#its almost midnight here and i was just with fam

[s0lar-ch3ri]

cant write tonight cause eepy but

the "unborn kings" are those who already died in the black sea

explanation coming tmr

[alwaysshallow]

I feel like soap would be addicted to caramel/vanilla. Mf out here popin on open a bag of caramel/tub of vanilla ice cream and he just eats it whole. Aggressive chewing if its caramel and he eats the ice cream outta the container. Almost didnt pass his physical bc his A1C was kinda fucked up💀. And no he doesnt take splenda/sugar substitutes, its tastes too fake to him. Pretty sure he drank caramel sauce from the jar.

And if u smell like caramel/vanilla??? Fam. He’s ATTACHED to you. Like if u spray something like Pink Sugar this man WOULD NOT LEAVE U ALONE. Like the absolute CHOKE HOLD that perfume had on him lmao. Its like catnip to soapy boy. Hes trying to smell u the while day, constantly putting his face in ur neck, hes all over u. U spray that shit on around him u might get folded, and then double folded like a pancake😂. He gon be chasing after you the second it hits his nose. Forgets whatever hes got in his hands hes dropping it and making a b-line towards u.

-💸

PLS??

no but like. idk if you've read my series, coffee at midnight—here, soap literally drinks his coffee with whipped cream and caramel on it lmao. it's just who he is, whole ass lifestyle at this point

but like, you did something to me when you mentioned the scent thingy... mmmmmm soap's gonna bite you. as fuck. he's a biter, shameless one, and doesn't even informs you about it; he randomly sinks his teeth into your arm, neck, whatever. and he inhales the scent like a crazy one

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 3, Chp. 9″

"Black Butterfly, sail across the waters Tell your sons and daughters what the struggle brings Black Butterfly, set the skies on fire Rise up even higher So the ageless winds of time can catch your wings"

Deniece Williams – "Black Butterfly"

Disa spotted Pamela in the middle of the floor.

The moment the beat hit her ears, Pamela threw her head back and tossed her ass in a circle letting Disa know it was good to go.

The beginning was always the difficult part of her sets when she was trying to create a montage of feelings through sound. There were peaks and valleys she had to hit in order to hold the audience hostage. She almost lost it halfway through Zana High Life when the host shouted out DJ Geechee Dan standing on the side of the stage. Disa had been trying to find him up in the VIP section and he was right there, less than twenty feet from her watching her cut up a live mix.

It was Erik that saved her from bumbling her set as she focused on him moving instead of Geechie Dan being so near her. He came out of nowhere and she had no idea he could dance so well. The boy showed out and Pamela tried to keep up. It brought a smile to her lips to see him grab her homegirl and dance Pamela around. No one had ever been able to hang with her, and Erik pushed the woman to go all out.

Disa reeled everyone back in when she let Erik's voice quote "Beloved" over the music. He matched the tone of the syncopated beats. It sounded romantic. Dreamy. She took a respite and let the mix play as she watched him dance. So fluid. Like water. She knew he practiced capoeira and decided to go off script and freestyle her set. Dragging down some berimabau sounds, she cued up a Brazilian jam and dropped it on top of her own drumming in time to the stringed instrument. It struck like a thunderbolt on Erik and it shocked her to see him backflip and hold his body in a handstand as his legs moved in slow motion before he crouched on the floor low and swayed to the ancient sounds.

The boy was bad.

Loose hips and expressive arm movement fooled everyone into thinking he was just jamming instead of showing off a martial art. Disa was in awe and almost missed her next transition cue because she was so mesmerized by him. How could that brainy, standoffish, and arrogant man-child turn into a snake-hipped God of the dance?

Pamela jumped back on him and Disa played with them both by skipping her planned closing and taking the two of them to the Black Queer spaces she roamed with Pamela and friends. Punching up the voice of the icon Selvin Mizrahi, aka MC Debra, Disa brought in ballroom beats.

"That shouldn't have been the question," echoed about the space and Pamela stopped dancing with Erik and pointed a finger at Disa.

"Don't play with me, bitch!" Pamela shouted before she dropped to the floor and duck walked like the diva she was. This attracted their other homegirl Tatum who dipped several times making Yamilet stand aside with weak knees. Pamela played with Tatum in a simulated ballroom battle over Erik's attention until Tatum pushed Pamela aside and twirled around the youngster capturing his attention. The audience roared when Erik dropped into his own duck walk challenging Tatum. Erik's friends howled and the entire venue lost it when he dipped three times in front of Tatum making her storm off in a pretend huff as he duck walked after her before spinning on his back and shoulders. He grabbed Tatum's hand and ground on her ass with the closing notes of Disa's set. Loud whistles and claps erupted, and she waved to the crowd before the lights switched over to the next DJ who looked frightened at the prospect of following up after her.

Tatum rushed over to her swiping back long strands of crimped and twisty hair.

"Girl, your lil man was out here giving what he was supposed to give! Is he…?"

"Erik? No, I don't believe so."

"He was putting that thang on me like he wanted a piece of the good, Sis. He grab on me again like that and I'll let him get a taste."

Tatum's dark brown eyes were glossy from drinking and she followed Disa as she carried her crate of vinyl to the green room.

"He's not the type to turn mean if he knows….y'now…" Tatum said.

"He's very open. I don't think he'd trip to know you're Trans."

"Good. Cuz he could get it from any of these women out here. Did you see him move? I know Pamela is butt hurt that she was not the center of the dance universe tonight."

Tatum watched her tuck her crate under a covered table and push them far back with her jacket on top of it with her computer bag.

"I liked how you closed out your set."

"People liked it, yeah?"

"Yeah, but I worry cuz you know how these niggas be wildin' if you bring in the Fam in hetero spaces. Everybody turns into homophobe and kills the vibe for everybody."

Disa's cell buzzed. She pulled it from her back pocket.

"Yamilet and them. She's out by the car now."

Disa dragged her crate back out and Tatum carried her computer bag for her. They headed outside to the parking lot. Yamilet was there with Pamela, and Essie. She opened her trunk and Disa dumped her stuff. The women gave her joyous hugs and high fives before they traipsed back in to catch the other DJs.

Erik ran up to her breathless.

"Hey! I thought you were leaving!"

Disa patted his arm.

"No, just putting my gear away. Erik, these are my friends…"

She introduced everyone, and Erik shook their hands. Tatum and Pamela gave him big hugs and Yamilet snapped her fingers at him.

"Geechie… Hey! Geechie Dan, hold up!" Erik shouted.

Disa's heart dropped in her belly. Erik shook her idol's hand and brought him over to Disa.

"This is Disa Abdullah-Woods, your biggest fan," Erik said.

"My dear, sweet, woman, you are a master class of gifts. That set was-"

Geechie Dan kissed his fingers to end his praise.

Disa held out a trembling hand to him.

"No, that's not gonna do, Buttafly. Bring it in," he said opening his arms wide.

Disa burst into tears.

"Hey, I'm nobody to cry over," he whispered.

Geechie Dan gave Disa a big hug, and she stood there like a blubbering baby. The years that she spent practicing what she would say to the man if she ever met him in person went straight out the window. She used to laugh at people who became overly emotional meeting celebrities, but now she totally understood the overwhelming feeling that surged through her.

She wiped her eyes and Erik rubbed her back with gentle circles.

"I've been a fan since I was a little kid," she stammered out.

"Erik here told me. I told him how much I enjoyed his dancing and he just went in about you."

A crowd surrounded Geechie Dan, but he ignored them, his twinkling eyes on her.

"It has been a long time since I've seen a DJ create a set with so much intention behind it. You have something special in you, young lady. Never lose that gift."

Disa's mouth seemed to lose all ability to work. All the things she wanted to say stalled in her throat. He was there in the flesh. Standing in front of her.

"Disa has a radio show you should go on," Erik suggested.

"Oh yeah? Give me your number. I'll call you up and we can chop it up."

Geechie Dan pulled out his cell and Disa gave him her number, her voice a soft shell of its usual assertive tone.

"When I get some free time, I'll hit you up. Excuse me, they want me back up on stage. Amazing set, Disa. Keep spinning!"

The man shook her hand with both of his and his entourage and promoters swept him away.

"She's still in shock," Yamilet said waving her hand in Disa's face.

Erik's bright smile attracted her attention. Had he not spoken to the man, Disa may very well have missed her opportunity to meet him, let alone remember to ask the man for a radio interview. Her mind floated with the surreal nature of the experience. Her cell buzzed.

Here's my number. I'll be in New York in a few weeks, would be open to an in-person radio interview.

Geechee Dan's personal cell number. She had it. In her palm.

Disa reached out and grabbed Erik's shoulders. She planted a big fat kiss on his lips.

"Damn, what was that for?" he said.

"Being here," she said.

He wiped his lips and smiled.

"Erik…"

Chloe slinked up and slipped her arm in Erik's, tugging him towards the dance floor. Disa watched him enter the thick crowd of swaying bodies to dance once more.

###

Her night was a dreamy success.

Disa stayed in a popular hotel with her friends, and they hung out in the bar. Erik strolled into the lobby with his friends. In a tipsy stupor, Disa walked over to him with a fresh drink in her hand. "Didn't know you were staying here too," she said.

He took the drink from her and sipped it down.

"Hey… you can't drink this here out in the open, you're underage!"

She snatched it away from his lips.

"Nah, it's after midnight… I'm twenty-one now," he said.

"Oh, shit. It's your birthday? Today?"

"Yep."

"Happy Birthday, Erik!"

She hugged him tight and gave him the glass of liquor.

"Enjoy," she said.

"What room are we in?" Jace asked.

Erik's dorm companion looked sleepy along with two other guys.

"301," Erik said handing Jace a key card.

Disa's friends called for her to return to the bar counter.

"Come celebrate with us," she said pointing to her group.

"I'm beat, to be honest. Thanks for asking me though."

"If you change your mind, we'll be down here."

"Good to know."

"Thanks for everything, Erik. Tonight was really special and meant a lot to me. Especially with you hooking me up with Geechie Dan."

"Glad to make your dream come true."

His eyes penetrated hers.

"Okay grown-ass man, go to bed," she said pushing on his arm playfully.

"You're drunk," he teased.

"A happy one at that," she said stumbling off to join her girls.

Three more drinks later, after a heated discussion with a group of men who hovered around them trying to interject their unwanted opinions about dating, Disa leaned over the bar counter and asked for a special birthday cocktail for Erik. She went to the lobby restroom, collected the drink afterward, and excused herself from her friends. She took the elevator to the third floor and found Erik's room. The fruity exotic drink had a lot of strong liquor in it. Knocking on the door, she waited for someone to answer. She could hear a tv on and talking going on inside.

Kelvin, a cute nerdy string bean answered the door.

"Is Erik up?" she asked.

Kelvin's eyes nearly popped out looking at her.

"You were so good," he yelped.

"Thank you… um… Erik?"

"He's not here."

"Not here? Did he go out?"

"No, he's in that room," Kelvin said pointing across the hall to room 302.

"Thanks," she said.

Kelvin closed the door and Disa did a one-eighty and rapped her knuckles on the new door. She toyed with the blue umbrella and pineapple garnish on his drink. Erik answered. Shirtless and wearing tight gray boxers.

"Hey," she said.

"Um… Hi. 'sup?"

"Birthday drink. A proper one."

She thrust it out to him and tried to brush past him, but he held an arm up in the door jamb blocking her. Her brain failed to register that he didn't want her inside, and she bumped against him, her breasts touching his chest.

"I can't come in?"

"I have someone here," he said.

Her eyes cut behind him. Chloe was draped in nothing but a sheet, the tops of her breasts threatening to spill over her arm that clutched the covers.

"Oh, snap. I'm sorry. I thought you were staying with the guys over there. Didn't realize you had your own room. Here, enjoy the drink," she said.

Erik took the bulbous glass, and his expression was full of embarrassment. He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. Disa stepped back from him and fumbled with her hands.

"Handle your business. It's time for me to get to bed myself… get some sleep. Have fun!"

She tried to sound jovial, but something in the back of her throat made her voice accusatory. As if she caught him doing something behind her back. For months she thought of Erik as her little pet. He was her loyal puppy, and she had to admit she enjoyed all the fawning he did over her. But he was also a young man with needs. She tried not to look at the package that was hanging in his underwear. The outline of it was showing off. God forbid if he was a grower too.

"Me and Chloe kinda got this thing going on now…"

"New girlfriend and good birthday sex is a blessing. Night Erik."

She turned to leave and pivoted back to him.

"Can I put on a birthday dinner for you and your family? I know you're planning on eating at Toulouse, but I would love to host your birthday party at my place."

"That's too much Disa. I have a lot of people coming in from all over."

"How many?"

"Fifteen—"

"Pfft, boy, you've been to my dinner parties, you know how I get down. Fifteen is nothing for me."

"The cost alone will be crazy—"

"Let me handle that. You deserve a special day. You made my night amazing, let me show my appreciation. What would you like to eat?"

Erik's eyes grew thoughtful, they dropped to look at his drink.

"I love your Confit de Canard,"

"Aw, I see. I finally got you to give in to duck meat."

"It's gonna be hella expensive."

"Don't worry about it. Let's say six sharp on Saturday, three courses and Turkish coffee with a birthday cake."

His eyes lit up.

"I'll let my people know."

"Tell them to dress up. I'll plan a splendid evening with games afterward."

Erik grabbed her hand and pulled her in close.

"Thank you," he said.

"Better get back to Chloe. Don't want her chewing my head off for keeping all of this out of the bed."

She smirked at him and wandered down the hall.

###

Chloe had a frown n her face when Erik walked back into the hotel room.

"What did she want?"

"Birthday gift," he said holding up the fancy drink.

He sipped it, and the liquor was too strong for his tastes. It would knock him out before he had a chance to smash Chloe. He put the glass on the nightstand and pulled off his boxers. His dick was already at half-mast.

"Why is your dick like that already?"

Chloe sat up, and the frown on her face deepened.

"Looking at you gets me excited," he countered.

Hopping into the bed, he pulled back the sheets and swiped her nipples with his tongue.

"You're attracted to her."

"Disa? That's my homegirl—"

"Everyone knows you have a crush on her. You turn into a puddle whenever she's around."

Chloe folded her arms over her breasts blocking his access.

"If your dick is getting hard for her, maybe you should get some birthday sex from her instead!"

"Chloe. Stop trippin'. I'm giving this dick to you."

He rubbed the hardening length against her thigh. She slapped it.

"Wanna play rough?" he said.

"Was your dick hard for that Trans chick too?"

"What?"

"Disa's friend. The one with the long fluffy hair. You didn't know?"

"No. She fine as fuck though."

"You'd fuck a Trans woman?"

There was disgust on her face.

Erik sat up. He'd been around Trans women and Trans men all his life, especially in Brazil. He had a Trans play uncle in Sao Paulo who used to babysit him and his play cousin Marisol.

"A woman is a woman. She got titties I can play with and a hole I can fuck, I don't see a problem—"

"Ohmigod! You really would fuck her."

"That ass was amazing."

"I can't believe you're serious!"

"Are you a queerphobe? Cuz if you are, that's not gonna work for me."

"No… I just… I can't picture you being like that."

"Like what?"

"Accepting. You're like a man's man—"

"A Transphobe? I wasn't raised like that. My mother would never let me treat people like shit who didn't deserve it."

Chloe stared down at her hands.

"I'm glad to hear that, actually."

"Yeah? Why?"

Her eyes welled up.

"My sister… she's transitioning… he's becoming my brother and I worry about him going up against guys like you."

"Guys like me?"

"Y'know overly masculine. He's coming to visit me in a few weeks and I wanted you to meet him since he's interested in capoeira."

Her eyes met his.

"I didn't mean to be accusatory about Disa's friend. She's beautiful. Prettier than me."

"You're the prettiest woman in this room right now."

She slapped his hand and smiled.

"But you do like Disa. Right?"

"She's my friend. I had a big crush on her when I first arrived on campus, but now… she's like a mentor… a big sister. We're close and she teaches all kinds of cool stuff. I probably do act all goofy when I'm around her—"

"It's cute… really. I just… let's forget about it."

He kissed her. With guilt. Disa meant more to him than just a big sister or a mentor. She was the ultimate woman. But she would never see him as a man.

Chloe wrapped her lips around his dick and rolled a condom on his shaft after she plumped him up to complete hardness. She presented her backside to him and he sank into her walls and pumped, enjoying her soft sighs and cries of passion. He took off the condom much later as she allowed him to fuck her raw in the ass and dump a hot load in her anal walls. She kept his mind off of Disa and those lush breasts that truly made his dick thicken and visibly tell Chloe the truth. Disa was his dream girl. Everyone could see it.

###

The large package arrived at Disa's house the day before Erik's birthday party. She called him on his phone to tell them that a big box with a D.C. return address and B. Dunduza written in black block letters was sitting in her living room.

He drove over to her house, and Disa watched him tear it open. There was a note on top of the bubble wrap.

"Kept these in storage for you. We wanted to wait until you turned twenty-one to have them. Cherish them as we cherish you."

Uncle Bakari and Auntie Shavonne both signed it.

Erik removed the layer of bubble wrap and his heart nearly stopped.

He fingered the old dark brown leather, and a breath shuddered out of him.

"Erik? You alright?" Disa asked.

She put a hand on his shoulder as he lifted the leather-bound journal from the box.

"These are my father's journals," he whispered.

Opening the first journal, he recognized the careful Wakandan script written by his father's powerful hand. They taped a small piece of bubble wrap on the page. Erik unraveled it and gasped before falling on his backside.

"What is it?" Disa asked, rising concern coloring her voice

Opening his fingers, Erik stared at the wondrous gift.

His Baba's ring. Attached to the chain his mother bought for him as an anniversary gift. The chain his father wore the night he was killed by King T'Chaka.

His family birthright.

Now his.

Chapter 10 HERE

###

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[drabbles-of-writing]

Bleease feed a sleep deprived anon with more four years/new age Luz and Amity and co terrorizing poor people of the human realm? And is Camila just on the side having tea with Steve and sighing?

this late but here u go

Camila tries SO HARD to pretend she doesn’t know any of them. but thats a little hard when two of them are your dumbass gf and your equally as dumbass daughter. she is. So Tired. so ofc pretty much everyone in the town knows that when disaster strikes, theres a pretty clear swerve around Camila so she doesn’t get hit w it. they ask for her secrets. all she can do is shrug and say “they play favorites with family” and refuses to explain. everyone is too scared to ask how the hell she’s related to any of them.

Luz DOES own normal clothes but refuses to wear them when in public of her old town. she wears her whole-ass rebellion getup and you CANNOT stop her. she has to be dramatic at all times. but whenever she’s with her mom in her house n not doing wild shit she Will wear a regular outfit. once during these times someone from the town came to drop off something and as Camila was taking it they spotted Luz sitting on the couch, drinking tea, and looking like the most everyday person you can imagine. she was wearing like a sweater turtle-neck and if it weren’t for the scars on her face and tattoo on her hand she would’ve looked frighteningly normal. they made eye contact for a solid 8 seconds before they quietly left without a word.

