfic and be like "OK! This is just an AU of an AU, fine. We're moving on."

ELM:: So, but, is that a problem? This isn't meant to be a referendum on any one given fic.

FK: Can I just say we have managed to go this entire time without mentioning Fifty Shades of Grey and I'm really proud of us but I had to break the streak?

MLD:: That literally did not enter my mind.

ELM:: I never think about Fifty Shades of Grey.

FK: That's because you guys are slash only and I'm draggin' the het in here!

ELM:: It's true.

MLD:: I have definitely read and written het fanfic! [all laugh]

ELM:: Oh wow!

MLD:: BUT FIFTY SHADES OF GREY IS NOT ON MY RADAR IN ANY CAPACITY AT ALL!

FK: Well, I feel like Twilight was one of the earliest fandoms that was mostly AU fic, though. I mean, I would propose that. I don't think I ever saw a fandom that was mostly AU fanfic before Twilight. I did read Twilight fic, by the way, I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm not a huge Twilight fan, but it was everywhere.

ELM:: You wrote your master's thesis on Twilight, I think you're a huge fan.

FK: No...I didn't write it on Twilight, I wrote it on Twilight fans.

ELM:: Wasn't it also Twilight anti-fans?

FK: Yeah. Twilight anti-fans. [all laugh]

ELM:: Sorry. I twisted that deliberately. I apologies.

FK: In an ONTD community called ONTD_Twatlight. But anyway.

ELM:: I'm glad that MIT gave you a degree for that. Delightful. Really good. Yeah, I mean, if you wanna talk about Fifty Shades we can, I was gonna talk about whether Any Two Guys is problematic.

MLD:: [laughing] Two roads diverge, et cetera, et cetera.

FK: This is how our roads ALWAYS diverge. Elizabeth is like, "but is it problematic?" and I'm like "but did it make a lot of money?"

ELM:: Those are the questions?! Are those the questions right now?

FK: Not really the question! Well, it is a little bit the question though. This is a little related. Is Any Two Guys problematic, but also don't Any Two Guys fics where you file off the serial numbers lead us into that monetization of fandom question.

ELM:: That is a connection you can make between those two things. But I don't know if that's the problematic element of it. I think that the problems there are this kind of idea of it beyond fanfiction, slotting in and out of all the issues that surround slash. Whether it's systemic bias and racism or fetishization or etc etc. I think all of that comes into focus when you have this idea that all you need to do is slap two names onto a male/male romance and then people will say "fine with me!" You know? Isn't that just a full expression of all of those issues?

FK: But why is that much different than...I think there are many het romance fics, like Fifty Shades, where it could be any two people. Is it different, materially, from that? I know it is because there's issues around male/male romance, but...

ELM:: So then any two man and woman... [laughing] I don't know what the phrase would be.

FK: Any two hets?

ELM:: Any two hets! Any two straights. Well, we don't know if they're straight or het, that's true. I was trying to go with just their sex to start. Is that a space of diversity? Or do you often find the same sorts of bodies being interchanged? Slapping the same sorts of names onto the same two man and woman? Same single man and single woman. [laughing] Same two men and women would be much more fun. Quads all over. Do we call them quads?

MLD:: This is just taking a turn!

FK: Doesn't this get us back to the fact that...I think it is, and I think one of the ways we know that is looking at Sleepy Hollow, with an African American female lead and the fights people had about allowing her to have romance, right? And right now in the het romance world there's a huge, huge, huge racism fight going on. For people who don't follow this world, historically lines of romance novels have been segregated, yes segregated like it is the Jim Crow south because people are disgusting and this has continued to exist into literally 2000. Sometimes literally today!

ELM:: Wasn't the recent controversy because someone had crunched the numbers because one of the big prizes in the romance world, was it no black characters?

FK: I believe it was writer but that was only one...there was a thing about the RITAs, which there's multiple categories and there have been multiple characters nominated in different categories...but...weirdly? If I recall correctly? Which probably I don't because I'm not looking at the thing right now and there were so many issues that got wrapped up in each other too. This year there was a woman who was nominated for prizes and got...she was black and got no support at all from her publisher whereas all the white authors did. Very blatant racism going on throughout this.

So I'm just saying, I think it's broader than a slash issue. For once it's not just the slashers! It's everyone! We're all horrible racists!

ELM:: Sorry, I always claim slash first. You know. Trying to claim responsibility.

FK: Any Two Guys, people also have a term for that and people don't use that term for het romance. I'm not sure why.

MLD:: Maybe it's just that there's something very obvious about it when there's two men and it's the same!

