#like i dunno man i was trying to finish so many big projects in full before sharing but it just kind of meant nothing got finished

[jackwolfes]

Hii<33 will you tease us with hints of your current projects?

hello! 👀 due to a number of things happening off-screen for me i would say that i'm currently in "fucking around" mode without a huge number of actual tangible projects going on? like im doing a lot of "open new doc > write down vague idea > add 1,000 odd words > don't finish the project" which. doesn't feel great. but hey ho.

the biggest thing is that i'm doing a merlin big bang and am trying to wrap up the details of that project because i've committed now, except i can't give any details about because it all needs to stay anonymous 😅 either way that'll be out in like, august!

yeah in terms of other fandoms that i have written more stuff more in the past im just sorta,,,, languishing i guess??? like i'm still writing but it's really hard to be excited about WIPs and tell people & have them get excited and then just never finishing anything 🤷

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[harringrovetrashrat]

Tagged by @disdaidal !!!  Thank you!  Omg I’m like 🥺💖🥺💖

So, I figure since I have so many things I’m working on, and no idea when I’ll actually finish them (outside of my Big Bang Project), I should share the bits of them that I do actually have dhfoiahfiosh

What we have are these:

A fic where Billy meets some older queer people while kicked out, and learns from them how to love himself

“So I’m guessing you’ve never met a queen before,” they said. Billy shook his head.

“I’ve never met any royalty.” Juicy laughed and it made Billy feel like he’d said the wrong thing until she looked at him again, practically beaming.

“Well honey, there’s queens abound in here. Drag Queens, specifically.” Billy’s mouth formed a small ‘o’.

“So, you’re a… man?” Juicy shook her head.

“Personally, I find man and woman too limiting. All gender is a costume, darling. I just think dresses are prettier than suits.”

“You haven’t been in the right suits,” Cindy said with a smirk. Juicy gave her the finger without looking.

“It’s called taste, sweetie.” Cindy just laughed. Billy stared at Juicy, feeling awed by them. They were so tall, toned and beautiful. Their skin was dark and glistened with the glitter they’d spread over it. “I’m sure you have taste, don’t you munchkin?” Billy couldn’t help it and he pouted.

“I’m not short, I’m average for my age,” he snapped. Juicy just smiled.

“I like you,” they said, pointing a long nailed finger at him.

A Cheesy Summer Camp Horror fic, with romance and comedy because Like.  Y’all know me.

“Let’s stop talking about her,” Heather cut in. “Let’s talk about this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Billy asked, perking up. “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking we could celebrate the end of the first week with a skinny dip,” she said, eyes sparkling. Billy didn’t miss the flush that crossed over Robin’s face, though he wasn’t entirely sure who it was directed at. He definitely had a guess.

“I’m game!” Tommy piped up, grin wide, anger disappearing from his face. Billy rolled his eyes and snorted, but raised his hand, tongue running over his top teeth.

“Why not,” he said, giving his eyebrows a quirk. “I ain’t no pussy.”

“Of course,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes. Billy’s eyes snapped over and narrowed. “Isn’t it a little, I dunno, juvenile?”

“Oh come on,” Steve chimed in, munching on the cookie now, relaxing with the change of topic. “Maybe so, but it’s summer, it’s camp, why not, right? Start it off with a bang?” His smile was teasing, bright, and Billy found it hard to look away, hard to deny that smile what it wanted.

The Reverse AU where Steve moves to Hawkins with his father and step family, Claudia and Dustin, and Billy was adopted into the Mayfields

“I’m not--! It’s just midterms! That’s what has me all out of sorts.” He opened his notebook and tried to will his blush away. There was a soft thud and Nancy joined them.

“What has you out of sorts?” She asked.

“Mid--”

“Billy so has a crush on that new guy from New York,” Heather said. Billy made a noise of protest when Nancy smiled, leaning over.

“Oh he’s so cute! Truly impeccable taste you have,” she teased. Billy rested his head on the table.

“I hate both of you so fucking much,” he hissed.

“No you don’t,” they chorused.

“I do, I really do,” Billy replied.

Mermaid AU where Steve and Billy were young friends before being separated.  Steve tries to reunite them obviously

“I can show you a bunch of cool stuff,” Billy said, feeling oddly proud of himself. And well, the ocean was his home. And he never got the chance to really show it off to someone who didn’t already know it. “If I show you the ocean, will you tell me more about humans?” Steve nodded. “Like, why are all the ships girls?”

“Huh,” Steve said, tapping his chin with his finger. “I don’t actually know… Usually I think ‘cause a guy names them. I’ll ask my tutor. He knows everything.” Steve wasn’t a huge fan of Professor Owens, but he was nice enough. He let Steve find things to bring in and ask questions about, he didn’t get mad like Steve’s other tutors had when he had trouble reading. So even though Owens still pushed for Steve to focus more on his future, he was better than the other adults in Steve’s life.

“Tutor?” Billy asked. “What’s that?”

“Like a teacher,” Steve replied. “But like… Different.” In fact, Steve wasn’t totally sure what the difference was. Billy just squinted, looking confused.

“Different… how?”

“Uh, tutors are… are taller,” Steve replied matter of factly. Professor Owens was taller than Ms. Joyce had been, so there wasn’t anything to argue against that. Billy nodded seriously, making a note.

There was a ringing bell and a distant voice calling Steve’s name, making him sigh dramatically. It was already time? Billy’s ears twitched a little and he looked at Steve.

“What’s that?”

“That’s my nanny,” Steve said, mopey and pouting.

More of You’ll Find Me Looking Over the Edge of the World

“Oh, King Steve thinking about skipping?” Billy tugged him down, making Steve stumble as a fist started rubbing against his scalp and messing up his hair.

“Fuck, dude!” Steve cried, nearly dropping his tray. Billy just cackled, letting him go and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No,” Nancy said through grit teeth. “He’s thinking about staying and taking--”

“He can’t go around looking like that,” Billy said with faux concern, eyes all worried as he leaned on the table with one hand and used the other to point at Steve’s, now fully messed up, hair. “I think Steve’ll have to take the afternoon, don’t you?” Billy turned to look over his shoulder, not seeing the way Nancy rubbed at her temples as Jonathan very obviously tried not to snicker. Steve almost felt bad. Billy knocked on the table with his knuckles, pushing up with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him home safely.”

“Get me home--” Steve began, but before he could finish his sentence, Billy was shoving him around and out of the cafeteria. Nancy sighed, shaking her head, giving Steve a look he knew would turn into a talk later. “Sorry guys!” Steve tossed over his shoulder.

Billy with a rat he named Max to piss off Max (he calls her human Max and she hates it)

“And what the fuck are you doing here?!” He asked her. Max, the little trouble maker, just squeaked at him, wriggling in his grip. “No fucking wonder I didn’t see you in Barbie’s house this morning, you decided to be a fucking Houndini, didn’t you.” She squeaked again, tail swirling and dragging along his wrist. He heard footsteps behind him and moved to shove her back into his jacket sleeve when Steve approached.

“You okay-- Oh!” Steve blinked, brows raised as he saw Max reach with her small, cute little pink hands to grab for Billy’s hard nipple again. “So…”

“Cut that out!” Billy hissed, moving her down to cradle her against his stomach. She settled in, but she was definitely hungry and would get restless again quickly. “I didn’t see her this morning but just assumed she was hiding in her little pile.”

“Me too,” Steve said, checking around the hallway for anyone who was late. Luckily, there was no one around to see them trying to hide a rat in Billy’s jacket. “How’d she even get out?”

“I mean, we are keeping her in a Barbie dream house instead of a cage--”

“Really? You’re gonna sass me now? After you insisted that she ‘live like the princess she is’--”

Stranger Than Fiction AU

“Billy, I swear to fucking god if you don’t get out there right now--” Billy stumbled out from the back, head turned to glare at Max, who was pushing him from behind. She pushed until he was at the counter, face to face with Steve. He glared, though his face was flush. Max crossed her arms. “Like we fuckin’ practiced.” Billy shot her another angry glance, but then looked back to Steve. Who was so confused.

“Max may have, uhm, brought it to my attention that I may have overreacted just the tiniest little bit.”

“That’s not at all right,” Max said under her breath. Billy swatted behind him without looking, missing her completely.

“Anyway,” he pressed on, “I just,” he sighed, pushing an errant curl behind his ear. Steve watched the movement before snapping his eyes back to Billy’s. “I don’t often take the chance to be nice, so I got maybe a little offended.” Max scoffed. “Okay a lot offended,” he said with an eye roll. Steve couldn’t help it; he snorted. Billy’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes lit up, like a kid who just learned Santa was real. Steve blushed, looking away, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

“It’s okay,” he replied, turning back to look at Billy. The sun lit up the stray blonde hairs poking out of his messy bun, making a light halo around him. Steve had to catch his breath.

It was like looking at an angel, vengeful and dangerous, but exciting all at once. His eyes seemed to shine, bright and gleeful, but also full of mischief.

“It’s okay,” Steve repeated, feeling his face heat up more. “I would have taken them if I could. They were amazing.” He smiled, nodding towards the stairs. “I should get to it though. Last day and all.” Something sad briefly flickered over Billy’s face, but it was gone as soon as it was there, and Steve thought he must have imagined it.

“Yeah, good luck,” Billy said. Max was smiling, smug, and she punched Billy’s shoulder.

Leverage AU

“Well,” he said slowly, letting the trio shake off their shadows. “The lab closed.” This isn’t about the kid was the underlying message. “But, what’s happening now is that Mayor Kline accepted a lot of weird bribes. They’re from a company called Starcourt Industries. Now, that’s the name of the mall that opened, Starcourt, but what’s weird--”

“--Is that they didn’t exist for very long before suddenly popping up in Indiana,” Alec cut in. “It reads like one of our companies. General background, seems legit, but I did a lot of poking around most of this stuff leads to loose ends. It took a while to get there, so at first glance…” The group nodded. At first glance everything checked out, and even a little digging would provide a general cover that most people wouldn’t think to look past.

Of course, none of them were most people.

“So who are they?” Eliot asked.

“All of the loose ends lead back to Russia,” Alec said. “But nothing concrete or connected, just more companies that do really general stuff. It goes real deep.” The implications there were discomforting. Alec was a genius, and excelled in his line of work, but this kind of grand scale cover up meant one thing: this was bigger than just a few bad apples in a company. This was a plan.

“So who’s the client?” Sophie asked. Nate pulled up a picture of a grumpy looking man, mustache groomed and eyes hard, but kind.

“Chief Jim Hopper.” That got Parker’s attention, bringing her out of the funk she’d been in since the mention of San Diego and Billy.

“Like, Police Chief?”

“Yep,” Nate said, popping the P. “He’s the one who found the kid, found out there was something going on at the lab. Now, he’s positive something weird is going on. Knows he’s done everything he can to legally take the Mayor down, but the man has a lot of friends in high places, and Jim can’t do anything. And that’s,” he smiled, “Where we come in.”

That’s still merely some of what I have going on, but that’s what I’ll share rn. Anyway, tag me in ur WIPs! I’d love to read them :) tag ur it

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Place Like This 2

Warnings: this short series will include dark elements including noncon, possible violence, mentions of mental illness, and other explicit content. I’m not your mother, curate your own consumption.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start asking questions but you might not like the answers.

Note: I’m a filthy liar and this is gonna be obv more than two parts and I dunno what I’m doing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office was the room across the hall from Andy’s, just beside the bathroom and furthest from your mother’s.

You had a routine; it helped you keep on track. You woke up, had a coffee and a small breakfast, and climbed back upstairs to begin your work. At noon, you took a break, you went for a walk or just sat on the porch with your mother if she wasn’t in her room. You returned to work and later in the afternoon you came down to remind your mother about her pills. Then you started dinner as the day was in its final decline.

Andy only changed that slightly. He woke earlier than you did and was on his way out as you got up. He came home around dinner time and you left a plate for him in the oven if he was late. He was quiet, he ate, and went upstairs. The first week went by as such. You almost pitied him for living in what seemed a crowded isolation.

Then the weekend came. Like the other lumber workers, he had those two days to himself. It would be the first real test of your arrangement.

