#its like 1 thirty am ignore my bullshit

[blurrymango]

He can be fixed and made worse because of Luke Skywalker. He could and should get worse and more immoral I think depravity and obsession would be good for him. Vader, Anakin, Vaderkin (and that's such a hilarious name combo innit) whichever name you put to him he's so goddamn. Yeah I can't think of a word for it sadly.

[snlhostharry]

to be determined / one

harry styles x reader friends with benefits au

soon after moving to new york, you meet harry styles at a party. you convince yourself that there’s nothing between the two of you until it becomes too intense to ignore. if you keep telling yourself that he doesn’t mean anything to you, does that make it true?

a/n: hi everyone! welcome to my first harry styles series. This originally started as a challenge for myself to try and write a harry fic inspired by taylor swift songs so that’s where the chapter titles come from, it’s kind of become something bigger than that but I figured I would keep the theme anyway 

chapter 1: welcome to new york

The story starts in New York City. 

A place written about in countless stories, about love, about heartbreak, about giving up, about standing tall, and about putting broken hearts into drawers and slamming them shut. It’s easy to say that writing another story about New York is beating a dead horse, throwing characters into the same tired old setting and letting them live out the writer's wildest daydream. But it’s never been about the city itself, it’s always been about the people. Something about the city always manages to be the perfect stomping ground for people, for characters to find each other in a  whirlwind of A list parties and harsh billboard lights. 

Speaking of which you are suddenly very sick of said harsh billboard lights in the middle of times square. As someone who has read (and written) countless articles describing times square as a flurry of activity but also with some kind of inherent magical appeal, the center of everything it’s own small utopia, you know that everyone who wrote that had to be aware of their own bullshit. It’s a nuanced way of tourist trapping, smart, albeit annoying on a variety of levels. A gimmick to get wide eyed little girls to stand in the middle of chaos and think that maybe they could carve out a place for themselves here. 

You’re not trying to carve out a place for yourself, you’re trying to get to a stupid party. That and manage to not get any mud or other stains on this very nice dress you’re wearing. After what seems like forever of looking around and then suddenly looking back down at your phone just in case anyone wanted to even try to make eye contact with you, familiar faces appear out of the sea of people. 

You greet them with a look of disappointment, “Two questions: why did you want to meet here-” a tourist elbows there way past you mid sentence, inadvertently proving your point, “-and why aren’t we just taking an uber?” 

Molly, a tall black woman with objectively perfect hair (which is somehow gorgeous at all times), smiles and pats your shoulder like a kindergarten teacher, “I thought you would want to see Times Square.”

“I’ve seen it,” You shoot back, squinting again at the bright light coming from directly behind her head, and adjusting your jacket over your shoulders. 

She squeezes your shoulder quickly, “And also to teach you that any time someone asks you to meet them in Times Square  they’re fucking with you.”

“I figured you were fucking with me,” You tell her, “But thank you, god forbid the midwestern girl gets lost in Times Square waiting for someone to meet her who is obviously not coming.” 

Molly laughs, and so do you. She looks down at her phone briefly, and then back at you, “To answer your question, why would anyone ever try to get an uber in the city at seven?” 

You shrug, “What kind of self respecting party starts at eight?” 

Fletcher, who’s name admittedly sounds like it should belong to anyone but him, finally stops staring at the large elmo mascot a few feet away and jumps into the conversation. “The kind with an age range, twenty somethings to late thirty somethings, who no longer have the energy to go from nine to six am.” 

You sigh, “So boring then or-?”

“It’s about networking,” Molly says, “And also drinking, but mostly networking.” 

“One of those unique business opportunities where you get free food, and possibly run into celebrities, singers mostly.” 

You roll your eyes, “Wow you had me at various singers.” 

“Says the woman who did an interview series with Tik Tok kids who all live in the same house,” Molly snips, half joking. 

You shiver, half from the memories of that objectively terrible experience and half from a sudden breeze. Needless to say a significant portion of the reason why you’d left LA, was because their entertainment section was suddenly drifting away from profiles on actors and towards compilations of one minute videos made by sun tanned twenty somethings that somehow made them millions a year. That and after you’d spent two weeks semi living with ten of said twenty somethings for a story that had gotten a lot of buzz you never wanted to see anyone connected to the app ever again. 

You give Molly your best ‘I’ll kill you’ smile, “You have to decide what you’re going to make fun of me for, is it the midwestern thing or is it the Tik Tok thing because one of those involves you admitting that I lived in Los Angeles for a year which means I’m perfectly capable of handling Times Square in all of it’s elmo public urinating glory.” 

Fletcher looks again at the mascot who is not in fact publicly urinating, but honestly if it did suddenly start none of you would be surprised. 

Molly looks at you for a second and says, “Both,” She looks at Fletcher. 

He looks at you then back and Molly and nods, “Yeah. Both.” 

You roll your eyes, “So can we get going now or-?” 

The ride to the location Molly had all but refused to tell you was filled with talks of the impending deadlines on Monday for pieces that were anywhere from fifty to seventy percent finished. (your’s is at the lower end of the spectrum because there is only so much one person can write about an art installation that you found less insightful and more literal in the sense that the sculpture was literally just large amounts of clay pressed together in something that shouldn’t even be considered a shape with no metaphor or meaning behind it). 

Soon enough you’re standing in what looks like mostly a residential neighborhood, with one precariously nice building in the middle of the block. You turn to Molly, “What the-?” 

“Don’t finish that, just be patient,“ She interrupts as a response. “You are very impatient, you know that?”

“I’m a journalist,” You say, “I need to know all of the facts, including what the-” You take a breath, “-heck we’re doing in the middle of a nice little neighborhood, I was expecting something more Gossip Girland Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“You’re definition of journalist is a lot looser than mine,” Molly says.

“Have you ever watched Gossip Girl? And isn’t Brooklyn Nine-Nine set in a precinct?” Fletcher adds. 

“No, and Jake and Amy live in an apartment.” 

“Beyond the fact that you’re a TV writer who has never watched Gossip Girl-” Fletcher sighs, even though you know he hasn’t watched it either beyond random snippets for a hit piece he wrote on it a few months back (not received well by the way), “The top floor of that building-” He points to the precariously nice building, “isn’t apartments its a loft, the floor is huge and only one house.” 

You squint your eyes, “You’re kidding.”

“And the rest are offices?” 

“How did they get zoning for that?” 

They both shrug at the same time. 

“Guys I want to know that if the police bust up this party, speaking of loose terms, I’m going to say that you dragged me here against my will.” 

“I always knew you had good survival instincts.” 

Molly turns to you, “Look when you’re getting special press access to the inside of the met gala you will be saying thank you Molly for bringing me here to catapult my career.” 

“I have catapulted my own career thank you, the Tik Tok thing-” You shake your head, “Nevermind can we go in and stop loitering, then we’ll really get arrested.” 

Party is a loose term but you learn that's not necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a rager with strobe lights and pumping bass but there is music playing albeit classical. People mill around at tables talking to one another, both twenty somethings and thirty somethings, you recognize a few faces from the media mostly. Fletcher was right about the food, and Molly was right about the drinks. You talk to a few people just to introduce yourself, a couple of them have heard of you, if only because your sudden cross country move to newspapers that aren’t necessarily competitors but might have a bit of a rivalry was something that people talked about. You’d made a couple thirty under thirty lists (no not the Forbes one) while in LA, which meant nothing to you if you were being completely honest but apparently meant things to other people which is fine.

When you’re finally exhausted at putting on a smile and nodding like you’re actively engaged in conversation and not thinking about something completely you hang out by the bar, not even drinking, just watching the room and all of the people there. You never wanted to get a reputation for being the quiet girl in the corner who just watched and listened because those kinds of people are always seen as weird or doormats or both but if you’re being honest this is where you’re the most comfortable. Making small talk just to get some opportunity down the road has never quite been your style. 

You turn to go and find Molly when you suddenly come face to face with someone you recognise right away. 

In that moment you realize that Taylor Swift was in fact onto something when she said, “Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me?” As weird as it is, the first thing you think when you meet Harry Styles is how that song is definitely about him, because those green eyes are striking and they are staring right at you. 

“Hi,” He says, quick to the draw. 

You take a step back just because of how close you are and say, “Hello.” 

He looks at you like he’s thinking about something, and then holds out his hand, “Harry.” 

“y/n,” You shake his hand. You recover from your initial shock quickly, and plaster on that fake conversation smile again, ready for whatever it is he wants to say, if anything. You came here to ‘network’ and you’re not sure what kind of advantage talking to Harry Styles could possibly give you, but for some reason you want to talk to him. 

“What brings you here?” He asks you. 

“My co-workers,” You shrug, “I would much rather be at home watching Succession on HBO and listening to the Beatles on my record player, like true people of culture would.”

He looks at you for a second, as you try to keep a straight face. Then he laughs, “Seriously?”

“Fuck no,” You say, “That’s my impression of the girl who meets Harry Styles at a party and has to convince him that she is not like all the other girls, she is the one for him.” You smile, “Was that good? Or should I try again?” 

He thinks about it, “I think you should try again.” 

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you think I’m funny?”

“What do you think?”

“Well if you think I’m funny, then I’ve already won, I’ve tricked you into thinking that I’m not like all the other girls with reverse psychology .”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Of course I’m screwing with you,” You take a sip of your drink. “If I were home right now I would be playing Lizzo on my record player, and drinking something with a medically unsafe level of caffeine.” You pause, “What brings you here?” 

“Honestly,” He looks out over the room, “I thought that this was going to be a much cooler party. Instead it’s just a bunch of reporters, and editors and media people.” 

“Who are inherent mood killers?” You ask. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Am I allowed to say yes to that?” 

“You can do whatever you want,” You tease him, “You’re Harry Styles, who am I to tell you what to say?” 

“I feel like it was a trick question, which means that you are also a reporter.” 

You laugh again, “That was funny, I’m going to write that down for my story. ‘Harry is genuinely funny which he tries to use to make up for the lack of small talk abilities’.”

“You’re screwing with me again.” 

“Of course I am,” You say, “I work in the arts section of the Times, well not the actual art anymore but the movies and television.” 

“TV critic?” He says, “So you’re harsh.” 

“TV critics are just harsh for attention, I don’t need to be because no movie snob or well meaning director is going to go to the Times to see what we thought of any given movie. I write honestly, sometimes under the influence of caffeine and try to contain my excitement at narratively unnecessary plot twists.” You explain, “That and I get paid to watch TV, and usually private screenings of movies.” 

He leans against the bar a sign that he doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon. You’re not going to say that you’re so awestruck by a celebrity that you have no idea what to say, or that he’s intimidating you but your hand shakes just a little as you clutch your fingers around the glass because he’s objectively attractive. Objectively attractive in the way that if he were on a dating app you would swipe yes and then put a lot of pressure on yourself to be funny and relatable even though you know that you don’t need him. 

“What did you think of Dunkirk?” 

“Oh!” You forgot that he acted, “That was before my time. I was working at the LA Times doing the music section then I think.” You know what he’s going to say next, “And before you ask yes there is a piece still posted of me reviewing your debut album. I think I reached out to get an interview with you, but I was suspiciously declined.” He looks embarrassed, “I was like under five years out of college I would’ve declined me too. They only gave me the story because it was the time where people weren’t sure that ex boyband members could make objectively good albums that meant something.” 

He tilts his head to the side for a second, “And? Can they?”

“I’m in no place to make a generalization,” You say, “But I think you did. Admittedly that album was something, very intimate.” 

“I don’t know if I should be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t want to give you a compliment because some people have a hard time with them, and this will get very awkward very fast. No shame, personally I have no mechanism to take compliments on my writing.” 

He laughs, “I think I can take it.” 

“Hmm.. okay,” You take another step back, “Okay are you sure you're ready?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think the entire album was very good, very unexpectedly good or at least I didn’t expect it to be. It was very open in that way that songs are vulnerable but still leave enough mystery that your fans don’t think you're a shitty person and I really like meet me in the hallway,” You say quickly, “In fact I listened to it just yesterday when I was working.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and then fake sighs, “See I don’t think that counts because it was more of a backhanded compliment.” 

“What?”

“You said you didn’t expect it to be good, that’s not really a compliment then-”

“I was saying it pleasantly surprised me,” You say, throwing your hands in the air in mock annoyance. “You surprise me, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything, and for a minute neither do you, but you snap back to life just in time to say, “Is that compliment enough to embarrass you?” 

He shrugs, but you know he’s messing with you. “It’s something but I don’t know if it’s really doing it for me.” 

“You are impossible, just another out of touch celebrity, is nothing ever good enough for you people?” It’s by now that you realize that you inadvertently closed the gap between the two of you, and you’re standing very close. 

He seems to realize this at the same time as you, “I-”

“Are you going to ask me to have sex with you?” You deadpan. 

“What?” He looks offended for a second, “No.” 

“I had to ask,” You tell him, “It’s happened before.” 

“I was going to ask you for your number.”

“See usually when a guy asks me that they’re asking so-” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then what’s it for?” 

He looks at you with something in his eyes that you don’t know the meaning of, “In case you want to do an interview, so that they don’t reject you this time.” 

You know that’s not it, but you give it to him anyway because he’s Harry Styles (which yes is not a valid reason but this ‘party’ is very boring and this is the most interesting thing to happen to you in at least the past week). It takes you a minute to remember which one is your real number and which one is the fake number you give off if a guy is asking because he wants a booty call, but you eventually give it to him. Then you scurry off with a quick goodbye when you realize how late it is, and how you do have work to do. There’s a new episode of Big Little Lies out tomorrow and you don’t understand why but people are very into the show, and very into your episode recaps. 

You corner Molly away from some guy you think might have actually been able to get her press access to the Met Gala and remind her that she also has a deadline tomorrow. The two of you go off to look for Fletcher and find him very close to sealing the deal with an objectively pretty girl, but you politely remind him that he has work to do and is very busy. The girl looks sad but let’s him go without much whining. You would’ve understood if she tried to get him to stay with her, he’s a little bit shorter than Molly but to be fair Molly is above averagely tall, and is nice and fit and has brown curly hair which you know from personal experience is sometimes just kryptonite. (you’ve kissed Fletcher before, long story, and can also say he’s on your top list of good kissers as well right up there with a guy you hooked up with in LA only to realize later that he was Robert Pattinson). 

Somehow the three of you are only able to make it back to your apartment. So the night ends with Molly and Fletcher in the living room on the couch and in a sleeping bag respectively, and you are comfortably in your bed. Your phone sits on your nightstand, suspiciously silent. You’re not waiting for Harry Styles to call you, nope, definitely not. 

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Allotrope

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Warnings: one night stand smut? It gets angsty and fluffy and more smutty as the plot continues. Chapter 1 Words: 9k.

The first time you met him, you knew who he was.

Or rather, you thought you knew.

You knew him as a leader of a group of younger brothers. A teller of Dad Jokes and generous giver to his members. A man who knew just how devastatingly handsome he was but somehow, didn’t let it go to his head.

You knew him only as Suho, not Kim Junmyeon. He told you as much during your first conversation.

You tried to prove him wrong. He wanted to hope you were right.

A typical Friday night. Where most might consider the hour ‘late’, you thrived. Nearly eleven thirty as your feet worked quickly and gracefully, weaving between other staff members. Friday nights had a love hate relationship with you.

You loved them because it was the easiest night to make bank, with the wealthy coming out of the woodwork to perch themselves daintily at the best restaurants in the city. You made good money working here any night, but you could easily walk away with a few hundred more on Fridays. Especially during the holidays.

You hated them because with the wealthy came the pompous, and you hated their attitudes. Too entitled to care how busy you are with your life and assuming that just because you work in a restaurant, you’re never going to amount to anything. The degree you’re so busy finishing when you’re not waiting tables will mean nothing.

If they weren’t pompous, they were egotistical. Men and women, all too giving with attention and cheesy, whispered promises of a good time that made you swallow bile and cringe. They paid well, but the money always felt gross.

As a veteran, having worked this gig the entire duration of your college career thus far, the celebrities didn’t phase you anymore. You were not here for them.

The giddy excitement of greenhorn servers working high profile tables is what set them sinking before they knew it. It went to their head. Not for you. It was dull enough that you simply did the job. That isn’t to say you didn’t generally enjoy the atmosphere when you served someone famous that was a decent human being. Sometimes they would tell you how much they enjoyed you treating them like they weren’t famous, too.

They appreciated how real you were, and you appreciated that they said so. You always tried to see that there is more to people than what they showed on the surface.

Why tonight was any different wasn’t something you had been expecting. When your manager came to you about a group of idols coming to dine in thirty minutes, nothing was nothing new. It wasn’t unusual for larger groups to ask for a private space, which your restaurant could certainly accommodate.

The time of their arrival was just the same as every other. You had hosted and served many groups over the years, but couldn’t ever really recall serving EXO. Perhaps, if they had dined here at all, it was while you were away.

With a fellow veteran and your closest friend, you greeted them. Easily, they appeared tired but happy, wearing comfortable oversized sweatshirts and athletic pants. Various hats or none at all adorned their heads, and their masks were removed once they finally settled into their seats.

Their manager sounded kind, apologizing in advance for any trouble the rowdy men may cause prior to taking his seat at the staff table in the room. You assured it was no trouble at all and got to work.

As someone heavily influenced by music, you knew who they were. You might even say you were a fan, but not die hard. Being a die hard fan lost its glimmer when you’ve been disappointed often enough in how little humanity is left in too high a percentage of people with just as much money and power as them.

So why did this feel different? Not unpleasant, but a persistent buzz in the back of your head making you pay more attention to them. Their leader, stage named Suho, was lounging at one corner of the table, fingers tapping lazily at his temple while he watched his younger brothers taking jibes at one another with a smile so fond it made you look twice.

He didn’t seem to notice and you carried on, bringing their copious drinks and appetizers. The largest one, Chanyeol alone seemed to devour an entire plate of wings before asking you politely for another with stars in his eyes.

When their meals arrived, Junmyeon looked up to your face with a phrase of polite thanks on his tongue, but it seemed to die as his brows rose and then his forehead creased.

You caught the way Sehun snickered beside him. Something funny you weren’t attuned to. Fearing embarrassment, you ignored them, briskly completing the delivery of their meals.

Taking Soohyun, your partner, by the arm, you turned away.

“Is there something on my face? In my teeth?”

He frowned, brow furrowing deeply as he leaned around to look at your face more critically, inspecting further when you showed him your pearly whites.

“No.”

“Oh.” The air was pregnant with words you didn’t say.

He laughed a bit at your response, “Why are you frowning suddenly?”

You huffed, tapping the end of your pen against your lips, “Just confused. Junmyeon acted like there was something on my face when I set his food down. Sehun laughed, too.”

“Y/N.” he said sternly.

You didn’t bother to look at him, instead losing yourself in your thoughts and absentmindedly checking your watch.

“Hey.” he said again, gently shoving his elbow into your arm and laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Don’t hit me, okay?”

Rolling your eyes, you placed you hands on your hips and raised a brow at him.

He sighed in defeat, “I don’t think he expected someone so pretty.”

The sound of your garbled revolt at his pure and utter bullshit was loud enough to make one or two pairs of smokey eyes flick toward you curiously. The two more observant of the group, Minseok and Kyungsoo, turned their eyes back to their meals after briefly meeting yours to confirm nothing was wrong.

“I’m serious, Y/N! You’re very pretty, almost too pretty.” Soohyun said.

He deserved the playful punch to his ribs, “Thanks for the backhanded compliment.”

The older man only continued laughing. Having your answer that it was in fact, not you, approaching the table again was normal.

You took a second Soju order for Chanyeol and Baekhyun, but a cool finger stopped you before you could leave. Normally, you would feel upset that someone physically touched you without asking. Something about the gentle touch sent a shock up your arm. Something warm and light and peaceful and not gross at all.

“Um, excuse me.”

You whirled, finding the man who had lost his words earlier staring up at you kindly.

“What can I get for you Mr. Kim?” you asked politely, pen at the ready against your leather notepad. You put on your best air of nonchalance.

He paused briefly, “You know who I am?” he inquired.

You nodded, “You’re Kim Junmyeon.”

Simple, was the way you said it. As if that were the truth and the only truth that mattered to him. The stare he fixed you with was unusual, and you couldn’t place the intent of its depth.

He recovered, dropping the intensity and falling into his charm, “Don’t you mean to say Suho?”

You were not here to take the bait, but you took it anyway. Something in his smile told you he was genuinely interested in your answer.

“Well, Suho is part of who you are as a whole. As Junmyeon.”, you clarified with a pout.

He nodded, sweeping a hand through his hair. He challenged you, “I see, I see...”

Immediately you took that as a bad sign, “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

His eyes snapped back to yours and holding the warmth of his stare was easier than looking even your parents in the eyes.

“Not at all, but I’m afraid you only know Suho. Not Junmyeon.” His tone was teasing.

What were you supposed to say to that? It would be too easy to agree, but you didn’t do easy.

“Everyone can have their own opinions. Agree to disagree.”

He laughed. Genuinely, he barked out and it touched his eyes. Enough that Sehun turned away from his food to watch.

“Fair enough. I’m sorry I’ve kept you from work. I’ll let you get back to it.”

“My work is to serve you right now, so I think you’re fine.” you assured with an honest smile of your own. Nothing about his presence or demeanor set your alarms off. You had never experienced someone with this much influence that didn’t give you alarms of ulterior motives.

With that, you parted to take care of the drink orders several of his members had placed.

The next hour continued on this way. Taking care of their tables with Soohyun by bringing drinks and Chanyeol’s endless love and appetite for chicken. The louder boys, the Beagle line, were all several drinks in and entertaining the table.

It might be a white lie to say their antics were not also entertaining to you whenever you were present, but the way Junmyeon kept catching your eyes with his own was quickly taking over your down time at their table.

Now, you liked to think yourself someone who enjoys others company. You’re a consenting adult and have had your fair share of experiences, both good and bad, both relationships and one night stands because you understand that your life is incredibly busy and you deserve to have some fun.

However, you had never considered even entertaining the idea of sleeping with someone you met on the job. You had never met someone who’s advances were not ultimately unappealing or downright creepy while being here. It was quite strange, how natural it felt. How obvious it was that he seemed to be struggling to put this gravitational pull into proper thought as well.

There was something trusting and warm about the way he watched you.  Almost protective, like the guardian angel his name was true to. The way he appreciated your presence was tender and not exactly unwelcome. Perhaps a bit unexpected, but you didn’t mind it. He would go on his way once he and his members were finished dining anyway and then you might never cross paths again.

You were aware Junmyeon was extremely smart. Smart enough to realize it was going on one thirty and the restaurant patrons were dying off. Smart enough to let you catch his subtle tells. Tells such as you watching him chewing his lip while he looked up what time your establishment closed with his phone on the table.

Tells such as the way he seemed to lean toward you or ask you specifically if he needed something but respecting you enough not to touch. Anything to engage you specifically in conversation. Tells such as the way his eyes seemed to bore into you from across the room, or the way he visibly bristled when Jongdae a little too obviously checked you out from across the table while you took an order for cake from Yixing.