ELM:: The dark haired one and the light haired one. [all laugh]

MLD:: It becomes very clear in a way where maybe it's also the tradition of het romance looking like that has gone on for a very very very long time. Whereas male/male romance being a thing in this thing is obviously quite recent. So there's probably...I'm completely thinking out loud right now! But there's probably more discourse like this because it's being invented in this way over the past many years in real time and we're seeing it.

FK: That makes perfect sense. When I think about it, there's all these terms in the romance space, not necessarily in the fanfic space. He's another alpha hero, he's another...there's all these terms for categories of types of characters, stock characters.

ELM:: Tell me some more of the romance words. Alpha hero?

FK: Yeah! If he's an alpha, he's masterful! He's commanding! And many people don't like him because he tends to kiss you against your will! [all chortle]

ELM:: He sounds very problematic!

FK: It's slightly dubcony but it's okay! [all still laughing] And this is a type! You read romance and you're like, yup, that dude. There he is. People subvert it, most of the time people subvert it now, it's not super popular. But it's a thing, there's all these tropes. I guess you're right. I don't know enough about the male/male romance space but I assume they're developing but it's a larger portion of the market.

MLD:: Also there's academic books I was using in grad school last year tying the het romance novels to Jane Austen and the entire history of romance as a genre. This is not something romance publishers made up in the 50s or 60s or whatever. This has gone on for a long time in the Western world with white people. Almost always been the leads in those stories. It's the cultural default mode, obviously, which of course people are now discussing aggressively a lot. But there's a lot of ground to make up from the early decades of the last millennium, right? [laughing]

ELM:: Whereas I think in slash also if you think about it in a sort of shortened time frame, and I just want to clarify that I think that there's obviously a lot of robust discourse in the male/male romance original, and some of it crosses over but some of it doesn't. And I think this Any Two Guys thing is specifically a fandom thing. This is specifically about AUs and shipping. AUs and shipping, two separate things intersecting. I don't wanna go too far into this.

FK: Well, I guess that is different, because...maybe it is to do also with queerphobia to some degree because I think there is an assumption that people who are shipping are interested in finding the ship, and they go looking for it, as opposed to "these two characters just seemed like they had..." I think people get very cynical about slashers in a way they're not as cynical about het shippers.

ELM:: That's interesting, wait, I wanna know more about this. Tell me.

FK: Maybe because het romance is so frequently canonical, or possibly canonical, or understood as potentially canonical.

ELM:: And the idea that there's a guy and a girl in this moviea nd they're probably going to get together, that kind of thing?

FK: Yeah, and I think that then there's not an assumption... "oh, you just went to this to find an object to cling to." No, of course, everybody does that. If it's het, it's assumed you're going to go find it, whereas slashers, you're just looking for something. You're reading too far into it and you're doing it for your own tastes, not for what's in the work.

ELM:: Hm. I love that you say "slashers." It makes me feel really old school. [MLD: laughs]

FK: Well, what else? "slash readers"? "people who enjoy male/male romance in fandom"?

ELM:: As you know, the kids don't use the term slash anymore! Yeah. Those relationshippers. That's right. On Wattpad they don't know those words.

MLD:: We're just all very old.

FK: They definitely know those words on Wattpad cause they also say "don't like don't read" as though it's nineteen ninety fuckin' nine!

ELM:: They say that? That's incredible! Those kids. Teens! Who are dumb. I'm glad we established that. I always try to support teens, but you're right, teens are dumb.

FK: I too did those things.

ELM:: Did anyone not?

FK: Everyone did. We all passed through this period of time.

ELM:: Dumb things you did. It's OK. I do dumb things now too, it's fine. We just do different some things.

MLD:: Exactly. Sort of aged into a new thing.

FK: I think we're going to have to wrap up fairly soon but before we do, we have talked almost not at all about canon divergent AUs or fusions or anything like that, so maybe we should [laughing] talk about that a little bit, guys?

ELM:: Canon divergent AUs, my favorite, actually one of my favorite things literally in all of fanfiction. Ironically, after disparaging the other kind for so long.

MLD:: Right, I love them. And I love fusion fics depending on what the fandom is so that's interesting.

ELM:: OK define fusion fic.

MLD:: The one that immediately springs to mind is His Dark Materials.

ELM:: OK. You know I've read a bunch of those about... daemon? You say dee-mon AUs? And I haven't read His Dark Materials. Very confusing to me.

FK: You would be really into His Dark Materials and should probably read it. I don't know if you'd love the writing but there's a lot of things in it...

MLD:: That shocks me.