Willow really only shows up to nab human realm plants and see what she can do with them but there IS that one person who has a really big garden she steals from quite often. at first they thought it was some hungry wildlife but then they went outside at midnight and shone a flashlight and got a feral Willow deer-in-headlights with her glasses reflecting back at them standing in the middle of their garden. Willow was like a damn raccoon she nabbed the plant and BOLTED and scared the life out of the inhabitants. they are unsuccessful in catching her.

Luz has absolutely taken Amity on dates in the human realm but they’re not exactly ‘dates’ (although to be fair almost none of their dates are normal). usually results in Luz stealing things like ice cream or some weird tourist items and being a dork w Amity on the roofs. sometimes its during the day but normally its around dusk whenever they do this. Amity doesn’t understand a single thing going on in the human realm but Luz is always super excited so she doesn’t comment. Luz may or may not have roped Amity into doing some stupid shit with her this way. there are endless scuffs and foot marks on nearly everyones roof.

Once when it was winter and Luz was stalking about she tried to do the roof climbing but proceeded to slip off bc ice. this happened four times before someone finally came out to see what the fuss was and Luz BOOKED it. winter for the owl fam in the town was a bit of a disaster. nobody could keep as good a grip as normal and due to how dark and muffled everything was they ended up giving off a much creepier vibe than intended, especially when they started being loud and there were no other sounds around.

Multiple people in the owl fam would be the assholes who sing from really high and ridiculous places like a bunch of roosters at like 3am. its a common occurrence that, whenever this happens, someone opens their window and throws an object at them to get them to shut up. theres like a whole point system. if you manage to strike one of the offending witches with said object they all IMMEDIATELY scatter like cockroaches. I could write a whole list of the random shit yelled @ them whenever they decide to be the assholes singing on the roofs dont test me. but, to be fair, they normally only do this for Actual (kind of) Reasons. usually because they want to piss off someone specific. again, theres a List of reasons they’ve done this and the most common offenders are the Blight twins & Luz, as usual.

[jenniez-tv]

I don’t even remember the last time I wrote on here… or if anyone even reads it.. or if I should just make it private. I doubt anyone even reads this so it’s pretty much the same thing anyways. I remember telling my doctors that writing in a journal is stupid. But its the opposite. It’s getting out what you are feeling without having to hear any response or actually talking about it to someone. Its also crazy when you go back to read what you wrote long ago; especially since my memory is just freaking awful now.

It has been so long since I was excited about going into the new year. Yea, it’s a new year to set new goals and accomplish them but I have had the my goals postponed & taken away and it just sucks. It’s another year of getting older & still exactly where you were years ago. Yea, it couldn’t be help I had cancer and treatment. I should just be thankful that I am alive and in remission… that’s all I ever hear both from others and myself all the time. Survivors guilt is something I don’t think I’ll ever get over.

Everyone thinks I am doing great because I look well and look like I am when I post things on social media. But that’s just a tiny part of me; I mean really why would I post pictures where I look like crap? I don’t want to have to explain everything to everyone only to make me angry and sad which leads back to why am I complaining when I should just be thankful. I also don’t want people to pity me or treat me different than they normally would. It makes me wonder hey would they have asked/said/thought/invited/etc treated me like this if I was fine? I thought it was hard after having surgery and chemo (and it was freaking awful), but no one tells you about how hard it will be afterwards. There’s just so many different things happening and going on and you wonder to yourself will it ever get better. It will never be the same as before for so many reasons and dealing with all the after effects and still going to so many doctors to treat all the repercussions of it is so upsetting and draining. I have a headache from crying now and completely lost my train of thought. Just laughing because I have teared up or cried in almost all of my doctor appointments.. and it has been 2 years now. I’m just so mentally exhausted and never sleep well for both physical and emotional reasons. It’s almost midnight and my fam wants to FaceTime since we didn’t meet up because of stupid covid. But I don’t want them to ask me questions since it’s very obvious I’ve been crying. Ugh. It’s also really draining to hide things from your family. Great, I’ve been caught, and now everyone’s talking about why I’m crying. I just want to be alone.

[gay-jesus-probably]

What's up fam does anyone want to hear my new theories on Paranatural JUST KIDDING YOU'RE GETTING THEM ANYWAYS

Okay so first things first: of all the medium's we've met so far, I think that Isaac and Johnny are the only normal ones. And also maybe Walker? Cause during the flashback at the start of Chapter 7 he uses his mute powers with his bare hands, and doesn't seem to use a tool to fight. It'd explain why his flashback aesthetic is so aggressively 70's even though the flashback is set in the early 00's and his usual style is 'cowboy' - makes sense if his flashback look is a symptom of possession.

...That's not the point. Flashback Walker being a medium is completely unrelated to this.

Anyways.

When Possessed Max was threatening Doorman in ch 3, the Doorman immediately identified it as 'a broken god'. Given that the spirit mentions it "didn't end up with the sense of humor", the broken part is probably very literal. Then later on while talking with Nin, Doorman says that Max is "unaware that he carries one of the s-". While the last word is cut off, my guess is it's the start of a number, and refers to how many pieces the Broken God is in.

So that leaves us with three major questions: 1. What is the Broken God and why is it broken? 2. Where are the fragments? 3. What do they want?

Under the read more, because this is 3k words and I’m not an animal.

What is the Broken God, and why is it broken?

While it was whole, the Broken God was a terrifyingly powerful entity with apocalyptic levels of power. It might have been a spirit all along, or it could have started as something else entirely. If that's the case, then the act of breaking might have 'killed' it, turning the fragments into spirits. Whether it was originally a spirit or not, it couldn't be destroyed completely, but being shattered left the fragments weakened and gave the rest of the world a chance against it. It's possible that it hadn't done anything to warrant being attacked, and it was just shattered out of fear of what something that powerful might do, but I think it's more likely it was a very active threat that needed to be brought down.

So who broke it?

Ron Swanson; it burned his hand so he punched it

Bad jokes aside, I think something that powerful would push the Godzilla threshold enough to make a lot of groups put aside their differences to bring it down. Judging by what we've heard about them so far, I assume that early versions of the Cousinhood of Man and Paranatural Activity Consortium were involved. The two organizations might have actually been founded in response to the crisis, or were originally a single group that had a schism after. I don't think it was just them, but I do think the Cousinhood and Consortium were major players in the whole mess.

Which brings us to...

Where are the fragments?

I can't say for sure how many pieces it's in, but judging by the Doorman's comment, my guess is it's a number that starts with S. That's a lot of options, but I'm guessing six or seven, because any higher numbers that start with an S would just be ridiculous - six or seven is manageable, but double digits or higher is way too much to keep track of, the story would never be able to give all of them the focus they deserve.

So we've got six or seven fragments of a broken god. Where are they?

Fragment One: Possessing Max, which is the only thing currently confirmed by canon. This is a very recent development, as Max isn't showing any physical symptoms, was able to cross the barrier to enter Mayview, and his spectral abilities didn't kick in until his first day of school. Given that Johnny starts seeing shades roughly twelve hours after his possession, that implies that Max was possessed the day he moved into Mayview.

I think Max's fragment was stuck outside of Mayview, and looking to get in. It came across the Puckett's heading towards Mayview, and hitched a ride by possessing Max. This is backed up by the fact that Max began to awaken as a spectral before having noticeably interacted with anything supernatural - on his first night, Max could hear Hissin' Pete, saw PJ as a shade, and PJ was able to physically interact with him. If we compare that to the timeline of Johnny being possessed around midnight and seeing his first shade by lunchtime the next day, Max would have been possessed at some point in the late morning of the day he moved to Mayview.

Max's fragment is not Scrapdragon. I think that Max is a little like Mr. Spender, in that he's a medium whose also wielding a tool. Max's fragment is very chatty, revealing itself to the Doorman with no prompting, speaking in long, eloquent sentences, and even talks at Isaac about the concept of school buses and his own morality. On the other hand, Scrapdragon's communicated only in angry screeching so far. Also, Scrapdragon is obviously the source of Max's magnet powers, and he can only channel them through the baseball bat that Scrapdragon's possessing. I don't think Scrapdragon likes the fragment either - despite being a grudge, it seems fairly neutral towards Max, and only gets angry when he accidentally hits it. I don't know if Scrapdragon is trying to oppose the fragment the same way Lucifer fights the Shadow, but I don't think Scrapdragon wants to hurt Max, and it might end up helping him.

Fragment Two: Alright so now we're getting into speculative territory. I'm not numbering these by order of introduction btw, from here on out I'm looking at this via connections.

Boss Leader is possessed by a wight that the Consortium's been studying for a very long time, and is fairly non-hostile. Although it can't communicate clearly, it can express its emotions to BL, and she seems to have a lot of trust in it. Despite Boss Leader's shenanigans, it's been repeatedly shown that she takes the safety of spectral kids very seriously - if she thought there was any chance her wight would be dangerous, she never would have introduced it to two teenagers and a toddler, especially not just to explain the concept of a wight. This is also backed up by the wight's actions during that conversation - it's clearly paying attention, but it doesn't show any hostility, and the only thing it says is "PLEASE DON'T BE SCARED". Hell, it even seems to be a little disappointed that nobody reacts to the wight/white pun.

Despite this, I believe that Sandman is a fragment of the broken god. Not so much because of how it acts, but because of its connection to other possible pieces.

Fragment Three: Dr. Gwen Burger and her husband got stuck inside the prison of an unknown Wight. It was imprisoned by the Consortium before the current Boss Leader took power, it's lonely, dangerous, and really wants out. If it escapes, the results probably won't be pretty, time works differently in its prison, and its dream is connected to Gwen's. I think that Gwen might be its medium, given how warped her appearance is in the dream world, and that the wights prison relies on it being bound to a medium.

Gwen's wight is seemingly hostile, given that it attacks the group at the first opportunity, but what it wants is hard to say - its only line so far is "LOOK AT ME", and it may have been responsible for the demise of Gwen's husband. It also looks very similar to Sandman, implying a connection between them. Given that it's already been established that a Broken God is out there, it only makes sense for Sandman and Gwen's wight to be more fragments.

And more importantly, they're both very clearly connected to another powerful spirit.

Fragment Four: The Shadow, which has been possessing Richard Spender for at least thirteen years now. It's obviously powerful, given how much it scares Spender and Lucifer, and how being its medium has affected Spender's reputation. Given how he reacts to Forge saying he 'defeated the strongest spirit', that likely refers to Mr. Spender's past experience with the Shadow, and the circumstances that led to his possession.

Apart from its power, the main reason I think the Shadow is a fragment of the Broken God is because of its connections to Sandman and Gwen's wight. With Sandman, they look incredibly similar - the Shadow's face resembles a sun and is noticeably missing an eye, while Sandman's face resembles a crescent moon, and its only clear feature is a single eye. This suggests that Sandman and the Shadow are directly related to each other. As for Gwen's wight, it's connection to the Shadow is made clear by Rick's reaction to being attacked by it - while everyone else reacts, Rick freezes up and starts shaking in terror, either recognizing it as being similar to the Shadow, or having a flashback to his obviously traumatic possession. Probably both.

There's also the reactions of Sandman and Gwen's wight. When the group is attacked by Gwen's wight, the framing of the scene heavily implies that it's reaching out to grab Spender - Boss Leader and Walker are moving to defend the others, Gwen's almost completely hidden behind Walker, Mina's reflexively shielding Rick and Ed, Ed's hidden behind Walker and Mina... and Rick is perfectly centered at the back of the group. Furthermore, the way the wight attack contrasts to Rick's flashback heavily implies that it's reaching for him specifically. Meanwhile when the kids are introduced to Sandman, while it's kinda hard to track its line of sight, it seems like it might be staring at Rick the whole time. What the two wights say could also be interpreted as them speaking directly to Rick - Gwen's wight wants him to look at it, while Sandman begs him not be scared. If the two wights are fragments of the Broken God, they might be able to recognize that Rick is the medium of another one, and react accordingly. Gwen's wight wants him look at it, possibly realizing that he's frozen in terror and wanting to keep him that way so that he's an easy target. Sandman also realizes that Rick is traumatized and keeps its distance, asking Rick not to be afraid, as it doesn't want to hurt him. The point is, the Shadow, Sandman, and Gwen's wight are obviously connected to each other, and the most likely reason is all three are fragments of the Broken God.

I believe the Shadow was imprisoned at the bottom of Mayview Lake, though not by the Consortium. Thirteen years before Max came to Mayview, its prison was somehow broken by group that wanted to free the Broken God, though they were widely disorganized. Somehow a young Rick Spender wound up in the lake as the Shadow got free, and it pulled him under before possessing him. Given that Spender dying would free the Shadow, it's possible that the Shadow needed to possess a medium to escape its prison, and was trying to drown Rick right away to free itself. Lucifer intervened, pulling Rick out of the lake, and the two of them have been imprisoning the Shadow in Mr. Spender ever since.

Fragment Five: The Angel of Mayview.

Yeah, I know, she's definitely an enemy of Max's fragment and seemingly means well, but hear me out. When she speaks with Nin and Doorman, she pretty much immediately says she doesn't deserve to be called master. She also seems invested in Forge getting a second chance, not just to advance her goals, but also just for his own sake. These two details give me the impression that she's done some seriously bad things in the past, and is actively trying to make amends for it. Being part of the seemingly evil Broken God would qualify.

My other evidence is what Max's fragment says in Chapter 3. It specifically says that it "didn't end up with the sense of humor", implying that it's unable to find things funny. And right after that, the fragment and Doorman have this exchange: Doorman: Your return changes nothing, schemer. My master does not fear broken gods. Fragment: She should. Would if she could. The comedy your ignorance breeds is wasted on my ears.

This suggests that the Angel isn't scared because she can't be scared. Like she didn't get the ability to fear things, because another fragment has it. Max's fragment also suggests that it knows more about the Angel than Doorman does, and that considering her an enemy of the Broken God is ridiculous. All of this heavily implies that the Angel herself is another fragment.

Fragments Six and Seven: At this point I'm mostly out of obvious suspects. There's really only two major players unaccounted for, and while I do think both are fragments, I think they might both be fragments I've already discussed.

The great power that sleeps in Mayview is heavily implied to be a Big Deal. That being said, I think we've seen it already - who do we know that's a suspected medium for a fragment of the Broken God, and is permanently asleep? Yeah, I think the sleeping power is referring to Boss Leader. Her physical body is comatose, making her completely defenseless in the real world, and if Sandman is a fragment, Boss Leader is obviously very powerful. If Boss Leader's real body is in Mayview, then she's definitely the sleeping power.

Alternatively, it might be referring to the Shadow being imprisoned in Mayview Lake. Forge hasn't been in Mayview in a long time, so it makes sense that he wouldn't know the great power he's seeking was released over a decade ago. His attempt to command the pixelhounds also makes it clear that he's not above using evil methods to try and do what he thinks is right, so it'd make sense that he'd be willing to try and take control of it to help the Angel. It'd also explain why Mr. Spender starts laughing when he hears that, despite the fact that he's literally being tortured - Forge doesn't realize that the power he's looking for is right there. Mr. Spender also calls Forge misinformed right after that, suggesting that he knows what the sleeping power really is. Could be that he knows it's Boss Leader, but it could also mean he knows it's him. Either way, Forge is looking in the wrong place, and Mr. Spender knows it.

As for the other unexplained mystery, we have Penny Spender and her white spectral energy. That's a trait unique to wights and their mediums, which suggests that Penny is the medium of a wight. And given that all wights seen so far are probably fragments of the Broken God, it's likely that her wight is as well... but I think her wight is the Angel. We know fragments can speak through their mediums if they want, and the Angel hasn't made any personal appearances yet, only speaking over the phone. And the reactions of Nin and Doorman imply that's normal for her. Penny's obviously hiding that she's a spectral, so the Angel might be hiding that she has a medium to protect them both. As for why the Angel is possessing Penny, well Richard and Penny are obviously siblings, and Rick first got possessed when he was thirteen. If Penny doesn't know there's something horribly wrong with her brother, I'd be very surprised. I imagine we'll find out more about her, but whether or not Penny's possessed by the Angel, I think she's somewhat aware of her brothers situation and is trying to save him. Whatever her situation is, I'm looking forward to seeing more of Penny Spender, and I really hope she appears at some point in Chapter 7.

So now that we've got a rough idea of where the fragments are and why, that brings us to our final question.

What do they want?

I don't think they all have the same goals. Max's fragment saying it didn't end up with the sense of humor is an extremely informative sentence if you think about it - it means that the different fragments got different aspects of the Broken God's personality, and therefor will want different things.

The Angel and Sandman both seem to be non-hostile (for now at least), and the Angel is actively opposing other fragments. She also seems to be trying to make amends for the Broken God's actions, and feels deep shame over her past, leading me to believe that the Angel has the Broken God's remorse. The other pieces don't feel bad about what they've done because they can't. Likewise, I think Sandman might have inherited its fear, as it almost looks like it's trying to hide itself under blankets, and putting its medium's in a coma allows it to hide from the waking world.

Given their actions, I think the Angel and Sandman are against the Broken God's original goals, and are fairly benevolent. They do not want to become whole again.

Meanwhile, the Shadow, Gwen's wight, and Max's fragment all seem to be hostile. I believe Gwen's wight definitely wants to rejoin with other fragments, given that it seemingly tries to grab Rick. Max's fragment is harder to judge; it's definitely opposed to the Angel, but the Doorman's words imply that it's not really a powerhouse like the others. Max's fragment is the manipulator, the schemer - not the fighter. If it's the weakest of the bunch, it makes sense that it would want to become whole again. As for the Shadow, given that it's first move upon getting free is to attack Max and Isabel, it's definitely an active problem. The fact that it's indirectly described as 'the strongest spirit' implies that it got the most raw power out of all the fragments. I don't have any evidence that it wants to become whole again, but something about it gives me the feeling that it does. Here's hoping Mr. Spender realizes Max is possessed before either of their fragments makes a move. And no, I don’t think the Shadow realizes Max has another fragment yet; he’s still in the early stage of possession, so I think the only way for Max’s fragment to get caught is if it exposes itself. But Max’s fragment definitely knows where the Shadow is after chapter 4, so that’s bound to turn into a nightmare at some point.

Also on a probably unrelated note, the Shadow is a spirit of darkness that chooses to look like a sun, and if you look closely at Rick's memory getting possessed, you can see the Shadow had a massive slasher smile as it reached up to grab him. So uh... I think I know which fragment got the sense of humor.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, I look forward to being proved wrong about all of this. But I also kinda really hope I’m right. Either way, if anyone writes fanfic using my theories, I will love you forever.