You noted he hadn’t had a drop of liquor the entire night. Opting for water through the meal and hot tea toward the end. Happily shocked, you smiled delightfully when he snuck out his black card and handed it to you, asking if you would please put their bill on it.

When his members whooped and hollered with thanks to him, he took it well. He didn’t do it for show. He did it to treat his brothers as an act of love.

You returned his card with the leather fold for him to sign, smiling. “That was kind of you.”

His charming, joking smile appeared again, quirking a brow at you and letting his fingers intentionally touch yours during the pass of the leather booklet.

“Kind of who?” he asked with a raised brow, the index finger of his free hand rubbing across his bottom lip.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you answered, “I suppose of Suho. I thought you said I didn’t know Junmyeon.”

He smirked at you, nodding in acquiesce.

Parting from him, you began to clear the remaining dishes. The group began getting up, stretching and putting on coats with whines of content fullness and protest at having to move. Proclamations of how tired they were, drooping eyes and full stomachs. A few with their arms draped around one another in camaraderie as they began to file out.

Just as you returned from the kitchen to collect more dishes, they began to say their thanks and goodbyes, following some of their staff out of the room. You bowed to each and every one of them with thanks and the normal phrases to kindly please return.

Sehun and Suho were the last of the line, with Sehun not having said a word more than he had to. Junmyeon on the other hand, with half of a smirk tucked into his cheek, thanked you directly as he left. His eyes, that rich deep brown, bore into yours with something that made you blush. Something that insinuated it wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

Soohyun collected the check from their table and told you that he would see off the remaining table of their staff while you cleared a bus bin of dishes.

The moment you turned the corner, Soohyun came rushing into the kitchen nearly on your heels.

“Uh, I think this was meant for you.” he coughed, clearing his throat and holding the receipt toward you.

Written on the back were six simple words that sent you into a fit. You noted how pretty his handwriting was.

‘Would you like to find out?’

You flubbered for words, opening your mouth several times but nothing came out. Heat poured from every orifice on your face and you looked at Soohyun with wild eyes.

“He-”

Soohyun laughed, thick arms folded across his thicker chest, “I know.”

“And I-”

“Deserve to have some fun.” he finished for you, leaning his torso forward and locking eyes with you.

The face he was making at you was nothing but sincere and absolutely serious. You were frozen.

“Their manager is waiting for your answer. Go ahead if you want, I can finish up.”

You sat for a moment, thinking. You were still unnerved a bit, distracted by the way you’ve been rendered so completely shaken by the feel of Junmyeon’s stare. As if he were still staring into you. Underneath the feeling of being shaken, most noticeably was the lukewarm feeling you shouldn’t do this because it gets tricky with famous anyones.

Below even that layer, burning like magma beneath the Earth’s surface, was the pure want for him. You were at a loss, trying to remember when the last time was you desired someone so greatly. How badly and how long it has been since you’ve given in to your basic needs.

“Should I?” you ask Soohyun, and his reaction tells you he wasn’t expecting you to hesitate.

He smiled again, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, “I think you should do whatever you want to and not regret it.”

You glared at him, “That’s not helpful, and shouldn’t you be more protective of me? You’re practically my big brother! Shouldn’t you be upset and telling me he’s a creep?”

At your admission, Soohyun laughed. He often laughed at things. “While most of the time that’s how I feel, I think we both know this time was different. I’ve never seen you so comfortable and electric with someone like that, famous or not.”

The weight in your gut lifted. He was right. Soohyun was typically your go-to friend when you wanted to go out and get drunk and maybe take someone home. He was there to have his own good time, but he always watched your back and got you out of uncomfortable situations.

“Just be safe, and text me when you get home.” he clarified with serious eyes.

“Thank you for this.” you whispered to him before turning to walk back into the private dining room.

True to what Soohyun said, their manager was loitering awkwardly by the door, his attention snapped to you the moment you whirled back around the corner and into view.

“So, how does this work?” you asked, rubbing your arm and looking away. The sound of your own voice made you cringe.

The manager chuckled lightly, “Well, I don’t really know. None of them do this kind of thing very much, if ever.”

You balched at him, “Really?”

He smiled at you, nodding, “Really.”

“Okay, so...” you trailed off, almost more apprehensive. Was he just saying that or was that really the case?

“I think the best way, is to give you my cell number. We go our own ways, assuming you’re leaving work now. When you’re ready, come to this hotel,” he handed you a card before continuing, “and when you get there, text me and take the main elevator to the seventeenth floor.”

“Oh.” you voiced, “That sounds reasonable enough.”

The manager smiled again, “I think it goes without saying that you have to keep this to yourself and anything that happens involving Suho, correct? Lest there be legal matters.” You could tell he didn’t mean it maliciously, but he has to say it to protect his idols. He seemed like a good man with only EXO’s best interests in mind.

“Absolutely.”

“Great. I’ll take my leave then.” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and smiling at you kindly, “Thank you again for taking care of them here. I know they can be chaotic.”

“Oh, I don’t think they were at all!” you chimed pleasantly.

The manager’s face flashed with something sly he wanted to say but instead he chewed the inside of his cheek and said nothing when he left.

_______________________________

Just a little over an hour later, you were nervous as ever when you heard the elevator ping loudly, opening it’s smooth metal doors to the seventeenth floor. The hall was fairly quiet, sans for the ice machine humming in the vending machine niche a few paces down.

A door opened somewhere down the long hallway and you recognized the familiar figure of a middle aged man walking calmly toward you. He had since changed into something more comfortable, wearing a hoodie, sweat pants and socks.

You felt awkward as you stood there in your leggings and oversized sweater and the discreet overnight bag strap suddenly felt like it was digging unbearably into your shoulder.

Your hair was still half wet from your shower, dangling loosely around your shoulders, and you shifted from foot to foot, deciding at the last moment to move toward him. Your were tremoring with every step. Luckily, you could blame it on the cold. “Good evening, miss Y/N.” he said quietly.

“Good evening.” you returned with a small bow.

Further down the hallway a door opened and pretty, boyish laughter you remember hearing a lot at their dinner table rang out before it was promptly slammed shut again.

The manager sighed, closing his eyes momentarily and you stifled a small giggle, the easiest way for you to release some nervous energy. Your trembling fingers remained hidden beneath the paws of your sweater.

“You seem nervous.” he said flatly once the noise ceased, his hands stuffed into the front hoodie pocket.

You smiled, but didn’t try to lie, “I don’t do this much either. It’s always a nervous experience.”

“It’s not because he is a celebrity?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity. He squinted at you, adjusting his glasses, as if your answer would be his judgement of your person.

Lying never got you anywhere. You did your best to always be honest, “With all due respect, I see famous, rich people whenever I work. He isn’t any different in that regard. But most of those people...” you trailed off and looked to the floor as if the words you couldn’t find might have been written there.

“I’ve learned to be a pretty scary judge of character. Junmyeon didn’t give me any of the alarms I usually get from people who possess the same power he does.”

The manager nodded, his lower lip protruding slightly at your remarks.

“I think you’re in pretty good hands then. His room is this way.” You must have been given his seal of approval.

He turned, leading you back down the corridor with the dimmed hallway lights to room number one seven two three.

Before he knocked for you, he cleared his throat, “So if you need anything I’m right there.” twisting to point to a door two rooms down and across the hall.

“Have fun, okay? He’s a good guy.” came his whispered goodbye, swiftly knocking on the door with two firm raps before turning to make his way back to his own room.

You watched him go, and just as the manager’s door closed, the one in front of you opened.

A waft of warm steam gently passed you, catching your attention to see the bathroom was just inside the room, wide open with the light on. Standing right in front of you was Junmyeon.

His hair was wet but combed back and to the side, and he was shirtless. That was all you could assess before he was quickly but smoothly dragging you inside so he could close the door, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry.” you muttered, eyes glued to the floor. You liked to think you could work through your nerves pretty well but the warmth that spread up your arm from where he had your wrist was making it difficult not to lock up.

He smiled prettily, “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to be sorry for anything, okay?”

Slowly, your eyes climbed back up from the floor, starting from the tiny dark spot on the carpet where his hair had just dripped.

You noted, much to your liking, that he wasn’t wearing anything more than an untied pair of fitted sweats. There was a towel around his shoulders. Making eye contact again must have assured him in some way that you weren’t going to run.

He moved away, “Make yourself comfortable, I’m just finishing up.” The towel became a frenzy at the back of his head while he scrunched it over and over, trying to soak up the moisture.

Removing your shoes while you observed him going back to the bathroom, it dawned on you. The back of his neck and his ears were red. You weren’t the only one who was nervous.

It made you laugh, in a burst a bit too loud, considering the buzz of the music he was playing was far too quiet to elicit such a reaction.

The light in the bathroom flicked off just as he emerged, a boyish grin tucked into his cheek, “What’s so funny?”

You let yourself sit on the bed, rubbing your face with both hands, “Nothing.”

He wasn’t having it, laughing gently along with your smile, “Oh come on, I feel like I’m missing out.”

Junmyeon was stepping closer now, standing and looking down at you with a soft smile that put a crease in his eyes.

“It’s just... it feels ridiculous to be nervous about this. I was taught that laughter is best for combating nerves.”

“Hm,” Junmyeon hummed, “Whoever told you that must be very wise.”

A tiny pang of sadness flickered across your face before it disappeared, “He was.”

Junmyeon caught on immediately, his smile fading to watch you intently, stepping closer still.

“Who?”

You smiled up at him, “My Dad.”

You had to admit, part of Junmyeon’s charm was how attentive he was to others empathetically. Instead of being unnerved about it, you felt as if his ability to see into you was a source of warmth and comfort. He never looked away from your face.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his fingers hesitantly reaching to tap against the top of your thighs softly.

Your smile broadened, “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

There was a pause where you watched his fingers quietly, tapping innocently against the tops of your legs to the beat of the music.

“Y/N.” he called you, and it was beautiful hearing him say it so pleasantly.

“There are a few things I want you to understand, but it is best that I tell you directly instead of it coming to you through my manager.”

You froze up, immediately thinking something bad, “Okay.”

He looked down at you, leaving his fingers splayed against your leggings but no longer moving, “First, let me say I never do this kind of thing. I don’t have the time to get involved with it, let alone attend to my own needs. There’s a lot riding on my shoulders and it’s just really getting to me and I wasn’t really looking for anything like this but you just came out of nowhere and I-”

You put a finger up to his lips, “Junmyeon, stop. It’s okay, I get it. Me, too.” You were giggling again.

He sighed, taking your hand in his from his lips and holding it.

“That leads me to the next thing I wanted to say. You are in no way required to do anything. Just because I asked you to come here and we’re intending to r-release some... frustration, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he quipped, brows knitted together again.

His skin was painted in a pretty blush. Your eyes remained glued to him, fascinated in watching it slowly creep down his neck. It pained you to look away from his abs when you replied.

“I appreciate that. I suppose what I’d like to say is we’re both adults and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I’ll admit I don’t do this often either, between work and class I don’t have the time to pay attention to my own needs.”

Your smile was wistful as you spoke, and Junmyeon with his thumb, caressed the back of your hand he was still holding.

“I think it’s pretty obvious there is mutual attraction. We’re just acting on it.” he murmured against your palm. You swallowed thickly, nodding.

Something heavy festered between you as the last of the words faded away with finality. Subtly, the hand remaining on your thigh tightened it’s grip, your knees touching against his legs.

Junmyeon looked at you with that penetrating stare again, but your light melted his gaze into a different kind of intense. You stood your ground by focusing on how nice you thought he smelled, fresh from his shower.

“So what is there for us to be nervous about?” he whispered, taking the advantage you gave him to step closer by inching your legs apart for him.

His face was close and you could smell his mouth wash. You realized he was waiting for an answer.

You tilted your head toward him, your lips barely breathing the word ‘nothing’ before he was on you.

He placed your hand against his chest and it felt as if you were touching the Sun. His skin was scorching beneath your fingers, the delicate blush still blooming across him like a rosy sunset.

His mouth felt warm, balmy. Wonderful yet cautious. He was taking his time, just sampling your lips slowly, gently, perhaps waiting for you to stop him. Inwardly you might cringe at how awkward this was. As if it were a first kiss with a crush playing seven minutes in heaven during a high school party. Except... it didn’t feel like that at all. You were both experienced, only new with one another.

A new song came on his shuffle and you both smiled, nearly laughing into each other’s mouths when you recognized it as one of his own songs.

You took the opportunity to separate from him, hauling the strap of your bag over your shoulder. He politely took it from you and placed it on the chair near the foot of the bed before coming right back to you.

Not so hesitantly this time he stepped into you against the bed, pulling your thighs around him. Every touch seemed to quell the strength of this force between you. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but you felt better touching him than not. There was no awkward placement of hands upon one another’s body like a virgin experience would be.

His kiss was passionate this time. Slower, but deeper, with his brow furrowed, he tried to find what you liked and you stumbled through finding a pace and a style that you both liked. Not too much teeth or tongues. He pulled your lip gently between his and the tiny sound of surprise from you fueled him further.

Making out, let alone kissing, was never perfect between a pair for the first time, and your head was swimming with how attentive he was to figure out how you liked to be kissed. What made you breathless. You hoped he could feel you were trying to do the same for him.

The tame swipe of your tongue against his lip created the opportunity to go further, tangling his tongue with yours in such a way that pulled a quiet moan from his chest. Now you were getting somewhere, just feeling and not thinking.

Junmyeon’s hands were urging you backwards, up the bed. He almost smacked your nose with his forehead trying to keep connected, kissing you while he climbed onto the plush linens after you.

He smiled, mumbling an apology while extending one well sculpted arm toward you, catching your leg and leaning over you. He sank down, dark eyes trained on you lips.

Your legs automatically separated to make room for him. He pulled the one in his grasp up to his hip while you let the other match it.

The feeling of his erection pressing into your center sent a soft moan from your lips. His own, plush and red from kisses activity dropping open and his forehead creasing.

“Junmyeon.” you whined. You hated to admit it, but kissing was always one of your favorite things. With any partner, if they were a good kisser, you were putty in their hands.

“Huh?” he cooed, trying his not to show you how much this affected him, too. You were just two people who had neglected your needs for far too long. Two people who were doing something about it. Two people who conveniently had a free schedule for the next six or more hours.

You said nothing in return, instead pulling him down to have his lips working against yours again. Taking note how he nearly purred with your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck, you tugged delicately.

It only seemed to fuel Junmyeon further, shuffling closer on his knees and adjusting the angle to roll his hips against you.

You moaned against his mouth, that felt too good. An explicit pleasure to you both, he did it a second time, moving his lips to your neck to stutter out a groan.

“Can I take this off, please?” he begged, fisting the huge sweater surrounding you. He seemed personally offended by it clearly wanting to be in the way instead of where he thought it belonged, on the floor.

Before he pulled it up, he checked with you, and it made your heart flutter at his kindness. He was making sure you both felt like equals in this space, even if sharing this kind of thing was temporary.

Junmyeon helped you to sit up, taking the hem of the pink sweater and pulling it over your head. He was too busy tossing it toward your bag to notice what you were up to. His eyes were wide but in awe when he turned back to you with one arm twisted behind your back.

Then suddenly you’re sliding the black fabric down your arms and tossing it away, only to throw yourself back down against the soft bed. Junmyeon was lost, with his eyes hooded and his tongue poking out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

“You’re so pretty.” he commented, letting one palm slide up from your hip over your stomach and further still, catching the underside of one breast and giving it a moderate squeeze.

You relished in the attention he gave them, leaning his head down to lick. You hissed through your teeth when he pulled back slightly to blow coolly against the wetness he left behind. The soothing relief of his molten mouth against it was immediate and he made you arch into his face further when he brought his other hand to your side and ran his fingers teasingly over your ribs.

He couldn't help the groan spilling from his lips when you put your hands in his hair again and ground your hips up into his. He switched his attention to your neglected nipple, biting before releasing it, smacking the flesh of your breast lightly, in awe as it bounced softly.

You hissed, “Ow, you bit too hard.” with a pout, which he promptly kissed away.

“I’m sorry.” Junmyeon whispered, a sheepish grin splitting his lips.

It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t unpleasant. With a hand gripping your hip tightly, the dark haired man rolled into you further, emitting a growl that only fueled him to grind harder against you by your soft moans.

Your fingernails scraped down his scalp and further, across the top of his back as far as you could reach.

“Fuck.” driped from his lips in a strained voice and you blushed, certain the word has never sounded so sexy to your ears.

He released your breast, too focused on the attention you were giving one another through your clothing. His brows were knitted together again, lips open prettily as he sat up to pull your hips flush against his crotch.

“I can feel how hot you are even through all these layers.” he purred, fingers tracing down your center but avoiding where you wanted him most.

All you did was whine in response, instead reaching out to dip your fingertips into the band of his sweats.

He moaned, “You want it?”

“I want you.” was your reply, biting your lip and running your fingers over his abs appreciatively. His stomach twitched beneath your butterfly fingers.

He grinned, cocking a brow, “Want who? Suho? Junmyeon?”

You grinned back at him, “Whichever one is going to let me take all his stress away.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he began, understanding painting his face, “I don’t think I’ll last enough for that right now, but I’d really like to taste you.” The moan that left you at his words alone whipped a wolfish smile onto his face.

He broke away to move off the bed briefly. Pulling a box of condoms from a convenience store bag, he set them on the night stand before curling a finger at you with a smile.

You were awash with lust as you watched him, unmoving until his voice, gravely with want, broke you from your reverie.

“C’mere.” he plead.

Finally, you obliged him, moving to lay at the side of the bed. Your hips rose easily to aid him in removing your leggings, your panties right along with them, and Junmyeon was moaning before your legs were even free of them.

He sunk to his knees, his warm palms gentle but firm in their parting of your thighs for him. You mildly protested, fighting him just a little because you could and you wanted to.

“Sweetheart... please. I can practically taste you from here, don’t tease me.” he asked, laying his cheek against your folded knees.

You laughed, loosening your muscles to let him have you. He took his time, and somehow, you found you were not surprised. Everything about him was gentle and sweet, even for a one night stand. He was not overly eager just to get himself off, and the thought sent heated butterflies through you unexpectedly. You couldn't imagine him being anything but wonderful to anyone he shared a bed with, no matter how long.

His lips were pressing chaste kisses against your inner thigh and you gasp when his fingers were suddenly there, slowly running through your folds. You whimpered, hearing him speak something softly but not sure of the words.

Junmyeon hummed happily at the feeling of your arousal so easily coating his fingers. He used two skillfully, parting you and running the flat of his tongue up to your clit.

Your body melted and a cry sprung from your chest. His assault was not slow, lapping at your nerves and living off of the sounds you were emitting, put on a platter for his delightful tongue to indulge upon.

He twisted his wrist, slowly sinking one finger into your heat and you absolutely keened. The coil in your abdomen tightening suddenly and you were panting out “Yes, please, more.” before you even thought about the words.

A dark chuckle reached your ears from between your legs and  Junmyeon fingered you with just the right amount of curl to his fingertips. Somewhere in your pleasured bliss, the thought that he was in no way even moderately inexperienced floats in your mind. It wasn't your place to care, but you were glad that he knew what he was doing.

The sound of his mouth on you had you inching closer and closer to paradise already. He pulled his hand back and slowly concentrated on adding a second, pleased to find you were ready enough to take both easily.

“Such a good girl.” he praised, sucking your clit harshly.

You cursed, “Junmyeon...” You were hyper-aware that your face was on fire. Is it even possible to feel yourself blushing in your eyeballs?

You could feel him smile against your core, his hair mussed from your fingers. He hummed in response, increasing his pace just to hear you whine loudly.

“So close, Junmyeon...” you huffed, your thighs on either side of his head beginning to tremble. You felt impossibly tight, abdomen curling in on itself with your fist in the linens at your side.

The handsome man between your legs never stopped, only pausing to praise you further when he feels your walls beginning to tighten around his fingers, “That’s it. Come on, sweetheart.”

It was all it took when he stood up and braced one arm on the bed to lean over you. His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit and the awed expression on his face put you over the edge.

Your voice was a mixture of a cry and a moan, teeth clenched and thighs quaking. Your hand reached out, clasping around his forearm and holding on while his fingers worked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck you’re so fucking pretty when you come.” he growled, kissing the side of your neck and nipping at the flesh.

Once you relaxed, he pulled his fingers from you and watched his own hand with rapt fascination until you broke him from his thoughts.

“Junmyeon...” you cooed, a happy smile on your lips. “Want you,” you clarified when he looked up at you.

“Good girls get what they want. How can I deny you when you say my name like that?” he said, cocking one eyebrow at you and yanking his own pants to the ground.

You had seen your fair share of nicely shaped men with nicely shaped appendages, but nothing quite as nice as Kim Junmyeon. The abs were free for all to see, but his thighs and what was standing at attention between them was another experience entirely.

Not the biggest out there, but for his stature you would definitely call him well endowed, which was more than enough for you. He was flushed there, too, his member a darker shade than the rest of his golden skin. Neatly trimmed hair framed the base.

He reached immediately for the box on the nightstand, tearing one packet off the line of them. “Sorry they’re not fun ones. I wasn’t sure if you were allergic so I played it safe.” he said, focusing on rolling it over himself in one motion.

You didn't mean to laugh but why were you absolutely not surprised that he was the caring type. The type to, while thinking about fucking a stranger for a one night stand, took into consideration a potential allergy while making a condom selection.

“I’m not, but thanks for checking. You’re too sweet.” you said, still a little high from your orgasm.

“I can’t help it. I take care of eight brothers for a living...and I sing once in a while.” his answering smile was sheepish.

You tucked away his statement for later discussion. You knew he was so much more than that, but it would ruin the moment and you admitted to yourself you really just wanted to get lost in pleasure with him.

So instead, you assured him, “I don’t need you to take care of me right now. I need you to fuck me.”

Junmyeon was stunned, one hand holding your hip and the other his cock. His eyes were hooded and they closed as he let out a deep breath, swallowing hard. You had an inkling your words affected him in the best possible way.

“I think I can do that.” he said just as you felt the head of him rub against your wetness, lubricating himself further before pushing in without any further words.

You groaned loudly, a pleasured hiss filling the space between you. “Fuck.”

He was still, biting his lip with his eyes half closed, trained on you. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths while he fought to remain still.

“I’m okay.” you told him, rotating your hips against him with your lips dropped open.

Your eyes zeroed in on his face, tongue poking out to run across his pretty lips before he slowly withdrew himself from you, only to slide in again.

He repeated the motion, grabbing your leg and hoisting it up, over his shoulder. His arm wrapped around it to keep you against him tightly, and he turned his head just enough to kiss your calf where it rested beside his head.

Junmyeon leaned heavily into you while he thrust, slowly testing which angle is best to bend you for your mutual pleasure. How far could he bend you so you would feel him as deeply as possible.

When he hit the right one, you cried out, pleasure soaking your features. He groaned above you, sinking his cock into your greedy heat with a force that you absolutely basked in.

“Yes, yes, please, just like that.” you begged. His wolfish grin returned, all white teeth and dark brows. Darker eyes, hooded, and pretty pink lips.