FK: ...that I feel like you would be into. You should.

ELM:: My friend gave me his old copies because he works at Scholastic and so he got the new ones, just a few months ago, and they're on my shelf, I'm literally looking at them. The one thing that concerns me is I don't know if I wanna read novels with the perspective of smug atheism, and that's how they've been described to me, so you can disabuse me of this impression.

FK: I did not find them that bad. He is that bad, but I did not find them that bad.

ELM:: Great!

MLD:: I don't feel that they read that way, but.

ELM:: Great! That's two. Alright.

FK: He is that bad but I don't think these novels are that bad.

ELM:: Actually I just heard him on the radio recently and it seems like he's not that bad anymore.

FK: Well, he went through a period.

ELM:: He said he's come to see that you can be dogmatic about anything, even non-belief, and I was like good. Call Richard Dawkins, he must know.

MLD:: He was extremely charming at the reading I went to when I was nine years old. He was very nice to all of us and very funny. So I am a partisan. Those were my favorite books when I was nine, so.

FK: It's funny that you say this though because to me fusion fics are almost like the other kind of AU. It's almost like, great, you found another setting, another thing to fuse into this. It's almost like a setting. But canon divergence is different, because it's almost like you've got all fanfic on a spectrum from "this is mildly canon divergent because it happens in the future, we don't have next season so we're writing it now," to the very canon divergent, Sirius didn't go to...

ELM:: Where you make a very deliberate turn.

FK: Sirius didn't go to prison and therefore everything in the Harry Potter books is different, and everything is really different.

ELM:: A literal turn. Maybe he turned in the opposite direction and that was the butterfly, you know? There's definitely stories like that. [all laugh]

FK: Absolutely. But they're all on this spectrum. All fanfic is canon divergent at some point, and is therefore kind of AU, even if it's just a fill in fic.

ELM:: You wouldn't want fic if it wasn't canon divergent. But I think the difference is usually if it says it's canon divergent, that usually means it's that kind of deliberate choice. Right? So...or alternate meetings, or fix-its, or any of these things. This is some of my favorite stuff about fanfiction!

FK: It seems to me almost like the canon divergent, when it's being chosen intentionally, plays a similar role to the kind of AU when you put them in a different situation so there can be heightened or lowered stakes, so you're almost revealing something about canon by changing something in it, right? If I change this one thing in canon, we see how much else changed.

ELM:: I don't think it necessarily lowers stakes...

FK: Oh I didn't mean that, I just meant lowering the stakes can be one way to...it's almost like changing one thing in canon. If you lower the stakes, you're changing one thing about canon and keeping everything else the same and you see something more clearly, right?

ELM:: Hmm. Hmmmmm.

FK: If you change something in the plot...

[all] HMMMMM.

ELM:: I'm thinking right now!

FK: It's the same butterfly effect idea, potentially.

ELM:: But now I'm struggling to think of any other kind of fic [laughing] there's something, I enjoy the kind that follows the canonical time frame, say, of the length of a movie, and pulls back a curtain or shows what's happening to the characters in between the scenes, I enjoy that, but isn't...

FK: THEY'RE ALL AUS UNDER THE SKIN. [all laugh]

ELM:: Yeah, if it wasn't in some way an...but this is the thing, maybe we shouldn't be turning around the term AU so lightly, AU means alternate universe, right? What is fanfiction? What is the nature of fanfiction?

[all talking over each other awhile]

FK: But in an alternate universe, in a world about alternate universes, if you're reading alternate universe fiction, some of them are very mildly different! Isn't there that theory that in every other alternate universe you died in every millisecond from a different thing? There's millions of alternate universes that are exactly like this one except that you died in a different millisecond in each of them, if there's truly infinite alternate universes out there?

ELM:: Is this what physicists do with their spare time?

FK: When they're high. [laughing]

ELM:: You know, whenever I talk to physicists and I'm like "really, really?" it's always something like this. I'm like, this counts as science?! Shouldn't you be measuring something? In a test tube?

FK: Measuring the numbers of horrible ways you could die in any millisecond!

ELM:: That's just a fun theory! I just don't...if we have any physicists listening to this they should write in and defend to me theoretical physics [MLB is dying in the background] It just sounds to me like they have fun imaginations and good vocabulary and they were in school for like eight years. I'll contact my physics friends and ask. Yeah. I don't know.

FK: I feel like this may be just where we came to at the end of this episode, Elizabeth. It may be that it's all, it was all an AU.

ELM:: Do you think there's...how many seconds. 60 times 60. 3600 alternate universes of this episode where every second a new episode spun out into a different direction?