You woke at your usual time and went down to make your coffee. You only wrote for a couple hours on weekends. Breaks were good. You measured the grounds into the percolator and filled it with water. You turned on the decades old stove and turned as you heard the old stairs groan.

Andy appeared in the door. He wore jeans and a thick knitted sweater. His hair, overgrown and shaggy, was pushed away from his face, his beard a shade darker and starting to puff out from its length. You suspected that as a lawyer, he never looked so unkempt and yet even now, he still managed to look refined.

“Hate to be selfish but you think there’s enough for me?” He crossed to the table and sat. 

“Should be,” You rubbed your hands together. You wore an old sweatshirt with a grizzly on the front and your old faded jeans with the bleach stain on the knee. Unfashionable but warm. ‘“Cream, milk, sugar?”

“Black’s fine,” He said as he scratched his chin. “I was thinking today I could stock us up on wood for the fireplace. Since it’s snowing now, it’s better to get it done before the winter is really here.”

You squinted at him and played with the frayed cuff of your shirt. “So, you got a lot of snow in the city?”

“Not as much as here, I’m sure.” He let out a long breath and you saw the cloud in front of him. 

You paused and listened for the rattle of the furnace. “Fuck.” You pushed yourself away from the counter. “I gotta light the furnace.”

“Where is it? I’ll do it.” He offered. “Since you made the coffee.”

“You sure?”

“Think I can handle it,” He stood. “City boy and all.”

“Basement door’s outside. It’s a pain but this place is old and not very well put together.” You said. “There’s a lighter in the drawer.” You pointed at the counter. “Thanks. Oh, and the key too. Hanging by the door with the green tag.”

“Alright,” He crossed to the door. “Think I’ll figure it out.”

He disappeared down the hall and returned with his big boots. He put them on before the back door and unlocked it. He tramped down the steps as the door clattered behind him and you listened to his crisp footsteps. 

You wrung your hands as you thought. Nice enough, you surmised, but evasive. Maybe he wasn’t running from some heinous offense but he was trying to get away from something. You could tell by the way he always seemed to direct the conversation, especially when it turned on him.

You heard the sudden rumble of the furnace and the vents hissing. You turned as the percolator began to shake almost in tandem and the small glass knob bubbled with brown coffee. You took it off the burner as the basement door squeaked and the jingle of the key accompanied the snowy steps across the yard.

Andy kicked off his boots and slipped through the back door. He hung the key and he shook the snow from his hair and smoothed it back. He left his boots on the mat as you poured two mugs. He approached and you slid one to him. He took it with a soft thank you.

You added milk to yours and sat at the table as he did the same. You regretted it almost immediately. You should've taken it up with you and hid in your office. 

"Any plans today?" He asked. You blinked and he rested his palm against the hot mug. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"Nah, nothing planned," You replied. "So you just plan on chopping wood on your day off?"

"Not much else to do up here. It's nice. Mindless." He shrugged.

"You have a lot you don't want to think about?" You wondered.

His jaw ticked as he eyed you and his lips curled slightly.

"Don't we all?"

"You'd have to to come all the way up here from wherever you're from." You commented. 

"Hmm," He chuckled under his breath. "You'd make a good prosecutor. You don't miss a lot."

"I'm a writer. I write about people, so I gotta study them closely."

"I thought you wrote about animals."

"That's what I'm paid to write about but… I have my own projects." You lifted your mug and tasted the rich brew.

He sucked his bottom lip in as his thoughts wrinkled on his forehead. "Uh huh," He uttered carefully. "Guess that's true then."

"So… is it too much to ask why you ditched being a lawyer?" You asked.

"You do anything long enough and you get bored."

"And you never did anything else? Never got married?" You prodded.

"Well, what about you?" He challenged as he hooked two finger through the handle of his mug. "Not many fish in this pond, huh."

"Touche," Your lips slanted, "You definitely are the lawyer type."

🍂

Later that day, after you gave your mother her second round of pills, you ventured out into the forest that skirt around the old property. The snow was only just past your ankles, the powder fell in spurts but didn’t seem to get much deeper. When you were met with a block or an impasse in your writing, you always came out to the trees to clear your mind. You were done for the day but you had a long week ahead of you.

You kicked the snow of a fallen tree by the river and listened to those critters not yet in hibernation in the blanket branches above. You thought about the man staying in the room next to yours and the answers he would give you; the questions you were too afraid to ask him. 

He wasn’t telling you everything, perhaps he didn’t owe you everything, but the lines in his forehead, the crinkles beside his eyes, the depth of his irises as they watched you. There were things you needed to know about a person and you feared you didn’t know enough about this stranger you’d invited in. You had been too intent on the money, on your own keeping.

Or maybe you were paranoid. You were starting to sound like your mother when she claimed the birds were listening to her and taking the messages back to the monsters of the forest. When she had barricaded herself in her room and refused to come out for fear you were one of them in disguise. The day it had all fallen apart.

Your nose was numb and tingling. You pulled your scarf up over your face and turned back. The snow was crisper now. The temperatures fell with the sun and that happened quickly in the winter. The sky was a dark grey as you came back to the house, the chimney billowed up toward the quarter moon and a soft amber light shone between the curtains of the front room.

You dusted your boots off before you stepped inside. The voice didn’t stop as you took off your coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. You slid your boots off and listened. The scene was unexpected as you peeked into the front room.

Your mother sat with her favourite blanket over her legs before the fire. A fresh stack of wood sat beside it, the basket full of split logs as well. Andy bent to poke at the embers and send up sparks as he got the fire going higher.

“So, this book you’re reading,” He said as he set the poker aside. “Did she get away yet?”

“I don’t think she’s gonna,” Your mother replied as Andy stood and brushed off his jeans. “I don’t think that’s what the story’s about.”

“That’s too bad.” He looked up and his eyes met yours. You moved so that you stood in the doorway. “But I guess that’s truer to life. Not everyone gets their happy ending.”

“Well, I’ve been taking my time because it doesn’t have an ending. Yet.” She explained. “I’m waiting for her to finish.”

Your blood went cold. You crossed your arms and cleared your throat.

“What book is this, ma?” You asked.

She looked around the chair at you and blanched. Andy sat on the sofa and you pushed yourself away from the door frame. Your mother shook her head. 

“I told you not to read my stuff.” You grimaced as you came closer. “It’s a first draft. Unfinished, unedited. It’s… personal.”

“From what she says, it’s pretty good regardless,” Andy offered. “Can’t blame her for her curiosity.”

You looked at him sharply and sighed as you dropped your arms.

“Whatever. Just don’t look at it again til I’m done.” You reprimanded. “Please. I’ll give you a look when I’m ready.”

“Dunno why it’s such a big deal. You write for the magazine all the time.” She grumbled.

“Because this isn’t an article on leaf fauna, ma,” You rubbed your cheek. “You already eat?”

“Just about to. Andy put a casserole in the oven.” She smiled. “Never knew a man who cooked. Your father, he couldn’t even salt his own eggs.”

“Mmm,” You sniffed as the smell of the burning wood melded with another more savoury scent. “Well, thank you, Andy. That was considerate. I’m sorry I waited so late, I was a bit distracted.”

“No problem,” He shrugged. “Really, the least I can do.”

You glanced between him and your mom. She hadn’t been this awake in ages. Her meds usually had her napping until dinnertime and asleep just as quickly after. She was vibrant and more friendly to this man than people she’d known for decades. You felt as if you’d walked in on something. 

“Well, let me know. I’ll be upstairs.” You backed up. “There’s some strudel left from yesterday we can have for dessert.”

You left them and stopped at the bottom of the stairs as you looked back into the front room. Andy’s voice droned as he spoke to your mom and as she chuckled his eyes found yours. They narrowed for just a moment before he turned back and smiled at the older woman. 

Nice enough, you presumed, but why didn’t you believe it?

🍂

The next day, you watched Andy through the window. The snow was thicker, a harbinger of the storm that had been brewing for over a week. He crossed to the trees, his boots barely higher than the blanket below. He sank down with each step. Only a fool would venture out as the windows billowed and flung the snow errantly.

You tore yourself away and pulled the curtain shut. You crept out into the hall and listened. Your mother slept late that day and when you gave her her pills, she’d just rolled over and fallen back to sleep. 

You neared the door of Andy’s room and your hand hesitated on the knob. You took a breath and twisted it. You entered and were struck by the man’s smell; of his sweat and the deodorant that always lingered around him. The bed was made and the room barely looked lived in. 

You walked slowly to the closet. Flannel shirts and jackets hung within above a single suitcase.

You felt a pang of guilt. Had you not just chided your mother for her snooping? You bent and unzipped the bag. It was empty. You checked the pockets; empty too. You stood and slid the door back into place. You went to the bed, the table next to it with the drawer that didn’t quite shut all the way and you wiggled it open.

The bible your mother left in there as if it were a hotel and pack of smokes. You’d never seen Andy smoke, never even smelled it on him. You took the carton and flipped open the top. Inside, a folded picture. You tiptoed to the window and looked out. His footprints faded into the trees.

You slid the photo out and opened it with shaky hands. It was Andy, shorter hair, trimmed beard, smiling, his arm around a dark-haired woman and a young boy in front of them. You folded it quickly and pushed it back behind the sticks in the pack. You placed it as you had found it and forced the drawer shut. 

Was he running from his own family? Or maybe, what had happened to them?

You fled his room and closed the door guiltily. You were only more confused than before. You descended the stairs and hastily pulled your coat from the hook. Your hat was pulled on carelessly and you tied your boots without thinking. You pushed your hands into your gloves and angled yourself out the door. It was fucking cold; the fleece lining of your coat made little difference.

You grunted as you forced your boots through the snow and followed Andy’s tracks as they filled with a new layer of powder. You weren’t sure what you were doing, why you were doing it. What could he be doing all the way out in the woods which would be incriminating?

You went on, even as the questions floated in your mind. You followed his large boot prints, placing your feet in them as you followed his path. You came to a stop before the river, the overturned tree showed where someone had brushed aside the snow. The tracks veered off away from the log and you looked around.

You were forced back into an upright trunk, the breath knocked out of you as Andy pinned you with his arm across your chest. His eyes seared into you as he leaned his weight into you and you gasped for air as you smacked his shoulder.

“Why are you following me?” He growled.

“What? Andy, let me--” You gasped, barely able to breathe, the snow clumping in your lashes. “And--”

“Hmm? I see you watching me. I see the way you look at me.” He hissed. “I help you, help your mother and what? What do you think I am?” He grabbed your chin, his hide glove rough against your skin. “Am I that villain you write about? Is that what you think?”

“No, I…” You smacked him again and again. “I was just---” He let off just a little as you gulped for air. “There’s a storm. You shouldn’t be out here--”

“You think I can’t handle a storm?” He snarled. “You’re not a very good liar and trust me, I’ve known a lot of liars.”

“Let go of me.” You pleaded. “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I followed you, okay? I was just… curious.”

“Uh huh,” He turned you and forced his arm around your neck as he bent you over. You kicked as he dragged you through the snow towards the river. “WHat do you think? I’m hiding some big secret like one of those books you read?”

“Let--go,” Your feet slid through the blanket below. “Stop! What are you--”

“You think I’m what? A criminal? A murderer!?” He pulled you up and spun you away from him. You stumbled backwards as you faced him. 

Your boots slid beneath you and you hearth the hard thunk of your sole against the the ice. Thick but not thick enough. You held out your hands as you looked down at the river coursing below the brittle surface. Your heart raced in your ears. You tried to take a step forward but he was at the bank, watching you.

“Ah ah,” He raised his hand. “You stay where you are.”

“What are you doing?” You pushed your feet apart. “Andy--”

“Terrible accident you falling through the ice like that. There’s just so much snow, you can’t really tell where the water begins.” He smiled and tucked his hands in his pocket as you heard the slow crack beneath you. “Your mother will be devastated.”

You swallowed as your eyes wetted and you looked between him and your feet. You lifted your boot and the snap below you had your heart in your throat. You plunged into the freezing water with a shrill shriek, your arms flying up to grab onto the ice. 

The frozen sheet broke as you tried to latch on and you kicked as the water soaked your coat and dragged you down into the depth further. You flapped helplessly and spun in circles in the waves. The water filled your lungs and you choked and you stared up through the frigid foam, the blurry shadow staring down at you.