The pretty pink blush that paints his skin matched, you thought. You watched him move in pleasure, a vein becoming prominent on the side of his neck. The sight of him like this made your stomach tighten again.

He groaned again, feeling you clench around him. It was in that moment, with his hips digging into the underside of your thighs, that he bent you completely. Large hands pushed your thighs down into your chest and it changed the constriction of your walls around his cock.

“Is this okay?” he mused through his breath. Uncertain if your increase in pleasure was from the angle or happiness at his devotion to bedroom equality, but you moaned regardless, nodding at him. It was too difficult to speak with your chest being constricted like that.

He smiled, whipping some misplaced hair from his eyes. “Good girl.”

You whimpered at his words and your hands wrapped around your own legs, keeping them in his requested position. Now freed, he brought a hand between your bodies. You could feel his palm and fingers splayed against you, your center clenching with white hot pleasure when his thumb pressed into your clit.

Junmyeon didn't slow his thrusts. Instead, his head was turned down, focusing intently on the image of his cock disappearing into the tight, hot wetness of your pussy. His lips were dropped open and his jaw was tight.

His chest and abs were tight, too, heavy breaths pushing from his lungs in a pant.

Suddenly, he sped up. It pulled a moan from you. Too quickly now the orgasm you had slowly seen coming from a distance was closing in, sinking deep into your gut like lead.

“I want you to come all over my cock, sweetheart.” he confessed hotly, increasing his efforts to make you do so.

Your answering whine was a confirmation that he might just get his wish. His hips slowed a little against you. Your eyes caught his tongue poking out as he swiped his thumb against it. It added more wetness against your bundle of nerves when he brought it back to circle repeatedly.

Junmyeon teased you now, nearly pulling himself out all the way so only the head remains, shallowly thrusting into you in a lazy manner. He was grinning down at you, but you could plainly see the battle in his rigid posture that he was enjoying teasing but desperate to be buried back inside your warmth.

Your gut felt heavier, the spiral coiling tighter in your abdomen. “Junmyeon...” you whimpered at him, your core fluttering with how nearly empty he had left you.

“Yes?” he asked, one brow tilting up at you. His eyes pulled up to your face and he smiled genuinely at your fucked out expression.

You tried to speak words but they came out jumbled, a hot mess of incoherent letters that Junmyeon assumed meant you were going to come soon by the way your thighs were begging to tremble just so. You had spread yourself wider in an attempt to welcome him closer to you.

He removed a hand from your leg, letting it carve a scorching path up your body to pluck at your newly freed breast again. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and the yelp you released made him chuckle. You did not mean to blush harder, but his voice stirred the lava in your belly hotter.

Junmyeon bit his lips, groaning, “You’re so sensitive here,” he commented, teasing the nipple again just to hear you cry out, “I like that.”

The pleasure became too much for you to stave off any longer, and you froze up in his arms with a high pitched cry. He grunted, burying himself to the hilt and releasing a long moan. He released your clit from the torture of his thumb.

The pace he set immediately is hard, forcing himself between your walls, releasing tiny pants of breath for every powerful squeeze around his aching cock.

“Fuck, fuck fuck sweetheart. Yes, fuck... yes.” the words dropped from his lips in erotic praise had you twisting, the unbearable pleasure overstimulating your body.

Junmyeon became uncoordinated, grabbing your ankle and opposite hip to keep you still beneath him. “You can take it.” he growled, teeth clenched and moaning between his bitten lips. His brows furrowed hard as he drove into you repeatedly with messy thrusts. He didn't realize he was holding his breath or that there was a tick in his jaw. You realized, as he fought to deny himself his high, he looked angry.

The glutton for punishment in you sighed, clenching once more around him with aftershocks of your own orgasm subsiding. That put him over the edge, spilling all of his breath into the air between you at once. He threw his head back, thrusting one, two, three more times before he went as deep into you as possible and stilled.

Junmyeon’s head rolled forward on his shoulders, those pretty lips open in fucked out bliss. You wanted to kiss him, badly. His flushed chest was heaving and he shuddered visibly, eyes screwed shut in bliss.

Slowly he sunk into your body, curling himself over you as the pleasure peak left his body weak. He wasn't looking at your face, but you were staring at him. You kissed the tip of his nose and smiled, watching as he lifted his head to stare right back with a smile so pretty you could almost blame it on your shortness of breath.

You whimpered when he pulled his softening cock from you, and the full warmth of it with him. Unmoving, you watched him remove and tie off the condom before disposing of it in the waste bin beside the armchair.

He crawled back to the bed, scratching at his chest. Your eyes met and you both smiled. You knew you should leave but was it over? Did he need a few minutes to recover? Did he hate it?

Junmyeon was watching you field these questions in your head, deciding instead to just pull your relaxed body to him.

You began to speak, but he shushed you with a mellow kiss, “Thank you for that.”

“Oh.” is what came out, instead of anything useful. Your bewildered expression made him laugh against you.

“What?” you tried, pouting.

He handled you into a comfortable position, situating your body against his side and pulling your arm over his stomach. Absentmindedly, your fingers felt right at home running softly across his abs. “I don’t think you were expecting me to thank you?” he questioned with a scoff.

“No, I just... well I don’t know. This is always the confusing part. Do I leave, do I stay? Do you want to do it again, will you marry me?” You were both laughing at the ridiculousness of the last question.

“Don’t laugh, I’ve been asked that question immediately after sex before.” you said, digging your fingers into his ribs. It only made him laugh harder.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that.” he hummed.

“Good. I won’t have to break your heart when I say no.”

He balked, feigning hurt, “You would say no?!”

“I mean, celebrity or not, we did just meet today.”

“It’s not a no, though...” you heard him trail off.

You patted his chest with the flat of your hand, giving him your best fake smile, “It’s still a no, sweetie.”

You both laughed again, and he kissed your hair with a sigh, “For now, just rest here with me, if that’s okay?”

There was something in his tone that told you he was lonely, and suddenly some of his earlier comments came rushing back to you. It hurt your heart to think about. You could read between the lines, he was saying he didn't want to be alone.

“It’s,” you paused, looking to the digital clock on the charging station beside the bed, “five eighteen in the morning. I don’t have to be at class until eleven forty.” Suddenly, you gasped, raising yourself on your elbow to stare at him, “Do you think I’ll make it on time?”

Junmyeon lost it, snorting loudly. He pulled you back down and kissed your face before wrestling you to curl against him again.

So you relaxed. Lazily, both too tired to get up or clean up. Instead, you found your eyes closing as you listened to his steady heart beating within his rib cage. Your palm felt the gentle rise and fall of his stomach with his breath. You didn't realize how calm and warm it made you, pulling you deeply into slumber. You hadn't fallen asleep this easily in so long.

You jolted awake by the sound of a notification from your phone. Looking around, you noticed it’s nearly nine in the morning. There was just enough light from the dull, cloudy December morning to assist your eyes. A shiver ran through you when you remembered you were naked. Your eyes snapped to the side, realizing Junmyeon was still sound asleep with one arm behind his head, the other flat against the linens at your back.

You felt like you should go. It was not too early to get a cab back to your apartment and he probably wanted you gone by the time he woke up, anyway. It was just casual sex and a nap. Too bad you didn’t get to have a second go at it.

Quickly and as quietly as possible, you dressed, hunting for each piece and throwing it on haphazardly. Without turning on the light, you checked your hair in the bathroom mirror, stuffing it all into a cap you brought in your overnight bag.

Your phone pinged again. Checking, it’s two text messages, both from Soohyun.

SH: I hope you made it home safe????

SH: I just got up and realized you hadn’t messaged me. I don’t care about the deets, I just need you to tell me you got home, Y/N.

You smiled, keying in a quick reply.

Y/N: I’m fine. I am leaving his hotel now, should be home by nine thirty.

One last look over your shoulder at the sleeping idol sent you on a roller coaster of emotions you normally did not get with such detached partners.

It was a one night stand, nothing more and nothing less. Just two mutually attracted parties releasing their sexual frustration upon one another.

But... you had never stayed to sleep with any of your past escapades, as few and far between as they might be. You had never been made to feel like you were an equal participant. You had never felt so light afterwards that you were comfortable enough to sleep.

You had never been paid so much attention and not just a warm pussy for someone to lick and then stuff their dick into, no matter how good they fucked. You had never been treated like they were generally interested in caring who you are as a person, and you had certainly never connected with someone where it all felt natural. Not in a long time and never with a one night stand.

Junmyeon was different, and you thought about how grateful you were for last night during your ride home. You don’t know why you felt sad. Not for yourself, but for him. It hurt to know, now that it was over, how badly he craved to not feel lonely.

[therealkatekane]

My Journey

At the tender age of thirty-five, I have discovered anime. Don’t get me wrong, I first watched Princess Mononoke at sixteen. It was my first exposure to Eastern thought, and it blew my tiny adolescent western mind, and I loved it. But outside of Ghibli movies and Voltron (which I don’t count), I’ve never sought it out on my own.

As a previous post might indicate, I am obsessed with Godzilla, so it isn’t as if I’m closed off from Japanese media. Most of the video games I play are Japanese. (Fire Emblem, Harvest Moon, Rune Factory, pretty much anything Nintendo.) One of my partners is even a Pacific Islander of Japanese descent, who lived in Japan, who speaks Japanese. And we’ve been together seven years. But all of the sudden, now I’m on this quest to make up for lost time and consume all the anime I can.

(Note: If you have suggestions, I would love them. But I would prefer if they were queer. I want women in love with other women. It doesn’t have to be overt, but I don’t want any heterosexual romances, and would prefer as few male characters as possible. I’ve seen enough male-driven storylines, thanks.)

But today, I am here to word-vomit all about the queer extravaganza that is Senki Zesshou Symphogear. Because I am addicted. I’ll start with this picture.

And so begins our journey...

The show starts out the gate being super gay. Tsubasa (Blue) and Kanade (Red) are each a half of the singing duo Zwei Wing. They refer to one another as partners and there is a lot of “We can do anything as long as we’re together” and “I’m going to sing with you forever” type stuff.

Then there is Hibiki and Miku:

Friends since childhood, they are the core couple of the show. Hibiki is the main character who typically discovers she’s not just a normal girl and has the ability to wield a Gear, which allows her to become this adorable badass superhero. Miku is her anchor in the mundane world. She is frequently the one person or thing that can reach/inspire/motivate Hibiki. She is what drives Hibiki.

Hibiki calls Miku her sunflower, the place where she is warmest, where she will always return to. 

Which brings me to the point that they share a bed. Despite having bunk beds, they always sleep together. Except when they’re fighting, then they go to their respective bunks. It’s just so cute.

The characters are delightfully complex. Hibiki is as pure as the driven snow but she isn’t naive. Usually, pure characters are oblivious or ignorant to the danger or evil around them, but Hibiki isn’t. She knows fighting is dangerous. She knows people can be evil, but those things never deter her. It makes her incredibly brave, even when confronted with someone she knows is malicious, she extends her hand in friendship because she chooses to believe the best in others. It is nice to see a character who is sweet and pure without being an utter dumbass. 

We’ve all seen it. The sweet, precious hero is surprised that the bad guy who has been trying to kill them for an entire season won’t be their friend. Hibiki is NOT like that. She always gives people the opportunity for kindness without expectation, with the full awareness that it might be rejected.

Miku is the sweet, somewhat demure, nurturing one. She is the caretaker character. You might initially think she’s the standard timid and meek best friend stock character. But nope. She does not suffer fools. She is not an enabler. She is not afraid to call anybody out on their bullshit, regardless of who they are. She does what she thinks is right which also makes her very brave. She wants to protect Hibiki as much as Hibiki protects her.

Their dynamic is just lovely. Hibiki can kind of be a mess sometimes. She’s absent-minded, never on time, doesn’t prioritize school work. Miku is always there to pull her back down to earth, to center her. If she feels Hibiki is losing focus or deviating from who she is, Miku will always be the one to ground her. She truly is Hibiki’s anchor, her safe place. And I love it.

Oh and there is my dear Yukine Chris. I won’t go super in detail, but I will leave you with this:

It is exactly what it looks like. A queer D/s relationship. Unfortunately, it’s toxic and unhealthy. A whole lot of “I’m the only one that can love you” and “You have to obey me or I won’t love you anymore” and “I’m angry so you have to let me take it out on you” and so on. It’s all taken directly from the Abusive Relationship Handbook.

But worry not, we are not subjected to the toxicity for terribly long, and Chris gets the kindness and love she deserves from her new friends and senpai. I’d go more in depth, but y’know... spoilers.

Now, let us march forward to season two where our Roster of Queerness is completed by three additional characters. Two of which are so cute I cannot even fucking stand it. 

I call them my Precious Gay Babies.

Kirika and Shirabe are two little baby gays that grew up in an orphanage with only one another and Maria, who is like a big sister to them. But oh my fucking god they are so precious I can’t even handle it.

Kirika is the more animated of the two. The sweet, cheerful ray of sunshine. And Shirabe is the quieter, more solemn of the two. They literally have a fight where they are shouting back and forth at each other how much they love one another. If this show was only about them, I would watch it. They are just way too cute.

Shirabe can be a little possessive of Kirika, and Kirika knows who she belongs to. If another girl touches her, she knows Shirabe will put the stomp down on it. I usually find behavior like that kind of squicky and toxic, but in this instance it isn’t too gross because I think it’s rooted in their background. They’ve only ever had one another so they’re extremely protective of each other.

I mean, just look.

Look at my Precious Gay Babies!

LOOK AT THEM!! 

They are so cute and precious and I love them.

Let me wrap this up with Maria.

I won’t go too in depth with Maria because I don’t want to be spoiler-y. But 1) She’s fantastic. 2) No, I don’t know what’s up with her hair. 3) She is totally queer for Tsubasa, and I’m sailing on that ship. 

I am midway through the fourth season. So, I haven’t caught up to the most current season (5) but holy hell. I am invested.

It’s just a bunch of girls (oh! And there is even a genderless, sexless character who is precious and I love) being in love with other girls and fighting monster things.

I fucking love this show. Right now, it’s kind of vying for top spot with Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid. Which may only be my number one because it’s a little more overt in its women sleeping with other women thing. It’s equal parts “fuck yes!” combined with “am I high right now?” That’ll be my next post, I digress.

If you are in the mood for some light but surprisingly good entertainment featuring a strong line of female characters who all fall in love with one another, then I cannot recommend Senki Zesshou Symphogear enough. It is fan-fucking-tastic. It doesn’t require too much thought, but it makes up for it by giving you a ton of warm, fuzzy feels.

And if you can recommend me anything similar. Or anything that heavily features queer women, I would be forever in your debt.

Oh, and PS there is a mobile game, which is how I found the show in the first place. Downloaded the game, played it, then got all fucked up on the anime. Worth it.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

My contribution to the RNM Remix was a role reversal of @caitlesshea‘s The Way You Wore because clothes sharing is 100% a thing malex does and there aren’t enough fics of it (you should totally go read hers first because its amazing and she’s amazing)

1.

Contrary to popular belief, Michael could be subtle. He stole Alex’s clothes all of the time but Alex could never prove it. His clothes always disappeared when he was moving or when there were other people around to blame and Michael never wore them when Alex was around.

Alex, on the other hand, was anything but subtle. One might even call him shameless.

“Is that my shirt?” Michael’s voice was still groggy from sleep.

“No,” Alex lied blatantly, not even bothering to look down at the UFO Emporium logo on his chest. He’d given it to Michael after he’d quit his job there and he knew for a fact that the other boy slept in it all of the time. Except last night when neither one of them had bothered with a shirt at all. 

“Looks like my shirt,” Michael commented as he shifted in the bed. Alex glanced over to see him with his head hanging half off the bed in order to get a good look at where Alex stood in the tiny kitchen. 

“You need your eyes checked,” Alex remarked idly as he reached into the overhead cabinet for the granola bars he’d stashed there during his last visit. Michael let out a strangled groan as the shirt rode up.

“That’s just cheating.” Alex hummed, thankful Michael couldn’t see his face and so he didn’t have to hide his grin. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to even if he tried. “Come back here.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Eat later. Come here.” Out of the corner of his eye Alex saw Michael’s hand outstretched, his fingers squeezing shut as he grabbed at the air. “You can’t just stand there in my shirt and nothing else and expect me to wait for you to eat.”

Alex paused and glanced over his shoulder. “But you expect me to come to you?”

The ensuing silence last maybe half a breath before Alex heard the blanket get tossed aside and Michael’s feet hit the floor. A second later Michael crowded him from behind, his fingers dipping under the hem of the shirt to grasp at Alex’s bare hips. “You’re a tease, Alex Manes,” he whispered in wonder. 

“Not my fault someone ripped my shirt last night.”

“I promise to rip your shirts forever if it gets me this.” Michael kissed him just behind his ear.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex warned. He started to open the packaging on the granola bar only for Michael’s hands to come up and rest over his.

“Eat later.” He kissed Alex’s shoulder. “You’re leaving in a few hours,” he reminded him, as if Alex wasn’t also counting every minute.

Alex dropped the bar with a sigh and turned in Michael’s arms. “Fine. But we do actually have to eat at some point.”

Michael hummed and nodded even as he leaned forward to capture Alex’s lips. “Later.”

2.

“Alex.” Alex hummed questioningly without looking up from his computer. “Is that my jersey?”

“Hmm? No.” Alex still didn’t look up even though he’d already lost track of what he’d been doing. “It’s mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael slid onto the couch behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Is that why it says Guerin on it?” 

Alex pretended to think about it. “Pure coincidence.”

Michael’s fingers dug into his ribs just enough to tickle. “You stole my jersey,” he accused. “I was looking everywhere for that.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. It was on my bedroom floor, therefore it’s mine.”

“Uhuh,” Michael said disbelieving. “And second of all?”

“Second of all,” Alex looked over his shoulder at him. “Are you really complaining about me having your name on me?”

“Nope. Nuhuh, not here, not now,” a new voice interjected. Alex rolled his eyes and looked over as Patrick sat down next to him. “Game’s about to start and I am not giving up my couch to you two.”

Michael’s head perked up as Patrick changed the channel just in time to see the Eagles kick off against the Dolphins. Instantly he shifted from boyfriend mode to fan mode, his grip on Alex’s waist going lax as he moved out from behind him to get a better look at the TV. 

Alex grabbed his computer and stood up with a shake of his head. “Go Fins,” he muttered, just to be contrary.

3.

“You realize we’re lost, right?” Alex let his head roll to the side to give Michael a scathing look.

“You realize that’s half the point of a road trip, right?” Michael shot back.

“Not if we’re in the middle of nowhere and almost out of gas!”

“Eh, we’ll be fine.”

“Geurin.”

“Just keep an eye out for a gas station.”

“An eye out, huh?” Alex flung a hand at the window. “At the fucking desert?! There’s nothing around us for miles.” He dropped his head against the seat and closed his eyes. Michael’s truck had a few redeeming features but good gas mileage and adequate air conditioning were not among them.

He cracked an eye open and looked over when Michael didn’t respond. Both of his hands were clenched tight on the wheel, his eyes flitting between the road and the dash in increasing frequency. “Hey,” he said softly. Michael didn’t react. “We’ll find a gas station.”

“I should have filled it all the way up before we left.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“It’s not,” Alex tried only for Michael to spare a glare at him. “Okay, fine, it might be a little bit of a problem, but we’ll deal with it.” He put his hand on Michael’s thigh and squeezed gently. “It’ll be fine.”

As Michael drove, Alex fished his phone out of his pocket. They hadn’t had any reception for the last hour but it couldn’t hurt to check. After another thirty minutes, the gas tank now firmly in the red, Alex’s phone beeped with a new message. He sat up and swiped away the text from Maria without bothering to look at it in his hurry to pull up Maps. “Aha!” He crowed. “Nearest gas station is 3.2 miles ahead.” 

The truck made it 2.3 miles before sputtering to a stop.

The two of them stared at the fuel gauge then at Alex’s phone before sighing. “Guess we’re walking it.” They got out without a word and walked the last mile to get gas just as the sun started to set. By the time they got back to the car, it was dark and Alex was feeling the chill in the air. As Michael filled the tank and made sure the truck was running okay, Alex dug around in his duffel bag until he found one of Michael’s flannels. For some reason, Michael tended to wear his flannels a little bit to big so Alex didn’t bother buttoning it up, he just tucked it in as he wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned against the door frame. 

Michael slid in the driver’s seat and paused. “Is that my shirt?”

“No,” Alex denied as he shifted to get more comfortable. “It’s one of my many many flannels.”

“Uh huh,” Michael smiled as he shifted the truck into drive. “Well your flannel looks very comfortable.”

“Oh it is,” Alex agreed easily. He fell asleep soon after, waking up only when Michael pulled up to a cheap motel, the bright neon lights burning through his eyelids. That night, he didn’t bother changing for bed, opting instead to sleep in Michael’s shirt.

Two weeks later, when he was unpacking back on base, he found Michael’s shirt balled up at the bottom of his duffel.

He didn’t bother sending it back.

4.

Alex didn’t think too hard about which clothes he was grabbing when the knock came. He’d tried to ignore it at first but it didn’t stop. Eventually, he scooped up a pair of jeans from the floor and slid them on before grabbing his crutches and hurrying out into the main room. The jeans dragged on the floor a little bit but he didn’t pay it much mind.

“I’m coming!” He called as the knocking persisted. “Jesus Christ, what?” He yanked the door open, narrowly avoiding Liz’s fist in his face.

“I figured it out!” She yelled, her smile splitting her face wide. 

“What?”

“Max!” She half yelled, half laughed. “I figured it out!”

“What?” Michael asked as he came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin still wet from the shower. 

“I can wake Max up!” This time it was more a laugh than a yell. “I need you and Isobel and about twelve hours to prep but then we should be good to go.” 

Michael’s face did a weird thing as he wavered between being ecstatic that Liz had figured it out and guarded against false hope. Alex watched the two emotions war on his face and turned to Liz. “That’s amazing, Liz. Just tell us what you need and you’ve got it.” 

Liz nodded profusely. “Yeah, yeah, it’s kind of a lot so I’ll text it all to you. I just- I just really needed to tell you and I didn’t want to do it over the phone or wait or-” She stopped and shook her head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

“Don’t apologize,” Alex told her. “This is good news. I’m glad you came out to tell us.” He looked her over with a careful eye. “When was the last time you slept?”

Liz waved a hand. “I’ll sleep later.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think Max is gonna be happy to wake up to you dead on your feet? Get some sleep and then we’ll wake Max up. Text us what you need.”

It took a few more minutes but eventually Alex wrangled a promise to nap out of her and sent her on her way. As soon as the door shut behind her, he turned to face Michael who hadn’t said another word. “Michael?”

“Is it bad that I’m not happy yet?”

“Of course not. Nothing’s happened yet.”

Michael nodded slowly and rested his free hand on Alex’s hip as he stepped in close. His other hand still held his towel up on his waist. Alex stayed quiet as Michael took a few deep breaths, his mind obviously whirring with Liz’s news.

“I’m really upset with Liz right now.”