[emachinescat]

Ghost + Bomb + Mac - Hands

A MacGyver Fan-fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 4 - impaling

Summary: The Ghost survives the confrontation in the catacombs and pursues his cruelest revenge. Even the simplest of bombs can be impossible to defuse without the use of one’s hands.

Characters: MacGyver, The Ghost, Jack, Phoenix team as family

Words: 5,333

TW: graphic violence, blood, panic attacks

Keep reading here, or read on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging! :)

Previously, on MacGyver…

Mac’s head rushed with the thrill of victory and breathlessness at the close call.  Wrapping Riley and Bozer into a hug, he squeezed tightly, only halfway believing that they’d done it, that the bomb was disarmed - he couldn’t have done it without his friends.

The Ghost was dead - that was even harder to believe.  Everything that had happened since he’d been knocked out and dragged deep into the catacombs was a blur, yet he could somehow see every detail with crystalline clarity.  Wait until he told Jack - the Ghost was dead, was never going to hurt or kill anyone ever again!  

“What do you say we get out of here?” Riley asked, her smile shining all the more brightly against her dirt-smudged face.  It was infectious. 

Mac laughed.  “Please.”  He turned back, one last time, for closure, perhaps, to say goodbye in a sense to this chapter of his life.  He would never forget, and nothing would bring Peña back, but the nightmare was over.  The Ghost that had haunted him for so long was finally laid to rest.

He froze, every muscle in his body tensing, disbelief and rage and indignance hitting him full-force like a tsunami.  This couldn’t be happening.  The Ghost was dead.  He’d watched Eileen kill him.  But then, directly after, he’d had to figure out how to disarm a bomb that was too heavy to lift.  He and his friends had been entirely occupied, for how long he wasn’t sure.

Long enough for an injured man to drag himself back into the labyrinth and make his escape, it seemed.

The Ghost was gone, and just like his moniker suggested, he seemed to have faded into the ether, almost like he was never there.  Even the blood trail didn’t go on very long.  And by the time they had gotten back to the surface and Riley was able to run an exhaustive search of the area, he’d disappeared.

Perhaps he had died from his wounds, Bozer suggested lamely.  But Mac knew better.  Fate, as it were, might be kind to some people, but for some reason he’d been on its shit list for a long, long time.  Mac knew the truth: as surely as he knew that he wouldn’t be getting a moment of sleep tonight, he knew that this wasn’t over.

The Ghost was still out there, and with a shudder Mac remembered what he’d said down in the catacombs.  A bomb, especially for Mac, hidden somewhere out there in the world, waiting for him to find it.  He had a nasty feeling that it was now going to find him first.

***

Eight Months Later

Mac woke up slowly to a killer headache, what felt like a mouth full of cotton, and the very urgent realization that he couldn’t move.  He knew almost instantly that he had been drugged.

Opening his eyes was a challenge, as his eyelids had glued themselves shut - perhaps because they knew that the moment light hit them, the headache would only get worse.  There were more pressing matters, though, namely that Mac had no idea where he was, how he got there, or who had done this to him - the last thing he remembered was falling asleep on his couch well after midnight. And in order to get an answer to these questions, he would have to open his eyes.

He was right about the headache.  It intensified the second the dimly room swam into focus, his stomach roiled, and he almost lost his lunch as the world warbled around him like it was underwater.  Thankfully, he managed to gain control over the nausea and was able to get a better look at the predicament he found himself in.  What he saw was not encouraging.

He was sitting in a rigid dining chair, slightly slumped but held up by something - was that his own belt? - wrapped around his chest and securing him to the high chair back.  His wrists were enclosed in a set of cuff-like clamps that had been attached to the small wooden table his forearms rested on.  His shoulders ached a little from his arms being in the same position for who knew how long, but overall he wasn’t injured and the measures his captor had taken to restrain him were unimpressive to say the least.  He figured he would be able to free himself within fifteen minutes, tops - ideas were already beginning to form in his head as he peered around at the rest of the room and what it had to offer.

He was in what looked like a gray, dirty basement.  The lighting was terrible, that eerie haze of illumination that hovered just above your head, not quite making it to the floor. A sat phone lay on the edge of his table, just out of reach.  

The only other thing in the room was a large cart, the kind that waiters or caterers often used at big events.  Something rested on the surface, but whatever it was had been covered up by a small tarp.  It could have been anything - a toolbox, a typewriter, a record player - but he knew it was something far more sinister.

Before he could finish formulating a plan, let alone set that plan into motion, a voice spoke up from the back corner of the room, and Mac realized with horror that he’d not been alone this entire time.  The horror was tenfold when he recognized the lilting Irish accent tasting his name as if it were something distinctly unpleasant.

“Hello, Mr. MacGyver.”

Mac swallowed heavily, forcing himself to remain calm outwardly while inside his heart tumbled over itself like a shoe thrown in a dryer.  He’d been dreading this moment for a long time now, his reunion with the Ghost, but he’d always hoped he’d have the upper hand.  Tugging experimentally once more at the cuffs clamping his wrists to the table’s surface, he realized that at the moment he didn’t actually have any hands at all.

The Ghost moved forward, closer to Mac, but Mac didn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to crane around and see the oncoming threat.  The man was playing with his fear, his footsteps slow, each one purposefully placed, building up the anticipation.  He stopped right behind Mac - his breath was warm and muggy as he whispered in Mac’s ear, “I’ve been looking forward to this for a very long time.”

He came around the front of the table, and he looked much the same as he had the last time they’d met, except maybe thinner with more pronounced bags under his eyes.  Mac gleaned that his recovery had been long and hard.  He didn’t respond, just channeled every ounce of rage and revulsion into the glare he sent the Ghost’s way.

The Ghost laughed, a strange, haunting sound.  “I suppose you feel rather different about this meeting, though?”  

Mac quirked an eyebrow and shrugged the best that he could with the restraints.  “I mean, can you blame me?”  He prayed that his bravado held strong; it felt like it was all that stood between him and his own personal hell.  It wasn’t fair, he thought bitterly - why did the people who tried to take everything from him keep coming back?  Hadn’t they stolen enough already?

Mac nodded toward the phone resting before him.  “So what’s that for?” he asked.  “Catching up with the fam?  Does Eileen know you’re still alive?  If not, you should call her up, give her a chance to fix her mistake.”  Though he didn’t really want to know what the Ghost had planned for it - or for him - he hoped that if he nudged the man to start talking, he might be distracted enough for Mac to attempt some kind of escape.

The Ghost didn’t rise to the bait at Mac’s taunt.  Instead, he grinned a grin that set Mac’s nerves on edge and offered up a frankly surprising piece of information.  “Do you know that your team is on its way here to fetch you at this very moment, MacGyver?”

Mac narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  If this were the case, why would the Ghost be so calm?  Why would he still be here at all, and why was Mac still breathing?  

Seeing Mac’s confusion, he nodded sagely.  “Oh, yes - they tracked me the moment I initiated contact with them.”

Mac growled, “If you’re leading them into a trap…”

“No trap,” the Ghost assured, and Mac was anything but.  The man was acting unpredictably, and for a man who thrived off of routine and had a very strict M.O., it was enough to set Mac ill at ease.  “But we are a bit off the beaten path, you and I. It's going to take them a while to get to you. But they will arrive, unharmed.”

Mac scoffed, understanding immediately where this was going.  “Right, when the place is reduced to rubble and I’m beyond help.”

“No, no, no, Mr. MacGyver - see, this is it.  This is the one.”

Mac knew instantly what he was referring to.  “The bomb you left out there for me, the one you expected me to find.”  He’d had his suspicions about what lay on the cart for a while, and now they were confirmed.  “What happened - you got so impatient you had to arrange the meeting?”

The Ghost smiled wryly.  “Something like that.”  Mac had nothing against the Irish language, nor the accents it produced, but the harsh consonants of the Ghost’s words hit his ears like the crack of a pistol.  Or maybe it was just the person who spoke them that made his skin crawl.  “But never mind that - you may not believe this, MacGyver, but I respect you.  I do!” he insisted at Mac’s snort.  “You’ve proven yourself a worthy opponent, so I’m going to give you a chance for survival.  If you succeed, your friends will be here to bust you out and you’ll never see or hear from me again.”  Mac’s stomach twisted.  The only way the Ghost would ever make such a generous offer was if he truly believed that there was no way that Mac could succeed.

Good thing Mac had a habit of proving murderous psychopaths wrong.

“What’s the catch?” Mac asked.

“There’s no catch,” said the Ghost.  He walked over to the cart, removed the covering with a flourish, and whatever Mac had expected to see - this wasn’t it.

It looked to be one of the simplest devices that he had ever seen.  Even a child could disarm it if they had the tools.  And, to Mac’s growing discomfort - something was so wrong here - he saw the tools that he would need, laid out neatly on the cart, right next to the bomb.  

“It’s rigged,” Mac said.  “There’s no way it can be that simple.”

“But it is,” said the Ghost, his face unreadable, his tone giving nothing away.  “I want you to have a fair chance, after all.”

“Given what you know I can do, that’s a little insulting.”

“My, you are ungrateful,” the bomb-maker growled.  “I blow up your commanding officer, and it’s too much, I give you an easy out, it’s too little.  Maybe we should meet somewhere in the middle?  Who’s someone I can blow up that will hit that sweet spot between too much and not enough?  What about Desi Nguyen, hmmm?  She took the place of your precious Dalton, didn't she?”

Mac didn’t give the man the dignity of a response.  The fire in his eyes said it all.  The Ghost sighed.  “You know what, just to prove my good faith to you, I’ll leave you alone in just a moment.  And beyond that, I’ll free your wrists!  Then it’s just a matter of unbuckling the belt around your chest, making your way across the room, picking up those very precise tools, and using them to disarm a very delicate device.  Easy peasy, as you Americans say.”

Something in the way he spoke of the tasks ahead made Mac’s skin itch with discomfort.  He couldn’t put his finger on what the Ghost had planned, but whatever it was, it was the opposite of good.  Mac tugged his wrists again, feeling cool metal rub painfully against the already raw skin, but there was no give.

“Oh, you know what?” the Ghost spoke up, a quasi-contrite expression on his conniving face.  “I almost forgot - there is a wee, little catch to this whole affair.  Just a bit of added challenge, for old time’s sake.”

Mac’s pulse beat wildly, and a bead of sweat ran down his forehead despite the chilly air.  What the hell was this lunatic planning?

And then everything kicked into fast-forward - what happened next was so quick, so unexpected, that Mac didn’t even realize that it had happened until it was over, and twin daggers were driven into the tops of his hands, through flesh and muscles and tendons, and thudded firmly into the wood below.

At first he didn’t feel anything.  And then he felt everything.

Mac couldn’t help it.  He screamed.

Over the raw, shrieking pain of split skin and parted muscle and the rushing in his ears and the pain and the panic clawing at the inside of his chest, he saw the Ghost lean over him, sensed the click of the lock as the clamps around his wrists were released, and vaguely heard the Ghost repeat his own words, this time with a mocking, sadistic twist: “It’s only a matter of unbuckling the belt around your chest, making your way across the room, picking up those very precise tools, and using them to disarm a very delicate device.  Easy. Peasy.”  He added, voice positively gleeful, “Starting now, you have ten minutes.  Good night - ah, I mean, good luck.”

And then he was gone.  Mac didn’t see where he went and didn’t know where the door was and didn’t care and was going to be sick - 

Wrenching to the side, Mac vomited, the motion pulling at his impaled hands and causing him to gag anew.  When he’d finished, the sour smell curdled his stomach further and he realized with some concern that only one of his hands was hurting now - the right one.  A large portion of the left one had gone completely, terrifyingly numb.

Composing himself the best he could, pain radiating from his mutilated hand and racking through his entire body, he examined the damage through tear-blurred eyes.  It wasn’t a pretty sight, and it almost sent his stomach over the edge again.

The good news was that while some blood had pooled around the entrance - and exit, he presumed - wounds, blood loss was not a big concern at the present.  The knives were stemming a large portion of blood flow.  The bad news was that the bomb - one he could normally disarm in less than a minute, easily - was set to go off in less than ten minutes - it had to be closer to nine now - and he had been effectively stapled to the table by his hands.  Despair flooded him, nearly choking out the agony.  Almost.

He knew what he would have to do in order to even have a chance to escape and disarm the bomb, and it terrified him.  Leaning forward as far as his belt would allow, he peered at the macabre visage of his own hands - his hands, his job, his life, what if the damage was permanent, he needed his hands (his breaths came in short, desperate pants), and it hurt more than anything, more than pulling a coffin out of a lit incinerator, more than a gunshot wound in the leg, more than anything (breathe, calm down, you can do this, you have to do this).

It was as he’d thought - the knives were long and thin, so the hilts were not flush with his flesh.  About two inches of each blade remained, and they, along with the hilt themselves, were how he was going to get his hands free.  Essentially, he was going to have to lift one of his hands up so that the top of the hand was pushing up against the bottom of the hilt.  It hadn’t sounded like the knives had been driven too deeply into the wood of the table below, so he most likely wouldn't have to put too much upwards pressure on the hilt.

The real issue came with how the knives widened closer to the hilt, which meant he would not only be shoving the knife through already raw and shredded muscle, but he would actually be enlarging the wound - the pain of which he didn’t even want to consider - and risking further damage.  Already he feared what the Ghost had done to him, even if he survived - what if he could never use his hands again?  

No, focus.  The future beyond the next eight minutes doesn’t matter right now, because if you don’t get it together and do what has to be done, there will be no future.  A small, ugly part of his mind snapped back, Maybe it would be better that way, because if he couldn’t use his hands, then what was he?  He shoved that terrible thought away and forced himself to work past the agony he was already drowning in and that which was surely to come.  One thing at a time.

He found himself very tempted to enact his plan with the hand that was already mostly numb - after all, he wouldn’t feel the knife slicing deeper.  But there was a big problem with that - a rough sob choked out of him at the building crescendo of anguish that wracked from his hands, up his arms, and throughout his whole body when he attempted to move the fingers on each hand.  And that was the first problem: Although he could move all fingers except for the index with great pain and difficulty on his right hand - thank God, somehow the blade must have managed to avoid all extensor tendons except the one - the middle and right portions of his left hand were numb and the only finger on that hand that he could move was the pinky.  He tried very hard not to consider the extent of nerve and tendon damage done and whether or not they could be repaired.  That meant that even if he did use his left hand to push the knife up and out of the table, he wouldn’t be able to use that hand at all, and he’d be back to square one.

He wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed - the Ghost must have taken his watch when he captured him - but he knew that the minutes were racing ahead faster than he could catch them.  If he wanted any chance of disarming that bomb, he would have to move now.

In the end, he had to approach it like he did jumping out of a plane or scaling a tall structure.  Without wasting any further time contemplating what was going to happen, without trying to prepare himself or psych himself up for the pain that was to come, he wrenched his right arm up as fast as he could, and it seemed that he could feel every fiber of muscle tearing as his impaled hand traveled up the length of the blade until it rested against the hilt.  A horrible sound erupted from deep within him, something foreign and unexpected and wrong, but still he wrenched the hand up and for a terrifying moment he thought that it was too firmly stuck in the wood as he was rapidly losing strength and black spots flickered across his vision and he couldn’t pass out, not now, he was so close - 

And then the tip of the dagger parted from its wooden sheath and somehow he managed to hang onto consciousness by the thinnest of threads.  Knowing that he truly could not afford to lose any momentum now that he’d started - how many minutes left?  Three?  Two? - he brought his hand to his face and awkwardly but efficiently used his teeth to pry it free.  He was left with a gaping wound but thankfully he still had four working fingers, and the blood was flowing freely now, unfettered by the blade, he had to move fast. 

In less than a minute, he’d managed to find enough strength in his mangled right hand to pull out the remaining knife and clumsily unbuckle the belt around his chest, the metal now slick with blood - there was blood on the table, running down his palms and soaking into his shirt sleeves and plinking on the floor as he forced himself to his feet and then promptly lost a short but ferocious battle with his stomach.  

Never had he ever wanted to give up so badly.  After all, how could anyone expect him to do what had to be done now?  He could feel the shock setting in, he was continuing to lose blood rapidly, one hand was almost completely useless, and the other was like a medical pump, except instead of morphine it dispensed only unbearable pain.  He thought about the floor, how it was probably a lot less uncomfortable than it looked, and how even now the darkness was eating away at the corners of his vision so that he would probably pass out before the bomb exploded…

But then he thought of his friends, his team - Riley, Matty, Boze, Desi, maybe even his dad, and Jack, who was so far away but who was counting on Mac to still be alive and thinking when he returned - and he knew that he couldn't just give in.  He had to try, for them.  Even if he failed - which was a very real possibility - at least he would be fighting to see them again, and that was, at least, something.

So he tucked his hands into his armpits as tightly as possible in a futile attempt to stem the blood flow and forged forward, focusing on one foot in front of the other, staving off the dark with everything he had left, feeling the warm blood from his hands running down his sides and fighting nausea at the stench of tang and iron.  He fell a few feet from the cart but dragged himself forward on his knees, then used his right hand, pain exploding, to pull himself up to roughly eye level with the device.

It was so simple, and the time read 00:01:05.  Normally, it would be no problem.  But his hands were almost completely out of commission.  He couldn’t do it, there was no way he could disarm this bomb in that amount of time when he could barely use his hands, let alone wire cutters or pliers.

Well, at least he had tried.  He swayed where he knelt, ready to give in to the darkness and the end.  And then --

A pounding from somewhere behind him, on the other side of the door, wherever that was.  A voice, frantic, muffled, screaming his name, “Mac!  Are you in there?”

“Riles?” he mumbled, barely able to form the words.  His mind was sluggish, and he was cold, and glancing down blearily at the timer, it had gone down to 00:00:50.  It took every effort to raise his voice enough to be heard, “Get out of here!  It’s about to go off!”

“Not without you!” Desi’s voice called, and he’d never heard her sound so desperate.  

“Mac!  Either get the hell up out of there, or disarm the damn bomb!” Bozer shouted.

“Don’t you dare give up on me now, Blondie.”  Matty had the steel in her voice that brooked no argument.

“Working on hacking the electronic lock now,” came Riley’s voice, and the timer read 00:00:38.

“You don’t understand,” Mac protested.  “I can’t - you’ll die.”

But he knew the awful truth - even if they turned and ran now, it would be too late.  They would never clear the blast in time.  Because he wasn’t strong enough, because he gave in to the pain and the shock and the lull of nothingness, they would die.

No.

Painfully, Mac reached out and grasped the pliers between his three working fingers and thumb in his right hand.  He had no idea how he managed it, but by the time the clock had reached 00:00:20, he had separated the wire he needed to cut.  His head swam and he shivered and blood coated the surface of the bomb and the pliers were sticky with it.  The wire cutters were a bit easier to use.  Once he got them situated in his hand, which still hurt like hell but didn’t really feel like it was a part of his own body anymore, it was just a simple snip.  He almost cut the wrong one.  All the wires were red now.