FK: Yes. That's how many ideas about what alternate universes are work. That's how they work.

ELM:: We didn't even get to talk about soulmate AUs. [FK sighs happily]

MLD:: That's good because I don't have good thoughts about those, so...

ELM:: I know and that would be a point of discourse. Flourish loves them, obviously.

FK: I love them, obviously.

ELM:: She swooned. Cause she loves forced marriages.

FK: I do.

ELM:: She loves when agency is removed.

FK: I love it.

ELM:: Morgan and I are on the same page of almost everything here.

MLD:: [laughing] We're just on the same X-men plane right now and that's synced our brains up.

FK: I also feel like there are situations in which I would not like a soulmate AU, it's just that coming out of One Direction fanfic the only kind of good AU in it is soulmate AUs that are very canonical except for the soulmate thing. So. I think I've been destroyed by that.

ELM:: If it's your favorite trope that's fine but you also love arranged marriages and things like that so...

FK: Yeah they're interesting it's true.

ELM:: You like the lack of agency and having to work within it.

FK: That's true. That is accurate.

ELM:: I'm gonna psychoanalyze you now. Whereas Morgan and I like people being douchebags to each other. [everyone laughs]

MLD:: That's my preference!

FK: Well OK so things we've learned: everything is an AU, there are two choices, you can like people being douchebags or you can want to have agency taken away from people... [all laugh] Why not both?! is a question.

ELM:: OH NO. Where they have it written on their hands but then they just shout at each other the entire time? I could write that. I could write that one very easily for you.

FK: Yes. And everyone was an idiot when they were a teenager and that's OK. And teenagers are being idiots right now. That's it. That's our takeaways.

MLD:: I think that's a great set of takeaways [all laughing] We've solved the question!

FK: In some other alternate universe, this was a different way but this is how it went in this universe.

ELM:: That's right. Alright. We'll write it differently next time. [all laughing]

FK: Thank you so much for coming on Morgan, this was amazing.

MLD:: Thank you so much for having me, this was so much fun!

[Interstitial music by Jahzzar]

FK: OK I think that was more laughs per minute than any interview we've ever done.

ELM:: Good times. [laughing] And it's not just because, full disclosure, we recorded that a few days ago, I was at the height of a cold then, which I still have remnants of, and I was drinking scotch.

FK: And Dayquil!

ELM:: No! No. I had the Dayquil many hours earlier, you should not combine them. Top tip. Don't combine alcohol and any 'quil because it has acetominophen.

FK: I love that you call them a 'quil.

ELM:: Yeah they're 'quils. But here's what I'm gonna admit to right now because it's been a few days.

FK: OK...

ELM:: In the intervening five days since we recorded that...

FK: Oh no.

ELM:: I read and loved a high school AU. [FK gasps, ELM: laughs]

FK: Wooooooooah. I am, I don't know what to say! First of all we're gonna put it in the show notes and I need to read it and find out if I agree with you or not. That was actually one of the things I really liked about this interview was I felt like Morgan was great but also I disagreed with her fundamentally on some basic things and yet it was great. Anyway. I wanna find out if I disagree with you on this!

ELM:: Disagree? I mean like...

FK: I mean, whatever, if I don't like it...I guess I can't say that. That would be mean. I'll read it but I'm sure I'll love it.

ELM:: Did you, we didn't actually discuss this in the conversation but did you read the Rageprufrock fic that I sent you? That I think is my favorite probably in the X-men fandom? Limited Release.

FK: Yes.

ELM:: Did you like that?

FK: I read it. Yes.

ELM:: This hits a lot of the same notes.

FK: OK. I mean it wasn't, I will say I liked it, it was not my favorite fic that I have ever read, but I really enjoyed it.

ELM:: It didn't have to be your favorite fic ever...

FK: I don't mean to be an asshole, it's just sometimes you read a fic and you're like THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS.

ELM:: Yeah. I love that story. So this hit a lot of similar notes. And I don't know that I would say that the teens...do they act like real teens? Unclear.

FK: You may not care.

ELM:: Do I care? They didn't act like 90210 characters.

FK: I certainly don't care. I like Riverdale.

ELM:: Yes. The name of the story I believe it was "If You Liked The Book You'll Hate The Movie." So we'll put that in the show notes and people can see. It's about mental illness.

FK: OK!

ELM:: And about how no one ever gets better.

FK: That's true. Sort of.

ELM:: [laughs] Good! Good.