Alex lifted his head to stare at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re standing there in nothing but my jeans and all I can think about is Max.”

Alex looked down at the faded jeans hanging off of his hips, the hem just dragging on the ground. “What are you talking about? These are my jeans.”

Michael’s lips ticked upwards. “Liar.”

“I never lie,” Alex sniffed. “I’m a paragon of truth and virtue.”

“Paragon of sass and bullshit more like.” He nudged his nose against Alex’s as he leant their heads together. “12 hours?”

“That’s what she said,” Alex reached out slowly to grab Michael’s hand, careful not to dislodge his crutch. “Why don’t we get some sleep? Make the time go by faster.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“That’s fine, just lay down with me while I sleep.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Michael fell asleep two hours later. Sixteen hours later he pulled his brother out of his pod and watched as he took his first breath in months.

5.

The loud crash of a stool slamming into the floor shocked the bar into silence. “Where is it?” Michael asked frantically. No one answered. “Who took it?!”

“Yo DeLuca! Stop cutting him off so early! He gets crazy,” some guy laughed in the corner. Michael held up his middle finger in response without bothering to look over. 

He leaned over the counter, puppy eyes out in full force. “Maria, light of my life, apple of my eye,” 

“Stow the shit, Guerin,” she cut him off.

“Where is it?” He continued as if she hadn’t said anything.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe try your boyfriend.”

Alex stifled a laugh as Michael frowned and practically crawled on top of the bar to check the space behind it as Maria walked away. 

“What is he looking for?” Kyle asked.

Alex shrugged, unwilling to answer. He watched as Michael searched around for another few seconds before turning to their table with a dejected look on his face.

“You!” He yelled as soon as he saw Alex, his finger pointed at him. “You stole it?!” 

“Wait, is this all about-” Kyle started to ask.

“Yes,” Alex answered, unable to hold back the laugh this time as Michael fell into the chair next to him. 

“You stole my hat,” he accused.

Alex reached a hand up to touch the brim of said hat. “This old thing? Nah, some idiot left it on the bar so I scooped it up. Finders keepers and whatnot.” He cocked his head to the side. “I think it suits me.”

Michael stared at him, hurt etched into every line in his face, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

Michael hummed as he lifted the brim. He leaned in and kissed Alex lightly, pulling back just far enough to take him in. “Maybe a bit better than alright.”

Alex smirked and kissed him again, harder this time. 

“You know what would make it better?” Michael asked softly. Alex shook his head. “If you didn’t bother wearing anything else while you had it on,” he leaned forward and whispered into his ear. 

“Ew,” Kyle scoffed. “That was not nearly as quiet as you thought it was, dude.”

Alex really couldn’t care less. He stood up and tugged Michael after him as they escaped to the exits, the hat accomplishing exactly what he’d intended it to.

+1

Alex looked up from the letter as Michael pulled up outside. He dropped it onto the table and hurried into the bedroom as Michael’s footsteps crossed the deck out front. It only took a few seconds for him to find the shirt, he’d put it on top of everything in Michael’s drawer even though the other man refused to wear it yet.

“Alex?” Michael called when he came in. Alex didn’t answer as he pulled off his own shirt and tugged on Michael’s. “Alex?” Michael’s voice was closer now.

Alex tossed his own shirt into the hamper on his way back to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway when he caught sight of Michael, the letter in his hands as he stared at it.

“Congratulations, college boy,” Alex remarked quietly. Michael looked up at him slowly, his face frozen in surprise.

“This-” he looked down at the acceptance letter briefly before his eyes snapped back up to Alex. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Alex looked down at the MIT logo emblazoned on his chest. “Well look at that, so I am.”

Michael dropped the letter and crossed the room. “That’s my shirt.”

Alex smiled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“I’m going to MIT.”

“You’re going to MIT,” Alex grinned, Michael’s lips finally spreading wide in a smile of his own.

“I’m going to college!” Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and lifted until Alex’s feet dangled just off of the ground as he spun them in a circle. “I’m going to college,” he repeated, his voice a wonder even as Alex kissed him. 

[iamknicole]

Just the Two of Us (12)

HAHN AU

After lunch Melissa rode with Benny and Lainey since Marcie was headed back to Maxine. Despite her telling them they didn't have to, the siblings walked her up to her apartment and stepped inside.

"Your place is very," Lainey paused looking around, "Put together."

Melissa snorted plopping down on the sofa, "Wasn't any of my doing. It was his mom."

Before they could go any further, Jeffrey slid his feet into the main area of the apartment with a scowl on his face. He walked over to toss a card to her and turned back around not caring that it fell on the floor. Melissa started to pick it up but Benny got to it first.

"Aye, don't throw shit at no woman. Fuck is wrong witchu?"

Lainey politely stepped out of her brother's way going to sit beside her friend. Jeffrey turned back around, the scowl still on his face.

"How about you mind your got damn business and get out of my place."

Benny held the card up between them, "Don't throw shit at no woman. Hand it to her."

"I'm not handing shit to her. You can if you want to and then get the hell out."

Laughing a little, Benny's free hand went to his throat. He squeezed then lifted the smaller man off the ground. Lainey had to stop her friend from getting up, her intervening wouldn't make Benny let him go and Lainey knew it.

"You heard what I said. I don't fuckin repeat myself," Benny said through gritted teeth, "Do what I said or Ima toss you the way you tossed this card."

Benny held him up a few seconds longer then let him go and held the card out. Jeffrey took it for him and went to hold it out to Melissa with a shaky hand then left the room quickly.

"Hes gonna be so mad when yall leave," Melissa laughed.

Benny shrugged. "You got my number, call if you need me to break his jaw."

"Break his jaw?"

"Yeah," Benny nodded a small smirk on his face. "I break jaws and I break backs. Depends on my mood."

Lainey stood up quickly groaning, "See, uhn uhn that's nasty. Let's go, Benjamin."

Benny laughed at both females reactions. Melissa sat there looking stuck, just staring at him. He winked at her ignoring his sister pulling his arm.

"Ima get outta here and get my lil baby home. But you call me, aight?"

Melissa nodded. "Alright, Benny."

"Your lil baby is ready to go," Lainey sassed, "Bring your ass on, Romeo."

Benny dropped her off at the house then went to his office to check on the paperwork the secretary said he needed to look over. To be honest, he had been avoiding going to his tow yard. He was still extremely angry with Mitch but he didn't want to get carried away and kill him. He was ruthleess but he wasn't stupid.

Seeing the old Honda made him roll his eyes but he got out anyway and went inside the office. He stopped by the secretary's desk to pick up the folder with his name on it then headed back to the larger office. Mitch got up from his desk when he saw his friend wall into their shared office.

"Benny, I been callin you. I wanna talk and make this right." Mitch sputtered out quickly.

"You wanna talk," Benny scoffed tossing the folder onto his desk, "Talk about how you groped my lil baby in the one place she's supposed to be safe?"

Mitch sighed, "You have every right to be pissed, I get it. I was drunk and not thinking I'm sorry."

Benny swung at the slightly taller man, hitting him in his mouth. "Keep that bullshit ass apology. You thought she was gon let you do it and give in but my sister smarter than them females you be dealing with."

Mitch doubled over and held his jaw, "Dammit, B! Chill!"

Ignoring him, Benny charge at his former friend knocking him over and started to assault him. Though Mitch was bigger in stature, Benny was much stronger and it showed. Mitch was pretty much powerless in the fight. Satisfied with what he'd done, Benny got up and dusted himself off. He went to his desk to sign the paperwork leaving his unconscious ex friend on the floor and left when he was finish. Benny knew he didn't have enough money to buy Much outta his half of their business but when he did, Mitch was a good as gone.

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

Three months later and things were going smoothly. Fortunately for Jeffrey's jaw, he had been cordial with Melissa so Benny didn't have to make any visits. But that didn't stop her from talking to him on the phone almost every night, and taking him lunch a few times a week. Mitch's brusies had finally healed and he came back to work full time but he was rarely in the office with Benny. Caleb had moved into the house, Benny and Lainey didn't protest it, they were trying for the sake of their mother to have a better relationship with him. Lainey had spent those months getting her salon prepared and decorated, finally she was finished. It was time for her party to celebrate the night before opening.

"Girl, you did a good ass job in here," Marcie exclaimed hugger her friend.

"Thank you, girl. I couldnt have done it without Benny. He was actually pretty helpful."

Marcie looked around. "Where is he anyway? I figired he might have been with Melissa but she's over there with your mom."

Lainey shrugged, "He said he had to pick up my gifts. He should be here in a little while though."

"Aaah, okay. So how does it feel to have your own salon? Its all yours, girl."

Lainey laughed, "Its not mine till I pay for it completely but I'm excited. I've wanted this for forever."

"What do you mean? Girl, I already know about it being paid off."

"What? No its not," Lainey frowned. "I haven't paid for this."

Charles crept up behind her smiling and spoke softly. "But I did."

Jumping, Lainey turned around with a smile on her face. She accepted his hug enjoying his arms around her then pulled away and hit his arm.

"Charles, did you really pay for this?"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am, I did."

"But why? Charles, that's a lot of money."

"To you it might be," he replied moving a piece of hair from her face, "But to me no amount of money is too much. Think of it as a gift from your man."

Melissa came over at the end of his statement and nudged Marcie.

"Ooop, don't let Benny find out his lil baby got a man," she joked.

Marcie laughed, "That vein in his neck gon burst open in here."

Lainey flipped them off the turned back to Charles. "I dont know what to say but thank you. I'll pay it back."

Charles kissed her forehead, "Pay me back by letting me take you to dinner tomorrow after you close."

Lainey agreed just as his phone started to ring. He let her know he was going to step back into her office to take the call. While he was gone the ladies talked amongst each other and the other party goers. Tilda went to grab her niece's hand and led her over to her parents.

"We are so proud of you, babygirl. You've wanted this since you were young and you got it." Caleb reminisced. He moved in to hug her and for the first time in a while she didn't reject him.

Hanna was next, she squeeezed her daughter tight and rocked them from side to side before letting go. "You just don't know how happy and proud I am of you, little girl. And I didn't forget about my trip to Aruba either."

Lainey laughed and nodded. "Yes ma'am. You know Ima still take you."

Thirty minutes went by before Benny walked in with a big smile on his face. He cut the music down then gathered everybody around excitedly.

"You ready for ya gift, Lainey?" He asked.

"Yees! I been waiting all night for it."

Benny laughed, "Its only been an hour since the party started, drama queen. But I got you something that will make this evening feel complete. You ready?"

Lainey nodded wondering what her brother could have possibly gotten her. He had already made sure she had everything in the salon and then some. Benny told her and their mama to close their eyes then went to open the door.

"Aight, on the count of three open your eyes. Yall count with me."

....1

......2

........3

Mother and daughter opened their eyes and screamed. Cameron and Zion stood before them smiling. Cameron had to catch their mama from falling and pulled her into a hug. Lainey jumped on Zion holding onto him for dear life. Both women cried happy tears.

"My babies," Hanna called out. "Oh thank you, Jesus! My babies are all here!"

"We home, Ma," Cameron told her pulling away. "We home for good."

Lainey switched with her mama and hugged Cameron tight then went to hug Benny thanking him. The brothers hugged their father and aunt as the the party went back to normal. Melissa and Marcie stood off to the side watching the reunion.

"I see you," Melissa said filling her cup with punch.

"You see me what?"

"I see you looking at her brother. You over there undressing him with your eyes. For shame," she teased.

Marcie laughed nervously. "Oh whatever, I was just watching them hug. It was beautiful."

"You don't gotta lie to me."

"Look here, Ms. He said he breaks backs and I want him to break mine," Marcie spat playfully. "I'm married not blind."

"Mmmhmmm...not too much longer it looks like."

Finally done with his call, Charles rejoined the party and went straight to Lainey. He kissed her cheek letting her know he was back.

"Hey hey whoa. Who is you and why you kissing on my baby sister?" Cam asked quickly pulling his sister towards him and his brothers.

Zion wiped her cheek off and glared at him.

Benny laughed and he folded his arms across his chest. He told everybody he was nice brother, now they were about to find out one by one.

"My apologies, I'm Charles Frederickson. Nice to finally meet you two," Charles said with a genuine smile on his face.

"You the governor, ain't you?" Zion asked.

"Yeah," Charles nodded with a slight laugh, "That's me. And no I don't have more important shit to do. Your sister takes priority as long as it isn't life or death."

"Mmhm," Cameron mumbled. "So why are your lips on my sister?"

Benny jumped in, "He call himself with a thing for her. She been talkin to him a lot."

"Hmm, is that so?" Zion asked.

"Benny's right, I definitely have a thing for your sister. I asked her to make things official bit ahe said I had to go through the three of you first. So," Charles chuckled, "This time is as good as any. I'd love to date your siste, make things official. Can I have your blessing?"

Cameron and Zion stared at him and Benny answered. "Give us some time to think about it. We'll let you know, man."

"Fair enough," He nodded. "I'm gonna go grab some food and let you yall catch up. Lainey, come find me when you're done."

Charles smiled at her before walking off. Lainey started to follow him but Cam pulled her back.

"Bring ya lil hot ass back here. Where he come from?"

Lainey shrigged still smiling. "I met him when I did the Firat Lady and her family's hair. Isn't he sweet?"

"No," all three brothers answered.

"Look at you all giddy and blushing," Zion said, "Uhn uhn, we gotta check him out first. Aint no fool taking advantage our our baby."

Lainey pouted looking at her brother. "Don't run him away like yall did the other boys. That's why nobody wanted to date me, they was scared of yall."

"Anybody that got scared by us being normal big brothers ain't good enough for you," Benny assured her kissing her head.

Lainey folded her arms, "Yall always threatened to shoot them."

"Okay and?" Cam asked shrugging.

After the party was over, Lainey and her siblings stayed behind to clean everything up. Charles, Marcie and Melissa offered to help but were denied. The clean up was almost finshed when the door chimed and opened.

"Who the fuck," Benny's voice trailed off seeing their estranged sister standing there. "What is your ass doing here, Candace?"

"Nice to see you to, B." She laughed. "Ooh Cam, Zion, yall are out. Good to see yall too. It's been years."

Lainey stepped forward, "He asked you a question. Why are you here? You know you're not welcome around us."

Candace sucked her teeth, "No need for the attitude, Alaina. I jist wanted to come see my family and congratulate you."

"Uhuh, you've seen is and said your peace. Leave." Lainey demanded.

Candace looked around the salon and whistled lowly. "This is nice. I wonder what or who you had to do to get this."

"I'm not you, I worked legitimately for this, Candace."

"You're right about one thing. You're not me and could never be me, little girl. You're just a reject."

Benny pulled his little sister behind him knowing she was about to pounce. His older brothers watched the scene unfold, they wanted to see how Benny handled it. They knew he'd grown into an even better man than he was before he went to jail. He'd been handling everything in his own for years now and they were proud.

"Leave and don't bring ya ass back here or anywhere near us. You know I don't repeat myself, now go before I let her beat ya ass lies she did last time."

Candace scrunched her nose up at him and started to back away laughing. "No need to be so hostile, I just wanted to give yall a gift "

"Leave," Benny barked loudly.

Candace noddee and headed towards the door. She stepped out then stepped back in with her son. She pushed him towards them with a scowl on her face.

"Since yall moved out the hood and doing better figured yall would want that. Have him," she shrugged the turned to leave.

Lainey rushed to the the five year old and picked him up. "Lil Q, baby. Where have you been?"

He looked at her stragely for a second. "I dont know."

"Do you remember me?"

Taking a few moments to stare at her, he slowly started to nod and smile formed on his face. "Auntie!"

The brothers watched the moment with mixed feelings. They were glad their nephew was back with them nut they knew Camdace wasn't just giving him to them to be nice. She was planning something and they were going to figure out what.

[dumbchickwrites]

Be Mine — part 1

Pairings: Erik Stevens x Reader

Warnings: none, just soft! Erik.

Requested by @wakanda-inspired : How about one of the Royal cousins falling for a palace handmaiden but she's not really messing with them like that at first because she sees how many girls leave their room weekly?

A/N: No keep reading tag, sorry! I’m so sorry it took so long, but I kept changing the story over and over again, I wanted it to be good! I went with more of a friends to lover trope. I hope you like it! 💛

Part Two Part Three

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

It had been months already.

Erik didn’t know why or how, but one day, it was like a switch flipped inside of him. He wanted you. And when Erik wanted something, he did everything in his power to get it.

You were one of the Palace handmaiden, not quite an assistant to the Royal family, but not quite a servant either. You’d been working for them for quite some time now, enough to be able to call Shuri and T’Challa your friends and go to the Queen Mother for advice whenever you wanted. You had been there when Erik arrived in Wakanda to rip the nation away from T’Challa’s hands, the entire conflict, then Erik’s therapy and redemption. After all of that, you had built a strong friendship with him as well.

But Erik didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. He wanted more.

The sun was almost at its zenith when Erik barged in his cousin’s office — unannounced. T’Challa, unbothered, didn’t even look up from his report as Erik took place on one of the chairs in front of the desk, legs open in a manspread as if he owned the place.

“N’Jadaka,” the King greeted, eyes still glued to the documents. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my office on this fine morning?”

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

T’Challa sat back in his chair, giving his cousin his full attention, as his fingers came to stroke his facial hair. “Let’s hear them.”

“You and (Y/N). How long have you been friends?”

“Why?” T’Challa narrowed his eyes.

“Just answer the question, cuz.”

“I don’t know, almost a decade now.”

“You know her pretty well, right?”

“I would think so, yes.”

“So you know the type of dudes she likes?” Erik’s fingers started drumming on the armrest of the chair.

“Yes, and it’s not you,” T’Challa added with a smirk.

“... Nigga is that what I asked??”

“No, but I knew where you were going with your questions. (Y/N) wouldn’t be with you, not with your current behaviour.”

Erik frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

T’Challa gave him the look. The look that screamed don’t bullshit me.

“N’Jadaka, you have more women going in and out of the Palace than I have Doras. If this was any other place on Earth, you’d have caught an STD already.”

“Look, T,” Erik propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I came in here mask off and shit to ask you what I could do to win the girl. Why won’t you help a brother out?”

“Wi— she’s not a prize to be won! And I won’t help you because I know what you do to women. You will only hurt her.”

Erik kissed his teeth. Though he knew how much T’Challa cared about you, he couldn’t help but get frustrated at the lack of support his cousin was showing. He thought that out of all the men out there he’d be happy to know you were in his hands.

“Man, I won’t hurt her, I swear. I lo— I like her a lot, okay? I wanna be more than her friend.”

About two dozen questions started swirling in T’Challa’s head as he eyed Erik, but he decided against voicing them. Instead, he let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t every day that Erik let his mask of toughness down, which meant that maybe his feelings for your were real.

“You need to stop with the women, if you want to have a chance.”

“That was kinda obvious.”

“Was it, N’Jadaka? Was it really?”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Aiight, what else?”

“Don’t rush anything. She enjoys the flirting and the get-to-know-each-other part of a relationship.”

“Okay, but we already friends, though.”

“It is best to take things slow, trust me.”

Silence fell in the room and T’Challa started focusing on his work again.

“Wait... that’s it?”

“Yes, now get out of my office. I have work to do.”

Feeling a little defeated, Erik left the King’s office. He hadn’t told him much, nothing that would be remotely helpful. So he decided to go see Shuri. Maybe input from a woman would be better.

Afrobeats and bright lights welcomed him as he stepped in Shuri’s workplace. It was rare to find the Princess outside of her lab, since it was her safe space.

“Aye, lil cuz!”

“Ugh, not him,” he heard Shuri groan.

“What the hell is up with you and your brother today? Y’all giving me hella attitude and shit,” he said, sitting down on the stool next to her.

“That seat is taken, cuz.”

“By whom?”

“Shuri, is it supposed to— Oh,” you stopped in your tracks, eyeing the Prince. “Hello, Erik.”

Scrambling to his feet, Erik let you sit down. When you did, Shuri immediately went to work on a device glued to your arm.

“Hey, Princess,” he smiled, his gold canines shining under the artificial lights.

He always called you ‘Princess’, rarely by your first name. And he always smiled at you. Even when he wasn’t in a good place mentally and didn’t feel like physically smiling, just the sight of your gorgeous eyes and radiant smile was enough to warm his heart.

“I didn’t see a guest leave your room this morning,” you pointed out with a teasing smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did actually,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

He didn’t expect to find you here, so now he didn’t really know what to do.

“What’s that?” he tilted his chin towards the tiny device on your arm.

“None of your business,” Shuri said.

“Shuri and a few other researchers came up with an upgrade for the contraceptive implants,” you explained. “I volunteered to try it out.”

“Huh...,” Erik crossed his arms over his chest, his massive biceps threatening to rip the fabric of his shirt. “So you busy today? I mean, after this.”

“No. Why? Do you need me for something?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought we could finish our book, you know. Been a minute.”

Your book. When Erik was in therapy, there was a period when he didn’t want to talk to anyone besides his therapist. He spent entire days in his chambers, in the dark. Until one day you stepped in the room, opened the curtains to let the sunlight in, left his food tray in the hallway and sat down on his couch to read out loud for thirty minutes. Sometimes it was an African history book, an African American history book from his own collection, tales and African mythology, fiction, whatever, it didn’t matter.

You just wanted to show him that someone cared enough to spend time with him even if he didn’t talk. Now it had become a habit for the two of you to sit down on his balcony, taking in those beautiful Wakandans sunsets he loved so much, and read.

“I’ll be there.”

*

“And the end!” you closed the book and stretched your limbs with a groan. “What did you think?”

You frowned when Erik looked away from you, still silent. It wasn’t his type to keep his mouth shut after you finished a book.

Slowly, you reached for his hand, your palm warm on his skin.

“Erik,” you squeezed, getting his attention. “Are you okay?”

“You know, I went to see T today. Went to ask for advice on how to get a girl,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

You wanted to make a sarcastic remark, but you bit your tongue, letting him speak. Another gentle squeeze encouraged him to keep talking.

“But it’s not any girl, you know? I can’t keep her out of my mind, I see her around every corner of this big ass place, she smiles at me a lot — I love it when she does.”

Your mind went in a frenzy, trying to put a face on the description he was giving you. The only person you could pinpoint was Kemi, the other handmaiden to the Royal family who happened to be your best friend.

“Is it Kemi?”

“What?”

“She smiles at you a lot. Actually, she’s completely charmed by you but —,”

“No,” Erik said, but you ignored him over your rambling.

“— She just wants a taste of what you do, nothing else, but don’t tell her I said that —“

“It’s you.”

Lips parted, you stared at him, not quite understanding what he just said. The beats of your heart grew louder and louder, until you could hear them in your ears. Like a film in slow motion, you removed your hand from Erik’s.

“Please say something, Princess.”

“How dare you?” your voice was just above a whisper.

“How dare I what?”

“Who do you think I am? You think I’m one of those girls you bring in and out of here like this is a brothel?”

“What?”

“I will not become another trophy on your wall,” you rose from your seat, dusting your dress. “I will not be another random name on your list.”