The cold bit deep into your flesh and your limbs weakened the more you struggled. The water smothered you and your body spasmed in the thralls of finality. Your eyes rolled back and the dark water flowed around you in welcome.

[pleom]

Hi :) May I request a fluff with kevin where you both like each other and the members rat him out pls? Thx

wc: 2.1k | CW: one (1) mention of weed

Saturday called your name. You had to wait painfully as the day dragged its feet through presentations and lectures. By the time the school day ended, you held no more excitement for the weekend as you sat in one of the university’s lounges waiting for your friend to drive you home.

All tuckered out from discussing and convincing your classmates of topics neither of you particularly cared about, you almost ignored Kevin when he approached you, phone two-inches from your face, headphones blaring in your ears at maximum volume, but then you remembered that he’s Kevin Moon, and when he’s got something to say, you listen. 

“Sorry to interrupt you there,” he started, and from his backpack he pulled out a small container of—, “Brownies. I had baked them this morning and wanted to give some to you as thanks.”

“Oh,” was all you squeaked out, though it wasn’t a sound of disappointment or even mild surprise. You had heard about Kevin’s godly baking skills, from the full mouths of those he generously gave them to. Usually his classmates, sometimes the professors, and it was enough to instill that hope that maybe you'll be one of  the receivers one day. Today, it seemed like an arbitrary gift. “Thanks for what?”

“For helping me with my group project.”

“Oh...Oh, yeah!” You gently took the container from Kevin’s hands. Soft confusion still lingering in your mind. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, I barely helped.”

“We got an A because of you!”

“Are you sure it was me? Because last I remembered, you guys did all the brute work, I just filled in the minor details.”

“Aren’t minor details the toughest part?”

You shrugged. You took a single brownie out of the container and put the rest in your bag. Kevin watched as you bit into it, humming a gleeful tune at the way you melted. It tasted even better than you expected. “This is too good to eat for free. How much do you want? Twenty dollars? Fifty?”

Kevin bit down a smile and waved his hand, sheepish. You noticed a brown mark on the back of his hand that wasn’t there the last time you saw him. You figured he must’ve burned himself. 

“You’re just gassing my head.” 

“No, I’m serious.” Kevin looked pleased to see you finish his brownie. “Did the others get some?”

The others being Sunwoo, Jacob, and Juyeon, the three who were assigned to the same project. You were actually called to help by Sunwoo, who pleaded and whined and bargained after your many attempts to say no, you had too much on your plate. Then, as a last resort, he began naming his teammates; guilted you with Jacob, tried to lure you in with Juyeon, and finally—the nail in the coffin—mentioned Kevin. You could imagine the cocky face Sunwoo must’ve had when he realized he had reeled you in. 

You gave up on trying to deny his accusations. You wouldn’t say you had a full-blown crush on Kevin Moon, but you were definitely fond of him in a way that could be described as infatuation. 

Now that the project’s done, you would see to Sunwoo’s promised reparations for the emotional damages he dealt. You were pretty sure he owed you five free milk tea bobas. 

“The others?” Kevin’s face contorted in confusion for a split moment, like he had already forgotten who had worked diligently on the project with him. He didn’t sound completely sure of himself when he answered, “yes, they did. I baked an extra large batch for everyone involved. Even gave some to the professor.”

“Is that why you have that burn mark?”

Kevin looked down at his hand before covering it with the other. “Oh, that. Yeah, this is what happens when you have an oven only as big enough as you can afford.”

“When I say I feel that…” You became increasingly aware of the dwindling topics to speak about, so before an awkward silence has time to settle in, you stand up from your seat and raise a hand for Kevin to shake. “My friend is probably waiting outside for me right now. Thank you again for the treat, really appreciate it! I’ll make sure to share some with her to spread the love around. Seriously, you should patent that recipe.”

“Learned from the best,” Kevin chuckled. “Thank you for helping. See ya later.”

“See ya!” And you were outside less than a minute later. 

Maybe you were the one that owed Sunwoo free drinks.

-

Saturday called and you answered, a bit more jubilant this time. Now that you had finished most of your homework and spent an hour cursing yourself to sleep over missed interactions with Kevin, you felt revitalized. 

You took the bus to Sunwoo’s dorm and let yourself in. On weekends, Sunwoo’s dorm room was rarely locked, considering that it took the name as the unofficial common room of the apartment building. Today, it was less crowded than usual, which to you was a relief. That meant there were less people you had to fight for access to Sunwoo’s computer. At times, you felt silly for acting so starved, but when you’re a broke college student with only one shitty laptop to your name, you had to take your graces as they came. 

Juyeon and Eric lied by the foot of the couch, competing with each other over some game displayed on Sunwoo’s TV. Sangyeon snacked by himself in the kitchen, and you spotted Changmin, Sunwoo’s roommate, quietly moving from room to room down by the hall. 

You decided to head into the kitchen first, whether to steal change off counters or food from the fridge. 

The fridge was destination number one, and frankly, it was empty. It was normally the usual sight, but you still had the faint taste of chocolate fudge on your lips that led you to ask, “you guys finished the brownies already?”

“What brownies?” 

“The ones Kevin made yesterday.”

“Ah, man, Kevin made brownies?!” Eric shouted from his seat. He screamed a second later, which was followed by Juyeon’s laughter, then rose to his feet to mirror you at the fridge door. “I told him to wait till Haknyeon gave me my $20 back! Can’t believe he made edibles and handed them out without me.”

“They weren’t edibles. Kevin made regular brownies for me, Juyeon, Jacob, and Sunwoo. Said it was because we worked on a project together due last Monday,” you said. You found a seat by Sangyeon on the kitchen island. Juyeon, who had set down his controller to stroll in after Eric, looked puzzled.

“Huh? Kevin didn’t give me any brownies.”

“Kevin made brownies? Where the hell is he?” Sunwoo barged loudly into the room thereafter, with mussed hair and grease-stained shirt and looking wholly comfortable up till he heard the commotion in the kitchen. He swept the room and the living room for signs of the boy, and brushed aside ingredients in the fridge for a confectionary he apparently did not receive. He came back empty-handed and confused; you were no different.

“Uh, didn’t you get them yesterday?” You asked. You were met with Sunwoo’s blank stare. “He said he baked them for all of you. I have a few left back at my house.”

“Yeah, as far as we know, there are none,” Juyeon peeped, though he didn’t look half as bothered as Sunwoo did.

“Are we sure you’re not playing us right now?” Sunwoo narrowed his eyes at you. He looked just about ready to kick you out. Changmin walked in, eyes wide but mischievous. It’s obvious that he’d been listening this whole time, and something in his gaze said that he knew much more than both of you, and that he was withholding it for the sake of drama. 

“Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, to brag? To make us look like second-rate friends? You’re not even in any of Kevin’s classes!”

“Maybe he pulled a raffle…” Changmin said not-so-absentmindedly.

Sunwoo’s face was contorted with semi-offense. He patted his pockets before turning to dash down the hall to his bedroom, just in time for the front door to open and reveal the star in question. Kevin entered the room with exasperation etched clearly on his face. He didn’t seem to register you, his eyes glazing over people’s faces in search of one in particular.

Changmin, this time wide-eyed with panic, darted to hide behind the island.

“Hey, is Changmin here?”

“No!” Changmin yelled, slightly muffled. “But Changmin did relay a message. He said that he’s really, really sorry for any unfortunate events his actions may have caused. But he requests an extension on—”

“I’m too tired for this, Changmin. Just give me my—”

“Kevin, that burn mark still hasn’t healed?” You found yourself speaking without ever really considering what to say. You spoke on pure reflex, when Kevin came and leaned over the island kitchen with his hands curled around the edge, and the mark had turned less brown than inflamed red; the sight made you wince. 

“Is that…!?” Eric’s jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the same sight. He dramatically fell against one of the kitchen stools. “Oh man, he really did bake brownies without telling us.”

Sunwoo came back just in time to witness the climax of Kevin’s-secret-brownie-adventure story. Kevin looked like a deer in headlights. Changmin took the moment to crawl out from beneath the island to escape into his room. Sunwoo looked genuinely betrayed by Kevin’s arrival.

“Yeah, sorry bro, but that constitutes a two week ban from our place unless you pay us back in both brownies and cookies with interest.”

“I don’t even care about the brownies itself anymore,” Eric said, still curled up over a stool. “How come they got to have some but not us?”

Something about Eric’s question set something off in Sunwoo. Suddenly, his dramatics cooled down, and he looked at Kevin slyly. 

“No idea,” you said. At this point, as confusing as the whole thing was, you quickly grew tired of it. It became too much trouble for what seemed like a simple act of gratitude by Kevin, which was never out of character for him. And to top it off, now Kevin seemed to actively avoid looking at you, and the following disappointment was hard for you to swallow.

“I have some idea,” Sunwoo said, but he made no attempt to follow up on that statement. He sat down on one of the kitchen stools, pleased with himself.

“I do, too.” Juyeon said and sounded like he had an epiphany.  “I think Kevin must really like (Y/N) to be able to do that!”

Silence. All eyes in the room shifted from you to Kevin. Too scared to look directly at the boy himself, you peeked at him from the corner of your eye and saw the look of pure devastation on his face. Juyeon seemed oblivious to it all. Sunwoo, luckily, was there to reel it in. 

“Hey, Juyeon, can I borrow you for a second?”

“Gah!” Unfortunately, the damage had been dealt. Kevin hightailed it out over Sunwoo’s apartment with you hot on his tracks.

“Kevin wait!”

You found him sitting out on the apartment steps, face buried in his hands. He didn’t respond when you called out his name, nor when you sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. The sight broke your heart, so you thought of ways you could help soothe his panic.

Reaching down you pulled Kevin’s hand into yours, the one with the bright red burn, and massaged it with the pads of your fingers.

“To be fair, I don’t think Juyeon’s assessment really holds any weight, so please, don’t worry about it,” you said. Kevin took a while to respond, but eventually he lifted his head. He didn’t look you in the eyes when he spoke.

“It does though,” he sighed. “I was going to wait for the right time to confess.”

His words made you halt.

“Confess?” You shot up straight, dropping his hand into your lap. “Kev,  do you actually mean that?”

You watched as his ears and cheeks began to redden. He chanced a shy glance your way, and you could feel his fingers flex in your lap.

“Uh...depending on your reaction, hopefully…?”

Returning your hand on his, you pulled it closer to you. You traced around his injury, keeping an eye on his reaction in case he pulled back or winced with pain. Then, bravely, you interlocked both of your fingers and inhaled with relief when he tightened his grip. 

You did it all without ever breaking eye contact, and with a small smile, you asked, “do you want to give it a try at least?”

Kevin’s stress seemed to have dissolved from him completely then. He mirrored your smile.

In the back of your mind, you hoped Sunwoo wasn’t scolding Juyeon too hard.

----

me mentioning sangyeon in the kitchen once before dropping him entirely from the fic 🤡🤡 anyways anon thank u for requesting!! this was kinda cringe but also kinda fun to write so lol

[cross-d-a]

fic tag game

aaahhh @vishcount thank you for tagging me!!! These are so fun and I adored reading about your fic journey~!  ೖ(⑅σ̑ᴗσ̑)ೖ ❤

OH as a note!! For the ppl I tag at the end I don’t expect you to read all of this bc it’s A Lot!!! but I figured you might want to do this game yourself? haha :)

Name: cross-d-a shortened version of my first ever username. unfortunately stuck with it now haha but i’m fond of it :p wish it was cuter tho!!

Posting the rest of this under the cut so it doesn’t eat up people’s dashes!! 

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Fandoms: 

oKAY YIKES there are....honestly too many too name. I’ve got a short and obsessive attention span so it’s either all or nothing with me usually. When I can stay in a fandom for a long period of time it’s a miracle. I’ll name the bigger ones that I’ve all written fic for! Even if I’ve never posted them haha

Right now I’m very firmly into Daomu Biji (dmbj). It feels like it’s both got a crap ton of content and yet barely anything at all haha. Maybe because the English fandom is so small. But at least there are a bunch of dramas and books!!! I really, really, really adore dmbj so much!! And a large part of that is the fandom!!! It's been a really cool and unique experience! Everyone in it is truly so kind and wonderful, and I’ve made some really incredible friends because of it (looking at you vish!! ❤). I’ve got a bunch of wips, but I’ve only posted two fics for dmbj!