FK: We also had one thing that we didn't get to in our interview, which is that we got an ask from dzamieponders. "jamieponders" maybe? Not sure how to say their name. "Dz" is sometimes said like a J? So it could be Jamie? The ask is this. What do you think of the theory that fanworks often rely on significantly changing the plot, characters, and/or setting (but usually not all three),a nd that how much each fandom c hanges each thing can tell you about the fandom itself? Like, coffeeshop AUs change plot and setting but not characters, side character perspective stuff changes character but not plot or setting, and other species!character fics, I guess like mermaid fics or centaurification or something, change setting but not plot or characters. That's the ask. And we didn't get to it.

ELM:: We did not get to it. I don't necessarily disagree with this but I think it may be a little...I don't think it's as simple as that? I am intrigued by the idea of, and I think we touched on this many a time in this conversation, about why certain fandoms can lend themselves to this and not necessarily for everyone. Like what you were talking about with Star Wars and what you think is a really peak ripe for AU land Morgan was like absolutely not.

FK: [laughs] Other people also, clearly there's a deep divide in this because everybody it seems like has one of the two responses. When I wrote about Reylo and when we had the Problem of Reylo episode, it's really interesting. It's so divisive. I wonder if everything else is like that too. I wonder if X-men is like that, it's just that all the people we know love the AUs.

ELM:: I don't think there's any way that's possible. Just if you actually look at the numbers on AO3.

FK: Yeah but if you look at the numbers on AO3 of Reylo there's so many AUs too, right?

ELM:: Look, I've been deep in the Archive.

FK: I don't mean to challenge your knowledge. I am sure that you are correct. I think you really are.

ELM:: It just also, it's like, I don't think it's just what has been kudosed to the top, it really does seem like...and actually a lot of the writers I've been encountering I've read in other fandoms too. A lot of good... that sounds shitty to say. "All the good writers are writing AUs!" or whatever. But it does seem like that was, and I'm sure people who were in that fandom at the time these stories were being written could speak more to these conversations. But I have to wonder, I think it's probably reading too much into saying that what the choices around these shifting plot/setting/character questions say much about the fandom itself. I feel like it's somewhat of an individual thing.

FK: I don't know, I think there is something to be said for there almost being different communities of writers being interested in different things, especially if you get a big enough fandom. In Harry Potter there's huge communities of people who write certain types of fics that I would basically never read. People who are writing not just self-inserts but also things that hew very closely to the story of the books, that are continuing the story in ways that are very canon-compliant, and a lot of those people seem to be interested in things about the world, worldbuilding details and all this stuff, in ways that are different fundamentally than people writing a coffeeshop AU where the focus is on the characters. And there's some fandoms I find that are like this too. There are some fandoms where the stories are interested in different kinds of things. In general. Most people's stories. So I don't disagree with this, I just don't know how to quantify that.

ELM:: Yeah, but I also do think there's something...character is a tricky thing and it's a lot harder to pin down than plot and setting. It's very easy to say if the plot diverges from what happens in the canon, and I think at the heart of a lot of my critiques of a lot of AU culture is that from what I've read in the past there are times when I'm like "what is character anymore?" This feels so distant, this doesn't seem...the character can be internally consistent to the story, and still feel like an utterly different character. To the point where it's different than if I take Harry Potter and I stick him in a different situation, obviously he's going to say different things than the things he said in the book. But fundamentally if I can deconstruct his character I should be able to write that situation, right?

FK: I agree with you, and I think that the idea that...coffeeshop AUs change plot and setting, but not characters, well, bringing it back to my current pet fandom, when I think about even the Reylo AUs that I've enjoyed a great deal, part of the point is that they change the character, I think. The Kylo Ren in these books is not a mass murderer. That's part of the point.

ELM:: But that's action, that's not necessarily character, right? That's, I mean, what is character then?

FK: He doesn't have the opportunity, he's not in a setting where he's a force master, therefore he doesn't do it, maybe.

ELM:: Is he a petulant child in all of them? Then that's still canonical.

FK: He is a petulant child in all of them. But I do think there's something, there's a question about how much does your action make up your character. I think there is something fundamental about the actions that we take, even though they're impacted by circumstance.

ELM:: Oh a thousand percent! Obviously I've been thinking about this a lot when you have a canon where one of the characters does wind up murdering a lot of people but he's also the victim of explicit torture in a concentration camp, you know? Trigger warning, that's a little...

FK: Not to mention that he's half of your ship. [laughing]

ELM:: No but that's part of it! And it's interesting to see the good AUs find other, if it's moved into modern era, need to find another way to make him...you can't just say "he's grumpy." [laughs] Almost always there's some other kind of trauma and not in a way that excuses any of the behavior, but because it's so intrinsically wrapped up in what a character is...