“Did you listen to a word I said?”

“Yes! And how do I know this isn’t what you tell every other girl strutting in and out of here like it’s Johannesburg Fashion Week?!”

“You think I’d go ask T’Challa about some random girl?!” Erik stood too, levelling with you.

“I don’t know what I think, Erik. I just— I can’t. I cannot and I will not.”

You turned on your heels, making your way to the door of his chambers.

He couldn’t let you go. Not like that.

“Princess,” he called, his voice sounding strained.

Without turning around, you corrected him.

“My name is (Y/N).”

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day seven

Prompt #7: “No, and that’s final.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Canonical Character Death

Rating: PG

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker, Ben Parker (mention)

Words: 2461

Author’s Note: part v of a may & peter series, but can be read as a stand alone. we all knew this was coming but that doesn’t really make it any easier, im so sorry. i wound up cutting out a lot for time’s sake, so i’ll probs buff it up a bit when i clean it up later. but for now, enjoy :)

>>No Strings Attached

Peter is four. No, Peter is fourteen—but Peter is four.

Peter is four, because it’s just not possible that May would have to drive through the dead of night to a police station, fear lancing through her heart, twice in one lifetime.

May fights back tears and races into the one hundred and seventh precinct, and it’s just as frantic and overwhelming as it was ten years ago—except Peter is fourteen, and Ben isn’t here to fight off the officers that intercept her this time.

They tell her she doesn’t need to ID the body, and her stomach churns when she realizes that it’s because Peter already has.

Still, they ask her if she wants to see him anyway, and she does, she does, because she saw Ben just barely under an hour ago and it already feels like an eternity.

(Mary is thirty-six and thirty-six and thirty-six, and Richard is thirty-eight and thirty-eight and thirty-eight, but Ben is fifty-one and god, how can there not be a fifty-two?)

What she says is: “Where’s Peter?”

They tell her he’s been taken to one of the back rooms to get cleaned up and get a change of clothes, and that it could be a little while before he’s ready for her.

One of the officers asks her if they’d like her to dispose of his old clothes, and May’s brain refuses to compute why that would be necessary. The officer glances at his partner, and then explains that the stains will probably never come out.

May clutches at the desk to keep from dropping to the floor, and manages to stammer out permission to do whatever they want to with them.

Peter is fourteen.

(But Ben is fifty-one.)

She wavers, torn between her grief for Ben and her desperation to see Peter.

“Take me to him, please,” May says, because it doesn’t feel real yet. “I want to see my husband.”

She does, and it feels real.

She locks herself in one of the bathroom stalls and cries and cries and cries, because Ben is gone and she doesn’t know how to live in a world without him in it, and she doesn’t know how to take care of a teenager by herself, and this wasn’t supposed to happen.

But it has, so at the fifteen minute mark May scrubs away her ruined mascara, splashes the coldest water she can stand across her face, and asks the officer outside the door if Peter is ready yet.

When she walks into the room Peter’s been told to wait in, it feels so much like that night she can almost hear Ben arguing on their behalf in the background, because Peter’s sitting on the floor, back squashed against the wall, orange shock blanket draped haphazardly across his shoulders.

It steals May’s breath away, because for a moment, all she can see is a Peter who is four.

A piece of paper is clenched in his fist, and his hands are raw and red-looking, like he’d been scrubbing at them for hours. Peter looks up, and when his red-rimmed eyes meet hers, her soul cracks in half because he is, inarguably, a Peter who is fourteen.

May stumbles across the room and frantically checks him over. The officers told her he was unharmed so she’s not really looking for anything, but she needs this to feel real, too. Finally satisfied, she takes his hand into hers and asks him if he’s okay.

He stares at the desk in front of him and shakes his head. No.

May wraps a hand around the back of his head and pulls him to her. She plants a kiss in his hair and strokes his back, because he may be fourteen, but she’s only fifty-three.

(And Richard is thirty-eight—and Mary is thirty-six—and Ben is fifty-one.)

______________________

When the day of the funeral comes, Peter is almost late, and May would have been furious at him if she’d had any energy to spare. He’d been acting weird ever since the science trip to Oscorp three weeks ago, and apparently even a funeral is not enough to change that. They stand in the receiving line next to each other, and pretend to smile and tell the well-wishers that no really, they’re okay.

Halfway through, one of Peter’s classmates—Michelle, May’s brain supplies—pushes to the front of the line and says, “Some new vigilante dropped off the mugger at the precinct forty-minutes ago.”

May stares at the girl, uncomprehending.

“He still had the gun on him, so as long as the prints match there shouldn’t be any trouble getting a conviction.” She shrugs. “Thought you’d want to know.”

Several of the people in hearing distance nod approvingly, but their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Dara, just scoffs. “Typical vigilantes. Only show up in time to clean up the mess, not stop it.”

Michelle glares at the woman, and then gives May a salute that’s awkward, but not mocking. She slips off to wherever she came from, and May realizes that she does feel a bit lighter knowing that Ben’s killer can’t hurt anyone else.

May keeps smiling and shaking hands, and it takes four people passing by before she realizes Peter is no longer by her side.

______________________

May guilts her supervisor into letting her off early her first day back to work, because the pitying stares and I’m so sorrys are enough to make her want to drive her headset through a wall. Money is already too tight for her to have to pay for damages, so instead, she signs out of work at 1:30, and takes the train the long way home because the normal route reminds her too much of Ben. She gets off two stops early, buys a coffee she can’t afford, and avoids the eyes of every couple she passes.

Peter had texted that he’d be spending the night at Ned’s, so May fully intends to go through an entire case of beer the second she gets home. She also intends to pull up every single home video they have, which is a decent amount thanks to Peter, and bawl her eyes out while curled up in one of Ben’s old sweaters.

This plan is completely derailed when May goes to unlock the apartment door and it nearly slams open in her face.

Peter is standing on the other side, hoodie pulled up around his face and bags under his eyes. He clearly wasn’t expecting her arrival, just like he clearly isn’t happy about it.

“May!” he says, scrambling back as May pushes her way into the apartment. “How’re you—what’re you—what’re you doing here?”

“What am I—what are you doing here?” May notes the way Peter is edging  towards the door, and so she clicks it shut with her foot.

“I just needed to get some stuff for tonight and now I have it, so, bye?”

“Whoa, buddy,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder to lead him away from the door. “Try again.”

Peter shimmies out of her grasp, and the movement dislodges a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It falls to the floor and his eyes widen, coloured with an emotion May can’t place, and he scrambles after it. He’s faster than May’s ever seen him, but not fast enough to reach it before she’s placed her foot firmly on top, pinning it to the ground.

He looks up and she jerks her head in its direction. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” he says, definitely too quickly for it to be true.

May slides her foot across the floor, and the paper with it, until it’s directly under her.

“May, please—”

She ignores him and bends over to pick it up, unfolding it and smoothing out the wrinkles.

It’s a piece of printer paper, and the watermark on the top is from the NYPD—May suddenly remembers seeing him with it in the back room. There’s one line drawn in black ink down the middle, dividing it in half, and red, blue, and purple tally marks fill it nearly two-thirds of the way down on the left side. The right, however, is completely empty.

May lingers on the different colours, knowing Peter’s too disorganized to have more than one colour of pen on him at one time. She frowns. Peter must have been keeping track of something over multiple days, or at least multiple sittings.

Her eyes flick up and meet his. He looks at the floor.

She takes a sip of her coffee and wishes it were something stronger, and then places the cup on the counter. “What’s going on, Peter?”

“I—” Peter’s eyes dart back and forth between her and the door. “It’s nothing.”

“I majored in bullshit, Peter. Try again.” The dividing line stands out starkly on the page and suddenly, it clicks. She lowers the paper and stares over the top of her frames. “You wanna tell me what was so important you had to make a pros and cons list in a police department?”

Peter loops his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and mumbles something May can’t pick out.

She places a finger behind her ear. “Excuse me?”

“It was—nevermind.” Peter pauses, and kicks his foot at nothing. “It’s nothing, and I’m going out now.”

“You got somewhere you need to be, Parker?”

Peter groans, the hood of his sweater falling off as he cards anxiously through his hair. “This is exactly why you weren’t supposed to be here.”

“I can’t be in my own apartment now?” May can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Who do you think pays—”

“That’s the problem!” Peter shouts, and he whirls around, and May’s startled by the unshed tears in his eyes. Then he deflates. “Or at least... one of them.”

"Then what’s the problem?”

Peter starts to just shake his head, and then his back straightens. He sets his jaw. “...I’m leaving.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.”

“No, like.” Peter bites his lip. “Leaving.”

May stares at him.

“Forever.”

The world drops out from underneath May, because out of all the things she’s expected to come out of Peter’s mouth during her long, sleepless nights, this has never been one of them. May’s eyes jerk back and forth between Peter, who’s inching towards the door, and Ben’s empty chair.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, if you so much as step one foot out that door you are grounded for life.”

Peter shakes his head, a hysterical determination in his countenance. “No. No, I thought this through.”

“Clearly not enough,” May snaps, grabbing his wrist.

Peter breaks her hold easily, and May’s taken aback because when has Peter gotten strong?

“I’m not—I can’t—” Peter chokes, his throat tightening. “I can’t be around you. Or anyone.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I—he—” Tears start running down Peter’s face. “Look at the tally marks.”

May does, and for the first time, notices that the very first lines are not red at all, but only reddish: rust-like in colour, unusually thick and too inconsistent to be from a pen.

Almost like blood.

Oh god.

“Peter,” May says, wanting to hold him but scared he’ll bolt if she does, “Peter, it isn’t your fault.”

Peter shakes his head. “I could have stopped him. I could have, May, and I just—I let it happen all over again. I killed my parents and I killed Ben and I can’t stop thinking about how I’m going to get you killed, too, and I could have stopped it this time—”

“Peter, look at me.” May throws caution to the wind and grabs him by the shoulders. “He had a gun. Okay? I don’t care if you’re four or fourteen, there was nothing you could have done to—”

“You don’t know that!”

The apartment echoes with the sound of his shout, but the empty space between them echoes louder. May drops her hands from his shoulders and Peter’s fists quake at his sides.

“Okay. You know what? You’re right.” May says, taking a step back. “I don’t.”

Peter sucks in a strangled breath, but May ignores him. Instead, she rifles through the apartment, tossing pillows off couches and overturning magazines, until she finds what’s she’s looking for: a green ink pen. She snatches it up and walks over to the dining room table, and slams the paper down.

“All right, let’s try this shall we?” She uncaps the pen and starts to draw. “First off, we’ve got the lying. Constantly. And for god knows why. You’re late for everything, no matter how important and how many times I remind you. You space out in the middle of conversations. You’re unnecessarily snappish, you’re irresponsible with your things, you have an annoying tendency to vanish on the rare occasion you actually do show up. You’re a teenage boy so you break shit all the time, which I then have to pay to replace. Your uncle—”

May cuts off, her throat having closed up. Hot, salty tears land on the page, blurring the ink. May doesn’t know if they’re hers or Peter’s.

“—your uncle died in front of you. So did your parents.”

She finishes writing with an aggressive swipe, green tally marks littering the paper for every damning thing she’s said. Peter’s jaw is clenched so tightly May can hear his teeth grinding together, but it can’t stop his tears from spilling out.

“And you know what?”

Peter jerks his head, no, not trusting his voice. May abruptly rips the paper clean in two.

“I don’t care.”  She crumples up the side holding the tally marks, leaving only the blank piece intact.

“You could have pulled the trigger yourself and I still wouldn’t let you go.”

A sob rips out of Peter’s chest, and he shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t. I–I messed up so bad, May.”

“No. You listen to me, remember? Me.” She holds up the blank sheet of paper. “You see this? There are zero reasons written here, Peter. Zero. You could have a million reasons on the other side, and it still wouldn’t matter because I don’t need a reason to know you’re mine.”

Peter’s lip trembles. “But I—”

“No. And that’s final.” May reaches out and wipes the tears off Peter’s cheek with her thumb. “I’ve already lost Ben. I’m not losing you too.”

Something snaps. Peter’s backpack drops to the floor and he crashes into her, hugging her like he hasn’t in years and sobbing I’m sorry, I’m sorry into her shoulder.

May hugs him back and they rock back and forth in the kitchen, and when Ben doesn’t come up to join them, she sobs, too. But she doesn’t let go.

“I promised you forever Peter. No strings attached,” May whispers, tears running down and merging with his. “Just me.”

[rocknvaughn]

You should go to the psychiatrist if you are obsessed with an actor who doesn't know that you exist and really doesn't care. You are an adult who thinks that tv series or film is a reality, spends too much time on thinking about younger man who lives on different continent and will never talk to you on his free will, because fans of your kind are dangerous. My name is Kate and yours? You will not tell, because frankly you are as secretive as most of the people on internet.

Well, Kate, I would say that it is nice to meet you, but that would be impossible, since we’ve never met. (Not to mention a lie, because you’re kind of a b*tch.) 

Which is why the verbal abuse you’ve been spouting at me is utter bullshit. 

The fact of the matter is that you don’t know me. You only know the few things that you’ve gleaned about me from here and from Twitter, and even that information is faulty. 

But wait...let’s put it all out here, so people can see just how lovely a person you really are: 

So, let’s take all these accusations one at a time, shall we?

1. Are you insane? The answer to that would be, why no, no I’m not; thanks for asking.

2. Did you ever think why United Agents are ignoring your tweets to them? Actually, no, I haven’t wondered this at all. I’ve only directly tweeted to them a couple of times over the years, and at least half of those interactions were simply to inform them about people who were impersonating Colin online. I don’t bombard them with tweets; they have better things to do with their time, and frankly, so do I.

3.  You are a psychofan/you should go to a psychiatrist... Well, that’s a hell of a statement to say to someone you’ve never met. And I assume you have some sort of degree that would qualify you to determine who does and who does not need psychiatric help? No? Didn’t think so... *eyeroll*

4. You are disrespectful/a liar. Disrespectful to whom? To Colin, who--by your own description--doesn’t know me and doesn’t care? To other people in the fandom? To people who are randomly abusive to me online? I’m afraid you’d need to be much more specific for that accusation to hold any weight.

5. You are acting like you know Colin, but you don’t and you never will. I have never, ever suggested that I know Colin, save for the thirty seconds where he signed my programme at stage door in 2013. I told him I thought the play was fantastic and he said, “Cheers, thanks a million!” and moved on. Did my amazing presence make an indelible impression on the Irishman in question? *snorts* Not hardly!

That being said, I am assuming this part of the tirade has to do with my remarks both here and on Twitter about Colin’s likelihood to attend Merlin-related Comic Cons or do stage door visits at the theatre when he appears at the National Theatre this summer. 

While I obviously don’t know the man personally, there is some empirical evidence that I use to support my thoughts on the matter. I’ve explained those reasons already, so I don’t see any purpose to rehashing that here. But, for example, if you want to see for yourself how uncomfortable Colin tends to be at stage door, I suggest you search out some of the videos taken from when he was doing Mojo. Personally, those videos make me cringe. 

6. Actors act, they are not the characters they play. Wow...thank you for pointing that out, because clearly, even at my advanced age, I had no idea what the word “actor” meant. /sarcasm

7. You are over forty years old, you are not a child. And your point is...? I’m not allowed to admire a person’s God-given talent or appreciate a handsome man’s looks because I am old and decrepit? You do realize that Colin is 32 years old, right? That means he’s not a child, either. In fact, he might just be closer to my age than he is to yours!

8. You are obsessed with an actor who doesn't know that you exist and really doesn't care. Wait...isn’t that the literal definition of being in a fandom? *eyeroll*

I relatively obsessively follow Colin’s career, yes that’s true. He does technically know I exist, as he’s actually met me, although I would never expect that he’d remember. I would hazard a guess that he cares about me insomuch as he appreciates his fans’ support, but nothing more. I don’t think I am “special” to him in any way, shape, or form, as you seem to be implying. I am firmly set in reality when it comes to that fact. 

9. You are an adult who thinks that tv series or film is a reality. Another incredible accusation, seeing as we’ve never met.  I’d like to know where you got this frankly mad idea, (actually, no I wouldn’t because I don’t care) as it is blatantly untrue. I am well aware of what is reality and what is not, although you are starting to make me wonder about your grip on it.

Also, you do know that some of the characters Colin has played were real life people, right? There’s this thing called research. I might suggest you do some before you go around randomly accusing people of insanity.

 10. You spend too much time on thinking about younger man who lives on different continent and will never talk to you on his free will. Again with the ageism. What exactly is your problem with my age in comparison to Colin’s? You do realise that Colin attracts fans of all ages, genders, etc. because that is what happens when someone is a gifted artist.

Also, I was unaware that there was a formula somewhere that determined how much time devoted to a fandom was too much time. Please, enlighten me as to its whereabouts so that I may avail myself of its mystical powers! (

I have no idea whether Colin would ever speak to me of his own free will, seeing, as you so rightfully pointed out, we live on different continents. Nor do I have any particular interest in trying to make that happen as he has much better things to do than to talk to me. But my point here is: neither do you know what he would do, so STFU, if you please. 

11. Fans of your kind are dangerous. Fans of what kind, exactly? What is it about me that are you terming dangerous: My interest in the man's projects and being willing to find and broadcast information about his career? My enjoyment of reading or writing the occasional fan fiction? My propensity for collecting memorabilia? My interest in his wardrobe? My steel trap of a mind that holds a multitude inconsequential Colin-related details? My willingness to travel to see his live performances whenever possible? My ability to determine and appreciate his physical attractiveness?

I think those things make me a curiousity at best, but not in the least bit dangerous. And if you actually knew me, this would be obvious.

In contrast, I don’t imagine that I have any sort of place in the man’s life. I don’t expect that I am special to him in any way. I don’t send him love letters or believe that “we are meant to be” or any of that hogwash. I haven’t tried to cut off a lock of his hair or follow him home. I don’t send him tonnes of presents, hoping he’ll notice me. And I don’t think that he owes me anything (besides his body of work) because I am his fan. 

He is a grown man that has his own private life completely apart and separate from mine, and I have no illusions about that.  

12. My name is Kate and yours? You will not tell, because frankly you are as secretive as most of the people on internet. First of all, there are reasons why people are secretive on the Internet...one of them being ignorant and rude people like you. 

Secondly, if your name is actually Kate, then mine might as well be Rasputin...because it’s just that meaningless. You could have literally picked that name out of a hat, since you are just as anonymous as “Kate” as you were after your first anonymous bashing. 

Obviously, you missed the point I was making in my last post, so let me be perfectly clear: it was that if you want to make rude, obnoxious, bullying comments about a person you don’t know, then come out with your screen name attached and OWN your statements. Let people see what kind of an arsehole you really are...but you won’t do that, will you?

Clearly, you have some sort of ax to grind with me. I’ve pissed you off in some way and you’ve decided to come at me like a coward by spamming my inbox with anonymous bashing. Apparently you expected me to be so ashamed that I would curl up, hide and just take the abuse. Well, good luck with that, because I have balls of solid steel and you can kiss my arse. 

Your five minutes are up, and I don’t feed the trolls. Rockn out. 

[8147]

reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge. 

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes. 

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie. 

Oh no. 

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

[thesixthh0ekage]

fic previews

here are some of the things I have in progress-- y’all tell me what you’re feelin.

1. mile high club (t’challa x reader)

The sound of your feet pounding against the linoleum flooring is deafening but you can’t deny the odd sense of euphoria that’s been building since you tripped the alarm.

What had started as a quiet Wednesday afternoon with Tony down in the labs at the compound had then turned into a surprise visit from your boyfriend-- T’Challa Udaku, King of Wakanda and the Black Panther himself. However you would soon find out that this wasn’t a personal visit. The King had received intel from one of his many spies abroad regarding the whereabouts of one of Klaue’s former associates, and a small quantity of vibranium that had found its way into one of New York City’s swanky, high-rise offices. He’d stopped by the avengers compound with the hope of enlisting a certain spider’s help infiltrating the building, only to find out she was away on personal leave for the next few days.

T’Challa was prepared to scrap that plan and try sneaking in without any sort of distraction… that is until Okoye brilliantly suggested that you be the distraction instead. You’d jumped at the opportunity, though convincing T’Challa to let you help was another task in itself.

He wanted you safe, above all things, and he knew that allowing you to accompany him on this mission was certainly not conducive to such wishes. Not to mention the fact that he’d never hear the end of it if anything happened to you because of this-- you were Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes’ favorite-- read, only-- goddaughter, after all, never mind the fact that you’d never done anything of the sort in your life.

He had made that point to you-- several times in fact-- though in the end he was outnumbered. Your enthusiasm coupled with not only Okoye, but Shuri and Ayo’s insistence as well? The King never stood a chance against such odds.

So that’s how you ended up here, streaking through the halls of some stuffed-shirt CEO’s Manhattan penthouse-- and boy is it a long way down from the 60th floor.

You feel… giddy, despite the way your lungs burn with every breath, and suddenly you’re laughing out loud.  

Who knew running for your life could be this fun?!

“What is going on up there, mnadi? Do you have it?”

The sudden sound of T’Challa’s voice over the comms sends a jolt through you and you nearly trip over your own feet rounding a corner at full speed. You choose to ignore the sound of gunfire in the background.

“Oh yeah,” you huff, looking down at the map your kimoyo beads are projecting. Left at the next intersection. How the hell have you lived so long without these things?! “I most definitely have it!”

“What did I tell you, eh?!” Your face splits into a shit-eating grin when you hear Okoye chime in-- you practically feel T’Challa roll his eyes. “I knew she could do it!”

“Do not encourage her!” The King scolds, but despite his attempt to be firm you can both hear the amusement in his voice.  

“Oh it is way too late for that!” You quip, sassy even as breathless as you are. His hearty laugh echos in your ear, and the sound seems to light up your whole body. Your smile grows even wider.  “I’m clearly a natural!”

2. untiled thor fic

Okay, that’s another one done and only…  

You let the thought trail off and take a moment and survey the scene, counting softly under your breath as you tally up every manila folder and the huge number of unread emails on your computer screen. You make it to thirty-three before you decide that the whole exercise is pointless.

You’ve been cooped up in your office for hours, catching up on emails and sorting through the veritable mountain of paperwork that has collected on your desk in the last few weeks.

It really wasn’t your fault, though. Everyone’s work has suffered due to the whole Sokovia Accords fiasco and, between that and worrying about a certain norse god’s whereabouts, the disaster in your office had naturally taken a back-seat.

Now at the end of it all, you still haven’t succeeded in tracking down Thor and the team is down no less than seven avengers-- the amount of paperwork that came with that kind of scandal was staggering, not to mention the residual fallout from the accident in Lagos.

How the hell did you get stuck dealing with all this Department of Damage Control bullshit, anyway?! The Avengers compound is chaos these days, and lately you were the one people were looking to for answers.

A pained grunt rips through you, and you smack your head against the nearest pile defeat, making a mental note rip Tony a new asshole the next time you see him.

You lift your head from the of files, propping it on your fist instead as you went back to scrolling through your inbox, too fast to really see anything, more so to marvel at how quickly they’ve managed to pile up in the weeks since you’d last checked them.

“Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?” the AI’s voice is patched through to the PA system immediately, filling your once silent office with much needed noise.

“I need some help getting through these emails,” you sigh, massaging your temples. “You up for it?”

“Of course,” is the instant reply, and with that the two of you set to work clearing your inbox of unwanted messages.

It’s boring work, but necessary, and having FRIDAY there to help seems to make the task much faster to complete.

Once the final file has been read and filed correctly, you push away from your desk with a heavy sigh, stretching your legs up off the floor and watching the ceiling spin above you while you try to let your mind settle for a moment.

FRIDAY finishes up an extremely long-winded and condescending email from General Ross’ office, and you throw your hands up in the air with an elated shout.

“Ugh, thank you Jesus that one’s over-- delete it, please! Tony can deal with that bullshit,” you say, propping your feet up on your-- now clean and tidy-- desk. “Alright, FRIDAY, last one. Let’s get this over with.”

You close your eyes as she begins to read, though your brow furrows as soon as you hear the subject line. “An electronic letter from…” FRIDAY hesitates from a moment before continuing, “Thor…?”

3. flipmode (erik stevens x reader)

“Oh fuck, Erik,” you whine, screwing your eyes shut as he continues to slam into you. You arc off the mattress, heels digging into his back in an attempt to bring him in even closer. “Ugh, please just--”

You’re cut off when a particularly powerful thrust sends a jolt up your spine, and stars dance across the back of your lids. The sound you make is pitiful, voice catching on a sob as you feebly struggle against him. Erik doesn’t even pause-- only presses your wrists more firmly into the bed as he continues to rock into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” he asks, and if you didn’t feel so desperate to come you figure you’d feel some sort of pride over how wrecked he sounds. It’s hard to say exactly how long you’ve been at it-- though to you it feels like he’s kept you teetering on the edge for an eternity.

You open your eyes and find him staring down at you-- brown eyes bright and wild.

“Yes,” you say, your voice raw and ragged, “yes, please.”

Erik actually laughs, adjusting his grip on your wrists to hold them in one hand, while the other moves to wrap around your throat again. You clench around him at the feeling, your eyes fluttering closed. “Then you gon’ learn to stop calling me out my fuckin’ name,” he says, and your eyes fly open.

Shit!

He doesn’t give you a chance to defend yourself, or even apologize, before he’s pulling out of you and using the hand on your neck to roughly pull you up to a sitting position.

4. hot sugar (harley quinn x reader)

“What’s your name, sugar?” the sound of a syrupy-sweet voice draws your attention from playing with the rim of your glass, and you look up to find the woman you’ve been eyeing all night staring right back at you.

She bites the end of her straw when you finally meet her eyes, the sultry smirk spread across her face a bit wicked as well. You turn a bit in your bar stool, resting one arm on the bar and reaching out to her with the other.

You introduce yourself, gripping her hand firmly when she offers it to you and she leans forward to look at you through her lashes. “What’s yours?”

She laughs at that, raising one dark eyebrow at you. “I think you know who I am, sweet cheeks.”

You return her devilish smirk with one of your own. True, you’re pretty sure you know exactly who your mystery woman is. If her platinum-blonde hair and multicolored makeup are anything to go by. Well, that and the array of tattoos she has covering her body, most notably the ones on her face and chest, the one on her left shoulder reading Property of Joker. But even with all that you can’t be sure. Gotham is a strange place, and copycats are a dime a dozen in this city.

“I might,” you reply, releasing her hand and turning back to your own drink. “Still, it’s never good to assume, you know? I’d rather ask up front than make an ass of myself.”

In your peripheral you can see her shift closer to you, one of her hands moving to settle on your knee.

“Harley Quinn,” she says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. You realize she’s sizing you up-- trying to determine whether or not you’d be down for the ride.  

“Really?” you ask, raising a brow, and an amused smirk settles on your lips.

She nods, leaning into you even more, her hand trailing a bit higher up your leg. “The one and only.”

5. the ex factor (digger “captain boomerang” x reader)

You freeze outside the door when you hear the first noise. You’d been rummaging through your bag with one hand, trying to find your keys, while balancing your grocery bags with the other, and you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t even realized the sounds were coming from inside your place until you’d been about to step inside.

Your first instinct is to be afraid, but as you listen you find that the sounds are quite different from what you’d expect to hear from someone sacking your apartment.

A/N: these are some (but not even all!) of the fics I have in progress. Some i have been working on longer than others, and I’m workin on eventually getting through them all. Which ones would you guys like to see first?

[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 6 - Tsing part 1

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/3x0cMRYDmN5M8lDCZIZxEK?si=07ec23a2d8ac485e 

The sound of a temple bell is heard in the cedar forest at dusk,

The autumn aroma drifts on the roads below. 

The moving cloud fades away, and I smell the aroma of the mushroom.

Oh Matsutake:

The excitement before finding them. 

This episode isn’t about Japan. It’s not about Mushrooms. It’s about living in our own mess, it’s about international relations, it’s about capitalist trading. But the same way we can trace politics through cows, or social relations through cockfights, the art of anthropology is in noticing the small things which might teach us more. In the face of global capitalism a mushroom might seem humble but that is what Anna Tsing would call a problem with scale, because as the most valuable mushroom in the world it couldn’t be further from ‘humble.’ 

This is notes from the field desk 

(Theme)

(Sounding sleepy) 

It’s about, ummm quarter to five. I’m in Tsukiji whole-sale market in Tokyo. I’m maybe jet-lagged but that would make it like 9pm to me and actually I feel significantly worse than that. I’m here this early because the auction runs from around 5am to six fifteen. Whilst the market is famous for its tuna auctions, if you’ve seen Jiro Dreams of Sushi then you’ve seen the market and it’s ginormous frozen tuna, but they also sell mushrooms here. This market is in fact so famous they had to ban tourists on several occasions. Thankfully it’s not currently one of those times,i’m sat in the tourist section, i’m in the back because of the desk and well because the guards said I was a disruptive influence. 

I’m paraphrasing he actually said “move it, Deku” before shoving my desk to the back. My translation app couldn’t really figure out Deku so if anyone could help me out with the meaning? It doesn’t really matter, seen as almost everyone is here for the Tuna, I have a pretty clear view of the auctioneers arranging matsutake on a trestle table. The staff are wearing, what kind of look like, bowling shirts (kind of questioning) and baseball caps which have a little board on the front which have some kanji which I can’t read. Really someone else should have come on this trip. 

This is maybe petty but to be honest now I’m doing this because I have to, i’m not enjoying it as much. Is there something wrong with me? Anyway that’s a discussion for another time. 

They are organising the mushrooms by, size, value and origin. These mushrooms have probably been sorted at least twice before by value but origin has a significant impact on their eventual sale price. As one Japanese importer explained to Anna Tsing “Matsutake are like people, American mushrooms are white, because the people are white. Chinese mushrooms are black, because the people are black. Japanese people and mushrooms are nicely in between.” Okay, I recognise that we’ve gotten slightly ahead of ourselves here. How does a mushroom come to cost between 1000 and 2000 dollars per pound? 

Matsutake first appears in a poem from 8th century Japan which praises it’s smell which would go on to become synonymous with Autumn in Japan. The mushroom had started popping up around Kyoto and Nara, areas which had been deforested for timber and fuel. In fact, deforestation is the reason why matsutake became common in Japan. This is because these mushrooms have a symbiotic relationship with red pine trees. Red pines tend to grow most successfully in mineral rich soil left by deforestation and could grow more easily without the shade from broadleaf trees which had been cut down. 

This is the start of Anna Tsing’s interest in these mushrooms, not because she’s just really into foraging, although she is, but because of what they symbolise, think Geertz. In the wake of capitalist ruin, here read deforestation, this mushroom thrived. This is so generally understood about Matsutake that people say the first thing to grow after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima was a Matsutake. 

Written in the wake of the 2008 financial crash and with the results of climate change becoming undeniable Tsing wants to find a way that people can pull off the same trick. And she found a parallel in the forests of Oregon, but that is for next week. 

So how does a mushroom you literally find in the trash become the most expensive fungus in the world? Well by 1900 in Japan it had become the culturally ubiquitous idea of Autumn. Think lambs in spring or incredibly drunk, sunburnt bald men with a union jack tattoos and British summer. Matsutake were everywhere, in Kyoto, they became the generic term for mushroom. So far, so cheap commodity right? But then in the 50s people stopped using wood as their main fuel, woodland was cut down and paved for suburban development, broadleaf trees grew back and in the shaded forest, Matsutake started to disappear. By the 1970s Japanese Matsutake were incredibly rare. This coincided with rapid Japanese economic development. The culturally significant and now rare mushroom became gifts, bribes and perks for businessmen. Consequently the price skyrocketed.

Huge demand but limited supply in Japan meant the international market suddenly gained importance. And non-Japanese mushroom pickers from around the world flooded into the market. 

Oh hold on the auction is starting. I wanna see if I can buy one. 

Umm I have no idea what is happening. 

Excuse me. Nope ignored. 

Umm. 

Hello. 

13,000 yen! 

(Awkward silence. Fade out.)

Okay so umm, I won the auction. Is that how you say it? But I bought one mushroom for 120 dollars and then they asked me to leave. So we’re set up in a cafe outside the market. If you’re wondering, yes, the guy who has been following me is here. 

Hi mate. You alright? Cool. 

He was in the auction too but I've decided to live and let live. In part because of what i’ve learned from reading Tsing. 

I guess uhh lets see what the fuss about this mushroom is about. 

Smells mushroom nervously

Yep smells like dirt. Cool. What am I going to do with this now?

Okay smells like dirt. Great. That’s 120 dollars for some dirt. I don’t even like mushrooms what the fuck am I doing. Okay, I guess we should talk about isolation and contamination which is where Tsing starts to get confusing, so, sorry about that. I can really understand why the students don’t get it and I think if the last few weeks have proven anything it’s that the students seem to understand anthropology better than I do. But I’ve done the reading and I've got notes so let’s give it a shot. 

Tsing says capitalism is based on a growth and progress model. Wow, we’re off the rails already. In other words, and I'm not an economist so don’t @ me, the health of an individual, company and nation under capitalism are measured by their ability to generate more than they did previously. The aim is for GDP to grow, for company profits to increase, individuals to earn more etc. One way to achieve this end is to focus on scalability. Which is the ability to create more of the same product without changing the product. This is often achieved through isolation. 

Yikes this episode is like “dictionary corner.” For isolation think of old Henry Ford and his assembly line. Instead of 5 guys working on every aspect of a car, the assembly line isolates each component and has one person make that part. Now you can make lots of cars quickly. Take this podcast, I write it, record it, edit it, and upload it. If I hired a writer, an editor and a social media person. I could just record the episodes and we could all be working simultaneously, produce more podcasts, get more listeners, then maybe this podcast could generate a profit. 

Good news right? More of everything is made more quickly for less money, which means we can all have a car. Or a podcast. But Tsing sees some problems. She takes a different example of scalability. Portugese sugar plantations in Brazil. Sugar cane was grown by splitting a sugar cane and sticking it in the ground. Functionally it was a clone brought from New Guinea and planted in Brazil. As a farming product it couldn’t be more isolated. Unlike a matsutake say, which can’t be scaled because it grows almost by random in relation to the soil and the trees around it, the sugar cane has no relationship to its surroundings. 

Now let's talk about the farm workers. Sugar plantation workers were slaves brought from west Africa to Brazil. Like the sugar cane they were isolated with no social relations in Brazil which prevented escape. This is why slave traders split families, social and cultural groups. Their alienation and isolation made them a controllable, standardized workforce. Portugal made huge profits from this and could keep the uncomfortable effects hidden, seen as the whole project took place in west Africa and south America, far away from the Portugese eyes. This is maybe the first example of what academics call “space-time distanciation” I know what the fuck is distanciation other than a great way to be the most hated person at a dinner party or the pub. 

Basically it’s just a bullshit way to say doing things from far away but in real time. So like ugh I don’t know, (Rising anger) a kid in America can snipe you on COD and call you a homophobic slur and you experience it as it happens even though he’s thousands of miles away. And however much you threaten him he won’t experience any consequences because he’s far away and you’re thirty and trash at shooters. (awkward pause) Not a real thing that happened to me, just a random example. 

So this scalability and distanciation were created and spread around the world by European colonists but it was Japanese markets which modernised the idea. In the 60s to the 80s Japan actually gave American economic dominance a little scare because of its shift to outsourcing. Instead of Japanese companies making products in Japan where labour was expensive they made products abroad where labour was cheap and took advantage of increasingly speedy global supply lines to turn huge profits. 

Matsutake picking is an example of this which we’ll talk about more next time but in short, casual workers pick and sell them for a fraction of their market value in America, the middle men then transport it to Japan where it’s market and cultural value is increased and sell it for a huge profit. 

Another example would be fast fashion. Everyone remembers the scandals when it came out that gap or nike or primark had their clothes made in terrible conditions. A lot of brands defended themselves by saying they had no idea about the conditions. To an extent this is true, but it was deliberate ignorance. They put their production in the hands of intermediary companies in countries far away from their shareholders, employees and customers creating plausible deniability.

There is another problem which is obvious really. Scale can only go so far, which is until all the resources are gone. Then the project has to move on and do something else. Think of Japan after they had cut down all the trees. Or if you really want to depress yourself, fossil fuels. 

Okay, okay what’s the point! Tsing says all this stuff, the distanciation, the scalability, the obsession with more profits, the isolation is the cause of the precarious lives more and more people are experiencing. Think of zero hours contracts, or uber driving or amazon workers pissing in bottles. It’s easy to cut wages, to allow bad working conditions, to strip mine the rainforest when we are distanced from the consequences. So long as it happens somewhere else, to someone else, when we have no relationship with the products we consume, or create. Think of the podcast again. If I hired all these people it would be more efficient but then I wouldn’t have the same relationship with it. I would become alienated from it. That’s how little by little people have less of an understanding of the things around them. That’s how we can separate the petrol we put in our cars from the environmental damage that doing that causes. 

Wow. Depressing. Jesus. Remember when this show used to be about cows and magic? 

(sigh) 

Taking things seriously sucks. Okay but Tsing reckons that by looking at these expensive mushrooms there is hope. Capitalism can make us feel lonely but looking at Matsutake reminds us that even in capitalist ruins like a destroyed forest new things can grow. Those things grow from relationships, the encounter between the mushroom and the pine tree and the soil from deforestation. It’s a reminder that we aren’t actually alone that there aren’t any “challenges we might face without asking for help from others, human or not human.” Through relationships we change and Tsing says “The important stuff of life on earth happens in those transformations.” So you know, join your union, talk to your neighbour, forage for mushrooms. It might just make the world better. And if it doesn’t, well at least you have some friends and mushrooms. Wait did i just say join a union? Am I woke? Must be the jet lag.  

Time for the extract; 

How does a gathering become a happening, that is, greater than the sum of its parts? One answer is contamination. We are contaminated by our encounters; they change who we are as we make way for others. As contamination changes world making projects, mutual worlds - and new directions - may emerge. Everyone carries a history of contamination; purity is not an option. One value of keeping precarity in mind is that it makes us remember that changing with circumstances is the stuff of survival. 

But what is survival? In popular American fantasies, survival is all about saving oneself by fighting off others. The “survival” featured in U.S. television shows or alien-planet stories is a synonym for conquest and expansion. I will not use the term that way. Please open yourself to another usage. This book argues that staying alive - for every species - requires livable collaborations. Collaboration means working across differences, which leads to contamination. Without collaborations, we all die. 

The problem of precarious survival helps us see what is wrong. Precarity is the state of acknowledgement of our vulnerability to others. In order to survive, we need help and help is always the service of another, with or without intent. When I sprain my ankle, a stout stick may help me walk and I enlist its assistance. I am now an encounter in motion, a woman and stick. It is hard for me to think of any challenge I might face without soliciting the assistance of others, human and not human. It is unselfconscious privilege that allows us to fantasize - counter factually - that we survive alone. 

How do you conclude something as complicated as this? Okay how about this. Often you’ll hear people talking about capitalist alienation and it’s not really clear what that means. I think what Tsing is saying is that capitalism wants people to be individualised. That way labour can be scaled up, because the products aren’t related to the context that they are made in. So you can make a ford car in a factory in Detroit or Dhaka and the product will be the same. But Tsing is giving us a warning and a reminder that we aren’t individuals. That we have a relationship with everything around us and forgetting this can destroy our surroundings. This means humans and non-humans too! If we’re going to survive late capitalism and climate change we have to re-engage in these relationships. 

[gretchensinister]

Burgess Wilderness Recreation Area 23/?

And so continues the story I began for the Black as Pitch Halloween event. It’s the kind of story I’m sure you know well. Five college kids, a cabin, and a state park that just doesn’t get many visitors any more… (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21) (Part 22)

We approach a resolution...(here’s a nice long chapter for the middle of the workweek)

Once they were outside, Katherine was actually the first to speak. “Brick, did you want me and Luc to find all of that stuff about the park’s history? You said something about cleaning out the boxes when I was here yesterday. Did that have any sort of meaning? And you’d better give a straight answer.”

“Finding that information was something I left up to you,” Brick said. “I knew it was a possibility and I did not hinder it. But I didn’t think you would be so enthusiastic, true. Anything set you off, or are you simply an extraordinarily efficient person?”

“It looked like the camping records were missing,” Katherine said. “And the radios. Being on call like that is weird for this kind of job.”

“Ah, yes, those irregularities,” said Brick. “I had a choice between hiding real records and manufacturing false ones.” Brick shrugged. “I figured that putting the real ones away would be a little less fishy than having someone find that there were fake records around. Anyone can lose a few papers.”

“Well, cool,” Katherine said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“The radios don’t work,” Tooth said. “We tried. They…the one we opened was full of vines. My friend Bunny…he said that the plants inside the case were an endangered species. That they shouldn’t have been growing there.”

“Mm. I can’t say I’m surprised,” Brick said.

Tooth whirled at him. “Well, we were pretty freaking surprised,” she said. “What the fuck is the point of those radios, then? Why—why?”

“Because maybe they would have worked,” Brick said, infuriatingly calm.

“Oh, what a load of crap,” Tooth said. “You know what, fuck you. You knew we were going to die. If you know what’s in the park you should never let anyone in.”

“I am well aware of what is within the boundaries of the park,” Brick said. “And it is because of my knowledge that I willingly bear the burden of the actions I take to keep this town safe.”

“That’s bullshit and I’m not going to listen to it!” Tooth rushed in front of Brick, planted her feet, folded her arms, and stared right at Brick. She didn’t step back, even when he got very close. “You may think you can get away with that creepy ‘I’m protecting my town’ shtick, but you think I’m going to be scared of that after what I saw in the woods? No! This fucking town is what it is, but you’re still only thirty minutes away from a damn Starbucks. You’re not so far out in the middle of nowhere that no one can ever ask questions about what’s going on here. I mean, if you don’t have a perfect explanation for Bunny’s parents? This is not going to go away, even if you fucking kill me to keep things quiet. So, if you don’t want to do that, sir, you’d better give a hell of a good explanation for why I should stick with my story about mysterious attackers.”

“To go back on your story now means that you lied to the police,” Brick said, nonplussed.

“I don’t care,” Tooth said. “I have a good reason why I said what I did. And those cops today didn’t exactly seem like the type to go after me like a pit bull, you know. Since Burgess isn’t a hotbed of crime, I think your cops are a little more human than most.”

“And how far are you willing to test that?” Brick asked, raising his chin.

“As far as it takes,” Tooth said stubbornly.

“Doesn’t it give you pause for concern that no one will believe you?”

“I’m not trying to get on CNN,” Tooth said. “But I know there’s a monster in the woods. If I tell the truth, enough people will try and test it that there’ll be evidence, sooner or later.”

“Ah, but while investigating, some of these believers might well die,” Brick said, a smile playing on his lips. “What was that you were saying about responsibility?”

“It wouldn’t be my responsibility because all of them would know what they were getting into,” Tooth hissed. “Look here, Brick. I don’t want to attract attention to this all that much. But I don’t want you to yank my chain, and I don’t want to go on with this talk with you thinking you can fall back on the ‘small-town-full-of-secrets’ shit.”

“I’m with her,” Luc said. “I don’t have any loyalty to Burgess, and I don’t have any loyalty to you in the face of several people dying.”

“And you know what?” Katherine said. “I’m with them, too. This is a cushy job for me, Brick, but that’s not enough, not now.” And Luc would probably look down on her if she said anything else at this point. But Brick didn’t need to know that factor in her decision.

“I could get you blacklisted from this type of cushy job,” Brick said mildly.

“No,” Luc said. “No, I don’t believe you could. I don’t think you have any more power than any other small-town parks department head. I wouldn’t play poker against you, but I think you’re bluffing now. Your only ace was the knowledge of the thing in the woods, and we know you have that one now.”

“Please, Brick,” Tooth said, “just stop treating this like some sort of game. It’s horrible, and you’re the only one amused by it.”

Brick looked around at the three of them and sighed. “Do you really think I would have you killed?” he asked Tooth.

“I don’t know you. I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I’m not afraid of you at all.”

Brick took a step back and sighed again. “All right. I’ll tell you what it might benefit us all to know. But there was no call for you to speak to me as you did.”

“People died because of you,” Tooth said. “My friends died because of you. There’s no getting around that.”

“And if your friends hadn’t died, someone else’s friends would have,” Brick said. “That man who was killed before you got here—he doubtless had friends, too. And I had nothing to do with that, though I know the monster did. Or do you blame me for that? I can’t predict every action of the monster, you know.”

Tooth frowned, but she started to walk along with Brick again. “I don’t blame you for that death,” she said. “I don’t expect you to be able to control the monster.” Her expression didn’t clear. “Have you tried killing it?”

“I control the monster as much as I dare,” Brick said. “You know when I came to the park. It was right after the girl disappeared.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I had studied the evidence and reached the conclusion that there was something in the woods. This was not a conclusion anyone else had made. The many deaths that had occurred in the park since such things were first recorded gave me a great deal of worry when I thought of the deaths that might occur in the future, if no one was willing to face the reality of the monster. So when I became head of Burgess parks, my goal was to establish a system that would reduce the total deaths associated with the park. That is why I never fought the decline in the park’s popularity; that is why I do not advertise the existence of this park. And the deaths did decrease. I did that.”

“You do advertise the park, though,” Tooth said. “We wouldn’t have known about the park or the cabins if Bunny hadn’t seen an advertisement, or, well, I don’t know how he found out about this park, but it was probably listed, with prices, on some kind of park comparison website. I know he wouldn’t have dug around in print to find us a place to stay. There’s no time for that, not with his schedule. So you do advertise for the park, and you’ve done so recently. You’ve made a decision recently that led to my friends’ deaths.” Tooth sighed. “This is all just going to be more self-serving bullshit, isn’t it?”

“Again, there is no call to speak like that,” Brick said. “I wasn’t finished with what I had to say.