Before this I was very into Guardian and mdzs. MDZS was my first foray into cdramas and Guardian’s Zhu Yilong really suckered me into watching more haha I also have fics for both these fandoms!

My very first fandoms were Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-Man and Naruto. My very old ffnet account has fics for these and I’ve got a bunch of newer wips on my tablet. Then Star Trek, Twilight, BBC Merlin, Sherlock, Death Note, Harry Potter, How to Train Your Dragon, Battlestar Galactica, Avatar the Last Airbender and Marvel were a few of my main ones in high school. Plus a bunch of anime (like Fruits Basket! and Kuroshitsuji and Natsume Yuujinchou). 

Then college hit and I renewed my childhood love of Tolkien (mainly lotr and the Hobbit), and Star Wars. I also found Teen Wolf! Then after college it was Stranger Things. 

I find myself in a cycle of mild fondness and complete obsession with these fandoms haha I go back to Star Wars at least once a year!! Then I’m in the gffa hole for a few months. Marvel also reoccurs, depending on how interested I am in new content! Star Trek I always always always go back to. TOS is my comfort show and it will never fade from my heart ❤

But for now I’m stuck in cdrama hell and I love it

Tropes: 

Time travel, found family, whump+hurt/comfort, fairytale-like elements, resurrective immortality (thanks to a “Nine Lives” Hobbit fic), CROSSOVERS

I’m a slut for all these things so they often worm their way into my plots haha

I also just- love weird premises. I think that’s the anime influencing me haha

Fic I spent most time on: 

My series he leaves sand and stardust in my wake (main fic is hurricane on the edge of oblivion), I have...spent five years on now. I have done so much research for this fic it’s insane. 

The premise is force ghost!Obi-Wan getting shunted back into his tiny 10 year old self. I incorporate a shit ton of legends and I try to stay as canon as possible. I basically want this au to feel like it’s 1000% plausible while still getting all my gay shit. It’s chock full of whump, redemption, found family, minor characters turning into major characters, and I’ve got slavery uprising on the mind, too. It’s just- everything I could ever want to explore in the Star Wars universe basically. 

It’s my first big project. I started doodling and scribbling ideas in the margins of my notebook in my Scottish History class. I adore it so so so much. But, because of my hyperfixation and fleeting intense obsession with things it makes it- really difficult to consistently update. I leave it for months at a time and I am constantly guilt-ridden about it. Because it’s my baby and I have a lot of wonderful readers. I fear I’ll never be able to finish it. Especially since I’ve written so much and I’m still only in the beginning of it. ( ; A ; )

Also, I’ve spent so much time with Xanatos, Feemor and Bruck that they just feel like mine now. I can’t read any fics that involve them, it’s too strange. Which is a damn shame because I love them so much haha OH ALSO!! I think it’s the first really big fic to include those three?? So I’m very proud about that haha (I’ve had so many ppl comment about how they actually Give A Shit about these three and are Invested bc of me haha)

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written: 

hurricane on the edge of oblivion (with nowhere to go) (Star Wars)

My long-term passion project. My love-letter to Star Wars, I suppose. Reading it now I feel like a lot of it is clunky or long-winded, but I think it really shows the foundation of my writing today :) Main characters are Obi-Wan, Xanatos Du Crion, Qui-Gon Jinn, Bruck Chun and Feemor. Eventually we’ll get to Maul, Savage, Feral, Shmi Skywalker, (more!) Ahsoka, Anakin and a shit ton of clones ❤

things we hunger for (Guardian)

My Ye Zun self-indulgent fic. It’s a time travel amnesia Weilanzun! Honestly has some of my fav writing I’ve ever done. It’s so soft and really indulges in the hurt/comfort. It gives Ye Zun the friends and family I think he deserves. Also, he gets to grow into a (mostly!) functional person and I adore him.

the beast that slumbers within your soul (mdzs)

Jiang Cheng centric fic!! I feel like all my favourite fics I’ve written are love letters haha. This is one def my love letter to Jiang Cheng. This fic possessed me for two whole days. I wrote 16k in almost one sitting. I went to sleep at 6 in the morning bc I couldn’t stop writing. And when I drifted off I kept thinking of new ideas so I’d whip out my phone and write down lines and notes. I- have never ever ever felt that way about anything. It was- insane. It felt insane. It was so amazing. I’m still riding the memory of that high.

 Basically Jiang Cheng actually finds Baoshan Sanren and it turns out she’s a fox demon and Jiang Cheng is descended from wolves. It’s- okay I said the fic above this had my favourite writing?? That was a lie. This has my favourite writing I’ve ever done. It’s unfinished bc I am in dmbj hell but I am still excited about the next chapter which features Wei Wuxian’s pov!!

the whispers of spirits (dmbj)

My current passion project. In a way it kinda feels similar to hurricane? Bc multiple povs, incorporating different aspects of canon (we’ll get there!! I promise!), shit ton of research, etc. etc. I really really really love it for so many reasons. I’m basically taking all the things I was unsatisfied with in Reboot and Sha Hai and running with it. Found family and whump galore! It’s also a love letter to the women of dmbj who really deserve so so so much better.

Honourable mention to:

One Day (you’ll have given more of yourself than is meant to be taken) (Marvel)

This fic also kinda possessed me. I just- couldn’t get rid of the idea of a trans!Thor. And I mean a mtf Thor! It’s just? So many people look at Thor and go “that’s a Real Man.” Full stop. They never think there could be anything more, and it really really really bothered me. So I wrote out my feelings. I’m not trans. I don’t have that experience at all. I’ve had issues and confusion about my gender but nothing like this. I just wanted to do justice to this idea of Thor in my head. And I still feel a bit nervous having posted it. But I've gotten so many comments from people who really connected with what I’ve written? So I’m very very thankful I wrote it and it has a very special place in my heart. It’s a very cathartic fic.

Fic I spent least time on: 

Probably we rise (Star Wars) and I think it shows haha. I wrote it in response to Dave Filoni posting a drawing of Ahsoka and Gandalf telling her “People thought I was dead, too, and look how that turned out...” So I incorporated Ahsoka (and Din and Grogu and Ezra!!!) into the ending of Rise of Skywalker, kinda explaining how I think they could all still be alive. :)

Longest fic: 

hurricane is my longest fic (159k) but I’m kinda worried whispers will eclipse that.....

Shortest fic: 

Of my posted ones it’s The Five Moments it Took Tony and Scott to Admit They Were Best Friends (and the first time they ever did), currently clocks at 1.6k. It’s unfinished tho so maybe that doesn’t count.... otherwise it’s we rise which is completed and 2k.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: 

hurricane overall has the most of all these. Though I don’t think hits counts as much bc it’s multi-chapter. If you discount multi-chapter stuff, most hits goes to my obikin smutfic Homecoming, bc people are horny af haha

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: 

If I had energy I’d like to rewrite the beginning of hurricane bc it feels so so wordy. I’d want to expand on One Day bc I really would like to write a whole series with trans!Thor. And like- I’d really like the focus to finish any of my WIPs.

Share a bit of a WIP: I really wanna share my Guardian/dmbj crossover that I started back in August. Bc I adore the idea of wu xie&shen wei&ye zun triplets! Plus time travel!!! I dunno if I’ll ever finish it tho ( ; A ; ) It just feels like a lot to deal with right now.

This scene takes place during the Mountain Awl arc. Guardian crew and desperado fam run across each other at the village! Wu Xie has recently found out that he’s adopted and he’s searching for answers in the area Sanshu originally found amnesiac!toddler!Wu Xie in :) Gonna pull two snippets bc I’m v excited and this might be the only time anyone else sees this fic haha:

“Oh?” Pangzi focuses on Yunlan now, lips twisting. “You think I’ve ‘got the wrong guy,’ huh?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “That’s rich! Are you that cocky or are you just stupid?”

Bristling, Yunlan drops his hands and scowls. “Excuse me?”

“Sir,” Shen Wei tries. “I think—”

Pangzi’s eyes snap back to Shen Wei, sharp and blazing. “How dare you fucking steal his face!”

What?

Automatically, Zhao Yunlan turns to Shen Wei, but the professor looks just as shell-shocked as Zhao Yunlan feels which- is seriously something. Since everything about Shen Wei is so carefully controlled, kept to the minimum. Except for those delightful little smiles that bloom across his lovely face, or the startled little bursts of laughter that fall from his lips. Or even when anger and frustration spark across his features, cracking his calm veneer open enough that he can see a glimmer of what lies beneath, the fire in those eyes. Zhao Yunlan delights in those moments, makes a game of making Shen Wei’s control slip.

He tells himself it’s nothing more than a game. Nothing more than trying to find out what makes Shen Wei tick.

Zhao Yunlan’s always been very bad at lying to himself. Or very good. Depending on who you’re asking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunlan splutters.

But before anyone can say anything else, a very familiar voice calls:

“Pangzi? What’s wrong?”

Yunlan can feel Shen Wei stiffen, and Yunlan himself is pulled to that voice like a planet in orbit, like the inevitable plummet to the ground.

Another shadow wavers in the doorway before it steps out onto the dirt. Light illuminates shaggy hair, limning it gold, sharply casting everything else in shadow. But as the figure nears, the contrast softens until Yunlan can see the newcomer’s face properly and- and—

“Wu Xie!” Pangzi growls. “We’ve got ourselves an impostor!”

The man wearing Shen Wei’s face steps up to them, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. He glances between them, eyes landing on Shen Wei. His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, but then—

“Wu Xie?” Shen Wei breathes, all trembly and lost and hopeless.

Heart in his throat, Yunlan turns to Shen Wei again. Turns and flinches at that stricken look upon Shen Wei’s pale pinched face.

“A-Xie?” Shen Wei chokes. “Didi?”

and

Pangzi snorts. “Professor?”

“I-it’s true!”

Startled Yunlan swings his attention over to Jiajia who clenches her backpack to her chest, face screwed up in admirable determination. “P-professor Shen took me and Xiao Quan on a field trip to investigate an archeological site around here!”

“Oh?” Wu Xie drawls all slow and amused. “Well, what a coincidence. We’re archeologists, too.”

“With guns?” Yunlan bites out.

Wu Xie raises a brow, grin full of teeth. “Well, you can never be too prepared.”

“Right,” Yunlan drawls right back. “Are you a professor, too, then? You come here with your students?”

Wu Xie outright grins. “You could say that, I suppose.”

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men rolls his eyes. He’s the one with sharp features, glasses and looped earbuds. Does he think it’s appropriate to listen to music at a time like this? Yunlan admires the man’s gall.

aahhhh vish thanks so much again for tagging me!! This was so fun to relive my fic memories!! I’m gonna tag @alwaysaslutforshakespeare @jockvillagersonly @tehfanglyfish @lichelleme @undyingsunshine @humanlighthouse  @thewindsofsong I’m curious about your guys’ writing and fandom journey!! As always, no pressure to actually complete this!! I just thought it was fun ❤

Wow if you read all of this I am very humbled and impressed, thank you!!

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

I had to re-insert EVERY GODDAMN LINE BREAK ARGH it also took out all the italics. I’ll get those in a minute ;_;

(Watch out for arachnophobia, angst, aaaaand smut~~)

           For the eighth or ninth time, Frisk wished she had just said no. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t back out now, so she kept walking, arms stiff at her sides.

At least she was almost there: she could hear rustling in the dark up ahead, and faintly musical sounds, like someone twanging a piano wire. Suddenly, her heel stuck on something, her shoe nearly coming off; the next moment, something else tickled her cheek. When she tried to brush it away, it wouldn’t come off her fingers. In the dim light, it looked like…a spiderweb?