FK: Otherwise the character isn't coherent. People aren't just like that unless...you know?

ELM:: Well it might be. Some people are tempermentally quite grumpy. But it does feel like, what is this character when you take away the circumstances? It's easy to see in an X-men story because it's very blunt circumstances. But it's a little harder to see when it's something less traumatic, I think.

FK: Yeah. I agree.

ELM:: So it's hard.

FK: Alright, well, I think that was a great ask. Thank you, dzamie or jamieponders or however your name is said and I'm really sorry that we've destroyed it.

ELM:: So, I think that's it for AUs! I'm probably gonna, after we wrap up, gonna go read some more. But I'm curious to know people's thoughts.

FK: Yeah! I look forward to hearing from people on this as well, and it's very easy to send us your thoughts! You can email us, fansplaining@gmail.com, our website fansplaining.com is a Tumblr, the askbox is on, and so is anon, please don't be a jerk. You can send us fanmail but please don't, because that's...I don't know. You can.

ELM:: You can, it's a hard...it's a hard thing to respond to.

FK: It's a hard medium because it's...

ELM:: Tumblr's fanmail feature, if you're not familiar. Don't be familiar with it if you're not familiar.

FK: Send us an email instead.

ELM:: An email will do it. You can also send an ask, and if you want to use your username but you don't want us to reply just say so in the ask. Say just respond privately please. We'll obviously always respect that.

FK: We've also got Twitter, @fansplaining on Twitter, we've also got Facebook if you really feel the need to communicate in that fashion then I guess you can, that's also @fansplaining, and as always, a really good way to support us is to pledge to our Patreon which is at patreon.com/fansplaining, we are very soon going to have a tiny zine for you!

ELM:: Very soon.

FK: So get in your pledge now and get access to all kinds of special episodes, tiny zine, lots of stuff. Please enjoy it.

ELM:: That's right and if you do not have any cash right now you could also, or if you have cash! This isn't just for people with no cash. You could leave us a review and a rating on iTunes. That really helps other people find us. Yeah! Or share us with your friends.

FK: All right! I think that's it.

ELM:: I'm literally gonna go read an AU right now.

FK: OK go enjoy your AU.

ELM:: Flourish, I read a story...

FK: I will talk to you later, Elizabeth! [all laugh]

[Outro music, thank yous and disclaimers]

[multsicorn]

self indulgent year end fake meme post

Who doesn’t love talking about their own fic?  But I always love reading other people talk about their own writing too, so, self indulgent doesn’t need to be bad.

Everything I’ve posted for this year is for “Check, Please!” - I tend to be very monofannish.  And there’s only five fics total, which is the fewest, I think, I’ve ever finished/posted in a year since I started posting fic.

how do you make it for real - is the reason behind that.  My fandomtrumpshate auction fic, for a recipient who never got back to me in any way since the very first prompt/request message, it’s a coffeeshop au - I never write total au - and it’s been kicking my ass without much to show for it all fucking year.

The fifth and final chapter has been in the same state of written-but-needs-poking-at since, I think, March of last year, and whenever I can make myself spend a few solid hours on it and then a few more, it should be posted and the fic out of my life.  I just keep wanting to focus on other things first (’just for a bit!’) and/or just never having time...

And I hate this story so much.  I know you’re not supposed to say about about your own stories, and maybe especially not about one that’s a gift for someone?  But, y’know, they’ve been MIA the whole time it’s been written and posted, so... whatever.  The whole story is deeply Not Good in my opinion, but I couldn’t manage to make it any better, and most of all, I hate the way that I’ve been having to write it all this time.  I’m never signing up for anything that doesn’t have a default option again.

pouring down like rain - the Saddest Timeline (Jack Dies) AU.  Like the majority of fics that I managed to post this year other than the big one that I was “supposed to be” writing above, I scribbled this all down at once, and posted with minimal editing.  Unlike the other spontaneous fics, this is a scenario I kept coming back and back to in my mind - I can’t believe that in a canon where a main character nearly dies, I can’t recall any other ‘he actually dies’ AUs.  I’m not sure what I think of this fic; there are bits I like, and bits I think are awkward, but also I’m actually finding it sad enough that I don’t want to reread the whole thing?  WEIRD, MULTS.  ... anyway.