The moment before he cut the wire, he realized that the Ghost might have lied and set up a secondary device.  He wasn’t one to stray from his M.O.  Come to think of it, though, he hadn’t seen a camera, either, and that was also one of the bomb-maker’s signatures.  Well, he thought as he cut the wire, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.  

In fact, nothing did.

The second it was cut, the tool clattered from his hand and he slumped forward, passing out right on top of the defused bomb.

Seconds later, the door burst open and his team, along with a dozen agents in full tactical gear, barged in to see something that would never, ever leave them - and that they would have nightmares about for the rest of their lives.

Mac half stood, half slumped over a bomb on a cart, face translucent, lips tinged blue, blood everywhere - there was a trail of it leading from a table upon which had been discarded two bloody knives - and when they moved Mac’s too-still, barely breathing body off the bomb and laid him out on the floor, elevating his legs and applying pressure bandages to his horrifically maimed hands, the timer read in great red letters 00:00:02.

***

Six Weeks Later

“How’re ya hangin’ in there, hoss?” the always-welcome voice of Jack Dalton drawled.  He sounded chipper enough, but there was a heaviness in his words, and Mac wished not for the first time that video calling was an option wherever Jack was at.  He supposed he should be grateful that he was getting to talk to him at all, though.

They hadn’t been able to contact Jack until two weeks after Mac had nearly lost his life - and then possibly the use of his left hand - to the Ghost.  To say that Jack was enraged was a vast understatement, and he almost abandoned his entire mission, almost went AWOL, just to get back to his partner.  He knew how devastated and traumatized Mac would be, and it killed him.  He’d been persuaded to stay where he was, because if he didn’t, he’d be crossing all kinds of lines and could get into serious trouble that could significantly delay when he’d be able to actually come home to his boy for good.

Mac sighed.  “Better, I think.  You’re not on speaker phone, you know.”

The excitement in Jack’s voice infected even Mac, who’d been unusually subdued and distant from the moment he’d woken up in Phoenix’s hospital.  “You’re holding the phone?  Atta boy, this physical therapy stuff’s no joke!”

Mac couldn’t help but grin, a bit of pride in his voice.  “And I’m holding it with my left hand!”

Jack whooped a whole-ass yippee-ki-yay and Mac actually laughed.  This was more than Jack could have hoped for, as the last time he’d been able to talk with Mac his kid had been miserable and drugged up, fresh out of his third reconstructive surgery, this one to remove dead nerves and graft in new ones.  Of course, Jack had kept up with Channel Mac News (as he lamely called it) via other means of communication - texts and radio messages and even the odd telegraph - but it was so good to hear the kid’s voice, to hear him speak of his progress.

“Yeah,” Mac chuckled, his voice lighter than it had been in a while.  “I’ve got most of the feeling back now, thanks to the incredible specialists Phoenix flew in.”  He sobered.  “But even they are not optimistic that I’ll regain full range of motion or finger articulation in that hand, though.”

“Well, you’ve proved plenty of doctors wrong before, dude.  But even if you don’t get your elocution back--”

“Articulation.”

“Whatever.  Even if you don’t get that back completely, that doesn’t make you any less you.  You hear me, hoss?”  And now Jack was using his serious voice as he went into a speech he’d been practicing for nearly a month.  “Even if you got the news that you could never use your hands again, you’d still be Mac.  It don’t matter if you’ve got one working hand, or two, or none - it ain’t your hands that give you value.  It’s what’s in here.”

Mac couldn’t help but smile.  “You know I can’t see where you’re pointing, right, Jack?”

“You know full well where your worth is, brother,” Jack responded, not even rising to the bait.  “It ain't in your hands or even your brains - no one would love you less without them, and you’d still be the most important person in the world to me.  You gotta learn to love yourself no matter what.”

Mac blinked at the sudden rush of moisture to his eyes and cleared his throat.  “Thanks, man,” he said, his voice gruff.  Then, to lighten the mood - “Being on this mission sure has made you sappy,” he joked.  “Remind me why I’m going to therapy when I’ve got you to unlock the secrets of the soul?”  He’d been forced by his entire team to talk to a Phoenix-sanctioned psychologist two times a week.  Though he fought it at first, he had to admit that Dr. Frasier had given him some helpful techniques to work past the worst of the panic attacks, and that he’d gradually felt more like himself after each session.

He could hear the grin in Jack’s voice, could see it perfectly in his mind’s eye.  “What are you talking about, man?  Ol’ Jack’s always been in touch with his emotions.  Ain’t nothing wrong with that - I learned that from my pop.”  

Muffled voices from the other end of the call signaled that their talk was coming to an end.  Jack had to be heading out soon, back on the trail of the killer that had torn their team apart.  

“Hey, bud--”

“I know,” Mac interrupted, and even though his hand was shaking with the effort of holding it to his ear for so long, he didn’t change hands or put the phone on speaker.  A brief pause.  He asked the question he always did every time he talked to Jack, but this time even he could tell that his voice was more wistful than usual: 

“When are you coming home?”

And Jack responded the way he always did, and even though Jack hadn’t come home yet, Mac believed him, because he knew that Jack was doing everything to return safely to his family as soon as possible.

“Real soon, brother.”

“Hey, Jack?”

“Geez, kid, I’m on a schedule,” Jack complained, but Mac heard the smirk in his voice.

“When you get home,” Mac promised, determination to keep healing, to beat the odds, welling up inside of him, “I’m going to beat you in an arm-wrestling contest.”

Jack laughed.  “There’s not one part of me that doubts it, kiddo.”

Though Mac couldn’t see it, Jack wiped a tear from his eye as he hung up and went back to join his team with the biggest smile on his face he’d had in a very, very long time.

[mytsukkishine]

udgdh maybe long request? so damien haas x reader where when ver the smosh gang go out to drink, damien and y/n are the sober ones that'll keep each other company but recently y/n has been drifting away bc she's in love with him. and one day damien gets hella drunk so y/n has to take him to her apt (which is roommates with Courtney) -maybe some drunk damien singing and giving y/n little kisses and he gets super hungover?? as well as angst/soft shiz?? sorry for the long request!! love yur fics!

A/n: whoa okay anon, I enjoyed myself too much in writing this and I hope this will be to your expectation. *wink wonk* u can anon me again if u liked it pls hahaha enjoy! Though I’m sorry because reader and Courtney aren’t roommates here sorrryyy!!!

summary: Drunk you accidentally kissed Damien. Then you avoid him for days until Courtney invited you out for a drink again. Feelings, kisses and drunk singing. What could go wrong?

a/n2: fluff and angstyy. ya’ll like hurting huh? haha

a/n3: hello, i made a Kofi account and I hope you would support me! I needed a little help with my financial shits and I hope my fanfics can be a little help. 

buy me coffee please, senpais

words: 2.4k

Also a little mature because of alcohol and kissing? lmao can u all guess the songs? it’s only two (I chose those songs because their voices suit Damien soooo much)

You sighed, empty beer bottle in hand as you looked aroundyou. Everyone was drunk. You saw Keith laying on top of Noah on the couch, bothguys in deep slumber. Courtney, Olivia, and Sarah were nowhere to be found, youjust assumed they had taken control over Shayne’s bed right now.

Oh right, the squad was at Shayne’s apartment. They had alittle drinking session, celebrated Shayne’s graduation. Speaking of Shayne,you saw him already fast asleep on the bean bag, empty drinks on the floor andhis Switch console in hand.

You slowly stood up, your head spinning a little and youstopped for a moment, eyes adjusting to the light that came from the kitchen.

You thought about turning the TV off but you scoffed, notwanting to step on Shayne because you knew your balance right now was not atits best.

As soon as you stepped on the kitchen- “Jesus!” You said alittle too loud, hand on your chest as you saw Damien on the floor, completelyhidden by the counters.

He smiled and waved, his cheeks pink and in his hand was abottle of beer.

You groaned, frowned at him but walked towards him. You tooka sit beside him, sliding down on the floor slowly as you cursed your back forhurting a little.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” You rested your head on his shoulder and took thedrink from his hand and chugged down its contents.

You felt the warmth radiating through Damien and you can’thelp but to get emotional. Was it from the alcohol? Might as well blame it ifgiven the chance.

You have liked Damien since the first time he told you hewatches anime. You were smitten, you were pulled towards his radiance that noone can escape.

Damien was the light that managed to blind you.

And now, seated side by side, with your feelings jumbled up.You can’t help but to want to hug him and maybe confess your feelings so theitching in your heart can stop.

He was a dream. Really. He’s a gentleman, loves anime,gaming, a very nice person, and funny. Ever since he became part of the Smoshfam, many people adored him. And you thought to yourself, you were lucky enoughto be his friend, might as well stay as friends than confessing your feelingsand turning into strangers.

Damien may be kind but you don’t know if he was the type ofperson that would avoid you if you confess.

“Y/N,”

“What?” You didn’t realize that you spaced out for a momentbecause Damien was chuckling as he took the bottle away from you.

Another thing that was stopping you from confessing wasbecause you heard something going on between Damien and his friend outsidework.

Of course, who were you to compete against a long-timefriend? One time you have seen Damien with this girl, she was pretty. Longblack hair and thin waist. They were talking animatedly as they walked towardsthe mall—and that pretty much hurt you.

They look so perfect.

“Hey are you okay?” Damien suddenly, his hands on yourcheeks. You realized you were looking at him with tears pooling in your eyes.You felt our insides churn as Damien wiped your tears away.

Your head was slowly spinning but you kept your focus onhim.

“Dames,” You murmured and Damien’s pink cheeks looked likethey were glowing. Maybe because of the alcohol. Yeah, the alcohol.

“I want a drink,”

Damien chuckled, tapping your forehead in the process. “Silly,you’re drunk.”

“No. I can still drink, hell I can even recite the company’smission and vision.”

“Really? Damien raised his brow as he looked down at you,then that’s when you realized your faces were to close. You were resting yourchin on his shoulder as you looked up at him with wide eyes, your noses almosttouching.

You were used to this. The closure. You were known for beingthe clingy, cuddly friend. You always hug your friends or cuddle with them.Whether it was Keith or Courtney, Shayne or Wes. Of course, Damien received themost cuddles from you.

“Damien,”

Your eyes were getting blurry, the spinning in your headintensified as you glanced down at Damien’s lips.

Blame the alcohol.

Your lips landed on his and it was so soft and—his lips werestill, you pulled back only to land a peck on his lips again.

You felt his hand on your cheeks and you wanted to kiss himagain but your eyes failed you as you closed them and drifted to sleep.

~

You groaned, the sunglasses you wore were not doing its jobbecause the sun was still blaring down on you, shaming you from what you havedone last night. After you woke up by 5AM, you found yourself on the couch,Noah and Keith on the floor sleeping soundly and no Damien to be found. Thenyou remembered what you have done and you immediately went home to find thenearest Starbucks.

You threw your empty cup in the trash nearby and sighed.

You have kissed Damien. Your friend.

Now he knew how you felt.

You felt a bile building up your throat but ignored it, theitching in your heart was worse. Maybe this was it, you thought, you hadpracticed what it would be like if you ended your friendship with Damien andthe time has come where your practice won’t go to waste.

Even though you were sobered up, your head still hurts. Andyou’re freaking nervous. It was a Sunday today, and tomorrow you will have togo to work and face Damien.

“Ugh!” You cursed up at the sun, wishing the ground belowwould just swallow you up.

~

The whole afternoon you managed to stay in your cubicle.With some short trips to the bathroom and pantry, you achieved to avoid anySmosh Squad.

It was going all too well when—

“Y/N!”

You squeaked as you looked up from your computer, only tosee Olivia, Courtney and of course Damien. You immediately avoided eye-contactto Damien.

“You startled me, Olivia,”

“Sorry! Just wanted to make sure how you were,”

“Sobered up.” You answered truthfully, eyes now back to thecomputer. You were glad you were wearing your hoodie over so they weren’t ableto see your blushing cheeks.

“You left before we all woke up,” Olivia whined followed byCourtney. “I’m sorry, I was in a hurry,”

“For what?” You just grinned at them. You all chatted for awhile, Damien remained quiet at the side before Courtney said goodbye andwalked away together with Olivia.

Now it was you and Damien.

You sink in your chair as you looked up at Damien.

“Can we talk—”

“I—”

“Y/N, can you come to my office for a while?” One of theproducers asked you, looking up at the file he was holding and gave a smallgreeting to Damien.

“Ah sure…” You gave Damien an apologetic look then left.

Not yet. You can’t handle the rejection yet.

~

It has been three days since you have hanged out with thesquad, and it has been three days since you have seen Damien. The first day wasyou plainly avoiding him and now it seemed that fate was on your side becauseyou haven’t really seen him.

It was a Friday, and the office was buzzing out of peoplewhen Courtney stopped you from leaving your cubicle.

“Hey pretty lady, care to have a night out with us?” She wasgrinning slyly and you rolled your eyes. “What’s in it for me?” You playedalong and Courtney wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “A very good time,”Both of you laughed out loud but you agreed anyway.

Even though you were cautious around Damien, it doesn’t meanyou would stop hanging out with the squad. They are also a friend of yours andyou kind of miss them.

When Courtney said that Olivia and the rest were already atIan’s place, you immediately raised your brow. “We’re not going to a bar?”

“Silly Y/N. Ian has offered free drinks!” She exclaimedexcitedly and you just shook your head, heading to the parking lot and in toCourtney’s car.

~

Three drinks in and the rest of the squad were singing alongthe karaoke Ian has set up in his living room. It was a mess, Shayne wassinging loudly with Olivia and Keith—he was using his CFM voice, Ian was alreadyhalf-drunk and Damien—Damien was on the loveseat, just drinking.

You sighed. When you and Courtney had arrived, you didn’tgreet each other and it honestly killed you. Courtney seemed to have noticedthe atmosphere and asked you what’s up, but being the introvert you were, youjust reasoned out that you were kind of tired.

It was this again. Alcohol.

You guessed since alcohol was involved right now, it wasthe right time for you and Damien to have that talk.

However, being the stubborn you, it was now past midnightand the squad was asleep, all through the night you didn’t get the chance totalk to him.

Courtney and Shayne were on separate bean bags, bothasleep next to each other, the TV still on. Ian was nowhere to be found, youguessed he was in his room. Keith was on the couch, drooling.

It was like déjà vu. Except you weren’t that drunk. You onlyhad three drinks and stopped as soon as you saw Damien drinking alone. Speakingof Damien, you looked at the seat where he was previously in and saw it wasempty.

You sighed.

Maybe he left.

You decided to maybe grab some water from Ian’s kitchen, andthen maybe sleep on the guestroom Ian mentioned to you earlier that that wasvacant.

You slowly stood up and stretch. You sluggishly walkedtowards the kitchen and gasped a little as you saw Damien hunched over thesink.

“Goddamnit Dames, you scared me,” He didn’t answer but youcan see that the tip of his ears was red. You walked up to him and tapped hisshoulders lightly, “Damien?”

“Hm?” He was obviously drunk because when he looked at you,he was sporting a wide smile, cheeks red and eyes squinted together. “Oh hey,Y/N,” He waved but lost his balance. You quickly took hold of his arm andpulled him towards you.

“Dames, how much did ya drink huh?” You got no reply asDamien draped his arm around your shoulder, “We should—sing!” He hiccupped andyou can smell the alcohol off of him. You decided that since you have been abad friend to Damien these past few days, you’ll settle him down on Ian’s spareroom.

“Come on big boy, let’s get you to bed,” You looked at thesink and saw it was clean, meaning Damien didn’t throw up. His hair was wet somaybe he washed his face.

“Whaaat? But we’re singing,” You just shook your head andguided him, thankful that he wasn’t putting all his weight on you. When youreached the spare room, you gently laid him to sit down but he fell on his backcausing you to lose your own balance, and you found yourself in Damien’s arms.

“Y/N,” He called out softly, his eyes closed and youremained still.

“Called her for thefirst time yesterday~” Damien started, even though he’s drunk, he was stillsinging beautifully. “Finally found themissing…. Part of me,” he stopped in the middle but he continued, he hashis other hand in the air, swinging with the song he was singing.

“Felt so close but youwere far away~ Left me without anything to say~~”

With hands on his chest, you pushed yourself up gently untilhis other hand stopped you.

“Y/N,” He called softly.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Okay, the million-dollar question you weren’t expectingright now.

You were about to answer when Damien released a chuckle.

He released a sighed as he now sang another song, “To be drunk~” Damien started, eyesclosed but he pressed his forehead against yours. “And in love in New York City~” He sang, missing some notes butyou knew that song very well.

“Mmm into morningcoffee,” He murmured but still in tune, “Burning mmhm the hours talking,” he stopped and he opened his eyes.

You both stared at each other.

“Damn…” Hewhispered before leaning in and capturing your lips in a sweet, short kiss.

You instantly closed your eyes and savored the kiss.Damien’s lips were as soft as what you remembered and you want to cry.

Damien’s drunk and you shouldn’t—Damien pulled back, a shysmile etched on his lips as he continued to stare at you.

“Please don’t avoid me… I like you,” Your heart fluttered fora moment, fat tears pouring down your eyes as Damien pulled you in closer for ahug.

You stayed there, both of your feet still on the edge of thebed and you were sure it would hurt in the morning but you don’t care.

Damien likes you. And was hurting because of you.

Boy, you two have a lot to talk about tomorrow morning.

~

You heard a groan beside you and you squinted your eyes, themorning light through the window greeted you so harshly that caused you to buryyour face in a strong, warm chest.

“Y/N…” A surprised voice of Damien welcomed you, and youremembered that both of you fell asleep hugging each other. “Hey,” Yougreeted with a smile and Damien was confused. Confused because he woke up withyou in his arms.

“H-how? I’m s-sorry,” He stuttered but you just hugged him.

“No, it’s okay. I-…” You started, Damien visibly relaxing inyour hug.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, Damien. After that kiss… I… Iwas a coward,”

“No, Y/N,”

“And I like you…”

Silence. You buried your face on his chest and you heard himsigh.

“If only we talked sooner, we would’ve been kissing,” Damiencommented and you laughed, hitting his stomach softly.

Silence covered the both of you before Damien cleared histhroat, “I… I remember singing last night,” You laughed out loud, hugging himtighter. “Yeah, drunk singing. It was adorable,”

Damien grinned, “Would you allow me to sing to you in thefuture?” You felt your cheeks heating up and you just nodded. You felt Damien’slips on your head.

Now, this wasn’t what you practiced for but you ain’tcomplaining.

[obscureoperations]

Hey,,I know this is kinda a weird request,,,but could i possibly get Martin with a male s/o whos like,,slowly losing it? Like descending into literal mental chaos,,? Ps I love your blog so much Martin is so underrated 👉👈

Now this is a concept... I shall try my best and also this might be a mood. And thank you so much! Yeh, he most definitely is, thats why its awesome to see so many more people showing him some love. Have a great day fam!