“When I realized what was in the park and that no one would believe me, I decided that the best course of action was the path of managing its containment. It hadn’t left its territory yet, I assume because there was a sufficient amount of prey within the boundaries of the park. The test would be to see what happened when the prey went away. What I found was that the monster would seek human prey as close to the boundaries of its territory as it could find. This is not so different from the methods of other hunters. The animal will expand its territory if no sufficient prey is found within it.

“I did not want the monster to expand its territory, as the next location where it might find sufficient prey would be Burgess. So, I decided to do what I had to in order to prevent that from happening. I would note when the monster killed someone outside the park. And then I would make a small advertisement for our cabins—which, Miss Khan, you’ll notice were kept in excellent condition.”

“It’s the little things,” Tooth said bitterly.

“It would not be better if they were kept in poor condition,” Brick said. “I make the advertisement, and I book one group of campers. They come, and then the town of Burgess is safe for years afterward.”

“You didn’t say that the reason Burgess is safe is because the monster killed the campers,” Tooth said.

“I do not relish that aspect of my protection,” Brick said.

“Well, it’s still a part of it,” Tooth said.

“And I don’t think you actually reduced the deaths,” said Katherine. “In all those articles, in all those records, checking the obituaries—before you started your—your system, there was about one death per year. After, I’m pretty sure it still works out to about one death per year, except that they all came in clusters, and they were all people from far away. I bet you didn’t go to any of the funerals of the campers. They were far away. You could ignore them.”

This, finally, did seem to discomfort Brick, but not for long. “Then I still have protected Burgess, which was ultimately my goal.”

“I hate you,” Tooth said.

“I understand that,” Brick said. “I cannot do anything about it. But I know more about this situation than you. Do you want to stay here forever? I don’t think you do. I can tell you how to start moving yourself back into normal life.”

“Say what you need to say, then,” Tooth said. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Your explanation sucks.”

Brick nodded. “I think a shortening of this conversation would be beneficial. What you will do is go to the Cardinal Rest Inn. I will pay for you to get a room. I recommend that you call your parents there. Your parents—how far away are they?”

“From here?” Tooth said. “About seven hours by car.”

“Well, the nearest airport to Burgess is about forty minutes away. They might fly out in this situation, might they not?”

“Why don’t you let me deal with all of that?” Tooth asked, her voice cold.

“Oh, very well,” said Brick. “But know that there will be no charge for you or your family so long as you need to be here.”

Tooth didn’t reply, and Katherine and Luc grimaced at each other.

“As for our law enforcement officers and the more plausible, that is, monster-less explanation, I will be having a word with them this afternoon and, as an expert, I will accompany them on their investigation of the park tomorrow.”

“I thought you said no one believed there was a monster in the woods but you,” Luc interrupted.

“Oh, that is true, very true,” Brick said. “But officer Hodgin, the older fellow, and I have worked with each other in a few similar situations. He may never admit that there is a monster in the woods in the way we understand that to be true, but he knows all the same that there is something uncanny in the park that it doesn’t do to look at too closely. You’re right, Miss Khan, that we haven’t had to concern ourselves with survivors before, so all the deaths could be attributed to spectacular bad luck, and the conditions of the bodies, to the depredations of animals. Your plausible story requires a more thorough investigation than has been called for in previous incidents, but I do not think this will present an unsolvable problem. There are signs of struggle where your friends were taken, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Tooth said sullenly.

“It will be enough to allow the police to take appropriate photos,” Brick said. “It is important for everyone to see that we are performing our due diligence. But I well know that despite the popularity of the police procedural drama, most of the public is not well-versed in the nature of an actual crime scene investigation. There will be no leads in this investigation, naturally, and while it may causes a certain amount of nervousness in this immediate area, when no gang of murderers attacks anyone else, that will fade.”

“What about the newspapers?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, we’ve only got the Burgess Bugle to worry about,” Brick said. “But the editor has seen this kind of thing before, you understand. He knows how to let this kind of story peter out. Sensational news only becomes so if it’s sensationally written. And this need not be.”

“So there’s no chance of some larger news organization picking this up? They picked up the story of that girl, Sarah.”

“And if you’ll recall, that was just before my time. We aren’t watched by any of the big boys,” Brick said with some satisfaction. “If we wanted national media attention, we’d have to go looking for it pretty hard.”

“Bunny’s parents…they’d do that,” Tooth said. “They’ve always…that is, they, they’re the kind of people who expect the world to work a certain way, and that includes the cops doing literally everything possible to solve their son’s murder, no matter how long it takes.”

“And are they also the kind of people who could easily believe that a small town police force could be incompetent enough to quickly lose any trail?”

“Yes, exactly,” Tooth said. “They’ll get bigger news, the FBI…”

“And nothing will come of it because no one knows to look for a monster. Or, well, I can imagine one consequence—the tourist revenues of places like Twin Lakes will be down. Hard for them. And that’ll be on you.”

“Fuck no, it won’t,” Tooth said. “If it’s not on you, it’s on the monster. And hell if I know why I’ve been focusing on Bunny’s parents. I mean, it’s not like Nick, or Jackie’s, or Sandy’s parents are going to not care. If they come out here, are you going to comp them hotel rooms, too?”

“If it comes to that, I will make a decision then,” Brick said. “But your part in all this will be over. You experienced something traumatic. You won’t be expected to do anything. All you will need to do is turn to your family and try to forget.”

“Forget? Forget? I’m not going to forget any of this,” Tooth said. “And you’re not going to be able to forget it, either. Four people can’t just disappear with no consequences! Not with how connected everything is these days! Not four—four white people, even if the only witness is a brown girl!”

“If these were real murders, perhaps you would be right,” Brick said. “But no matter how pretty your friend Jackie looks in a picture on the twenty-four hour news, it’s not going to make a difference. The monster is still there, and the monster will continue to be there. I know it’s hard to believe, but it is possible for people to vanish into the woods, even today.” Brick stopped walking and turned to the street. They were next to a neat, tidy square, the tiny-leafed plants surrounded by new mulch.

It would be a very nice place to walk through when summer came, Tooth thought. Too bad it was in this town. How much did the other locals suspect? Tooth thought that the younger generation, the ones that had been too young to remember the last set of missing campers, or at least young enough not to notice, probably wouldn’t suspect anything. What was all that suspicious about an unpopular nature park? Nothing. And even the people that had been around for one set of missing campers, well, one weird tragedy was one weird tragedy. They wouldn’t necessarily think it showed a pattern because one incident didn’t make a pattern.

Only the people that were old enough to have noticed two or more events would be able to spot a pattern of any sort, but why would they? Everyone was busy with their own lives, so they wouldn’t have had a reason to focus on the park. They had their own tragedies. Tooth sighed and turned away from the square and slightly back toward Brick.

“Are we done?” she asked.

“Nearly,” Brick said. “I expect that you might want to know a little bit about the monster in the woods.”

“I don’t know if I do,” Tooth said. “But if it’s the last thing you have to say, get on with it.”

“Hmm,” Brick said. “Well, as I said, even today, it’s possible for people to disappear into the woods. And even though it might not seem like we were at all connected back in the seventies, it was just as astonishing to us, then, that someone like Sarah could disappear so completely.”

“But you knew,” Katherine said. “You knew that she hadn’t really disappeared. The monster killed her.”

“That is what I first thought,” Brick said. “But I soon came to believe that I had been very wrong.

“I was part of one of the earliest search parties for Sarah. We found nothing, and nothing, and more nothing. I didn’t think we were going to find anything, after the first couple days. There’s just a feeling you get, for these things, and I wasn’t getting the feeling that we were going to find her. But, when I talk about a feeling, there was a feeling when looking for her that I’ve never felt before or since. I felt always that the forest was watching. And it wasn’t…it wasn’t like when I had been in the woods before. That’s what I want you to understand. The park has always felt like there’s a monster in it because the monster has always been there. But after Sarah disappeared, something was different. I thought that perhaps the monster was stalking me in particular, but if it had been, I wouldn’t be speaking to you today. So, I was stumped. Stumped and nervous. There’s no telling what a forest like that can throw at someone, and I knew if I didn’t have anything solid to say to my team, there was no point in saying anything at all.

“As it happened, I got separated from my group for a few minutes—only a few minutes, and they were within shouting distance the whole time—or at least, I think they were. At the time, I wasn’t especially aware of anything other than…than her.” The others looked at each other, but Brick paid them no attention, and this time it didn’t feel like an act.

“She was almost impossible to see, but absolutely impossible to miss,” Brick said. “She was tall, tall as a tree, it seemed, and while I now think that some of that was an illusion, I do not think that all of it was. Her hair became branches, her skin bark. She walked like a forest creature, and she belonged in the forest, of that there was no doubt. Animals scurried away from me, but they came back in her presence. She brought the birds, too. She wasn’t human—no, not at all—but when she turned and looked at me, her face was…familiar. I had looked at it countless times over the past few days. Her face was the face of the girl we had been tasked to find! To say I was stunned—no, that would be too mild a word. I was in awe. I experienced a kind of holy terror. It was the most incredible experience of my life, but it was also clear to me that there was no way that Sarah would be returning to the world of middle school and bikes and family vacations. She had become something else, and that other thing…it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

“Maybe that’s why I’m determined to keep the park safe,” he said. “I may hate the monster, but I want to protect her. For it seems to me…it seems to me that whatever the monster is, it saw her beauty, too, and it transformed her in some way, made her a being beyond humanity. A being it could truly be companionate with.” He sighed. “Ah, there’s so much horror and beauty both in those woods.”

He put his hands in his pockets. “Of course, what that means practically is that there are two of them out there. That’s not a wise thing to ignore, especially as I have reason to believe that she is the one who dislikes, hmm…unnatural things. What a wedding present for her, don’t you think? The power to stop, once and for all, all the things that would hurt her beloved forest. The power to stop machines, to kill any plants and animals that shouldn’t be there, to nourish what should be. As a conservationist, well…I don’t really want to jeopardize that.”

“So this is like…some kind of eco-terrorism,” Tooth said. “Well. That’s still no excuse for letting innocent people walk into the park to be killed.”

“What would you have me do?” Brick asked. “Advertise like this? If you beat your wife and children, come on out to Burgess for a free camping trip!” He shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t do. I can’t be the one to decide what’s worth death or not.”

“You’ve decided that coming to this park is worth death,” Tooth said.

“It is all in the luck or un-luck of the draw,” Brick said. “I’m sure there are people out there who missed a year that I needed to advertise and went somewhere else instead. And there, they may have gotten lost, and died of exposure. There, they may have perished due to a previously unknown bee sting allergy. Or, to choose a less-rare circumstance, maybe they got in a car crash and died on the way there. Cars have killed far more than the monsters of Burgess Wilderness Recreation Area.”

“You know what…there’s still a difference, but if you’re not going to see it by now…oh, fuck it. I don’t want to have this argument anymore. You said what you had to say, and I heard it all. I want to go somewhere I can call my parents.”

“Luckily enough, that’s just where we ended up,” said Brick. He gestured to a handsome brick building along one side of the square. “There’s the inn. If you’ll tolerate me for a few more steps, I’ll be glad to get your room arranged.”

 ***

 Brick had strolled away immediately after getting Tooth her room, without any apparent care as to what Katherine or Luc was going to do next.

Tooth invited them up to her room because she still wanted to talk about a few things, and, well, when Luc and Katherine were with her, she wouldn’t have to feel just how horribly alone she now was. But first, one more necessity.

“I know this is weird, after I asked you up here,” Tooth said, “but would you be willing to just, like, hang around for a little while as I call my parents?”

“Of course,” Katherine said, and Luc nodded. “I can…I can hardly imagine what you must be going through right now. I wouldn’t want to be alone now, either.”

“Thanks,” Tooth said. She wiped her eyes. “Really, thanks. I wish…I wish this wasn’t how we met. But how would we have? You’re good people, that’s what I want to say.”

“Take what time you need,” Katherine said. “I’m glad…I’m glad there’s something I can do right now.”

“We can turn on the TV to give you a little privacy,” Luc said.

Tooth nodded, then sighed and turned to her phone.

 ***

 The cooking competition that she and Luc had settled on was failing to hold Katherine’s attention. How was she supposed to care what anyone was doing with pickled jicama at a time like this? There were too many other important questions, most of them unanswerable on her own, and some of them probably just unanswerable in general. They all came back to one big one, though: What was she going to do? Could she continue her job as she had planned before she knew about the monster and how Brick handled its presence? And if she could, would she? What did Luc plan to do? If he left, what would Katherine say to his replacement? And that was assuming she stayed.

From the other bed, Tooth sobbed into the phone.

Katherine frowned and stared at the TV. She couldn’t stay, could she? Absolutely not, not when the situation in the park resulted in the aftermath that it did. Or maybe…maybe she could stay just until the monster killed someone outside the park again and Brick wanted her to make a new camping reservation. It had killed four people this time, so she had maybe four years here before she had to move on. That was a pretty good chunk of time. That was the kind of chunk of time that looked good on a resume. It was the kind of thing that helped someone find other resume-type jobs, rather than the weird and forgotten work she’d gone here and there doing for her entire adult life.

Anger sparked within her at that thought. People weren’t supposed to have to make decisions like that. However, the spark soon died away, overwhelmed by a flood of yet more questions. What did they really know about the monster? Or monsters? Was there any possible safe way to learn more about them? Should that even be a goal? Or should they just learn enough about the monster to kill it, assuming that anything could be learned at all?

What did it mean for all life that such a monster could exist? What was the difference between these monsters and a highly endangered species that was also dangerous to humans? Well, there was a clear answer to that. All endangered species could, obviously, die. All endangered species needed a population of individuals to continue living. The original monster failed both these tests. It seemed to have lived for centuries on its own. But seemed was the key word there. They didn’t even know what the original monster looked like, apart from Tooth, and she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Could an animal that fit into the tree of life cause that kind of reaction? Katherine had seen videos of a basket star, and also the life cycle of a Surinam toad, but…no, Tooth had said they’d first thought it was a person. That something humanoid could cause that kind of reaction…there was no way to avoid it. The monster was, indeed, something other.

And that was a freaky thought, because, well, even something like a platypus wasn’t totally alone in its category. Brick had told them about how the monster had made itself not alone. So it wouldn’t be wise to say that Burgess was definitely the only place with a monster.

She shied away from that thought toward any other refuge, and discovered that on the cooking show they were no longer working with pickled jicama but had moved on to candied redbud flowers. She also couldn’t help but hear that Tooth’s sobbing had subsided, and that now she was discussing things like flight times and car rentals.

Katherine offered silent thanks that Tooth was almost done with her phone call, and worked on devoting her whole attention to the possible uses of candied redbud.

 ***

 “Well, that’s that,” Tooth said, flopping back on the bed.

Immediately, Luc turned off the TV and sat up, which proved to Katherine that he hadn’t really been invested in the uses of jicama or redbud either.

“So,” Katherine said. “Now we have as much time to talk as you want.”

Tooth pushed herself upright and took a deep breath. “Well, good. Yeah, that’s good, it’s good. So…that was kind of fucked up, the way that Brick was talking about that, the way Brick talked about the girl that went missing, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Katherine said. “And I’m glad you brought it up. I mean, I don’t know what else to say about it, but that was an extra level of messed up.”

“I think he really did see that…being…though,” Tooth said. “I don’t know about his theory, but…the basic facts of the story? Yeah. There’s just…I don’t know. It was different from anything he’d said before.”

“Pretty gross that he assumed the monster had taken her to be his mate,” Katherine said. “I mean, who knows what a monster is doing when it’s not eating people?”

“Well, based on the one conversation that we had today, I’d guess that if we’d said something like that, he’d start saying things about ‘biological realities’ and all that kind of bullshit.” Tooth traced her fingernail along the pattern of the quilt on the bed. It had four large squares on it showing a tree throughout all four seasons. It was nice. Maybe custom made for this place? It felt like a real quilt someone would want to use, not horrible like some hotel bedspreads. She sniffled and blew her nose on one of the room’s tissues. Those were as scratchy as any she’d ever used before, so at least that seemed normal. Like nothing else.

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” Katherine said. “Man. I really…I didn’t like finding out what Brick had to say about what happened.”

“What gets me is the confidence he had in us,” Luc said. “he doesn’t think we’re anything to worry about, even after telling us everything.”

“Well, he was very logical about that,” Tooth said. “There’s not much good we can do. Not when we’re on our own.”

“Containment,” Luc said musingly. “Maybe if it would be too dangerous to try to figure out how to kill it, but maybe something could be built to contain it successfully.”

“I don’t know if it would be a good idea to do that, either,” Tooth said. “Did I tell you it broke a window using a branch? It’s smarter than any kind of animal.”

“I…oh,” Luc said. “That’s pretty bad.”

“I wouldn’t put a lot of money on keeping it in if wanted to hunt the people outside. And that’s assuming something could even be constructed in the first place, without it, you know…just walking out of the perimeter and leaving.”

“And without the one that used to be Sarah killing everyone,” Katherine said.

“And anyway, as three people who don’t have a lot of money, building something to contain a monster—a structure—is even more impossible than warning others about the monster being there in the first place,” Tooth said.

Katherine bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Maybe…maybe Brick was right about the monster being impossible to kill or contain in a way other than it already is.”

“But it still seems wrong to let everything go on as it has,” Tooth said.

“Yes, yes,” Katherine said. “I’m not saying that nothing should change. But maybe…our approach should be the opposite of what his has been.”

“What do you mean?” Luc asked.

“I mean that—okay. So right now when Brick accepts a reservation, he’s also accepting that those particular people will die, and that they’ll die for a reason they don’t understand,” she said. “That’s how it works when he only accepts the one reservation. But if he didn’t do that…if we didn’t do that, then the situation would be much more like the random car accident Brick claimed it was.”

“You skipped a step,” Luc said. “If we did what instead of made reservations like Brick?”

Katherine looked down at the carpet. Pine green. It seemed too nice to walk on with shoes. “I mean…if we made the park popular again. If lots of people stayed here, then all of them would share just a little of the chance that the monster would kill them. I know that sounds bad, and maybe a dangerous guess to make, but really…it’s always averaged out to one death per year. If we do nothing, if we do something…that may just be a constant of the monster. And if I’m one of the people who has to make a decision about who has to die, I’d rather…I’d rather not be so sure that the one group of people I actually let into the park were definitely going to die. I’d like to not…to not sign up people to be sacrificed that didn’t know what they were signing up for. So the alternative is…advertising the park and making it popular again. If lots of people go to the park, and only one dies per year, then…I feel like it would be more like a random accident, rather than a sacrifice.” She looked down at the floor, her shoulders slumped. “That sounds bad, I know…but I do still think it’s better than what Brick’s been doing.” But maybe her ethics were wrong, and it was obvious to the others. She couldn’t make herself look up at Luc or Tooth to find out as the silence began to stretch on.

“It is better than what Brick’s doing,” Luc said finally. “And it also might be something we could actually do. I mean…the other option is to just leave, but…I do think we have some responsibility, now that we know. There’s no guarantee that anyone who came to work here after us would be as curious as we were, or be willing to come to the conclusions that we were. So I think we have to do something. And making the park more popular may very well be that thing.”

“You know, that may be able to help with capturing or killing the monster, too, eventually,” Tooth said. “Look. We don’t know what to do about the monster, and Brick didn’t, either. But maybe in a group of a whole lot of people, rather than just three, someone would be able to come up with a solution that actually works.”

“That makes sense,” Luc said. He stood up and went to stand by the window, looking out over the square. “I feel kind of sick, admitting to this, but I don’t really want to leave this park and the monster in it, not just out of a sense of responsibility, but because I want to be the one involved in this weird, exciting thing, not someone else. So I’m glad we have at least some of a plan regarding what we’re going to do about what Brick’s been doing, and the monster itself, too.”

Katherine sighed, and leaned back on the bed. “It is kind of exciting, isn’t it? We’re different. We’re special. We’re the ones who are going to figure out what to do about a real monster.”

“It’s probably going to become more horrible than exciting soon enough, if you work to make the park more popular,” Tooth said. “Just next year, someone will die. And the more time you spend in the park, the more likely it is that you’ll see the monster. That’s…I know just seeing the monster may not seem like a big deal, but I really…if you’d have seen it, you’d understand.”

“That’s a risk we’ll just have to take,” Katherine said. “We can’t do anything else. Or, we could, but we can’t do anything better.”

Tooth folded her arms and went over to join Luc at the window. “I’m not really happy about that, but…well…I guess I wouldn’t really be happy about anything other than this not having happened. I’ll…I’ll give you my phone number. My email. You can text me or email me if you need help.”

“Okay, that’ll be good,” Katherine said.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

“So, after making a plan, are we supposed to feel resolved?” Luc asked. “Because I don’t. I just feel…beat.”

“I think it’s because we haven’t reached an endpoint at all,” Katherine said. “We’re at a beginning. And there’s no guarantee that anything we do will have any effect at all.”

“So…that’s kind of like the rest of life, isn’t it?” Luc said.

Katherine gave a small laugh. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess here we have more of a chance to do something that will make a difference than we would in most cases. There’s only a few antagonists here.”

“That’s the spirit,” Luc said. “And, you know…even if this is pretty messed up, I’m glad that as we looked through this stuff, I was with someone who was able to see the possibility of a monster in the woods.”

“Same here,” Katherine said with a grin. She turned to Tooth, a little guilty for flirting at a time like this, but still full of a warm glow at the thought that she’d be working with Luc for some time to come. “Do you want…do you want us to leave you alone now? Or do you want us to stay?”

“I don’t know,” Tooth said. “My mom is going to get here early tomorrow. I can be by myself till then. But I…” She made a face. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, I mean, I just met you.”

“Under very unusual circumstances,” Katherine said.

“This isn’t a normal day,” Luc said. “I think we’d all feel better if we got something to eat. It’ll help remind us that we’re alive.”

“Whether we like it or not,” Tooth said. “Okay. Yeah. All right.” She tore her gaze away from the window and joined Katherine where she was heading towards the door.

They left without saying anything more—perhaps conversation could resume once they were sharing a meal together, and perhaps that conversation might even be about something other than the monster, and maybe even something other than the terrible events of the past day. But for now, silence felt necessary. They had chosen a new path for the park—a more dangerous path, for them, and for the visitors who would come to the park in time. They had to face off against Brick’s experience, and tell him that things were going to change. They had to take responsibility for something that most people wouldn’t want to hear about or know about, something that, if acknowledged, would change everything. None of them felt ready to do that, but neither were they ready to let the Burgess Wilderness Recreation Area continue in the darkness of secrecy as it had. It was time to bring the monster into the light.

[spideyxchelle]

part 2 of WORST DATE HEADCANONS??!

looools. so, you all LOVE closure. all of my headcanons that just don’t really end, that are more up to your discretion on what happens after are not your faves, are they, fam? its okay. i had to write a second part anyway because @peterjonesparker told me I had to and she owns my ass. also, this second part is totally based off of @pocohantas01 tags on the first part. 