The thing that I really wanted to say here is that if I write one sizable thing in this fandom of my own choosing, what I really want to write is more/the rest of this ‘verse.  Jack dies, and all the hurt and anger and so forth that Kent feels at Jack, in canon, is aimed at the institutions of hockey, the NHL, Juniors, for killing the boy he loved.  So: he comes out when he leads the Aces to their first Stanley Cup win.  Cause he’s fighting, and he’s furious, and isn’t that some juxtaposition with latest canon, too.  (... coming someday hopefully soonish to a this blog near you!)

put the thing in the thing - I think this is the only fic I’ve written this year that I’m really satisfied with.  Cause, well, it isn’t ambitious.  Jack has a sex/hockey dream.  Easy to do three hundred-odd words decently.  But I do like the slightly odd style of it, and the concept.  ~shrugs.~

you know you’re supposed to keep it - I couldn’t even remember what possessed me to write a patater fluff(ish) piece until I read the author’s note up top, and, oh yeah, okay.  It was a thought-about-canon bunny: if Tater’s dating Kent, but he still thinks Jack must have a girlfriend till Jack tells him otherwise, then what does the subsequent Kent-and-Tater convo look like.  The potential would be in Tater learning about Jack/Parse belatedly, and Kent learning about Jack/Bitty with considerably more than zero feelings even though he has his own boyfriend... but I never managed to go anywhere with those ideas, and looking at them, I’m not sure there was anywhere in particular to go.

Ah, well.  It’s never a loss to post a random bit of not-very-good-but-I-felt-like-writing-it fic up on AO3, rather than leaving it to rot unfinished in some sense in my notebook.  I have all sorts of ideas that aren’t good.

physical chemical - this is the one I still think about trying to come back to and rewrite, sometimes.  It’s the only fic this year besides ‘how do you make it for real’ to go through any sort of drafting and re-drafting process.  (Which is funny, cause I tend to think of myself as doing so many drafts!  Cause I spend time on that... but most stories I work on never see the light of day, whereas, it seems, most stories that I actually post, I do so with barely any revision at all.)  (MAYBE I SHOULD WORK ON THAT for next year.)

So - Jack and Kent hook up in Juniors, for the first time, sometime in the fall of their last year together.  The main point of the story, the idea that I love, and that I’m sometimes tempted to try to write again until it gets through, is - what if Jack was basically using having sex with Kent the exact same way as he was using/abusing drugs and alcohol, at that point.  Just something to make all the worry go away.  Cause that was all he could think about.  Don’t you feel bad for Jack, in that case?  And don’t you feel bad for Kent?  C’mon fandom, agree with me that this concept is a quality sad!

Also featuring what was meant to be somewhat of a codependent Jack/Parse dynamic, though it may have simply come off as dependent, ha.  When Jack’s not up to anything besides hockey, Parse’ll step up and pick up the slack... (but, then, like, Parse is being taken out to dinner at the end by Bad Bob Zimmermann and former supermodel/movie star Alicia Zimmermann.  See!  They’re trading ~things!)

I love the ideas and I don’t so much like all the details but how does writing we just don’t know.

[skibasyndrome]

F stands for Frappuccino

So I was inspired by Jamie’s amazing Art and Mark’s dorky tweets to dash out some crack. Enjoy!

Or: Yes. This is a Coffeeshop AU that nobody asked for but we all secretly needed.

Read on Archive of our Own or Read the Skippus Alphabet

Matt loves a good coffee.

Aromatic, but not too pungent. Lil bit of almond milk. Done.

But, you see, he also fucking loves Frappuccinos.

Yes, you’re laughing. He knows.

So what, it’s not “really coffee”. So what it’s “essentially just milk and sugar”.

It’s good, that’s what it is.

He doesn’t really mind the mocking, he’s used to it.

Fuck the Frappuccino-Shaming, he says every damn time one of his friends gives him that look, but of course they totally don’t stop the shaming.

It’s fun, actually. Matt likes to make people laugh. And if he gets a delicious cold drink doing it, yay, everybody’s happy.

Matt watches as Heather orders her usual tall dark roast.

He notices the new barista that’s taking her order.

Yes, so what, Matt’s a regular at Starbucks, sue him. He likes to know people and he likes to chat while he’s ordering his morning coffee. It happens.

The guy has dark brown hair, spiked up a little in the front. It looks funny. A little refreshing.

He’s used to seeing man buns and man buns only lately.

“Your name?” he asks her and she replies.

“That’s with an ‘h’?” Heather nods politely.

It’s nice to see someone care about the correct spelling of customer’s names, kind of cute. Matt likes it when employees pay attention.

Heather pays and steps aside, waiting for Matt to finish ordering before they walk over to await their drinks.