You were the most important person in the world to him, and it was beyond the fact that you would actually listen. It was beyond the fact that the moment he saw you his soul seemed to cry out “Where were you?”Some people have this natural connection, the second you see each other something finally clicks. It felt as though after an eternity of searching, someone finally actually saw you. He first saw you as you entered Cuda’s shop, brushing your bangs out of your eyes, he instantly wanted to dart to the back room. You couldn’t see him, the two of you were not supposed to meet like this. You were the face that he ran towards during his dreams. He tried to avoid you as he moved about the shop, but soon enough it became clear that he noticed you. “Hey’ where's the stationary isle?”  He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “Stationary.. You know… like paper?” “Aisle four…”

After a while you made it to the check out, idle small talk filled the silence. “So you work here permanently now?” “Yes…” he answers. “This is my cousin’s shop” 

 

“That old bat? Is he really your cousin? What are you--like twenty?” 

“I’m eighty four…” 

You instantly seemed to become intrigued. “Okay, I'm about ninety two.. That's what my joints are tellin me anyways--” You laugh as your fingertips reach towards the ceiling, cracking your back with a resounding pop. He eyed you as though you were some sort of alien for a brief moment. Watching as you reach up towards the ceiling, Shirt rising up, exposing the skin of your lower abdomen. “ Look away...” 

The sound of the back door alerts the both of you of Cuda’s presence, Martin quickly begins baging the rest of your items. 

“When do you work next… Martin?” 

“Tomorrow, around noon.”

“Nice, well, I’ll see ya then.” You offer, and with that you were gone, leaving Martin to question what had exactly happened. 

You showed up the next day like clockwork, notebook in hand eagerly flipping through the pages. You toss the open book on the counter, startling Martin out of his reprieve. “Now, look… I don’t want you to get weirded out okay... I literally make sketches of everything.”  Slowly Martin reaches for the notebook, his eyes widen just a bit. It was a picture of a boy.. No it was actually him. He could see the details in the face. His chin was propped up on his hand staring idly off into space. “T--thats me?”  “I had to, you looked so bored yesterday. Hope you don’t mind…”