[part 1]

MJ and Peter manage to not date through all of college. which is baffling to their friends and family but not so weird to them BECAUSE THE OFFICIAL STATEMENT IS THAT THEY ARE JUST BEST FRIENDS. 

and, after years and years of this, pretty much everyone just rolls their eyes and takes them, sort of, at their word. but because Peter and MJ are platonic bros or whatever they weird fuck they are, all of their friends and family never try to subject anyone that doesn’t know them to Peter/MJ weirdness. that means none of their friends ever set them up with people to date, Tony doesn’t bother arguing when MJ sleeps in Peter’s room at the compound and everyone just lets that weirdness live as long as it doesn’t interfere in their personal lives. 

until it interferes. 

because Ned is getting married. he proposed to Betty about two years after college graduation and all of their friends are freakin’ thrilled. because, see Peter and MJ, when you like someone you tell them, then date them, and then maybe get engaged if marriage jives with your life plans. 

obviously Peter is Ned’s best man. and MJ is in Betty’s bridal party because the two girls know each other really well because of Peter and Ned and even have become friends of their own accord. Betty’s maid of honor is Liz Toomes which makes Betty nervous. because GOSH, Liz and Peter have a history.

when she tries to express her concern, Ned kisses her head and says bluntly, “it isn’t gonna be awkward because Peter is gonna be all over MJ.” Betty laughs, and then says just as plainly, “I’m not giving Peter or MJ a plus one. I’m not gonna subject some poor sap to being their dates when they don’t even care.” “I’ve stopped trying to understand what they’re doing.” Betty wraps her arms around her fiance’s neck, “I’m serious, Ned. no dates. I don’t need that drama at my wedding.”

so, because Betty is the boss, when the invites go out Peter and MJ’s invites do not have plus ones. 

Peter immediately facetimes MJ and when her face pops up, he flashes the invite at her, “did you not get a plus-one?” she shakes her head, “nope.” “what the hell, Ned?” “are you, uh, seeing anyone that you want to take?” and her voice has that awkward tone that it sometimes gets when she asks him about his dating life. and the pause that happens after her question is equally as loaded. peter clears his throat, “no. just, uh, you know, it’d be nice to have the option.” “sure sure,” she says quick, “options are good.” “yep.” “cool.” “cool.” “well, I gotta-.” “-go. yeah, me too.”

when they corner Ned at game night two weeks later, he sighs, “i’m not gonna give either of you a plus one. this is my wedding.” “what does that even mean,” MJ snarls. “just,” Ned squeaks, “you two aren’t good at dating other people when the other is around. and I don’t want people storming out of my wedding because they’re feeling ignored. by either of you.” Peter’s jaw drops, “that’s not…how could you….how dare….we’re just friends, Ned.” Ned rolls his eyes, “whatever, sure you are. but its my wedding so its my rules.” MJ thumps Ned in his stupid head, “I’m gonna tell Betty that you’re being dumb.” Ned rubs his head, “go ahead. it was Betty’s idea.” 

both Peter and MJ freeze. even though they’re barely a foot apart they can’t look at each other. it’s weird. NED MADE IT WEIRD. not them over the last several years of mutual dumbness, oh no. and so Ned takes pity on the both of them and offers, “why don’t you guys just go together…..as friends.” 

Peter gnaws on the corner of his mouth and glances at MJ, “we could, uh, do that. it’s practical.” “easy on parking, too,” MJ doesn’t dare look at him. “yea, parking,” Peter echoes.  

and Ned is O V E R it. OVER IT. so he rolls his eyes and leaves them to stand in their awkward corner of awkward where they don’t look or talk to each other. 

the next few months are pretty much business as usual save a few wedding things. as best man, Peter has to set up the bachelor party and he has lots of shit he volunteers to help do to help Betty, but he and MJ are friends as usual. and MJ has to go to bridal stuff. she’s not the maid of honor, but she’s in the party so she’s present. and, btw, hanging out with Liz is awesome. they get along so well. always did. 

although, Liz does have some questions about her and Peter. and when MJ gives her the official statement, Liz goes to ask Betty and her best friend groans and gives a flippant, “don’t ask.” and that’s that. 

three days before the wedding, Peter takes Ned up to the compound as a special bachelor event for just the two of them. some of the other groomsmen don’t know about Spider-man things. so this is just for the two of them. besides, Peter wants to share something special between just him and Ned. 

as they sit on the roof of the compound a beer in their hands, Ned sighs, “this was great, man. thanks.” they clink glasses and Peter says, “to you, Ned. may you and Betty be awesome and be best friends forever.” Ned looks down the barrel of his glass and summons the courage to say, “you know that’s all it is, right? being with somebody.” Peter cocks his head, “what do you mean?” “dating someone. marrying someone. it’s just being best friends with someone. with the added awesomeness of sex. you could have that, you know. with MJ.” 

and Peter very unceremoniously spits his beer out over the side of the roof. as he composes himself, he curses, “what the hell, Ned?” “I’m just…I’M GETTING MARRIED, MAN. I’m feeling the love. and I want you to be happy. and don’t bullshit me. I know she makes you happy.” “we’re just friends.” “no,” Ned laughs, “no you’re so not.” 

Peter puts his beer down and wrings his hands anxiously, “what do you want me to say, Ned? like, what the fuck does this accomplish?” “maybe nothing. but I’ve said it now. it’s out there.” 

and the problem with things being OUT THERE is that Peter can’t not think about it. 

the day of the wedding, he walks Liz Toomes down the aisle, but before he walks down the aisle, he sees MJ do it first. the maid of honor and best man go last before the bride. and she laughs at something stupid Ned’s college roommate says. and his heart freakin’ lurches. 

he looks at the floor to get himself together and then Liz is giving him the cue to walk down the aisle with her. he offers his arm and a silly smile. and they walk. 

and MJ is already up at the front and he only has eyes for her. and, this continues all through the actual ceremony. like, Betty is beautiful and he’s so stupidly happy for Ned but holy shit MJ. she’s his best friend. 

official statement. 

then everyone in the church is applauding and Peter’s trance is broken. he’s brought back to reality as Ned and Betty kiss. and he howls and hoots with the rest of them. 

at the reception, he finds MJ without having to try very hard. he may have spidersenses but he also has MJ senses. its just a thing. 

she’s talking to Liz at one of the appetizer stands. and Peter clears his throat, interrupting their conversation. both girls snap their heads to him. and Peter is struck by the way time kind of works out. the past. and, hopefully, the future. 

“mind if I steal her, Liz?” Peter asks. Liz SMIIIIRKS and gives MJ a small push toward Peter, “be my guest.” 

MJ grumbles about being manhandled but then they’re in the middle of the dance floor and Peter awkwardly puts his arms around MJ’s waist. she tentatively wraps her arms around his neck. the song feels like Peter’s heartbeat. rushing a little too fast but a touch romantic. 

they avoid each other’s eyes. and the room is just dark enough that Peter feels like a blush is fine. besides, he’s a 25 year old man. he can blush is he damn well pleases. 

they don’t talk for most of the song. until the piano ramps. and MJ whispers, “I don’t want things to change.” Peter nods, “I, uh, know what you mean. but what do you want me to do, MJ?” even though she’s in his arms, she’s a million miles away, “pretend.” “i’ve been pretending for years,” peter flows honestly, “I’m exhausted.” 

MJ tries to wiggle free, “I have to go…” “where?” he holds her firm, “why are you running from this?” “i’m scared,” her bottom lip goes. “me too,” he agrees, and leans up just slightly so they can rest their foreheads against each others, “i’m terrified. you terrify me, Michelle Jones.” “that was what I was going for,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat.

“I gotta say it,” he rushes out before she can argue, “I gotta say it. just once. and then we never have to talk about it again. but I gotta say it.” “Peter-” “I am so stupidly in love with you. my whole life is better because you’re in it. and I could be wrong, I could be kidding myself, but I think you feel the same way.” 

her silence is the worst thirty seconds of his life. “you’re not wrong,” is what she finally settles on. she puts her finger over his mouth, to stop him from speaking, “but can we figure this all out tomorrow?” he kisses her finger, gentle and loving, “whenever you’re ready.” 

[bellsyblue]

star wars the last jedi spoilers ahead

I went to see the film as part of a work function tonight (ty Jesus) and I need to get some stuff out of my system bc I can’t discuss with my housemate until she sees it tomorrow, so --

No real structure, just streaming it out.

The most important thing this film showed me was that Leia learned how to use the Force. It was beautiful. The universe that opened up retrospectively when she pulled herself out of the space wreckage to safety (let’s ignore the plausibility of surviving that for a second). I thought of Luke and Leia, fresh off their victory over Palpatine, bonding in the quiet safety of Leia’s senatorial apartments, Luke patiently talking his sister through the ideas of the Force; to quiet, listen and trust her feelings. Imagining her excitement and the joy on his face when she makes that datapad tremble on her desk, the first time she actively reaches out and senses him through the Force, the way they would laugh together the first time they test it on Han and freak him out. Imagining the euphoria of sharing something that’s just between them.

That moment Leia saved herself using the Force shone a beacon on a beautiful past of potential and I think that sustained me through the whole movie.

Thank god.

Because I have not facepalmed so hard nor so often since I had to watch Anakin and Padme “fall in love”.

I am sympathetic to the fact this film had to find its feet in the unexpected wake of Carrie’s death, but WHY DOES THIS FRANCHISE HAVE A 1/3 SUCCESS RATE IN WRITING BELIEVABLE ROMANCE???

On one hand, it’s a good day for you if you’re a Reylo shipper. On the other hand, it was like watching 6/10 fanfiction play out to a rushed pace. Finn and Rose were cute together but even their dynamic felt too fast. The flirtation between Poe and the Vice Admiral. Why so many close-ups??? Also, the Han/Luke shipper in me was mad that Luke didn’t already know Han was dead, but sure he closed himself off to the Force, so he was behind on the news.

the author acknowledges her impressions were exacerbated being forced to sit three rows from the screen

As this film played out, it sounded like it was written straddling the fourth wall: in some ways too aware of its meta wish list and headcanons from the audience, fandom in-jokes, and performing as an echo of the Empire Strikes Back (once was enough with TFA, but again??? seriously?) and Return of the Jedi mashed together “with a twist”.

I waited two years for this film. I read and discussed so much about its potential with so many fans, I think it was bound to fall short of my expectations.

I was really heartbroken when I found myself wishing the movie would just end. It felt way too long. I had waited two years to see Poe, Finn and Rey (okay and Kylo the human disaster) again.

Everything was so rushed. Characters were introduced in a rush. The editing felt rushed. In critical moments where you needed to linger, let the gravity of dialogue or exchange sink in, process who we had just met and why we should care about them, we were instead thrust onto more characters, more spectacle, it was all spilling out faster than Vice Admiral engaging light speed through an entire First Order fleet. Bringing Benicio del Toro in like a passing ship in the night, a darker, shallower tribute to Han Solo’s archetype (don’t bring him back and redeem him, please, you failed to make me care about him, it’s tired and I cbf sitting through that). Bringing back my beautiful Phasmum for two minutes of nothing just to kill her properly. Wtf, film, wtf.

I found myself really hoping Rey would join Kylo, just for something different to  untangle in the third film. Let Rey realise too soon what a stupid choice she’s made, but also wrangle with that commitment she’s made, following that dumb instinct that made her seek and have faith in Kylo. I don’t believe the film is done with those two yet.

“I can feel the conflict in you--” Omg every other time a force user opened their mouth in this film, I just wished to end my hearing. This kind of writing flew thirty years ago, but not today, ad verbatim.

I was actually enjoying the moments Rey called him “Ben” and he didn’t flinch, when they were finally fighting back-to-back, and I was like, “Okay, this has potential, the penultimate light and dark come together, now rule together and muddle your way through your problematic commitment, please, that would make fair drama.”

I like that Rey’s parents were revealed to be nobody of worthy note in the “legacy” of the Star Wars universe. I like the message that the greatest hope of a warrior could come from humble beginnings.

I liked that we discovered what really happened with Ben and Luke, and what really sealed Ben’s decision to go dark side. I like that the story made Ben and Luke both share the blame for this. Luke got lost in the airs of his own legend, and Ben had many chances since then to turn back. It’s still shit Snoke clearly got to him young and was manipulating him from a young age; but that doesn’t excuse the shitty things he’s doing by today’s events. He’s a survivor of abuse and sadly, it’s warped his capacity to make rational decisions that take courage by the average person’s measure.

I liked the moment Yoda and and Luke were reunited. Yoda has a levity we often see in older people who have all the perspective, but no fucks left to give. Threaten to burn the foundations of your religion? The old codgers will always call your bullshit. These kind of people bring you back down to earth for #realtalk.

This film smacked of some of the problems I suffered in Justice League, it rarely let people connect as real people with all the awkwardness, tentativeness and vulnerability we often have. Everyone was charging ahead. Everyone was so sure of themselves, even when they were supposedly crying, heartbroken or scared. That moment when Rose’s unnamed sister dropped the bombs and clutched her amulet, and we lingered on her face in slow motion as she closed her eyes? One of the best moments.

War and resistance are fucking scary, exhausting and heartbreaking. This is why I maintain Rogue One is still one of the best films of the film franchise, because it was on the ground where the highest costs were being paid. In war, most people don’t have the means or luxury of fucking off to an isolated planet to nurse the agony of our failure. We have to stick around and muddle through, take actions that compromise our morals and break our hearts in the process, and it fucking sucks (read: Cassian Andor).

I like that everyone in the First Order looked stressed and unglamorous af in comparison to the Force Awakens. I cracked up the moment I saw the shadows under Hux’s eyes, leaned over to my boss and was like, “Yo, that’s my bro, he’s wearing our look.” And seriously, compare Kylo’s unmasking scene in TFA to TLJ. In TLA, they took serious care to unmask him as beautifully, coiffed and confidently as possible. When his mask comes off in TLJ, the camera is tight to his face, showing the blotched complexion of his exhaustion, nervous sweat, his pores and moles and scars, he’s raggedy ann. As Snoke throws in his face, killing his father split him down the middle and he’s never been more conflicted.

I really liked the showdown between Kylo and Luke. I like that Luke apologised for failing him, that Kylo is so far gone in his rage of Rey deserting him, of being alone at last, that Kylo was unmoved. I like how the film says goodbye to Luke, and that Leia lives on at the end.

Farewell, Space Princess. You will forever be loved.

I give it a 6.5/10. But you bet your ass I’m going to see it tomorrow again with the friends anyway, and finish Close the Circuit because now I have enough lore answered to make up my own version.

I look forward to sitting back with enough vantage to actually appreciate Poe Dameron’s beautiful face. Incidentally, this was v insightful for Poe’s character. I’ve given him too much credit as a level-headed commander. He’s way more willing to sacrifice lives than I expected. I understand that was his entire arc, but... the more you know.

[captainmortgage]

So for my creative writing class I had to write a story of a character I made up meeting a zombie for the first time. So that happened. Anyway, I kinda liked it so here it is under the cut

Allow me to describe for you the first time I encountered the undead. It’s a moment that sticks with you, not just because of how terrifying it is, but because of how often you’ve imagined it before. And how wrong you were each of those times. You see, I’d always imagined that someday I’d run into some slow, sniffling, mostly-dead-but-not-really mass of rotting tissue in a dark alley, slowly cutting off my only escape and dooming me to a final five or six minutes of pure terror before it eviscerated my sorry ass. Or, if I was feeling particularly confident that day, I’d imagine how it would feel to run into that same situation and beat the living shit out of it. Well, non-living shit. You get the idea.

           I’d imagine it cutting me off in the alley and slowly ambling toward me, my resolve hardening as the threat grew closer. Then, if I was feeling romantic, perhaps there would be a distressed, scantily-clad, damsel behind me, relying on me for her defense. Naturally, this fantasy would progress to me absolutely brutalizing this poor undead bastard, somehow without ruining my hair, and then the aforementioned damsel would be so impressed by my stunning display of masculinity and martial affinity that she would demand that I make love to her right then and there, undead corpse (is that superfluous?) notwithstanding.

           And then I would wake up and remember that, considering who I am as a person and the women that I typically keep company with, this situation would probably be reversed. Whatever woman was unfortunate enough to babysit my useless ass would go re-murder the creature while I hid behind a dumpster, taking solace in the fact that I wasn’t the only trash in the alley and letting out a few super-manly squeaks whenever a piece of the undead getting its shit kicked in happened to land near me.

           But, surprisingly enough, neither of these things is what happened the first time I met an undead. For one thing, we met at the Wendy’s drive through. On the other hand, I honestly didn’t realize what it was until I’d literally touched it. Now, I recognize, and freely admit, that I’m a grade A, FDA-approved dumbass. But this might’ve been the single dumbest moment of my life. Actually, I take that back. That thing with the C4 in the fireplace probably was (shut up, I needed to hide a birthday present). But this was the second dumbest moment of my life.

           As I said before, I was in the Wendy’s drive through. You’d think that a literal zombie apocalypse would close down Wendy’s, or at least the drive through, but you’d be wrong. Living dead in the streets? Fuck it, let’s get a frosty.

           The zombie had apparently had the same thought, and I ended up stuck behind him (them? Does gender carry over into zombieness? I kinda doubt it. I mean, I guess I could’ve asked them for their preferred pronouns but I don’t know how to spell argghghhgughghugh very well. Shit I just did. Ok, I don’t want to type that every time I refer to it. Or try to figure out plurals and possessives and all that shit. Fuck it, I’m just gonna use them. Or it. They/it can eat a dick-shaped brain if they don’t like it.) So here we were. Me, in my ’97 Toyota Avalon, in line for a Baconator and a frosty. The zombie, just standing right by the window doing nothing while a tired teenager who wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with this tried to convince it to go away. Now, I had the windows up and had some music on (Here I Go Again by White Snake. What? I’d had a shitty day and needed some motivation to go on. You try listening to that song and not getting motivated. Hell, it almost motivated me to order a chicken sandwich instead of the Baconator. Almost.), so I didn’t hear any of this. All I saw was delicious beef and bacon, and some stupid fuck standing in my way. So I honked. A lot. And when that did nothing, I did what any rational human being would do: I kept honking. Because I’m a problem-solver.

           After about thirty seconds of honking, my attention span was stretched to the breaking point and I decided to get out of the car (pro tip: NEVER GET OUT OF THE CAR EVER YOU STUPID ASSHOLE) and confront this idiot standing in the way of my impending lunch. Now, I’m not normally a very aggressive person, but when I get hungry, things change. Snickers had it right. So I walk up to the thing in my way, and with all the confidence of a 22-year-old who’s never punched anything before, but has played about 300 hours of Tekken, I grab the figure’s shoulder and say, “Hey buddy, why don’t you AGHH OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!!?”

           I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Wow, that was an unexpected way for that sentence to end. He went from bluster and belligerence to abject pants-pissing terror in the space of 3 words.” To which I would reply with: 1. You clearly don’t know me very well, that happens about once a week. And 2. Let’s see you almost eskimo kiss a zombie and not freak out. Quit judging me. Asshole.

           So yeah, the thing turns around and it’s a zombie. Right in front of me. About 3 inches from my dumb face. And this was honestly one of the most surreal moments of my life. It was like I was so scared I went all the way back around the spectrum to calm again. Like my body didn’t know what to do with this insane spike of emotion, so it just said “Fuck it. No emotions for you.”

           The zombie stood just in front of me. They were about 6 foot 2, just within the “kind of intimidating but not overly so” range of heights. They were wearing a large hoodie, which explains why I didn’t realize it was a zombie until I literally touched it. And its face was…weird. Like, really weird. Its mouth was open to a point that was unsettling without being obvious why. See, if it had been just slightly ajar it would’ve looked like someone breathing through their mouth, and if it had been wide open it would’ve looked like someone who was either really surprised or trying to catch some food in their mouth. Instead it was at an awkward in-between stage. Like the middle school of mouth openings. Like it couldn’t really decide what it wanted to be, so it decided to be half of all the things it thought was cool and that ended up being literally the worst choice it could’ve possibly made and all the other kids made fun of it and it had to sit at the lunch table all alone eating peanut butter and honey sandwiches on white bread and trying to pretend like it wanted to get picked last for kickball… sorry, what was I talking about? Right, the zombie. So its mouth was weird, we’ve established that. And projected a little bit. Moving on.

           Stepping back and taking in the whole face, everything just moved further down the uncanny valley. Their face held a blank expression, as expected for a zombie, but it’s hard to describe what kind. You see, there are several types of blank expressions. There’s the blank expression you have when you watch someone steal your parking space right in front of you. The kind of blank expression where you just sit there and blink a couple times, staring off in a random direction like you’re Jim in The Office and there’s a camera watching you. This is the kind where you have to take a second to process. To sit there and think, “Wow, did that really just happen? Does God really hate me that much? Is this payback for candy bar I stole when I was 9? Who knew God was such a petty bitch.” This is what I call the Angry Blank.

           There’s also the Confused Blank. This is the kind of blank expression where it’s your first day of college and you walk into your first class, all excited for this new journey you’re about to take and all the friends you’re gonna make, and you spend the first 15 minutes of class accidentally daydreaming about how great the next four years are gonna be and then you look up at the board and see a bunch of bullshit equations on the board and wonder what the fuck is going on, why are there equations in a first-year religion class, and then look around and see no one else questioning it, and then realize that you’re in the wrong room and this is a vector calculus course and your dumb ass could barely pass algebra 0.5 so you stand up and have to awkwardly step over about 13 seniors who are all trying to take notes and then the professor notices and stops talking for a second and you know he’s staring at you but you can’t turn around because it’s like you’re Frodo and the professor is the eye of Sauron and if you look at him he’ll steal your soul or some shit and you run out of the room and straight back to your dorm where you get on the computer and drop your religion class so you never have to go in that building again. That kind of blank expression.

           And there are a few other types, but they aren’t relevant here so I’m going to ignore them like I’m a GOP senator and they’re climate change evidence. The zombie had a strange mixture of these two blank expressions on their face, like they were angry and trying to process it, but then while they were processing the anger they forgot why they were angry. So now they were just walking around, angry, hoping to run into something that would give them a brain-blast or something and remind them of why they were angry.

           I took in all of this in about a second and a half, so terrified that I felt calm again, as I mentioned before. The zombie just stood there and looked at me, its dead eyes (both in the literal sense and the figurative sense) locked somewhere above my left shoulder, which was honestly the scariest part of the whole encounter. Either it was looking at something behind me, in which case I badly wanted to see what it was but didn’t want to turn away from the zombie in front of me because fear. Or it simply couldn’t focus its eyes on me and that was the best it could get, which is pretty creepy. We both stood there for a while, me not moving because I was afraid that its vision was based on movement like it was a goddamned T-rex and the zombie not moving because who the fuck knows? Eventually, the poor teenager working the window asked me if I was gonna order anything, drawing the zombie’s attention back to the window, and that was enough to break my reverie. I broke and sprinted the five feet to my car, got in so fast I slammed my head against the roof, possibly giving myself a concussion, and hauled ass out of that drive through, narrowly missing the zombie on my way out.

           I drove straight to the Wendy’s on the other side of town and ordered myself a Baconator and two frosties because I’d fucking earned them. I just stared death in the face and ran away like a little bitch. I needed the calories if I was gonna keep running like that. Endurance had never been my strong suit.