           There was a high-pitched giggle overhead, and more webbing dropped onto her shoulders. The child was yanked off her feet, pulled straight up until she slammed to a teeth-rattling stop in midair. Heart pounding, head spinning, Frisk tried to tug herself loose, but it was no use: she was caught in the bouncy, gluey strands of…

…a really, really big spiderweb. And where there was a really big spiderweb—

           “Ahuhuhu~”

           Frisk turned her head as far as she could, and uttered a raspy sound as her gaze met five huge, mirror-shiny black eyes. It was a spider monster in frilly bloomers, ribbons, and pigtails—surprisingly cute, except for its fangs. “My! Whatever do we have here?” The giant spider leaned in closer, and Frisk watched in fascination as her reflection flickered in time with the monster’s blinks. “What brings a bite-sized human like you to my parlor?”

           The child couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spider monster’s eerie, fluid movements. It was balancing on the web, brushing crumbs off its sleeve, and dipping a pastry into a cup of tea it’d just poured for itself, all at once! “A-Are you Muffet?” she squeaked.

           The spider smirked, nibbling daintily on her pastry. “That’s me, dearie. Did someone send you to find me?” Her face creased into a scowl. “If that skeleton told you it would be funny to disturb us, I swear I’ll—”

           Something chittered, and Frisk couldn’t help squirming. Muffet gasped as a tiny shape emerged from the child’s collar. “Alphonse? Oh my goodness me! How did you get here?!”

           Frisk shut her eyes tight as the little spider crawled the rest of the way out of her shirt, followed by another, and a few more, and then what seemed like a thousand others. She could feel a tickly procession streaming up her neck and along her arms onto the web, where they swarmed around Muffet, making rapid clicking sounds.

           “They gave me a piece of paper asking for help,” the human explained, though the spiders were probably saying the same thing. “They were tired of the Ruins, but Snowdin is too cold, and it’s too expensive to get a heated carriage, so I gave some of them a ride to Hotland.”

           All five of Muffet’s eyes sparkled, and she clasped two legs in pure joy. “Oh, what a sweet little morsel you are! You’ve saved us thousands of g, just like that!” Frisk heard more chittering, and found herself being eased free of the webbing and lowered gently until she was back on the sticky floor. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you, dearie—most humans have a nasty habit of squishing spiders, but I didn’t know how very kind you were toward us!”

           “You’re welcome,” Frisk said, trying to pick the webbing out of her hair. The grownups had chopped almost all of it off before they left the castle; she’d hate for them to cut the webs out and make it look even worse. “My name is Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

           The spider-lady was ignoring her, listening to what sounded like dozens of little voices at once. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her upper three eyes wiggled in almost the same way. “Really, now?” She regarded Frisk with new interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be ten years old, would you, dearie?”

           Where had that come from? None of the other monsters had asked her age. “Um…yes? I don’t know my real birthday, just the year.”

           The spiders must have understood her, because the noise increased, and Muffet tittered louder than ever. “How interesting~”

           “Why?” the child couldn’t help asking.

           “Ohhh, nothing, just a bit of gossip.” Muffet hopped onto a higher strand of webbing, crossing a pair of legs and pouring herself more tea. “Would you like something to eat?” She indicated a table with a pile of iced cakes and a sign reading 9,999 G. “No charge, just for you.”

           Was that a spider leg sticking out of the frosting? “I’m full, thank you,” Frisk lied.

           “Suit yourself, dearie.” For someone without any lips, the monster could slurp her tea quite loudly. “The spider clans don’t communicate with each other nearly as often as we should, but when someone manages to get here from the Ruins, they tell the most fascinating stories. Like the humans’ last visit here, eleven years ago—did you know that your King came with them? Supposedly, it was a group of minor nobles discussing repairs to the border fence, but no one notices spiders – except you, of course – and they hear all sorts of things behind closed doors~”

           The child frowned. “The King was here?” She didn’t think he’d ever been to the Underground; she’d just been glad he hadn’t come on this trip, though she was sorry the Queen was sick. It would’ve been so nerve-wracking to have to behave around him!

           “He certainly was.” Muffet licked a drop of tea from the fine hairs on her forelimb. “Yes, the King paid us a secret visit, and poor Chara was never the same afterwards. There was quite a commotion, you know, after he’d been gone a little while. They had to take her all the way to the Ruins so no one would hear her s—”

           There was a familiar chuckle behind Frisk. “ahh, muffet. putting the spy in ‘spider,’ huh?” Sans held out his hand, and Frisk gladly took it. “yeah, i dunno what she’s talking about, either. c’mon, kiddo, you shouldn’t be here. time to have a ferry good ride back.”

           “On the contrary,” Muffet said haughtily, “this wonderful child is welcome in my parlor any time. I would love to have her over for lunch!” Two sets of arms clapped their hands. “Go on home, dearie. Come and see me again sometime soon.”

           “man. you got a knack for making friends, ya know that?” Sans remarked as they stepped around the webs lining the floor. “i didn’t think she liked anyone who wasn’t rich, or fattening.”

           Frisk didn’t answer. The corridor had just enough bare, echoing surfaces for her to hear the last of Muffet’s conversation. “Not a word to anyone,” the spider was telling her family, or minions, or whatever they were. “I—what? …Why, yes, he would pay for that information. What a splendid idea! We could even give him a discount! Those glasses are so cute~”

           Frisk and Sans looked at each other, shrugged, and moved along to thinking up spider puns to unleash on Pap. It didn’t occur to Frisk until much later that Muffet had said “her”—the smaller ones hadn’t gotten that far under her clothes, had they?

Ah, well. She figured spiders must not know much about human pronouns, and they probably said strange, random things to everyone. It was nothing to worry about.

           Many years later, Frisk would remember that and wish she could smack her younger self upside the head. Not only was it racist, it was very incorrect, not to mention ungrateful. Spiders knew damn well what pronouns were, and nothing Muffet had said to her was random. She hadn’t even charged her for it…

 ~

             The hotel attached to Mettaton’s resort was unbelievably crowded that evening, the air warm and full of amazing smells. Sans had materialized by the fountain in the lobby, figuring it was long enough after dinnertime that there wouldn’t be too many people around. This turned out to be hilariously wrong: the line was still two or three deep at the food counter, the queue winding up and down the room and ending nearly out the doors. There wasn’t enough space for one boss monster to just appear out of nowhere, much less two, but here they were.

“My. Do you think they’ve gotten a room?” Toriel asked dubiously, releasing his arm and nodding to the monsters scrambling out of their way. “Should we check with the front desk?”

Sans glanced around, then relaxed and let his SOUL point him in a direction, like giving a hunting dog a scent to follow. Sure enough, his feet started toward the restaurant on the left side of the resort. “This way,” he grunted.

Luckily, at their size, they didn’t have much trouble getting through the crowd. Nor did they have to say anything to the restaurant’s maître d’: he took one look, bowed so deeply that he almost fell over, and walked ahead of them to harass the seated monsters out of their way.

They soon reached the far end of the room, where Frisk was holding court at a small table with Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, and a few others. To Sans’ delight, she had perched on the back of a heavy chair, confidently projecting her voice over the other diners. “So I finished the introduction, she came out onstage, and what did she do? She froze right there in front of everyone,” the human said, gesturing with her champagne glass.

This got quite a reaction. “Oh, please,” Mettaton said with a groan.

“Ha!” Undyne thumped the table. “Served her right! What’d you do?”

“I peeked out from behind the curtain, and I looked at her, and I went—” Frisk closed one eye and opened the other as wide as possible, flashing a demented smile, and the monsters cracked up. “She almost started laughing, and it was perfect, because that was where the Queen was bragging about how much everyone loved her!”

“Good evening, everyone,” said Toriel, walking ahead of Sans to join the others. “Forgive me, but, what was this?”

Cries of welcome rang out. “Good evening, Lady Toriel! I was telling them about my friend Mathilda,” explained Frisk.

Standing on the periphery, Sans drank in the sight of his human seated among the monsters, looking adorably tiny by comparison, but completely at home. She was more animated than he’d ever seen her at the castle, her eyes bright and hands in constant motion as she talked. It was everything they’d both hoped for when they came here.

And speaking of drinks, he also had to note all the open bottles of wine and other adult beverages around the table. He remembered ordering several crates of them, but he’d assumed they would be consumed at a slower rate than this; monsters couldn’t handle alcohol as well as most humans. Come to think of it, neither could Frisk.

Mettaton had gotten up to greet Toriel, and was bowing her into his seat; Sans was impressed with his manners until the automaton turned and shooed Alphys out of her chair so he could take it.

Justice came swiftly: Undyne waited for Mettaton to get comfortable, then kicked him under the table hard enough to make a metallic clang. “Never mind him. Here,” she said to Alphys, holding her arm out and patting her lap.

Toriel cleared her throat, and the scientist turned about five shades of reddish-orange. Practical as ever, Undyne got up to grab a chair from another table instead, ignoring its irate former occupant and cramming it between her seat and Frisk’s. “Ta-da!”

When Alphys was happily settled, Toriel gave the automaton and the Royal Guard Captain reproachful glances. “Your friend Mathilda?” she prompted.

Frisk smiled. “Yes, from St. Brigid’s. She wanted me to narrate the part of the spring pageant where she was playing the Queen—have you heard of The Sun Cycle?”

Toriel accepted a glass of red wine from the waiter. “The allegory about the two sisters? Of course. Did Mathilda have a case of stage fright?”

“Right after she spent ten minutes straight telling me not to be shy.” Frisk made another face. “I teased her about that for years.”

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

Sans was busy staring at Frisk when she suddenly looked straight at him. “Sans?” He jumped, then scowled self-consciously as she shifted her weight. “I hate to make you stand there—is there anywhere he can sit?” she asked the group.

There was a general murmur and scooting-out to make room, but Sans waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. ‘s what I get fer bein’ late to the party,” he muttered.

The priestess frowned a little. “Well, if you’re sure…” She indicated a green jug on the table. “You wanted to try some hard cider, didn’t you? Now’s your chance.”

“’m fine,” he said gruffly, and she gave him a short nod before Mettaton reclaimed her attention with a question about human seating etiquette.

Sans wanted to smack himself on the cranium. Typical Frisk: she was mad at him, but still didn’t want him be to left out. Well, neither did he! It physically hurt to keep himself from going over and petting her hair, tucking that one bit behind her ear, asking how she was feeling…

Yeah, this whole staying-apart thing wasn’t fucking working. If he couldn’t have some time alone with her soon, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and teleport them both far, far away, which would probably look a little suspicious. What would it take to—

Alphys coughed. “S-So did the rest of the pageant go all right?”

Frisk sipped her champagne. “Oh, yes. I’ve always loved that story, and I didn’t have to be onstage, so I—” She paused and held the empty glass out, and another waiter swooped in to refill it. “Thank you.” Sip. “It was wonderful. We had a five-piece orchestra playing along, and the Queen’s song, ‘Daylight’s Lament,’ actually brought people to tears.”

Sans wasn’t thinking very straight, or else he would known better than to say, “Is that the mopey thing you’re always singin’?”

Everyone turned toward him, and he shrank back at the priestess’ expression. “Are you a musician, Frisk?” Toriel asked around her refilled wineglass.

“Yes, I was in the choir at school,” the human said, giving Sans a significant look. “The Sun Cycle had just been adapted into a musical, and we all nagged our teachers until they let us perform it.” She grinned ruefully. “It was the best political training I’ve ever had. If you want to delve into the darkest side of human nature, just tell a group of teenage girls that only one of them gets to play the Queen.”

They all laughed, though no one disagreed. “And Mathilda got it?” Sans asked, just to contribute.

“Yes, she did,” Frisk replied. Her feet swung back and forth a few times, drawing his attention again. “She tends to get what she wants.”

Trying to distract himself, Sans remembered something and asked, “Isn’t she the one who’s gonna replace you?” They looked at him in surprise, and he added, “Y’know, if you ever decide ta quit?”

That earned him another glare. “Yes, if I ever do. The only reason I became High Priestess and not her was that my magic was stronger. Otherwise, she’d have been perfect.”

“Now, now. I would think—no, I know that you’re doing an excellent job,” Toriel said warmly, and the priestess ducked her head.

“Wait a sec.” Undyne banged her mug on the table, startling Alphys. “Didn’t you say somebody tried to kill you ‘cause you’re the High Priestess? Aren’t you worried someone’ll come after her, too?”