It was such a simple gesture, but his heart actually ached. He existed in someone’s mind when not around? You were about to tear out the page and give it to him. “No… don’t”  “What?” “I… don’t want to fold it.”  It’s just ink on paper, it’s not gonna smudge .” His eyes linger on the portrait for a bit before briefly shifting towards your hands. He used to fancy the idea that he could draw, but this was a completely different ball game. Fascinating. “I’ll tell ya what, I could drop it by your place if you’d like?” Martin hastily agreed. He told you exactly where he was staying, and instructed you to use the window. There was a large tree in the backyard, just close enough to the window, The branches were large and thick, perfect for latching onto. He used it plenty of times before. “The window? I don’t know what you had in mind, but I was just going to drop off the picture.” Martin opened his mouth to speak before blushing profusely. “I-I didn’t mean…”  “I mean,  geez man, you could at least buy me dinner before you start making plans to sneak me into your room.” Martin glances around anxiously, he could already feel the heated glare from the old man. Luckily for you both Cuda was nowhere to be found, but the fact that he was in the same building left a lingering air of paranoia. You seem to quickly catch on, glancing over your shoulder. “Sorry, I know it’s because of him… I’ll be there at about eight… is that okay?” Martin nods his head, eyes once again lingering on your hands. 

~~~ 

You became a presence in his life and he was unsure of how it happened, the way you easily inserted yourself into his subconscious. He thought about you all the time, when you weren’t around, he would count the hours until he could see you again. In his mind, that might become a problem. What if one day, he just couldn't see you? Surely he would die. The two of you spent countless hours in your room late in the afternoon. He liked to watch you as you would draw, long languid motions, intricate scribbles, hair falling into your eyes. You would brush your bangs out of the way almost as though you were annoyed. His gaze would drift from your long delicate fingers further up your arms.The way the various veins and tendons would become pronounced with every stroke of your hand. Raised lines all varying in color and depth were painted all across your forearms. Some grouped together and extremely faint almost akin to tally marks and others extremely jagged and raised. He often wondered who had done that to you what happened? He would start to become angry as he imagined the details. One thing about Martin was that he was fairly transparent, much like other people… you could tell when he would stare. 

“Your silence is deafening shy boy… whats up.” Martin slowly eases over to your side. You close the notebook regarding him with a curious expression. You watch as his gaze moves to one of your arms. That was it, it took him long enough. Most people would just look at you with disgust. They weren't good at hiding the underlying condescension in their tone when they would offer “You have a good day okay?” Tentatively he raises a hand, only allowing himself to touch you when you don't move away. Long delicate fingers tracing over one of the deeper scars, for some reason your breath hitches in your throat. His touch was so gentle and achilingly precise, his fingertips trailed their way up your arm. He seemed almost fascinated as his eyes moved over each one, the touch of his hand alone causes goosebumps to form over your skin. When his gaze finally meets yours, there's a sort of innocence behind his eyes, you can already hear him asking “what happened?”

“I used to have really bad dreams…” 

“Dreams?”

“About the past… I couldn’t sleep, so I had to go away for a while.”

“Where did you go?”

“Fairmount.. I was there for almost a year.”

“Fairmount?”

“It’s a mental institution… Martin… do you need me to leave?” 

He’s silent for a moment as he chews at his bottom lip.

“They keep telling me that I need to be in a hospital… is it bad?”

“Dunno, I was doped up half the time.”

You watched as his eyes widened, he almost didn't know whether to laugh or if you were serious.

“Dead ass… and it wasn’t even the good stuff.”

The two of you began to talk, really talk. He talked about himself and his sickness. You talked about how even in your drug addled sleep, they would come for you in your dreams. Your neighbor when you were seven and how he ended up taking his own life when he found out your dad was pressing charges.You didn’t end up leaving until sometime after midnight,

~~

For the most part, things had gotten better, now that you weren't on that extreme cocktail of drugs. Your mind was no longer free rental space for them to take up occupancy at any given time. But you could feel their presence, even in the daylight-- somewhere in the corner of your peripherals you could see a shadow. They always moved so awkwardly and disjointed, when you'd glance to the side, it was only a branch. When you would lie in bed at night eyes focused on the ceiling, you could feel the bed shift, a sort of pressure on your chest… “No no no... “ You tried to think of Martin, that sometimes helped. Especially when you would picture his face. “It’ll be alright.. I promise you’ll be alright! They can't actually touch you. You want to scream as you feel them clawing at your skin, tearing off your clothes, holding you down, immobile. The seconds bleed into hours but in reality you were only out for two minutes. Your sheets were soaked with sweat and sometimes urine when you would come to. This had to stop. Fourteen years of your life he’d taken from you… this had to stop somehow.

~~

 Something was off, that much he could tell. Even though you tried your best to keep up your cheery demeanor. One thing you couldn’t hide were the dark circles under your eyes, your fingernails were bitten down to the nubs. You seemed to be running on vapors, he never saw you eat, raiding the fridge was one of the first things you would do when the two of you were alone. Cheery for the most part, but clearly agitated, sometimes you would end up being short with him. You would always quickly apologize, muttering some sort of excuse-- mostly about being tired. You promised yourself it would never happen again-- the one time you completely lost your temper. Martin didn't always stop by your place, you claimed it was too small and dingy. “When I have you over, I want it to be a palace!” Martin would always roll his eyes. You knew he was coming so it was not like you were surprised, you just had to have a quick shower. You emerged from the bathroom to find him flipping through your sketchbook, you were suddenly overwhelmed with a surge of anger. In an instant you snatch the notebook from his hands pinning him to the bed. It was as if your body was moving to its own accord, it was as though someone else’s hands were wrapped around his neck-- not really choking him, but hard enough to render him immoble. He couldn’t see them. You had to keep him safe. He would never know peace if he actually saw their faces.. That's why you drew them, you had to desensitize yourself. They had to know that you weren't afraid. You could almost feel the lockdown on your joints and muscles start to dissipate, and you realise he was speaking. His voice barely a whisper seeing as how your hands were still wrapped around his neck. Oh god-- 

You sit back as if you had just been burned, tears already forming at the corners of your eyes. What had you just done? You hurt him… you’re sick…  “Y/n…” He’s sitting forward now, not the least perturbed, his hands instantly cup your face. The tears were flowing steady now seeping into his palm… You were shaking, why was he still here? You were surprised he didn't bolt away the second you released him. “I-im s-orry.” Your voice was barely a whisper. He nods his head, a stray tear escapes which he quickly brushes away. A sudden rush of air escapes your lungs, though it comes out as more of a choked sob. “I’m s-soo sorry..” Martin quickly leans in pressing his lips to your forehead, holding you close. You cling to his desperately as though he might disappear-- you can feel his presence wrap around you like a warm blanket. The ever present chill momentarily evaporates in his warm embrace. Things had to get better. They absolutely had to. You would never allow yourself to hurt him again.  After a few moments you start to actually relax, as his fingers soothingly run through your hair, cheek pressed against your own now you can hear him whisper “They’re not real.”

[thetruthisinthetooth]

New Jeff x Annie WiP - Sexting 101

Hey Community fam! It’s been a while since I’ve written these two idiots but I just miss them and well this idea won’t get out of my mind so I’m writing it.

I posted a post with this idea some months ago and you seemed to like it so that was the extra push I needed. Thank you!!!

So here you have the sneak peek you didn’t ask for! 

It was Friday. Almost midnight. Annie was sitting inside her bed, surrounded by pillows and cushions that enveloped her as she read her new favorite book before succumbing to sleep. After drinks and dinner with some friends and the heck of a week she had at work, she was happy that she was comfortable in bed, snuggling further down under the covers as she read about a badass princess who fell in love with one of her guards. 

Just when she was about to close the book to sleep, her phone pinged with a new message. Frowning, she glanced at it curious to see who was sending her a message this late. Her heartbeat skipped a bit at the name on the screen.

Jeff.

After she left for Washington, they had spoken a few times. Most times because she said something to him, either because she saw something that reminded her of him or that she thought he might find it funny or because she just missed talking to him. Which she did. A lot. 

She knew Jeff was giving her space, letting her go, to become that amazing woman he was so sure she was and she also knew she wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted or needed nor that she was that incredible woman he claimed she was. She was sure that distance was the best for them both to gain some perspective, to see if their feelings were as real as they had felt and to try to figure out what was that had happened between them. Were they friends? Was there anything more than friendship between them? Did she love him? Did he love her? Those were questions that right now didn’t have an answer so she was really trying to move on and experience life to its fullest. However, something always brought her back to Greendale. To him.

For him to text her this late must only mean one thing. Something bad had happened. Probably, something horrifying and life altering. She started getting anxious, maybe he had been in an accident, maybe he was in hospital, maybe he needed her to go there to take care of him. She just couldn’t leave, she had commitments and… Annie's phone pinged again with another message.

Trying to calm her breathing dpwm, she grabbed her phone to see why he was so eager to talk to her. 

Jeff: Annie, am I a bad texter? 

Annie snorted and smiled. Of course her mind was thinking all these horrible scenarios and Jeff only had something stupid to ask her. Her heart calmed a little as it was clear that this was not a live or death situation. She sat up straighter trying to think of an answer 

Jeff: Please, be honest. I can take it.

Annie rolled her eyes. He was an idiot. 

Annie: Are you serious? It's the middle of the night and this is what you ask?

Jeff: Well, am I?

Annie was sure that there must be more to it than just his texting abilities. 

Annie: What's going on, Jeff?

Jeff: I was talking to some chick and she told me I'm terrible at sexting. This can't possibly be true so I'm asking you about the quality of my texts.

At the mention of another woman, she swallowed hard. Getting jealous was ridiculous, she knew, because they weren't together and he could do what he pleased. She even went out on dates when her schedule wasn't full of things to do. Dates where she actually had fun, some of the guys she went out with were sweet and sexy but she always found a flaw or something not to commit to any of them. Sighing, she replied. 

Annie: Well, idk! I mean your texts are fine but idk the quality of your sexts ;)

Jeff: As always milady, you're right! 

Shaking her head slightly, she put her phone on her nightstand. 

Ping. 

Jeff was sending her another message. Annie blushed so much as she read his text that it spread all through her body. 

Jeff: So, what are you wearing?

[phoenixpinks]

Things Team Lazarus said during EoD starters

"When all else fails, Lex Luthor intends to kill Superman with Death." "HOLY BAT, BATMAN!" "WAIT SO WAIT WHAT???" "We're not in any danger! We're just nerds solving riddles on the internet!" "I ain't dressing up every night to find someone to punch" "I don't need to dress up every night to find someone to punch" "my son won't respond to my texts about wearing a bullet proof best, he is so grounded" "HELLO NAUGHTY CHILDREN IT'S TIME FOR FEAR" "NO FORTS. ONLY JUSTICE." "we're conventing court in the fort" "We pun to forget tears though" "Im gonna release all of these come the end of this, nothing is sacred" "he faked his death to get away from us" "but, it's all in good pun" "This is our life now" "you could have fit a meme in there" "oh god it is going to be a time thing" "yes how dare you say a meme I don't know, or whatever that is" "it only hurts if you let it hurt" "lies, I almost cried last night I will have none of your nonsense" "i am of a sensitive disposition. everything hurts" "Worse than my solving my problems with ___ and cocaine idea?" "you don't mix ANYTHING with cocaine, instant death" "Can I mix water with cocaine" "I may not have a coffee problem but I am surrouned by 5 different types of soda cans rn" "the soccer van, but for super villains" "we can alwats tie some people to the top of the car with bungee cords" "free test subject right here" "Ya'll gnna get yourselves killed" "My guy I'm lowekey terrified 24/7." "you're always screaming" "ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT" "I'M NOT SURE ABOUT ANYTHING" "you do not need to focus on that" "bye whoever’s leaving, I can't keep track of all of you" "you're attractive and love crime, I'm attractive and love crime. Let's be attractive and commit crimes together." "Dr we will never send puns again if you promise to stop getting into death traps" "I only said it was nice to see him again with the living. I may not sound it, but I'm absolutely ecstatic" "wow I mean he's probably not the best at running" "Kick him in the knees" "Hes DIED, He'll be fine" "I COME HOME TO PAIN!!!!" "fuck you ____ you suck at taking care of yourself" "Yes now shut up and sleep in a bed tonight instead of a ditch" "Being unconscious does not count as sleep" "IT'S NOT THE PUNISHMENT YOU DESERVE, BUT IT'S THE PUNISHMENT YOU NEED" 'We need justice for these puns" "Honestly anyone int he crowd might have snapped and shit him just to shut him up" "it was me guys" "you did the world a service fam" "YOU HAVE TAINTED HIM" "WELCOME TO THE DARK SIDE, ____" "Nnnnnng that hurt me" "i gtg, I want to finish this report before 3 A.M" "procrastination at its finest" "get in losers we're going spooping" "Why have we formed a cult" "This was not what i expected when i first asked to join the skype group" "All groups of friends make cults at some point" "would it be irresponsible of me to send a message saying 'run bitch run'? "WHEN I TOLD HIM TO KICK ASS AND TAKE NAMES THIS ISN'T WHAT I MEANT" "I GO ON WARCRAFT FOR TEN FUCKING MINUTES AND IT ALL GOES TO SHIT" "I instinctively covered my ears at the gunshots but then I remembered I was wearing headphones" *does the 'I'm so smart' dance "Mother always told me I was special" "I hope we're blowing this way out of proportion but at the same time this would be a hilarious plot twist" "WHOO BOY SCREENSHOT" "He's moved from senpai to fam" "He's probably lughing in his cellar" "dial dow the thirst there my dude lmao, ily thou" "I for one always overreact" "I never overreact. WHY. ARE YOU TRYING TO IMPLY SOMETHING" "___ ARE YOU ON HELIUM???" "I COME BACK AND WHAT DO I FIND" "WHY CAN'T THE RIDDLES LEAD SOMEWHERE SAFE!?! LIKW I DON'T KNOW! A DUCK POND OR I DON'T KNOW!!" "because my mind went from 'do we know any duck themed villains' to that weird French duck from courage the cowardly dog" "SHE'S HATING ON MY BOI JULIUS CAESAR" "it's been 2060 years __ im" "knife to meet your boi julius caesar" "Ok i'll hit you up next year when it's 2061" "YOU CAN HIT ME UP WHEN I'M DEAD FAM" "___ has nominated me as a Fish, or a frog, I don't even know" "if im bill the lizard youre gonna be a fish w me" "MAYBE I LIKE BEING DROP KICKED" "there is so much anger on that voice that is just covered layer of 'fuck this'" "Really? Legwork? Oh, this is grand." "give me your free time im dying in work" "it's a supervillainy way though" "I'm already dating a weeb and then I come here and WHAT DO I SEE" "I'm going to smack you all" "Everyone go stand in the corner" "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS OH MY GOD" "I never had an anime phase I win" "everybody loves him but the sentiment is not reciprocated" "i will be ashamed for the rest of my life, but sure" "time to Google... aight Google isn't helping" "Tfw you kill ___, Reblog if you agree" "he looks like you should just start punching him and never stop" "when did we start being about ____'s butt" "We're allowed to be proud because it's obvious the guy is salty and not happy with our success." "I'M DISOWNING YOU ALL, EVEN HIM" "oh hey it's midnight" "you can't cheat the champion of cheating" "you cheated and I shall cheat harder" "I'd hope that I'd at least be captured by honorable idiots" "NO DUMBO RIDES. ONLY JUSTICE." "you and I are on separate wavelengths than" "OKAY STRICTLY UPDATE THEY ARE NOW PLAYING WAKE ME UP INSIDE WHATS HAPPENING" "don't meme shame me bro" "Your memes are stale, and you are stale" "lol what is romantic human interaction" "what is human interaction" "what is interaction" "What is human" "this is the worst thing I have ever created and I will burn for this" "I look at him directly and said fuck you" "I gotta go eat dinner y'all are fucking insane" "I WILL RUN EXPERIMENTS IN THE BASEMENT WHO'S WITH ME??" "Do you have any redeeming qualities" "c'mon skype lemme transer sewing via you...." "are you kidding, this is better than all the tv shows I'm behind on" "MURDER ROADTRIP" "Rosaceae are refuscent, Violas are cerulean, Cane crystals are saccharine, homogeneous to you" "WE ARE THE BEST GROUPIES" "shes not even here, she chickened out of the fight" "Tfw your brain is memes" "Twf yer also an adult" "Yup. Exactly Sad O'Clock" "So sad o'clock is midnight o fifty, got it"

[keatsblue]

Want a Piece of Me?! - a Kiribaku Baking AU fic, pre-slash.

*** 

It was something he’d picked up from his mother, before she’d gotten too sick.

She’d let him roll out flour-dusted dough into thinned sheets, let him taste a batter mix or two on the tip of her spoon. Whenever he was tasked with packing the buttercream, he’d unerringly return to her with a dollop of icing on the end of his nose. She’d let out a laugh like windchimes as she wiped his face off with a multi-stained washcloth, would murmur, warm against the skin of his cheek as she kissed it—did my little dragon get greedy for some sugar again? Well, here’s some sugar!

Kirishima was her little dragon, and she’d made sure his early life was filled with candied nights and warm bellies, gingerbread castles with marshmallow spires.

After she passed, he kept it up to feel close to her.

He was far from an expert baker, but he knew his way around an oven. His hands were large and not the most suited to handling delicate fondant, but he managed. His arms were strong, good for hefting bags of fresh ingredients.

Pineapple upside-down. Triple-tiered, Italian wedding crème. Chocolate lavender truffles, topping his signature cherry cordial mousse. Delicate macaroons and finicky meringues, mirror glazes so seamless he could see his reflection. Kirishima baked his way through the entire grieving process, inviting his closest friends over for tastings, and he won.

I’m okay, mom.

He wasn’t certain when it had really started, this online business. Mina had actually made the first post, snapped the first photo. He hadn’t expected it to get a single comment.

It got hundreds. Then thousands.

People contacted him, wanting to know how they could make their own cakes look like that.

Kirishima obliged, of course. How could he not? He was going to bake anyway. Might as well help a few other amateur chefs while he was at it!

Mina helped him film. “I discovered you, so I’m your manager for life,” she’d say, with a wink. “Don’t forget about me when you make it big and become a world-famous baker, somewhere.”

World-famous, my ass, he always thought, whenever she’d suggest such a thing. He still made far too many mistakes, for that.

It was okay, most of the time. Many of the people who followed his little baking ‘show’ were more than understanding, and incredibly supportive. When he read their kind comments, it gave him a warm, fluttery kind of feeling—almost like one of his mother’s secure hugs.

There were always those few, though.

He was just getting off the rickety bus that stopped near his neighborhood when he saw it. He almost missed the last step on his way down, stumbling for a few paces as the telltale sound of a screen door sliding shut behind him signaled the bus’s departure.

However, Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to any of that. Instead, his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone, where he’d just called up his latest baking stream.

xxxx: ur cakes suck a**

He frowned down at the comment, checking the timestamp. So, it was just posted a few minutes ago.

Huh.

It was obviously a troll, no doubt about it. They didn’t even have a profile picture to go with the nondescript name. And usually, usually, Kirishima would just let comments like that slide right off his shoulders.

But he’d had a bad day. And it was funny, how something so small could pierce his heart sometimes, a sharp spear to the mighty dragon’s soft underbelly.

It was safe to say, making his way up the rusted-out stairwell to his college-budget apartment took a little more energy than usual. He jammed his key into the lock with punishing force, twisted.

The door swung upon under his palms, and the familiar scent of his home wafted toward him, riding along the sudden gust of warm air escaping. Kirishima was careful to shut the door quickly, before too much of the heat was let out. Breathed in the fruit-sweet smell from his kitchen, so if nothing else, the familiarity of it could ease his scattered mind.

His phone chimed, before he could get too relaxed. When he checked the message ID, though, he couldn’t help but smile.

alienqueen: ughhhhh I hate this asshole already

alienqueen: obviously, he’s never tasted 1 of kiri’s cakes

ducktapes: kiri’s cakes <3 ahhhh my heart

sparksmcgee: dude same, want me 2 get sweet vengeance?

As soon as Kirishima’s smile had appeared, it vanished. He frantically opened the chat, his thumbs too large to type with the speed he needed.

There was no way to tell if Denki was serious. And his friend could do it, too—every day, Kirishima thanked his lucky stars he was on the excitable hacker’s good side.

kiricakes: no need!! it’s just a troll, guys

kiricakes: super manly of you to think of me, though

sparksmcgee: ur too nice, fams

sparkmcgee: guess the troll lives… for now

ducktapes: TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! THERE’S A-

alienqueen: aksnfkasnof

kiricakes: lolllllll

Before long, he was able to lose himself in mindless chatter. The antics of his friends never failed to bring his spirits up. He plugged his phone into one of the few outlets in his crummy apartment, embedded into the wall just over the kitchen counter, so he could continue the conversation even as his battery started to wane.

The hours grew long, though, and time was scarce mid-week for exhausted, assignment-laden college kids. It wasn’t a surprise when Denki soon begged off on some coding or another that he had to re-run, or when Sero and Mina similarly slipped away (they were researching something together for Comparative Physiology, it was all very much over Kirishima’s head). In the end, he was left with only his thoughts, and an empty kitchen.

He locked his phone, and the screen went dark. He could see his reflection in it, baggy eyes and downturned lips. A shock of red hair, which had once been midnight-black.

Like his mother’s.

Kirishima turned his head. In the low light, his appliances gleamed from their shelves. Almost mocking, in a way.

“My cakes don’t suck,” he said, to no one. His grin stretched wide, and he could tell from the burn of it that he was showing far too many of his sharpened teeth. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He set his phone to record, and made another cake. It was triple-tiered, funfetti, because that was the batter mix he had on-hand. He watched the batter rise within his dented iron pans with all the patience of a general considering the battlements—or perhaps, a dragon considering its’ hoard.

Any spare buttercream was packed into a dispensary, silken and primed to hold his creation together. He spliced it evenly between his cakes with a practiced ease, layer after layer.

Then, the whipped frosting. It was a simple recipe, one of the first he’d learned. He worked the whipping cream within a chilled bowl, adding scoop upon scoop of powdered sugar until the mixture obediently began to rise, forming soft peaks.

He made several batches, and then added some orange food coloring to each.

Fuck it. I’m in an orange sort of mood.

His second favorite color, after red.

All that remained was assembly.

… throughout the process, he talked.

Kirishima didn’t typically make a habit of speaking while he baked. He certainly didn’t speak while he recorded, but this—this was a special occasion. Soon, he found himself opening up in front of the camera like never before. He spoke of his mother, briefly. Of his love of baking, and how much he didn’t want to lose that little piece of her he had left.

It was all he had left.

The whipped frosting went on like a dream for him, a smooth and even ombre that when he finished, reminded Kirishima just a bit of an orange sunset. It was soothing, and right, and exactly what he needed.

He didn’t think much of posting the video, largely unedited, to his public account. His was still a small corner of the internet, after all—a solitary baking channel in a sea of thousands. Maybe even millions. How many people would even see it, really?

“Oh, and by the way, can you guys stop saying my cakes look like shit?”

It was only one cake.

With great effort, Kirishima stumbled his way to his bedroom. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, how much all that time in the kitchen had taken out of him.

Before his head even hit the pillow, he was out.

He dreamed of his mother’s sweets, and orange.

***

sparksmcgee: dude wake up

sparksmcgee: wake uppppp

sparksmcgee: KIRI

sparksmcgee: KIRI U GOTTA SEE THIS

sparksmcgee: KIRIIIII

sparksmcgee: fine, ignore me, Mr. Internet Sensation