“Welcome at Starbucks, what’s it gonna be for you on this beautiful morning?” The barista’s blue eyes look friendly and match his wide smile.

“I’d like a Caramel Frappuccino, grande, almond milk, no whip cream, toffee nut instead of caramel drizzle”

Matt’s memorized his favorite drink by heart. It’s quite a mouthful but surprisingly enough, the guy gets it all dotted down in no time. He reads over his writing again, furrowing his brows, seemingly double-checking.

“And the name?” he looks back up, beaming.

It catches Matt by surprise and he has to think for a moment.

“Uh, Matthew,” he finally manages to get it out, cheeks burning a little with mild embarrassment. So much for a smooth order.

“Gotcha!”

When Matt turns to walk with Heather he sees her rolling her eyes.

“Why in the world can’t it be a normal cup o’ coffee with you,” she sighs, barely containing her grin.

Matt just chuckles.

“You’re just a hater”

They don’t have to wait too long for their drinks, Matt barely has enough time to observe the blue-eyed cashier some more.

He takes a straw, pushes it through the lid, sips and sighs happily. Oh hell yeah.

Nothing beats a good Frappuccino.

Heather chuckles when they step out through the door.

“Ha, got your name wrong,” she exclaims and points to the messy handwriting on the side of the cup.

Mathew, it reads.

“Goddamn” Matt’s laughing. That doesn’t happen a lot.

Seemingly though, it does happen a lot.

At least with this new guy. It’s the third time Matt takes away a cup that reads Mathew.

It just looks wrong.

Matt doesn’t usually care about that kind of stuff, but it’s bothering him just a little bit.

He always sees the guy ask other people how to spell their name.

He even asked a girl named Jessica.

Like, how many ways to spell Jessica are there?

Not enough to justify the guy asking, thinks Matt.

Mathew. That’s not a way to spell his name. It’s just one letter off, yet it looks so damn wrong.

He’ll have to make sure the guy gets it right, Matt doesn’t want him to get used to the wrong spelling.

“Oh and by the way, it’s Matthew with two Ts.” Matt tries to sound as nonchalant as humanly possible.

The guy looks surprised for a second but starts grinning again, just a second later, his icy blue eyes lighting up.

“Sure thing, man” he says and winks at him, making Matt’s heart beat just the slightest bit faster.

However, when he grabs his cup off the counter and – sneakily, don’t be too obvious – checks the scribbly letters and frowns.

That’s absolutely not what he wanted.

‘Mathew with two Ts’ the fucking cup reads.

When Matt enters the coffee shop the next morning and sees the brunette barista standing there he almost walks back out.

Keep it down, he tells himself. Just don’t let it bother you.

As soon as the guy sees Matt though, he’s waving, all overly friendly and he seems almost excited to see him.

Matt just smiles politely, trying to keep this completely ridiculous grudge he’s holding down.

Sooner than he would’ve liked it’s his turn to order.

“Sup” the barista greets him. His name-tag only has a grinning emoticon on it and it’s annoying the hell out of Matt.

He wants to come up with a witty joke about the guy’s name. Something really badass, like, the super comeback for all the name-bullshittery.

But how is he supposed to make a joke about a guy whose name he doesn’t even know.

“So, uh, the usual?” The cashier looks at him questioningly and Matt just nods.

“Sure”

“Sorry about the name thing by the way,” the guy starts and Matt eyes him suspiciously. Well, he almost looks apologetic. Almost being the keyword here.

His bright blue eyes still carry the glint of mischief. What the fuck is up with the guy.

“It’s fine,” Matt says and can’t contain a small smile. This guy’s grinning is just too contagious. Those damn lips. “Was funny to be honest,” Matt admits and the guy’s smile softens just the slightest bit. But it’s just enough to make Matt’s knees turn to pudding.

“You wanna spell your name out for me?” Bright blue eyes meet his and Matt clears his throat.

“It’s M-A-T-T-H-E-W” He’s talking slowly and he can almost feel the people behind him in line get impatient.

He quickly hands the barista the cash and makes his way over to the end of the counter.

Just three minutes later he hears another employee shout out his order. She hesitates before saying his name.

“For Matt?,” she’s making it sound more like a question than anything else.

Matt just grabs the coffee, swearing not to check until he’s out of the door.

He’s not gonna be that desperate. Nope, not at all.

Once out of sight he lifts it to read the name and he can’t help but let a loud laugh escape his lips.

There’s a pair of poorly drawn breasts crammed between the A and the H.

That fucking guy…

Right under his name he finds a line of numbers, signed with a simple smiling emoji.

He grins.

That’s bound to be interesting.