“Well…not really.” Frisk made a complicated gesture. “It may sound cold, but you’ve never met Mathilda. She doesn’t have time to be assassinated. If the Church didn’t pay for a half-dozen guards everywhere she went, she’d just hire them herself and go about her day.”

“Nice,” said Undyne, but despite Frisk’s light tone, Sans wasn’t so sure about the way she was frowning into her champagne glass. Did she feel guilty for being so cavalier about her friend’s safety?

…No, that wasn’t it. He had a sudden attack of insight: Frisk wasn’t only in danger because she was the High Priestess; she was also in the way of people who profited off monsters. Did Mathilda have different views on the subject – maybe more safe or conventional ones – that would keep her from being targeted?

What about the person who had paid to keep Frisk safe? He still had to tell her about that, too, assuming he ever got the fucking chance!

That was enough of that topic. What else could they talk about? “How’d it go in the lab today, Al?” he asked.

This time, they all looked at him as though he’d thrown dog turds onto the table, and a couple of the other monsters actually got up and left. His stupid, tired, frustrated mind took a second to catch up: everyone knew that Alphys had been testing Frisk’s magic, and as much as they liked and hopefully trusted the human by now, they didn’t want to hear about her barriers.

“Um…” Alphys fidgeted with her mug of spiced cider. “You were r-right. I couldn’t even quantify how much f-force she could potentially withstand. It’s honestly still hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it turns out she’s even better than we thought,” Undyne said defiantly, and raised her mug. “Toast: to Frisk being on our side!”

Frisk raised her glass in reply, downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp, and everyone with a drink quickly followed suit. As the waiter came back for more refills, Sans nodded his thanks to Undyne; she stared at him, then drew her thumb across her throat to indicate that he was dead. He shrugged, agreeing that that was fair.

Alphys fidgeted again. “Actually, Sans, I’d like to t-talk to you about that sometime soon. Alone, m-maybe?”

The skeleton blinked. “Uh…okay.” Now that a few chairs were empty across from Frisk, he walked over to shove them aside and sit down on the floor, putting his eye level only a foot or two below the others. Why would Alphys need to talk to him alone? If she wanted more data, why not include Frisk? He’d have to find out later.

Undyne scowled, half-turning to drape her arm over Alphys’ shoulders; the lizard monster turned a few more colors, then leaned into her. Good for them, thought Sans, with only a twinge of jealousy. “I remember when I was a kid and I used to snoop around in my parents’ room,” Undyne continued. “My mom got fed up and told me there was a human hiding in her closet. Not only did I stop sneaking in there, I’d run past their door to get to my room!”

Sans forced himself to join in the laughter. “Poor Pap,” he remarked. “When he was a kid, I got him that pirate bed, and he wouldn’t stop jumpin’ on it in the middle of the night. I didn’t wanna take it away, so I said there was a human under it ‘n Pap was gonna wake him up.”

“Sans,” Frisk scolded him, but she was smiling now.

“It’s true,” he said gleefully. “The next night, I found him makin’ a decoy to throw into bed so he could go hide in the closet.”

Undyne guffawed, and Toriel shook her head, though she was also smiling. “That poor child! Tell me he isn’t still sleeping in the closet, Sans!”

“He’s not. I made a big deal about talkin’ with the librarian and finding out humans are scared of books about Fluffy Bunny. We read one every night from then on, and whaddya know? The human never got ‘im,” the skeleton said proudly.

They laughed again, and the last of the tension dissipated. “Speakin’ of Papyrus, where is he?” Sans asked, feeling guilty for not noticing sooner. “Hope I didn’t miss ‘im on his way home.”

Mettaton couldn’t drink, so he had spent most of the conversation checking his face paint; he sighed theatrically, putting the mirror away in his chest compartment. “He got drunk already, the poor dear. I sent him upstairs to sleep it off.”

Sans didn’t have to fake a grin. “Makes sense. It only takes half a mudslide to get him started tellin’ everyone how bad my jokes are, and tellin’ the jokes ta prove it, and then gettin’ mad that he knows all my jokes by heart.”

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

“Yep. ’s one of Grillby’s finest cocktails: magic ‘n mud.”

The human looked puzzled. “By ‘mud,’ you mean…?”

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

“…You…drink…?” Frisk couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “What does that even taste like?”

Pause. “Mud.”

More laughter. Frisk’s nose was wrinkled, but she was still smiling; that was enough for Sans.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying something else stupid, so he nodded to her and turned to survey the now-half-empty room. It must have been pretty late, because the maître d’ wasn’t letting anyone else in. The nearest table had just one person, and—

It was sitting there, out of nowhere, legs dangling over the side of the table. The demon-child locked eyes with Sans, hands resting on the knife in its lap, and it grinned.

Sans stared back at it, paralyzed. Through the fog of shock and terror, there arose a single thought: Are you fucking serious?! I don’t need this right now!

The thing shook its head. It looked meaningfully at their table – at Frisk – and back at him. It raised the kitchen knife, pointing at the side of its own head, and made a circling motion.

Sans managed to twitch with sheer rage as he recognized that childish gesture. The little bastard had come all the way here to tell him Frisk was crazy?

Its grin faded into a faint, superior smile. It lowered the knife and tapped on its sternum three times. Then it shifted around to face the human; to Sans’ bewilderment, it sat cross-legged and leaned forward on its elbows, ruby eyes glued to Frisk, as if waiting for a play to begin.

What was it doing? …Why was it doing? He had the feeling that it genuinely wasn’t interested in him for the moment. What did it think Frisk was going to—

“Sans?” Her voice snapped him out of it; the skeleton found he could move again. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” He looked at her, then back at the demon. It was gone now, of course. “Nothin’.” He glanced back and forth a couple of times just to be sure. What the hell was that about? The thing wanted to tell him that Frisk was nuts and Sans should check her SOUL? But…

Sans shook himself, turning to size up the room. Everyone was slightly to moderately tipsy, but relaxed, probably ready to call it a night soon. There was absolutely no sign of danger anywhere; even if there was, Sans couldn’t imagine a threat too big for him, Toriel, Undyne, and Frisk.

To hell with that thing. He wasn’t going to ogle her SOUL for no reason in front of everyone; somebody would notice and give him crap for it, she’d get embarrassed, and he’d have yet another thing to make up to her.

Toriel took a bottle of wine directly from a passing waiter and poured herself another glass. “Where are you staying tonight, my child?”

           The human brushed her hair behind her ear. Sans glanced at her, and his spine stiffened: she was looking right at him, her finger tracing the edge of her choker. “My things are still at Sans and Papyrus’ house, so I was planning to stay in Snowdin tonight at the inn.”

The skeleton tried to hide his sudden jubilation. She was telling him she’d have her own room, which meant some damn privacy at last! He’d have a chance to tell her things and apologize for being stupid about the chessboard, and then…choker, and—

           “Whaaat? You have an entire new wardrobe upstairs, and you want to go all the way back to that smelly wasteland?” Mettaton complained. Sans gritted his teeth as the automaton reached over to play with Frisk’s hair, sweeping it up with one gloved hand. “You know, darling, if you’d let me put this up for you, it wouldn’t keep getting in your way. Why don’t you stay here another night so we can figure it out?”

           “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Frisk said tartly, pushing his arm away.

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

           “She said no, dipshit,” Sans snarled. “Not everyone has time to play dress-up.”

“Oh?” drawled the automaton. He sized up the giant skeleton and flashed a literally pearly-white smile. “I see. Well, if she absolutely must stop in at your hovel, be sure she has everything she needs. You know, her clothes, a few midnight snacks…plenty of socks?”

Undyne and Alphys nearly spat their drinks across the table. Sans twitched as though he’d been poked in the SOUL—which, in a way, he had. “Ya wanna die, ya friggin’ piece of—”

“Be nice, children,” Toriel mumbled. She covered her mouth for a massive yawn, nearly dropping her wineglass. “Speaking of wardrobes, Frisk, I had enough time after my nap this afternoon to go through Chara’s old clothes. I found several things that should fit you. Why don’t you stay over another night so we can try them on?”

           The human’s face was still red. “No, thank you, Lady Toriel,” Frisk said over the faintest murmur of “Socks” and barely-suppressed snickering.

           The former Queen sighed, too far gone in memory – and alcohol – to notice. “It would be so cute to see you in those dresses,” she murmured. “We can hem them up if we need to. You’re about the same size she was at…goodness, fourteen or fifteen!”

           “Yes, childhood malnutrition will do that.” Frisk accepted yet another refill from yet another waiter. “My mother took no care of me.”

           “You poor thing.” Toriel shook her head. “How I wish you could have stayed and grown up here! We would never have neglected you like that.”

Undyne sighed, propping her head on one fist. “Yeah, that would’ve been amazing.”

Mettaton also sighed, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them. “For once, darling, we agree. She should know at least five times as many dances as I’ve taught her.”

Toriel hiccuped. Sans had always heard that drunk people did that, but never seen it for himself. “And she could’ve sang for us, too. My poor little angel—such a wonderful child!”

Frisk smiled, until Toriel went on, “Yes, I’ll always miss Chara. Did you ever get to meet her, Frisk?”

           No answer. Sans’ backbone prickled; he checked the other table, but the demon wasn’t there. He glanced at Frisk, and to his alarm, she was almost literally vibrating with tension.

Alphys was also squinting at the human, as if checking her. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide, and she signaled frantically at Sans. “So, Frisk,” he said, too loud.

She looked up, startled. “Uh,” he said. Crap. Now he had everyone’s attention, and he had to say more words. This time, though, he made himself think first, settling on a topic so safe and dull that nothing bad could possibly come of it. “I just remembered—when I was passin’ stuff out with the Royal Guard earlier, we found a couple small discrepancies in the list,” he said casually. “I made some notes about it. Can you and Tori take a look real quick?”

           “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine, though,” Frisk said, giving him another smile. Then, as he started to reach into his coat for the invoices…

It was the tiniest movement, and he just barely caught it. She took too large a drink and slopped champagne onto the corner of her mouth, which she chose to lick off slowly, eyes on his.

           Sans would think of that moment and berate himself for years afterward. For one thing, he didn’t know or care how openly he was staring at her, or who was watching; more importantly, his hand kept moving while the rest of his mind did a belly-flop into a mire of absolute lust, all his resources suddenly diverted to socks and lace chokers and that cute little mouth…desperation to run his hands all over her again and find out if she still had that weird blood thing going, what her exact criteria were for it being the right time to—

Left to manage on its own, his hand knew only that it was supposed to get something for her out of his pocket. It encountered the papery thing he needed, and then another thing it knew was for her, and dutifully pulled both things out. He didn’t have enough concentration to use magic and send the invoices directly to her, so he tossed them onto the table with a solid thmp. “Pass that t’ Frisk, wouldja?” his mouth said.

A couple shreds of conscious thought worked themselves free, wondering why the papers had gone thmp. Paper wasn’t supposed to go thmp. What had he…

Oh. It was the heavy golden envelope, the one with the King’s letter for her.

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

Right by Undyne, who was reaching to pick it up, just like he’d asked.

           Time slowed to a crawl. Icy dread swept over him, and he raised his hand, knowing it was too late—Undyne had handed over the invoices and was already saying, “Heyyy, what’s this, boss?” Before he could stand up or regroup his magic, the Royal Guard Captain flipped the envelope around to read the calligraphy. “Fancy! Is it a love letter for—”

           She stopped. Sans’ SOUL shrank to nothing as the fish monster’s brows drew together. “Hey. Your Majesty?” she asked, raising her voice.

           Toriel finished her drink, trying to set her glass down and missing the table entirely. “Yes, Captain?”

           Undyne gave a puzzled half-smile. “Did you adopt Frisk or something?”

           Frisk looked up from the invoices. The goat monster glanced at her, then chuckled. “Why, no, not that I’m aware of.” Toriel was smiling, too, clearly waiting for a punchline.

           Sans snatched at the envelope with a burst of red magic and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Frisk! Guess what? Time ta go!”

           Frisk started, and had to catch herself before she fell off the chair. “What? Why do—”

           “Then how come she has your last name?” asked Undyne.

           Silence. Toriel and Undyne were awkwardly smiling, each waiting for the other to speak and growing more confused as the seconds ticked by.