sparksmcgee: wait I was joking, I was joking!

sparksmcgee: I’ll call u! I’ll do it!!

sparksmcgee: damn it kiri

sparksmcgee: just watch the fuckin’ video

sparksmcgee: https://twitter.com/Simplemachines_/status/1297739774795509761

***

Kirishima groaned, slamming a fist down on top of the source of that incessant beeping. It was too early in the morning for such ear-splitting noise.

But what was done couldn’t be undone. He was awake now, for better or worse.

He cracked one eye open, squinting against the bright blue light of his phone screen. Still bleary-eyed, he scrolled through all of Denki’s messages (seriously, man?) and pressed a thumb over the hyperlink his friend sent. It was probably just some dumb meme—

Wait. Wait.

That was his cake video from last night. And… that wasn’t all.

Some blond guy with an angry face took up the other half of the split screen, but he wasn’t doing anything. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Kirishima blinked. A… reaction video…?

He heard himself begin to speak, to layer the buttercream. Internally, he cringed.

Well. In his defense, he had been having one of those days—

He almost dropped his phone when the blond guy yelled at the top of his lungs.

“WHO WAS MEAN TO YOU?!”

Huh? Was this guy speaking… in Kirishima’s defense?

“WHO SAID YOUR CAKES LOOK LIKE SHIT?! POINT ‘EM OUT!”

Slathering on his nice, ombre whipped frosting, now. The blond guy (who was kinda cute, actually, even with his angry face) continued to watch and listen with rapt attention, occasionally letting out another unholy screech.

The video progressed to the part where Kirishima had begun describing his day, and really, he could’ve kicked himself. It’d just been a math test. He’d been excited at the time, because he’d gotten his grade back and hadn’t completely failed it, but now, he wondered. Who would want to listen to such inane, boring—

“YES! I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU, SHITTY HAIR!”

Shitty hair? Inadvertently, he felt the hand that wasn’t currently occupied supporting his phone drift up toward his hairline. He knew he applied a lot of gel, spiked it up on purpose. Surely it didn’t look that bad.

But even with that last comment, the guy had said a lot of nice things. And how manly, to post such a wholesome reaction video, where all the world could see?

His phone beeped again as a message banner flashed across the top of the screen. He opened it with a flick of his finger.

It seemed this time, Denki had messaged in the group chat. He didn’t have long to wonder whether his other friends had seen the video, either, messages were fired at rapid speed.

sparksmcgee: did you see it?!?? I found the guy! Your dream man!

sparksmcgee: his name is **drumroll**

kiricakes: denki, no

ducktapes: denki, YES

sparksmcgee: BAKUGOU KATSUKI, HE’S FROM JAPAN

alienqueen: Kiri go get your mans!!

sparksmcgee: if you want I can also get his credit card

kiricakes: DENKI NO

Bakugou Katsuki. Huh.

As his friends continued to bicker amongst themselves, Kirishima stretched out his limbs. He let out a soft sigh when his shoulders popped, already considering what he would bake himself for breakfast.

Maybe he’d have a slice of orange funfetti. And perhaps as he did, his mind would drift to an angry fan.

One he hoped to meet, someday.

[just-some-random-blogger]

December Dates

Seventeen Summary: In the spirit of Christmas, boyfriend!svt is here to take you on a date. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, crackkkkkk, v many typos,etc.

R E Q U E S T

my friend: seventeen + cute

A/N: HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU HOS (jk) HAHAHAHAHAHHA. Also ashdiepl because im writing on a tab, i couldnt add any gifs so aksjemksksmsksksmskskdk alsO im so sorry i dont remember if the request is platonic or nah but kaksksksk this is what u get soz

-----

Alright

So no gifs

Imma just do a header real quick so u know wassap

S. Coups

Das better

hi header

I might delete u later if i get on a pc

But firsT seuNgcheEolL

*deep breath*

Ho u lucky enough to breath the same air he does

N now u are on aa date with him

WoWw

So bf!seungcheol is a cute lil snowflake

Which means he'll buy u an ugly ass Christmas sweater and matching gloves

THAT MATCHES THE ONES HE BOUGHT FOR HIMSELF OFC

then yall go out and play in the powdery snow outside

ImGine seungcheol grabbing yOuR hand 

cebAuse u a dumb loser that slips on nothing

Also warmth

pulling your scarf up a bit because he can tell you're getting cold

Then like a gentleman

will pUSH U INTO THE SNOW

AND START A FRICKIN SNOW WAR

HE'll hit ur dumb face he dont care

He'll maKe u wish u Stayed damn home

Rapid fire frikin snow granades man

Course iz all a bita fun

Then he'll let u win

Cause he does care Bout ur dumb Fce

Also he soft for u gross

Then once that's done he'll start laughing

Not because of post-snow ball fight adrenaline

But because he thinks himself so funny

When he busts a lung screaming "dO Ya wana biLd aSNOEMAN!!!!!"

AND THEN U decline and leave him in the snow

"YAAAAA WE HAVE TO BUILD A SNOWMAN THOUGH!" he'll laugh

U literally wana leave him and his annoying ass

U stomp away

He laughs and goes after u

His hot breath is visible 

and hits your ear when he comes up and wraps his arms around you from behind

U be like, "listen stupid, u corny af, lets break up"

Seungcheol would pout and kiss ur cheek, "nah, u still owe me hot choco. Break up with me after paying me back."

"Ew, why would i pay u back tho"

"Uh cause if you don't imma do thisss," then he proceeds to shove u into the snow again

"CHOI. SEUNG. CHEEOOOLLLLLLLLLLALAKAKAOKS!"

Ok well i have to cut this here first cos there are 12 boys left

Oh Hi hello u here back to ur regular programme

Jeonghan

Yiz

Unlike cheol

Dis ho not about to get cold 4 u uhm

Leave the cold for someone else

But get warm together

I mean

Wink wINKkkkk

Jk gtfo

This is a wholesome headcanon

Git warm he would gladly

So u know what dat means

CUddlEs

Imagine cuddling jeonghan

BoIii

It's da holidays

Which mean he bout to get dat $$$leep

Of course u dont mind that ur just sleeping in

Gurl if ya do

Let me stress out

If you mind sleeping in and cuddling with yoon jeong han

GUrL

Wathu doin????

AnYWAY

ITz u and him right

Ur in bed reading the novel he got u beforehand right

Look at u looking cute in knit sweater and glasses

EVEN IF U DONT NEED THEM THERE ARE GLZSSES

IM TRYING TO MAKE A SCENE HERE WORK WITH ME

it could be jeonghan's ur using it as a headband shhhh

So like ur sitting down

N beside u its jeonhan v slightly snoring

Right right right

Then ur like "man i want something to eat cause i've been sitting here reading all day"

But also ur always hungry

Cause who isnt tho lol

ANYWAY UR ABOUT TO STZND UP

but jeonghan like a needy ho is like noooooooooooodontgo

N ur like

aww wat a needy ho

"Jeonghan im just gonna get something to eat"

"Eat laterrr, i need u now"

He'll keep his eyes shut and shimmy over

Securing an arm on your  hip so u wont go

U roll ur eyes and put your book away on the cabinet next u

"Jeonghan ive literally been next to u since last night. I'm just gonna get something to eat, and 4 u 2!"

He'll flutter his eyes open only to close them and move even closer to place his head on ur lap

"I dont want toooooo"

U roll ur eyes again and shimmy out of his grip

But only to get into his arms and hide your face in his chest

"You're so needy," u note

"Says you who's tangling themselves on me"

"Touché"

Joshua

Okay

Get this

Joshua and gingerbread houses

He probably used to build one growing up

And he has just the person in mind he wants to rekindle the tradition with

Congrats u filthy animal

So he took the liberty of getting allll u and he would need

And so much more

Im talking chocolate bars

Shipped cream

Candy canes

Busicuits

Edible glitter

Gum drops

Shrek 1 2 3 4

Is there a four

Im too lazy to google it

And omg u so special to him he loves u so much

Screw u

He wants to share the love with the carats

So he vlives it all

And at first ur shy

Like what if the joshua stans come 4 u

Ok but in this story yall had already annouce ur relationship

AND EVERYONE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO BE COOL WITH IT FFS LET UR FAVES DATE WHOEVER THEY WANT ISTG

so

Joshua is like "noo don be shy they'll all love u"

(':

N ur like ok cos i love u sm

But not like the company sm tho *barfing noises*

So yall build a gingerbread house and do a whole ass tutorial about it

Except u dont

Cause yal are morons and could stop messing up or earing the ingredients along the way

Sorry honey ur morons i dont make the rules

"Stop eating the marshmallows!"

"U literally finished the bowl of mnms tho Joshua!"

"Uh no that was the gingerbread man,"

ANd then u all bicker like children because u are omfl

And it excalates

fooD FIGHT

U smear cream on joshuas face

He sprinkles sprinkles on ur head

U press graham crackers against either of his cheeks and ask him what he is

"A sexy graham sandwich"

"Ew no wrong answer," u reply

Can i just point out that that chocolate syrup stain is never coming off

*cough cough cough moron cough cough*

Jun

Imma bout to yeet

Junhui is also feeling nostalic

super soft super baby

And since he's probably feeling bit homesick somewhere in there

he thinks he can remedy it with a bit of chinese home cooking!!!

And whiney needy cuddles also yay

Moving on so

Will it be good?

Damn straight

itll be fikin delish

Will you try to to help him

Of course u gotta help ur man

But like duh

u have eyes

And seeing him all focus and busy and hot

Is really distracting

So like ur as useful as a broken button to him

He doesnt mind tho

He thinks ur cute

Also lovng the attnstion

But the thing about not helping

Not really

And being distracted by a cutie pie

Is that it's basicaly a disaster ending to happen so like

he's efficiently stirring up so hot stuff right

And ur like "man jun's some hot stuff"

And then BaaaaM

U knock over the damn chopping board with the knife and everything on it

Thank goodness the thing didn't chop through your foot of anything

And jun is like "oHMYGOSH DA HELL R U OK"

"... i- im sorry i knocked over ur potatoes"

"My poTaToeS! Listen rn im glad u didnt chop ur foot off"

Jun sighs and looks at the cubes of taters scattered on the floor

You frown, feeling useless

Both of u pick up ur mess

Jun puts down the kitchen utensils in hand

u picked up the last of the potatoes

"Hey we could always wash those, it's not like the floor is mud or anything, even then , potates came from mud"

"Yeah but im sorry, i wanst really helping in the first place"

Jun smirks, "nonsense! U were feeding my ego! That's enough for me!"

You snort and jun comforts u with a tight embrace

Hoshi

AlrighT fam

I thought of something pretty cute but pretty dumb for hoshi

He's like "imma do something super romantic for Christmas"

So he's like "wear something cute we gon do smth fun" @ u

So u do

U get a cute little red dress just for the occasion

And soonyoung his like "BRO MY GIRL SO SUPER CUTE"

And ur like a blushing mess cause he looks super excited with his big smile and cresent eyss

ahhh Hhh myHOSishiii fealzssmsmmsms

Anyway u think ur gonna go to some cute restaurant right

But hoshi brings u to the mall

To instead join the couples dancing contest

Soonyoung gets super nervouse at ur surprised reaction

He's like, "omg is this a super bad idea i thought it would be cute but like i guess not we dont have to go we could always just drop out"

You laugh and shake ur head, "no it's all good, but i mean like, we don't have a choregraphy, and im not like you who can just break it down."

Soonyoung lets out a breath and chuckles, "nah don't worry. It's not really a compation-competion, and regardless, they're going to show ius a choreo and the couple that best interprets wins a a romantic date for two, fit for a dancing king and queen"

And then u break into a big uwu

"Omg u are super romantic soonyoung"

He struts a pose and chuckles, "i mean, i try"

So you both participate in the contenst

Kinda zumba it out by folling the instructors

Soonyoung is helping you out with your form and explaining to you the steps

He gets a little competative so he doesn't really want to mess us

Up hearing you giggle when you do a s pin breaks his competative spirit

And all he really cares about is having a good time with you

Aleight

But admitedly

He was pretty annoyed when they annouced the winner

Were not the two off you

i mean you lot were the cutest it can gt

Who else could trump that

But then you both saw that the winners were 80 something yesr olds holding hand and looking at each other like the other was their world

and then soonyoung was like "okay valid"

You pout, "aww i hope we end up like that"

Soonyound and you turn to each other

He grins for ear to ear, "then lets go on a romantic date as well"

"I thought you'd never ask"

Wonwoo

LiNda

I hope you're ready for wonwoo 

Because i sure as hell am not 

So in case youre wondering 

Youre crazy I mean youre reading this arent you 

Prolly at midnight hi fam 

Again i dont make the rules 

Well just a btw Almost every 

Christmas tradition is pagan 

Like the tree 

The wreath 

And SANTA IS SO CREEPY YALL NEED TO GET UR CHILDREN AWAY FROM HIM 

SO MAYbe ur not all that crazy 

For not wanting to continue them on 

i mean sure u can give new meaning to things 

But you wanted none of that

 Which was whyyyy you decided to DIY the decorations to your entire house 

Nnd who else are you going to do that with other than your loving bb boyfriend wonwoo 

Wonwoo doesn't mind 

He thinks its cute 

Because it is a cute date idea 

Youtube tutorials 

Pinterest ideas and paper snowflakes and all 

Yeah 

so wonwoo is there cutting up some of the paper you folded 

You're glueing some popsicle sticks 

He's water coloring some designs in 

Youre pulling on the tape dispenser 

It's all going great 

"Jagiya... i don't want to sound mean but-"

 "They're all ugly as hell. I know Wonwoo." 

Wonwoo gives an apologetic look. 

For a moment u two dont speak 

And then you both brust into laughter 

"Aww whatever, lez stick em on!" 

And do you get your badly painted slowflakes 

Your wolf drawing 

"That's a wolf?" 

"Duh what else would it be wonwoo?" 

The letters that spelled merry chrsitmas 

And the doodle cutouts of the seventeen members 

in personalized ugly sweaters 

And placed them all over the place 

You look around basking in the glory of ur craft 

Its all very colorful 

And crafty 

And looking like a child made it 

Then like an imbecile 

U break into laughter 

"It looks like a kindergartener's classroom" 

U end up roasting yourself 

Making fun of your sloppy handwork 

And wonwoo watches u 

with adoring eyes

 "I almost forgot," wonwoo speaks up and pulls out a piece of paper 

You recive it from him and break into a smile 

"Is this us?" 

Wonwoo snorts, "no its jeonghan hyung in a dress holding my hand sweetheart"

For a moment u believe him

But then he breaks out into laughter

Woozi

Boi imma fite u

Christmas carols

Okay idek why i ended up so serious with wonwoo

But listennup

Im not about to maypke it crackier

so back to christmas carols

Dis boi is about to serande you with a christmas themed love song

So its around 8pm at night

Jihoon has is guitar

and ur just chilling right

and ur on ur phone letting him do his thing

but then from the floor he was sat on

he turns to you on the couch

And pats ur leg

"Yo i just finished my song u wann hesr"

You squeak and jump of the couch next to him

"Duh dummy!"

And he starts singing

He's talking about stars and warmth

He's spittin fire about the smell of hot choco

The  he's talking sbout how lame joshua's gingerbread house was

Next thing you know ur  crying

because omg that ginger bread houseWAS UGLY

also jihoooooooooooooon just serenaded you

Dont u just

Then jihoon catches you and panicks

"You okay? Why are you cryin?!"

"HowDARS YOU ASK ME THAT LISTEN UP U JUST SAID SOME SWEET WORDS TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!!!!!!!"

JIHOON CALms down

But u crybaby cant stop crying

and of course jihoon panicks again

So he starts singing some other Christmas song

And then u start crying about poor rudolf

And remember regina george

But then eventually you calm down

And decide to nuzzle up against jihoon who replaced his guitar with you in his arms

Then us fall asleep with him sweetly singing about the spirit of Christmas

DK

 Liz gittit

Of course this ray of light just wants to give off energy to the world 

And since he 

And u u forgetful ass 

Forgot to go shopping for presents 

You decided to go on a dec 24th shopping trip! 

Hurrah! 

But it was too eady for u two 

Like wtf 

Gift giving Is suuch and easy task 

And shoping a day before Christmas 

pshhhhhhh 

Its a heartbeat

 "Whoever gets the best gifts gets for the best price gets to boss the other around until new year," seokmin grins 

You knit your brows deeply at his words 

And wonder what the hell he has in plan for him to think of doing something so ensnaring 

So being the smarter one in the relationship 

"Uh no??" 

Seokmin was like "ok then the other has to do whatever the other says for the entirety of Christmas" 

"???? Whyyyyy?" 

"Because its not challengeing or fun if there isn't any condition" "Ugh fine" 

So the two of you zip around looking for the best gifts you could get 

You try to stay away from the people doing their last minute shopping 

Seokmin doesnt dare go in between an old lady mouthing of another customer 

Tbh its super stressful 

wtf 

what kind of date is this 

Only morons would do this wtf 

Both of you got shoved constantly 

There wasnt really much space to move around 

And there wasnt really anything to choose from 

But hey guess what 

Seokmin found some really cool gifts 

"Daheck did u get that shirt?" 

"Isle five. There were a bunch of people grabbing some stuff and this fell to the ground and so i picked it up and thought it was pretty cool"

You on the other hand got like ok gifts 

I mean theyre not bad

 But da hell did dk get a frikin eeyore onesie idek 

It was no contest.  

Seokmin defo won 

"Yisss so i win therefor u have to make me some Christmas cookies tomorrow" 

"U ho did u really just make me suffer through that so you could ask me to make cookies 4 u???" 

"Yes but we really didn have gifts tho." 

U roll ur eyes 

Seokmin's face falls, "r... r u like mad @ me?" 

"Uhhhhhhhhhh" 

You knit your brows at him but release a smile when u see his nervous look 

"No babo. Im jusy tired, lezgo back home" 

He sighs and nods, kissing your cheeks 

"Dont worry baby, ill carry all of this back home" 

Which he does 

And when u get back 

He says he forgot something in the car

then comes bzck 

And then forcefully turns u around 

Ur about to protest

But the you realize he's putting on a silver necklace on u 

"Yahhhh seokminie, u shouldnt have. Where you even get this"

"I bought it a while back, duh" he chuckles then kisses you on the cheek 

"Merry christmas jagi" 

Mingyu  

You are a genius for getting boyfriend like mingyu 

uh and super lucky like fu-- 

BUT TODAY 

Ur extra glad that mingyu is 10ft tall 

Because ur going to be decorating your very own tree 

Wow 

You bought he prettiest glass ornamnets

 and the sparkliest streamers 

"I have a vision," u explain 

Mingyu nods in understanding 

U and him lift the tree into the living room 

And then u start decorating the tree from the bottom up 

Its all rly chill

 You lot are chatting about whatever 

He's tellling you about ur tour n stuff 

U put on some Christmas tunes for flare 

And then u stand up from the floor and boogey with each other 

Yall shake ur butts 

and go around the tree wrapping it in tinself 

Mingyu steals one of the ornaments from u

 and u try to take it back from him like the genius u are 

Except hes holding it over his head 

N u cant for the life of u reach his hand up there 

So u step on his foot 

And punch his stomach 

And he bends down in reaction 

In pain

Soz

He was asking for it

U steal the decor back 

Then he proceeds to chase u around because aparently ur the bully 

*instert pikachu meme here* 

N then u get back towork 

Or i mean take a break 

And u eat a bunch of holiday special junk 

And then u get back to work 

"ok nows for the star" 

U hand him the star because its the entire point of his existance

getting that star up ther 

with his longass arms 

He turns to u "u dont wanna put it" 

BOI 

u suck in a breath 

"I cant frIKICN REACH IT U LIL" 

He give a face, "there are ways" 

"My go-- just put the AHHHHHHH"

AND THEN THE NEXT THING U KNOW

 Hes crouching down pulling ur legs on his shoulders 

"MINGYU PUT ME DOWN" you say, about to rip of his face 

Mostly because u have nothi to hold onto

but he stands 

with u on his shoulders

and walks to the tree 

"Put the damn thing on before u fall!!" 

Wow its ur fault again

And screaming u put the star on 

And mingyu putz u down 

"Okay that was stressful" 

U punch him in the gut again 

The8  

Minghao is super tired 

But super looking forward to spending time with u 

So u defintely go on a date 

But its of the lazy movie watch variety

Im talking all the chesey romance movies 

Set in december 

that has like mistletoe kisses 

And snow scenes 

And also those holiday specials

 For catroons 

And non cartoons 

Even the one with arnold swartzimacallit 

You pull out the laptop 

And get on netflix 

There's popcorn on 

And hot tea 

Or whatever the hell 

Its all just very warm 

and u and minghao are wrapped together in a warm blanket 

Ur nestled in between is legs and ur super warm and cozy and im so soft bleh 

"Oh oh, u should see this part, its my fav--" 

But u stop uourself when u turn and see minghao fell asleep

 U coo and let him obvi 

taking unflattering pictures duh 

But also cute ones because 

#couplegoals 

He doesn't sleep through all the movies though 

You end up watching non christmas themed films too 

Like toy story4 

OKAY I CRIED AT THE ENDING 

PIXAR IS REALLY COMING FOR MY WIG 

"You look really cute cuddled up against me" he'll randomly blurt 

U feel ur cheeks brun at that 

but no he cant have that 

"I thought i was always cute" 

He chuckles and groans as he hugs u tightly 

U laugh at his reaction 

"Of course you're always cute" 

"Ok but the teddy bear u got me is actually cuter" 

"Nononono, the teddy is cute but uuu are cuter" 

"Were u always this gross?" 

Seungkwan 

Okay 

before u tell me these are getting worse and worse every passing member 

i would first like to say i know 

and  that seungkwan bought u a cute dress for Christmas 

and took u to a fancy restaurant 

Ok ur welcome 

But like even if it werent fancy 

U'd still like it 

cause holy guacamole 

imagine holding seungkwans hand as u walk around

Jsut being so head over heels

and super in love with the cutie

Groooossss 

LinDA 

The feeling is mutual for him when he's around u 

so he stops mid conversations 

just to take ur pic 

Its kinda annoyig 

but kinda cute 

"Hey unknow hansol told me about-- what are u doing"

 "No go on, im just talking ur picture"

 Literally the bst hype man alive 

Will make take dozen upon dozen photos of u 

And will make u pose for aethetics 

He will go on making sure everyone knows u da hottest ho in the place 

n ur like "seungkwan stfu u embarrassssing meee" 

And then oml  

Some moron tries to hit on u 

and seungkwan sqwares up ready to hit a fool 

would he actually do it i mean 

Like 

prolly Not 

but then again he looked really mad 

So u calm him down 

and u go bzck home 

And the cuddles 

"Baby girl im sorry if i embarrassed u"

 "Nah itz chill i mean i know u have good intentions"

U smile and he takes another candid phto of u

"Broooooo!!"

 "Im donnnr. Now hows about we get rid of that dress" 

Vernon  

okay im willing to guess hansol loves drinking hot chocolate in the winter

So he's like 

"Lets do a hot choco review" 

And buys 897 types of hot choco 

Or like ten 

wtf eight hundres pluss is too much 

So ur like okay i like hot choco 

and then he pulls out his phone and does a vlive 

"No i am not jealous of joshua hyungs vlive with his gf" 

Yall make like ten cups of hot choco 

and is chaotic 

Idek how u could get injured 

But hey 

It wasnt even the hot water invovled 

but the wrapping of the choco powder 

"Technical difficulties hansol is a big moron" 

U get him a bandaid

"Ya! I am not" 

Yall start reviewing anyway 

*insert try guys eugenes voice* 

Im rihght

 Ur wong 

Shut up 

After trying the first onw 

Ur like wow dis is good 

the second was even better 

The third one u hold

then u realized there were eight more cups 

And that u made so

much 

so u were like "omf there is too much "

then u debated whether or not calling seventeen to drink the rest 

But then hansol was like "ther isnt enough for themm"

Then ur like 

"okay whatabout making a super hotchoco" 

n vernon was like 

???? 

"THATS THE BEST IDEA UVE EVVER HAD" 

SO YALL GET A BIGASS POT 

MIX THE REST IN 

REALIZE U HAVENT RATED THE other cups

 Shrug it off 

and get a cup of the hot choco mix 

"Tastes like corn" 

"Bish dafaq" 

Dino 

Yikes 

so 

Chan is a dumb ho 

and got himself sick at Christmas so 

nononoono thats a no to any cute date ideas 

and its just you and him staying at home 

U personally dont mind 

but hes like "awww but i had so many ideas"

 but obvi U cant risk him getting any sicker than he already is 

So you stay home and take care of him 

and all he can do is complain about everything 

about the cold 

his runny nose 

The lack of taste of the food

 His head ache 

The fact his bed is hot 

And that fact that u have to take care of him 

And treat him like a baby 

"I am not a baby" 

"Listen up, u are always gonna be my baby" 

"Not u toooooo najsjsjjs" 

You make him some hot cocoa 

And hes like "im not drinking that if u call me baby again" 

"Babybabybabybabybaby" 

Ugghgg "If you keep doing that im not going to give u the gift i gotchu" 

"Well das on u" 

And then u end up going ona glaring contest 

Chan ends up giving it to u anyway 

"i hope u choke on it" he grumbles with insencerity 

U coo when u see that its a handwritten letter 

And then u end up crying because hes super soft

N ur super soft

And gahhh u love him so much

 Chan pats ur back because he doesnt want to get u sick if he hugs u  

U sniffle and wipe ur eyes 

"Who's the baby now, cry baby" 

You snarl and pinch his side 

And now i say

This was probably hecking bzd but i hope u enjoyed 

merry CHRISTMAS 

ITS MY FABORITE HOLiDAY 

TAKE CARE Of urselves mwaah

Support me on ko-fi

[theyearoftheking]

Book Thirty-One: Four Past Midnight

You know you’re in for a good time when you crack open a collection of novellas, and the introduction discusses the 1989 Milwaukee Brewers, and specifically Robin Yount. 

I am not really a baseball fan. I will admit to going to games just to tailgate, get snacks and drink an overpriced beer. I own some cute Milwaukee Brewers merch, and love a brat with stadium sauce. That’s the extent of my fandom. You’ll never find me being a baseball bandwagon junkie.

But.