Alphys frowned, then peered at Frisk, who was staring at the panicky skeleton. “Sans,” the human said softly. “What is she talking about?”

Sans was still sitting on the floor, and couldn’t get up; he felt sick as Frisk stepped down from her perch and came over to him. “What do you have there?” she asked, even softer.

           His hand moved on its own again to pull out the envelope. “’s a letter,” he mumbled. “I was gonna give this to ya later, when we talked about—”

           Frisk snatched the envelope and turned it over. He forced his sockets to stay open as her face went pale, then stark white. Slowly, her head lifted until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean ta get it out yet,” he said helplessly. “It was an accident. I’m—”

           “Where did you get this?” she asked carefully. “When did you get this?”

           “Yesterday. From…from Dr. Serif. He met me in the village to help get all the stuff ready, and the King gave it to ‘im ‘cause he thought you’d be—”

           “This is from my father?” Frisk stared at the dark-gold calligraphy, then at him. Sans just stared back, letting his silence speak for itself.

           Alphys squinted one more time at Frisk’s chest. Then she bolted from her seat, skittered around the table to Mettaton, and latched onto his arm. “You need to get everyone out of here! Right now!” she hissed.

           The automaton quirked a lacquered eyebrow at her. “Are you joking? This is the most—”

           “I said now!”

           Toriel and Undyne watched Mettaton scramble out of his chair, leap straight into the middle of the room, and strike a pose. “Hello, beauties!” he called to the remaining twenty or so diners, giving Alphys a nervous glance. “This is your lucky night! We’re going to have a scavenger hunt, and the prize is me—one candlelit dinner with yours truly! Follow me to Paradise!”

           Alphys breathed a sigh of relief as the monsters trooped out, dragging the waiters and the protesting maître d’ with them, and the doors slammed shut. The royal scientist gestured to Toriel, then Undyne, who had come around to their side of the table. “We should leave, too,” Alphys said urgently.

           “What?” The goat monster frowned at her, and at Frisk, whose shoulders had hunched. “Are you all right, my chi—”

           “Yes!” They jumped as Frisk whipped around, clutching the envelope to her breast, giving them a dreadful smile. “Yes. Yes, I…I’m fine. I just need to—” She gulped. “Never mind. I have to talk to Sans.” She held her hand out. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, and she said desperately, “Now? Please?”

           A tiny quiver of fear ran through him, and not just because he, personally, was in an absolute world of shit. He could feel the air around Frisk grow heavier, and for the first time in a long time, his instincts were urging him to back away. Her magic was building rapidly, as if she was getting a barrier ready, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. What did she—

Oh, crap. Not only were they Underground, where magic was naturally stronger than above, she was already at least a little drunk, and tired, and…well, “upset” would not begin to cover the fallout of his slip-up. Was Alphys worried something would happen? But…

Just to be sure, Sans took a long look at Frisk’s SOUL. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision, or he was just out of practice; then he realized that, for once, he was not the problem.

Her SOUL was a goddamn mess. It shone as bright and beautifully red as when he’d first seen it, but where it had been rock-solid with determination, it now looked more like a snowglobe that kept getting shaken up before the glitter had a chance to settle. Magic was seeping through her skin and beginning to tint the air around her, and if she was aware of it, she wasn’t even trying to control it.

Fuck. Alphys had been smart enough to keep an eye on Frisk’s SOUL when she started getting agitated about Chara—had the scientist noticed some instability when she was testing the human’s magic? Either way, she’d been scared enough to have Mettaton clear the room.

But it wasn’t as if the monsters should be scared of Frisk, was it? Sure, she seemed pretty volatile right now, but she was still Frisk! She would never hurt anyone! At least, not on purpose…

Sans couldn’t help glancing at the other table. Sure enough, the demon-child was back, grinning and clapping its hands in sheer delight. “Told you so,” it said gaily.

           Undyne coughed. “Uh…Frisk? Why’d your dad call you that?”

           Frisk gestured one more time, and Sans made himself look at her hand with a grim, apologetic shake of his head. His SOUL wanted to tear loose and go hide at the way her face contorted. “You’ve gotta calm down, kid,” he said quietly. He didn’t know how to explain in front of everyone that her magic was too thick for him to teleport her anywhere without touching her, and doing so right now would singe him down to the bone—probably straight through it. “Please,” he added.

           The priestess let her hand drop. She closed her eyes in resignation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He called me that because I’m illegitimate, and I have to use my mother’s name.”

           Pause. Sans shuffled back a little as Frisk’s eyes opened again, taking in the monsters’ blank faces. “Oh, for God’s sake! Do I need to spell it out for you?” She brandished the envelope at them: FRISK DREEMURR. “That was Chara’s last name, and she was my mother!”

           The world stopped for a moment. Sans watched Toriel, breathless, painfully aware that her reaction was the one that really mattered. If she took Frisk seriously, then the priestess could probably recover her equilibrium and work through some of her feelings. If she didn’t—

           Toriel was frowning in bewilderment. Then…she started to smile, and Sans’ SOUL shrieked in panic: Nonono, don’t do it, don’t—

           The former Queen gave a polite little laugh. “I’m…sorry, my child, but…there must be some mistake.”

           The air crackled, not loud enough yet for the others to hear. Frisk gripped the letter harder, still holding it at arm’s length. “Why do you say that?” she asked, too calm.

           “Well…” Oh, crap. Now Undyne was smiling, too, only stopping when Alphys yanked on her sleeve. “Sorry,” the Captain said, “but c’mon. Chara never even had any kids!”

           “Yeah, she did,” said Sans, and the women looked at him in astonishment. Frisk’s arm fell to her side as he continued, “The humans who visited ‘bout twenty-four years ago had their King with ‘em, and he knocked her up. She hid it till the last second, ‘n then she gave birth in the Ruins so no one would see anything.” He glanced at Toriel. “Right?”

           It was hard to say who was the most shocked. “I thought Chara had me after she left the Underground! You mean I was born here?” demanded Frisk.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” barked Undyne. She looked at Toriel, whose eyes were huge, hands pressed to her mouth. “I-I mean—” The fish monster turned to Alphys. “Don’t humans get really big and weird when they’re pregnant? Wouldn’t we have noticed something?”

           “Not n-necessarily,” Alphys said, fiddling with her claws faster than ever. “It depends on the individual, and how the baby d-develops. Besides, it’s not as if we had other humans to compare her with. She could’ve just w-worn thick clothes and stayed out of sight.”

“Huh.” Undyne stared at the floor. “Now that you mention it, she did spend a few months cooped up in the house before she left. But—”

           “Where did you hear this, Sans?” None of them had ever heard Toriel sound like that, her gentle voice lowered to an almost bestial snarl. “Who told you?”

           Sans grimaced. “You guys cleared everyone out of the Ruins, but you didn’t get all the spiders. They saw what happened, an’ they heard her tell you who the dad was.”

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

“Yep. Some of ‘em made it over to Hotland while Kris was here, and they told Muffet, an’ she wound up sellin’ the story to Grillby. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. He just likes knowin’ stuff.” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull. “When I asked him ‘bout Chara the other day, he told me everything. I just never got a friggin’ chance to talk to Frisk about it.”

Another long pause. Was it his imagination, or was the air getting hotter? The priestess was only a few feet away, and though he didn’t have the courage to look at her again, that side of his body was tingling very unpleasantly.

           Toriel’s face had hardened, her arms folded at the waist. “Be that as it may, it proves absolutely no connection between her and Chara.”

God damn it. “No, they didn’t know for a fact that Frisk was her kid. But her age matched up, and a bunch of the spiders who rode with her were right next to her SOUL for a few hours. They said she had a buttload of magic, and it smelled like the Underground—way more than any human’s should.”

“It would explain how she’s so powerful,” mused Alphys. “With the capability to use magic from her f-father’s side, and being c-conceived and gestated here, she probably started accruing it before she was even born. She’s already proven that she can convert a monster’s power for herself, so…”

“Holy shit,” whispered Undyne. “So Chara really did have a kid?”

“Yes, she did,” the former Queen said tightly. “We just thought she was ill and shutting herself away for a while. She didn’t tell us how Stephin had betrayed our hospitality until she was nearly in labor, and she begged us not to tell any of the other monsters.” Toriel was gripping her own sleeves hard enough to puncture the fabric. “We gave her two months to recover, and then Asgore sent them both to Stephin. The baby wasn’t very strong, but Asgore was afraid that if we kept her here, Stephin would think we were holding his child hostage.”

No one answered, and Toriel swallowed hard. “A few weeks later, Chara returned to us in agony. Stephin had just become engaged to another woman, and he refused to break it off. The baby had become sick after leaving the Underground, and when Chara started preparing for the journey back here, she…the child didn’t make it home.” The former Queen wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I am sorry, Frisk, but there is no way you could be—”

           “Yes, there is,” Frisk said, sounding oddly detached. “Chara lied to you. I didn’t die—she left me with a wet nurse and paid her to be my foster mother.”

Sans wanted to dive out of the way as Toriel took a step toward the human, Undyne and Alphys also shrinking back. “You mean to tell me,” the goat monster said, deathly quiet, “that my daughter knowingly abandoned her child and deceived her family?”

“Yes. She did.” Frisk was standing firm, but the monsters could see the haze coming off her like a golden mist; Sans traded looks with Undyne, who pulled Alphys closer. “If you really think it’s impossible for me to be Chara’s daughter, why did you ask my exact age?” the human demanded. “Why did you want to know how old I was when I first visited, and why did Asgore ask Sans the very same thing? You knew Chara had had a baby girl ten years before the delegation arrived, and then you found out Kris was a girl. Were you wondering if I was actually—”

           “No!” They flinched at Toriel’s sheer vehemence. She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. “It was all Asgore’s fault. When Chara returned to us, he had the temerity to accuse her of lying about her child’s death. He told her she was not welcome unless she brought the baby back with her! Of course we didn’t see her again for ten years!” Smoke drifted from between her fingers as she wiped her eyes again. “I still don’t know how he could have done something so cruel, or how he told you about it, but my only regret is that I ever considered the possibility for a single second! I know you are both wrong!”

           Frisk’s eyes narrowed, and Sans jumped as a golden spark flew in his direction. He quashed the reflex to teleport to safety and stood up, only for Frisk to look around him, as though he wasn’t there. “I haven’t spoken to Asgore since I was a child. He has nothing to do with this conversation,” she snapped. “Do you know who first told me Chara was my mother?”

           Toriel tried to give her a tolerant smile. “No, child. Who first told you?”

           “Asriel.” Before the goat monster could react, Frisk pressed on, “He put the pieces together after he saw me make a barrier by accident. He knew that that ability ran in the royal family, and the King had fathered Chara’s child, so he asked her if it could be me. Chara got him to bring me to her, and he told me who I really was.” The envelope trembled in her hands. “He told me I’d come home.”

Toriel’s eyes widened again. She started to speak, but Frisk raised her voice: “Chara said my nurse had told her I’d died, and she apologized to me for how she acted whenever she visited the orphanage or the castle kitchens.” The human’s face had the hard, bitter expression Sans recognized from the time she’d caught him trying to escape. “She was so sweet to all the other children, and then she looked at me like I was some kind of diseased rat! She said it was because I reminded her of her little girl and it made her sad, and she didn’t know it was actually me!”

           “There!” Toriel exclaimed. “You see? The nurse wanted to hide the King’s child for her own gain, and—”

           “Chara knew who I was all along!” bellowed Frisk, and it was the goat monster’s turn to step back. “She knew damn well that I was alive! Why else would she pay my foster mother a hundred dinar every month for ten years? How did she know to check in on me every so often to see if I still existed? Why’d she leave me to be beaten and starved half to death while she kept the thousands my father gave her to support us both and did whatever she liked?!”

           “How dare you say that? My child would never have—”

“She would, and she did! I’m sorry, Toriel, but she lied to everyone, especially you! Chara abandoned me until I was useful for something besides money, and she tore your family apart to punish Asgore for being right about her!”

           “ENOUGH!” roared Toriel. She made a violent gesture, flame sizzling through the air. “I will not hear any more of this! Do you understand, High Priestess?! Whatever you may think happened, I know my daughter, and I know what she was and was not capable of! If you’re going to insist on slandering her any further, perhaps it would be better for you to l—”

           The echoes died. The fury in Toriel’s gaze was gone, a hand coming back to her mouth.