Every late 30-40 something raised in Milwaukee has really fond memories of County Stadium (our old, humble stadium) before Miller Park took over (Sorry, refuse to call it Am-Fam Field, or whatever the hell its new name is). And we have fond memories of Robin Yount, Paul Moliter- the OG Brew Crew. Warm and fuzzies all around. 

Steve drops one hell of a Wisconsin reference when he talks about watching a Brewers/Red Sox game (Brewers won, btw), and the announcers are talking about how old Robin Yount is. Steve almost flies out of his recliner when he realizes Robin started playing baseball the same year he published his first novel. They’re the same age!! Robin Yount can’t be old, because if he’s old, ergo, Steve is old. 

Time is a funny thing. I write this as I’m a week away from turning forty. Ugh. It hurts so bad. 

Four Past Midnight was another home run (ha!) collection of novellas. I told another constant reader this past week that the novella is really where Steve shines. It’s long enough to create some magic, but short enough to keep the editing tight. I didn’t love this collection as much as Different Seasons, but The Sun Dog might be my new favorite story ever... and it set the scene for Needful Things, which I’m now one hundred pages into. The flow from one story to the other is masterful. 

The collection kicks off with The Langoliers, which I mostly remember because it was a campy television miniseries in 1995.

Basically, a bunch of people are on a red-eye flight, and Dinah Bellman, a little blind girl wakes up to find most of the people on the plane (including her caretaker Aunt) have disappeared. All their jewelry and belongings have been left behind, but it’s like they’ve been body-snatched out of thin air. Oh, the pilot was langolier-ed too. Thankfully, one of the other passengers on the plane, Brian Engle, just so happens to be a pilot, and attempts to land the plane. But, there are no lights, he’s not getting any response from any major airports... so landing at Boston Logan isn’t going to be a thing. He (of course) needs to re-route to Bangor. 

At this point, Craig Toomer is losing his shit. He NEEDS to be in Boston to meet with a bank about some shady shit with some bonds. He’s not having this Bangor thing. So, he sits in his seat and sulks, ripping pieces of paper into thin strips (legit serial killer behavior), and remembering horror stories his dad used to tell him about monsters called the Langoliers. 

Aaaand that’s where the title comes from. 

The plane lands in Bangor, the airport is empty, the food has no taste and the beers have no carbonation. Noises are both muffled and amplified, and planes won’t go. So, Brian fuels up the original plane they were on, loads everyone inside; and takes off again. The passengers realize they need to be asleep to fly through the time/space continuum, so Brian lowers the cabin pressure, they all go to sleep (except for the dashing Nick Hopewell who bravely offers to fly the plane through the rip), and they make it safely to the other side, where life slowly starts back up again. 

The end.

Then, there’s Secret Window, Secret Garden; which I also remember because of the Johnny Depp movie, which I had forgotten most of until my husband thought he’d summarize the plot of The Dark Half for me. He got it totally wrong, and ended up describing SWSG instead; thus ruining the surprise I forgot I already knew about. Welcome to marriage, kids. Lesson learned: if you haven’t seen The Secret Window, just wait and read the novella instead. 

Best-selling author Morton Rainey answers his door one afternoon, and finds a Faulkner-esque gentleman in a wide-brimmed hat, accusing him of plagiarism. “You stole my story!” John Shooter tells him. Mort is supes confused, and has no idea what Shooter is talking about. He’s even able to prove he wrote and published the story a few years before Shooter wrote it. 

“Prove it,” Shooter taunts him. 

And then the story takes a left turn into Crazyville, when Shooter starts killing people, starting Mort’s ex-wife’s house on fire, and trying to kill Mort. 

But here’s the twist.

Ready?

Shooter is Mort. 

Mort is Shooter. 

God damn, I wish my husband hadn’t reminded me of this spoiler, it would have been more epic to discover on my own. But it’s an excellent slight-of-hand on Steve’s part. Well done. 

And then we get to The Library Policeman... which I really loved until I got to the part about the policeman anally raping small children who don’t turn their books in on time. That jumped the shark just a little bit. But prior to that cringefest, the idea of Library Policeman was fun. And in my world of enforcing rental policies, and returning books in beautiful, unblemished condition; I’m all for some library police. Maybe just ones with better social distancing, though... 

And then we arrive to Sun Dog, the real winner of the collection. Steve starts the story with a brief introduction that covers the strange history of Castle Rock. This is a great refresher if you’re new to the universe, or haven’t read thirty-one Steve books in five months. No judgement.

 Kevin Delevan receives a Sun 660 Polaroid camera for this fifteenth birthday. He takes a family picture, and notices a dog in the snapshot. A dog his family doesn’t own, and doesn’t know. Thinking it’s a fluke, he takes a few more pictures, and the dog keeps showing up, but is moving in each picture. 

A few days later, Kevin takes the camera over to Reginald “Pop” Merrill at the Emporium Galorium. Pop fixes cameras and clocks, and also acts as the local loan shark, and seller of odd things. Pop inspects the camera, and sees nothing wrong with it. But he knows darkness when he sees it, and after a quick swap; he ends up with the Sun Dog camera, and sends Kevin home with another one. 

Pop tries selling the camera to collectors of the dark and odd, but no one wants it. He’s starting to stress, because he knows it’s only a matter of time before the camera unleashes its true dark potential. 

Kevin wakes up from a nightmare and realized Pop pulled a fast one on him. He gets to the Emporium Galorium just as the dog is trying to emerge from the film, and Kevin is able to kill it, and the shop starts on fire. But, it’s not the last strange thing to happen in Castle Rock...

I’m not going to lie, I finished Sun Dog at about 8pm last night, and promptly dived into Needful Things. Y’all... it might be my favorite Steve book ever. Too soon to say for sure, but damn it’s dark and twisty. Stay tuned. 

In addition to the Brewers reference, there was one Dark Tower reference in The Library Police, “...lookin’ as fierce as a gunslinger in an old Western movie...” 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 25

Total Dark Tower References: 23

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

I hope everyone is continuing to social distance and quarantine well. I’m headed back to work in another week... kinda hoping it doesn’t cut into my reading time. But reality is a cruel thing sometimes... 

Long Days and Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

[chxxpers]

Purple Tainted Lillies : Prologue

Sometimes, when times are rough, people need something to fall back upon. Jacob (Hutt River) dedicated himself to that something, so much so it shaped his entire being. He focused on his virtues, and yet left his flaws open - easy to manipulate, and easy to control. 

Disclaimer: 1950′s AU with Hutt River, Australia, Wy and others. Mentions/allusions of alcoholism, homophobia (internalised and externalised,) Period/Location based racism, and religious thematics included. Nothing graphic is mentioned.  7s7v AU by @facadep. Brief mentions of @ask-deus-romano‘s character. 

Words: 2,230 

Chapter One: Absence

 The incense still lingered on his flesh, the pin pricks in his fingers still bled, and his body still hung heavy from exhaustion. It was unusual for Jacob to be wandering around town this late at night, where the only noise that accompanied his quiet footsteps came from Dave’s old pub and the nature that stalked the Australian Outback. He wouldn’t normally have hung around the church until so late, sister Claire always berated him for overworking himself, but he had confessions to make - and places to avoid. He’d rather be making tapestries than be elsewhere, under the careful guidance and soft spoken false assurances the clergy always offered. He’d rather help the nuns out with their risky maintenance, he wouldn’t forgive himself for any harm that came their way. He’d rather be amongst these women than anywhere else. He refused to go home.

 Going home meant running into his mother and listening to her subtle remarks about how much of a golden child he was - how much she relied on him, and yet how much she hated it. It meant having to quietly tuck Victoria into her small bed each night, set up in the broken down sunroom out the back, where she frequently feared what might get her one evening through the cracks, only protected in her sanctuary by a rusted lock and a single lamp. It meant entering the house, and meeting Jett with an almost drained brown bottle, and whilst he’d smile at Jacob in reassurance - it was nights like those that ruined the brotherly bond they had built between them. Going home meant facing the reality that the church hid away from him.

 Jacob had taken to sitting on the pub’s verandah steps on his way home, the only people still inhabiting the pub this late into the night being bushmen and tired shift workers. He’d remain there, undisturbed by all except for the barmaid when she snuck him a beer or two, maternally rubbing his shoulder in a way Jacob never experienced elsewhere. Going to the pub wasn’t for a night in, it wasn’t for the jesting nor the merriment that radiated throughout the bluestone building. It was for the moments where Jacob could pretend to be normal and welcomed.

 He couldn’t see the differences between him and the workers that always spent their nights in the pub - he couldn’t see the differences the whiter men could. He found peace with them, they couldn’t tell the difference between his tan and theirs, nor did they didn’t question why he could speak some of their language. His natural demeanor wasn’t portrayed as alien like it was amongst his community, but he found it rather common with these European outcasts - he could be comfortable with them. He was a new family member to add to their growing list.

 That was what Santino had claimed of him the prior week, his face still sweaty after running around after cattle all day, hands shaky and filthy, but the grubbiness of his appearance was easily overlooked in preference of the beautiful way he smiled. Santino was a statement piece at Dave’s pub, an attraction that brought more woman to the bar than ever before. His accent was thick, his eyes stunning, and his English barely legible - and Jacob loved listening to him ramble, as he always did every Saturday prior. The outback of Australia was interesting to the foreign teenager, just as much as Jacob was interested in him back.

 Santino carried himself with such positivity that it was increasingly infectious, no matter the gnawing fact that he was a man that stood for everything that Jacob didn’t. He was sin, but it was refreshing - it lightened up Jacob’s world a little bit every time they spoke, no matter that it found Jacob in confessional more often than not. It wasn’t the heavy shadow haunting himself, nor the sin that consumed his blood and created an ill name for the Smith family. It was light-hearted sin, a fictitious element Jacob couldn’t imagine himself ever bearing.

 The other two Vargas siblings weren’t as exciting, Jacob could begrudgingly admit. Feliciano was a soft-spoken young man, who acted more childish than Victoria would, and was almost always found with a little smudge of paint in his hair or on his clothes. A mess with feet, Santino had once referred to him, unable to keep in his bubbling laugh at the thought. Whilst Lovino was a stark contrast to the both of them, with uncannily bleached blonde hair and the scarred body of a veteran that whispered all the stories he himself would never speak of. No one really spoke to Lovino, although.

 “Sometimes I think he was replaced during the war…” Santino would jest openly - but his eyes spoke it all. The bleached hair, and the flamboyance of his bravado wasn’t normal according to him, but Jacob liked that about Lovino. He could appreciate a man who didn’t stick to the social normalities - who loved himself so thoroughly, no matter what his siblings thought of him. Jacob could only imagine what that freedom was like. What it would be like to embrace himself that way - and step outside of what this little town wanted of him.

 But that’d have to wait another day. The pub had a very distinct absence of the Vargas brothers, and the clock was ticking by. He could have used the foreign tales and extravagant exaggerations to fill in his time, but his procrastination had come to an end. Jacob took a sip of his final beer, and stood on his feet firmly - relaxation escaping and tension filling his limbs like poison. He gave his glass back to the barmaid, where she kissed him on the cheek and sent him off on his way, and he found himself plunged into darkness again.

 It wasn’t a long walk home, even shorter from the pub, but Jacob had taken his time. The crickets soothed him a little, and the moon dutifully reflected off the water of the lake nearby,  disguising the thick red sludge and overgrowth with an luminescent glow. An absolute disaster he couldn’t help but notice. Maybe others found it pretty, he knew Jett sure did, but Jacob found it scenically poor. On the outside it was gorgeous, and was romantic to the untrained eye, but the closer anyone got the more it lost its appeal. What was so attractive about a dirty, littered, and unkempt body of water? The moon was happy to love the lake, just as the lake was happy to be a centerpiece, no matter how pathetic it was. The very idea haunted Jacob every step home.

 “Jacob fucking Smith, where have you been?” Jett called, standing at the door - brown bottle in hand, and another fisting at his own tank-top. “It’s a quarter past midnight, and Baptiste was looking for you!”

  Of course . Jacob rolled his eyes, but smiled up to his brother all the same - if he avoided looking at the bottle, he could pretend his heart wasn’t beating rapidly, could pretend that Jett didn’t know exactly where he’d been. The thought that their French neighbour had taken the time out of his day to look for him was warming, and he knew - no matter how much Jett would deny it - that his older brother had been waiting up for him out of concern too and not duty. He had probably sat out in the overbearingly hot night, sweaty and sticky, just waiting for him to return home. It wasn’t safe for boys like him to be outside, no matter how many people claimed the world was different after the war. He was too much of everything he wished he was more of.

 He didn’t have his brothers broader nose, nor tanned skin. He wasn’t strong or sturdy, and he didn’t have his carefree, distinct smile. He was lucky to not have these things, Jett insisted, but Jacob didn’t feel it. He wanted everything Jett had, and more. Even if it meant he wasn’t safe, it meant he had a little piece of home with him everywhere - the home he wanted .

 “I’m sorry- I got side-tracked and-”

 “Just come here” Jett embraced Jacob in close, the strain between them finally easing away with each passing second. “You scared me and Vic, mate. Stop doing that.”

 With a firm pat on the back Jett led Jacob into their home, shutting and locking the door behind blindly, the only light in the room coming from a single lamp on by the couch. It never did feel very alive for a living room, how could it when the couches were second-hand and worn, the tables held up barely and mended with glue or tape, and mold decorating the poorly painted popcorn ceiling. How could it even be considered living when no one ever was home. “Hey Jett… Where’s Ma?”

 “At Nana’s, Baptiste stayed and made dinner though, c’mon…” Further into the small home was the forever cold kitchen - a relief on hot summer days, but an absolute nightmare for Jacob, who felt cold just from his tire and overall dread. The cool tiles seeped into his body as he sat down at the table, Jett meeting him with a creak of his chair, and a sigh deep from the depths of his chest. He couldn’t even touch the left over food, no matter how amazing Baptiste had surely prepared the meal, he was sure he’d bring it back up. It hurt too much to breath, let alone swallow, and it only made everything worse having Jett there, especially when his body displayed so explicitly that he was uncomfortable. With trembling hands he re-tied his hair back into the loose ponytail, the only object of freedom he seemed to have under this roof.  “Can we talk?”

 “Are we not?”

 Jett grunted dismissively, reaching over and placing a hand over Jacob’s wrist, thumb pressed against the webbing of his hand with a gentle, familiar stroke. “You’re killing yourself with all of this. God’s all loving is he not?”

 “Oh, Jett… could we not?” Could we not? Jacob always asked that question, desperate to escape these confrontations. Jett always acted like he knew what was best for him - he always did this! But the answers never changed, nor did their positions, nor opinions, nor did their relationship change. The frequency of these talks drove Jacob absolutely ballistic, especially when it always ended the same; somehow, Jacob would find himself cornered by his brother, his hand gently encased, and the stench of alcohol stained on their breaths. It was more often than not that tears tended to paint Jacob’s face. “You know I only-”

 “Every single thought you have won’t upset the thing up there, Jake. Not every lil’ fucken thing will put you in hell.”

 “It’s my comfort…” He whispered, unable to retract his hand from the others grip. He felt hollow - his brother always bore through him like this with only a sentence. “If there is a big man up there, isn’t it better to be safer than sorry? If there’s happiness after this life at least I’ll get it. I could be like Ma-”

Jett shook his head in disagreement, but didn’t say much more. He had drained his bottle, his eyes staring out into nothing, exhausted of this conversation already. The clock ticked on somewhere, enunciating the precious time they were wasting in silence. “You can be lost, and still believe you’re happy Jacob. If anyone’s going to hell, it’ll be me. I can’t repent for the things I’ve done-”

 He swallowed his tongue, and the rest of the sentence remained unspoken. It was silent, the only sound being a drip from somewhere in the house, and a quiet little creak of the floorboards under pressure. Nothing more needed to be said with an admission as such, and the two knew it so well by now.  

 Jacob didn’t look up when Jett moved, nor did he look at him when he went into the lounge, rummaging through whatever he was. His eyes stayed on his wrist, even when he felt Jett suddenly tease a hand through his hair, playing with it like he had when they were children and oblivious to the pain surrounding them, blind to the agony between them alone. He stroked his hair maternally, in a way Jacob had learnt to stroke Victoria’s himself before school every morning, filling in for the affection the little girl was missing, like Jett had done for him. It wasn’t fair on them, and Jett was growing to hate the very thought of Jacob’s ‘comfort’ - and the destruction it was causing his brother. He was beginning to hate this ‘saving grace,’ when it hurt his brother like this. Jacob knew his brother hated everything the church stood for, even when it was the only positive they had left.

 With a small shift of the hair tie, Jett placed something in Jacob’s hair, stabilising it delicately. “Don’t dwell on it too much, and go rest… love you kiddo.”

 Jett left in silence as Jacob removed the flower from his hair, gently stroking the soft petals of the pristine white lily that Baptiste had surely brought over earlier in the night for Victoria. The simple gesture of affection was enough to bring Jacob into little, stifled, hiccuped tears.

[oppatxtme]

Lee Sunghwa/GRAY: Just Tonight

xLee Sunghwa/GRAYx

A/N: Hello there fam ~ I am sorry if it’s taking me way too long to post some new fics/scenarios. Adulting hit me so hard. But anyways, be assured that I never forget y’all. To be honest, I missed y’all. I am here. Just trolling most of the time. Anyways, here is a birthday short story. Hope y’all like it. <3

Keep in mind that English is not my native language so there might be some spelling and grammar error. Sorry for my lack of talent and I promise to work hard on this. Thank you and please enjoy. Any feedback is well loved. <3

[masterlist]

"So, is he coming?" one of your friends asked.

You smiled. It's your birthday party. Who's boyfriend on the right mind will not be in his girlfriends birthday party?

"Maybe? Not sure. He said he's finishing some editing for his pending projects." you said shrugging. Not sure if your face didn't show how bitter you feel.

"Well, he better show up. It's your freaking birthday."

"Yea. Even though it's work, you're his woman. We understand that he doesn't like chitchats with many people but at least his presence is needed here."

You did not answer. How can you? They are right. You're in a relationship with him for almost two years and many of them really didn't get a chance to know him really. Every time your friends set up a group date, he's locked up at his studio, ending up you being the plus one of the group.

You can't blame them having their doughts about your relationship with Christian.

You busied yourself assisting your friends. You tried your best to not look up your phone and the time. The time that past by and still Christian hasn't shown up and failed to even text or give you a call.

"I think he's not coming, huh?" Jessi stated. You shrugged. "Then if that's the case, why don't we stay over - drink and make our selves drunk like the good old days."

"Yea! Yea! It's been a while we gather like this. It's rare so let's make for it." Hoody agreed.

You automatically looked at Jessi's boyfriend and Hoody's "friend".

"Are you sure that it's fine?" you voiced out while looking at the two guys.

"Of course!" all of them said.

"Alright. Let's wait for the others to leave then." you smiled.

------

Most of your other friends headed out. They kissed their good bye's and greet you for the last time. You thanked them. Some of them mentioned their dismay not meeting "The Christian Yu", your so-called boyfriend.

You apologized and said he's busy with work.

"Okay, guys! ITS TIME TO GET WASTED!" Jessi announced and you can't help but laugh.

"Oops! I think we don't have enough booze," you said while looking at your fridge.

"Don't worry. I called Gray-Oppa to bring us some." Hoody said while waving her hand as if it was nothing. As if you and Gray wasn't your ex-boyfriend.

20 minutes later, your doorbell rang.

"Hey! Happy birthday, sexy lady." Gray said as he kissed you on your cheeks. He smiled as he raised the plastic bag containing beer cans.

You moved aside for him to walk inside. While he removed his shoes he said, "I hope you don't mind me coming, I heard he's not here." he meant Christian.

"Of course not. I'm glad you could make it."

------

"5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1! Happy Birthday (Y/N)"

Everyone make a circle, you in a middle and hugged and kissed you. You never felt so happy. Nothing beats being surrounded by genuine people on your special day.

Hours passed and most of Y'all are drunk. Jessi and his boyfriend already find their way to my spare room.

"I think I have to get going." Hoody's "friend", said while gathering his things.

"Awww." You said. You know you're already at your limit because if you are in your right mind, you're not someone who's making cute sounds or more likely flirty like your body's doing right now.

"I have things to tend to before lunch later. And if I stay, I'm not sure if I can get up early to be there," he said apologetically.

"Hoody..." you said as you tried waking her up. But it's no good, she's already drooling at your couch.

"Okay man. I'll lead you out." Gray stand up - barely. He's at his limit as well. You know it since he keeps laughing even theirs no one's saying any jokes.

"Bye. Thank you for coming!" you manage to shout while you let yourself fall on the floor, making your one arm as a pillow.

You can feel the footstep getting closer on where you at. It stopped. You heard a sighed.

"(Y/N)... get up. Let's call it a day. You'll catch a cold if you lay there for too long." Gray said.

"No. One more round!" You immediately sit up that you almost bump at Gray's head.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

You looked at your phone. It's almost 3 am and the last message you received from your boyfriend was already 24hours ago. No missed call. No midnight greeting. Not even a single text!

"I'm fucking sure. Now, open that can would you."

------

In just 4 cans, you are already laughing with Gray, like true drunks. There's even a time that Hoody throw a pillow at you because you're being too loud.

After that, Gray come closer at you and whisper something about Hoody and her so-called friend. But you didn't understand any of it because all you can focus with is how you felt when his breath landed on your ear. There is even a moment that his lips touch the tip of your ear.

When he is done and looking at you - no idea what's running in your mind. He is waiting for a reaction from you about what he just said.

You just laugh, then he looked away and you grab your phone. You text Christian. After making sure it was sent. You turned it off. You set it aside.

You looked at the man in front of you. He starts talking about something happened at his latest project. He stopped when you suddenly try standing up but failed to do it alone, so he immediately holds you to support you or rather support each of you since he barely manages to stand up as well.

The way he wraps his arms around you is more off hugging you than supporting you to stand. You felt warn all over your body.

"I'm sorry. I think I'm tired, we should go to bed." You tried to stand still. You turned to face him. You saw how red his face. Maybe it's because he's drunk. He looked at you as if memorizing every bit of your face.

You lean closer to give him a peck on his cheek to say good night. But your lips landed to his lips. It shocked the hell out of you, but you hide it inside and act as if it was nothing.

You felt his lips were about to move, so you panicked and move away from him. But before you can completely enter your room, he caught your left arm. He made you face him.

"What?" You asked.

"What? I'm the one who should ask that." He said while his other hand touches his lips. "Earlier, when your texting someone. It was for Christian, right?" You nod. "Don't tell me you just broke up with him through text? Isn't it a bit cruel?"

"Then I won't tell you." You can't help but felt embarrassed because you know that he was right. It seems that alcohol is slowly leaving your body. "Aish! I'm going to bed."

You tried pulling you arm that he was holding but Gray pulled you even closer making you bump to his chest. You looked up to see his face.

"Not unless I said so." He said then lean down to kiss you. "Cause, tonight you are mine."

[masterlist]

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