           “Better for me to what, Lady Toriel?” Frisk asked, so gently that Sans cringed. “Should—” Her throat worked. “Should I leave the Underground? Are you going to send me away again?”

           Toriel didn’t have the chance to reply. A barrier screamed to life overhead, and constricted until it formed a dome around them only about twenty feet across and fifteen feet high. “All right. I understand,” said Frisk.

Undyne reacted first, pushing Alphys to the floor and stuffing her under the table. “Frisk!” snapped the fish monster. “Calm down, okay? She didn’t mean it!”

“She didn’t mean to say I was lying?” Frisk inquired, her voice suddenly rising to a shriek: “She didn’t mean to tell me to get out?”

“Frisk!” Sans tried to grab her shoulder, only for a flare of gold to warn him away. “C’mon, sweetheart! Ya gotta stop it! We can talk about this!”

“We just did, Sans!” He had seen her in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed stare she turned on him now. “We talked about it because you couldn’t wait to show everyone who I was! Thank you so much for helping me have this difficult conversation! We’ve finally answered the question of whether someone else I love is going to call me a liar!”

Sans’ SOUL already hurt so much that it took a moment to remember what she—oh, God. She meant when she’d told him she was Kris, and he’d scoffed at her until she stripped down to prove it. Now she’d been forced to reveal her identity to Toriel in the least natural way possible, and she didn’t believe her, either. “Frisk—”

She was smiling, but in a very unhinged way. “No, I should really be thanking you. Life is so much simpler now! I don’t have to waste any more time and energy wondering if I should feel worthless, because the closest person to a real mother I’ve ever had just told me so!”

Sans couldn’t answer: he had to fling himself backward before a cascade of sparks hit him in the face. Frisk drifted away a few steps and sank to her knees, hands still clenched on the envelope in her lap. “It’s fine,” she mumbled at the floor. “Food, presents, bubbles—I already gave you everything I have. If you don’t want me anymore, then…”

Toriel was rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The barrier sank lower, nearly grazing her horns, and Undyne rushed to sling her under the table as more sparks flew. “Sans!” the Captain shouted over the crackle and hiss of human magic.

The skeleton glared down at Toriel, and shook his head as she tried to speak. Frisk was too far gone—anything else the goat monster said would just aggravate her further, assuming she could even hear it.

Meanwhile, the dome was slowly closing in on them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If he tried to touch Frisk now, she’d just shove more magic at him; not only would that hurt like hell, it’d trap them all between two layers of barrier. He yelled her name again, but she didn’t move.

Shit! Why hadn’t Alphys warned him sooner? Why hadn’t Undyne kept her goddamn mouth shut about the letter? And if Toriel couldn’t accept right away that everything she knew was wrong and Chara was even worse than Sans had imagined, couldn’t she have found a way to deny it without completely destroying Frisk?!

Why hadn’t he—

No, all that mattered right now was getting through to her. The light surrounded them in blinding golden pulses, the barrier crackling like…

Humming. The barrier was making a hell of a lot of noise, and it…didn’t sound like her humming at all. Why was he thinking of that now?

…Because the last time his magic had been out of control, in his prison cell, she’d calmed him down by humming. But he hadn’t even heard her at first; he’d only snapped out of it when she touched his blaster – the physical embodiment of his magic – with her bare hand. He never did explain to her what a no-no that was…

Sans looked at his hand. He looked at his priestess, curled in on herself, lost in misery. The golden dome was so close to the crown of his skull that he could feel his whole body screaming at him to run.

The giant skeleton looked Toriel in the eye. Then he squeezed his sockets shut, lifted his arm, and placed his hand flat on the barrier.

 ~

             Something…happened.

           One second, the pressure in Frisk’s head was intolerable, grief and despair rising to a fever pitch, spurred by the determination to keep the monsters here until they changed their minds, till they were sorry. Then—

           The sensation could only be likened to someone running their finger down the inside of her chest, the most strange and intimate thing she’d ever felt. It should have been horrible, or at least uncomfortable, but…

           But it didn’t feel invasive. It felt like someone giving her heart a gentle nudge, saying in a familiar, gravelly baritone, “’s all right, Frisk. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. But you gotta stop now, ‘kay?”

The feeling slipped away. She stirred, trying to get it back; Frisk opened her eyes and—

           Sans. Her chest gave a happy little shiver as she saw him looking down at her. He was standing nearby, giving her a strained smile and…and touching—the barrier—

           Fear jolted her fully awake. Frisk whistled as hard as she could, and the searing golden light vanished. Her whole body ached, but it was nothing compared with what she glimpsed as Sans lowered his arm. “Oh, God! Sans—”

           “Hey, kitten,” mumbled the boss monster. He had to stifle a grunt, shuffling hastily to turn his back to her. “Tori, could I…get a hand with this? Heh…ow…”

           Frisk tried to get up from where she was kneeling, or at least stop shaking. Green light shone around Sans’ huge form, but she barely noticed; all she could see in her mind’s eye were his blackened metacarpals, the smaller bones not just burned, but partially melted by her magic.

           Her legs refused to work. Frisk dropped the envelope and shuffled herself around in a half circle to see if anyone else was hurt, and whether they had seen her nearly kill her poor skeleton. No one was here…

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

           …except for a voice that felt like spiders crawling into her brain. The demon-child sat on the edge of a nearby table, shaking its head at her and sighing. Then it gave her an encouraging grin. “Oh, well. That was still fun—just like old times. Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em someday!”

           Someone moved behind her. Frisk blinked hard, then shuddered, and pushed herself up onto her feet, standing with her back to the demon.

Undyne was climbing out from under their table and offering a webbed hand to Alphys. “Undyne?” The human moved gingerly toward them. “Are you two all right?”

           The Captain’s eye widened, and her arm shot out, protecting Alphys from…from what? Frisk glanced around them, looking for—

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

And why not? Hadn’t she done exactly what the monsters feared most—trapped them with a barrier, maimed someone, and nearly killed them? Even Undyne was afraid of her now!

           Frisk shouldn’t have gotten up: she felt her body go heavy, legs giving way. She was only vaguely aware that she was going to fall, and that Undyne was hesitating, moving too late to catch her.

A soft, tingling sensation stopped her just short of the marble floor, lifting her higher into the air. To her dismay, she was enveloped in red magic, and Sans was reaching for her; Frisk tried to say, “No, don’t—”

           His arms closed around her, strong and safe, his injured hand settling her against his shoulder. The other drew his coat over her legs; a shaky phalange ran through her hair, and a shakier voice rumbled, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

           Frisk wound her arms around his neck as tight as they’d go, not caring how his vertebrae dug into her flesh. She was too numb to cry, and she didn’t have the strength to ask what he was doing, or why he was anywhere near her. All she could do was hang on.

           Undyne cleared her throat. “She…is she okay now?”

           “She’ll be fine,” snapped the giant skeleton, and immediately stroked Frisk’s hair again as she trembled. “Shh, s’alright,” he murmured.

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

The world tipped and swerved as Sans shifted his weight, turning them away. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s go home.”

           “To your house?” Undyne was still shaken, but Frisk heard a warning note in her voice. “Look, I know you’re really emotional right now, but she’s not in any condition to—”

           “To sleep!” he snarled. “I’m takin’ ‘er home, and we’re gonna sleep! Good fuckin’ night!”

           A tiny part of Frisk wanted to tell him to be nice, but she couldn’t even stay conscious. The last thing she heard was Toriel’s cry of “Sans, wait!” before his magic rushed them through space. Then—

 ~

             On her third day at the convent, they finally made her leave her room.

           Frisk kept her eyes on the ground, letting the matron steer her down a hall and out into a courtyard full of chattering girls. The noise dropped a little as they saw her, but when Frisk stayed by the wall, there was a collective shrug, and the chatter resumed.

           The wind was howling. Frisk wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new uniform, wondering dully if it was going to snow out here. The drifts in front of Sans and Papyrus’ house never seemed to go down, no matter how often they tossed her into them.

           Did they miss her yet? Did they even know she was gone? Or had the accident—

           “Excuse me?”

           Frisk looked up. Through her tears, she saw a group of older girls standing in front of her, with a grownup right behind—the Sister must have ordered them to come be nice to the new girl. Sure enough, the speaker was holding out a handkerchief, looking kind and concerned. “Thank you,” Frisk whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes.

           “It’s all right. I know I was very sad when I first got here,” the girl said, a little too loud. She smiled, and Frisk tried not to shudder—she’d gotten so used to monsters that the girl’s pretty blue eyes, golden hair, and rosy skin looked fake, like a doll.

The grownup nodded approval and moved away to yell at another group for telling dirty jokes. Immediately, the blonde girl’s smile sharpened, and she wrinkled her nose. “Keep it,” she said curtly.

That was bad, but at least Frisk had expected it. What really hurt was when the group moved off and the girl said to her friends, “Oh my God, her hair! And did you see her eyes? She looks like a rabbit!”

The snickering felt like a scab being ripped off Frisk’s heart. “Geez, Mathilda,” another girl said quietly.

“Well, it’s true! They’re not supposed to be red! Is she cursed or something?” Laughter. “I’m serious! We all need to say extra prayers tonight!”

…

Would it have changed anything if Frisk had remembered that conversation? Soon after, the King visited and told her everything – how he had thought Chara was at least providing her with basic necessities, and he would be sure she never lacked for anything again – and when she worsened, they decided to remove her memories; the Mother Superior had repeated the most relevant facts about her father and her future education, and Frisk had accepted her new life.

As far as Frisk knew, the first time she met her best friend was soon afterward, when Mathilda switched places with someone to sit next to her at lunch. “Hello. You must be Frisk,” she said, smiling. “Do you, um…”

Frisk watched her in puzzlement. Why was Mathilda Owen bothering to speak to her?

Mathilda fidgeted. “Never mind. I just wanted to say hello.” Why did she look so guilty? Her friends were watching, whispering anxiously to each other, as though something important was at stake. “Would you like to come and sit with us? I hate to see you all by yourself.”

As soon as she figured out that it wasn’t a cruel prank, and she really was making friends with the most beautiful and kind-hearted girl in the entire school, Frisk was too happy to question things further. It took her a long time to realize that everyone knew why the King had been here, and that everyone wanted his daughter to like them, especially Mathilda.

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

[chaseatinydream]

first kiss || j.wy (atz)

➵ pairing: reader x jung wooyoung (ateez)

➵ word count: 3148

➵ genre: convenience store date; confession; fluff

➵ synopsis: wooyoung just wanted cup ramen at 12:05am with a dash of seasoning “you”.

>>>

You’re startled out of sleep by the ringing of your phone.

For a moment, you’re tempted to reach for the accursed device and hurl it at the wall, but rational thought catches you before you can do so… that phone was expensive. Sitting up groggily, you push back the messy hair falling into your eyes and glare at your alarm clock. You feel like you’ve barely slept since the night before.

And with good reason, because it’s only freaking 12:03 AM in the bloody morning.

Your phone rings again and you scowl at it, willing it to somehow magically shut up so you don’t have to get up from under the warm covers of your bed, but alas, you don’t have any telekinetic powers and are required to crawl over to it like a poor, ordinary human being.

Flipping your phone around, you almost screech in agony as the unholy brightness of the screen seems to sear your eyes and you chuck it to the side. You barely got a glimpse of the Caller ID, but a mere glance at those first few letters is enough for you to know who it is.

Only one person is close enough (and also stupid) to call you in the middle of the night without fear of violent retribution the next day.

Grumbling to yourself, one hand fumbles for the device and you press it to your ear, burying your face into the plush pillows. You want to go back to sleep.

“What is it, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung’s voice is much too cheerful for a Tuesday night, but its energy is infectious, as much as you hate to admit it. You don’t need to, he knows it already, that the longer he keeps you on the phone, the higher his chances are of you acquising to his often ridiculous requests. Knowing Wooyoung, it’s probably going to the nearest convenience store to buy ice cream in the middle of winter.

“Hey! How’s my favourite best friend in the whole world doing, Chin Hae?”

Honestly, you sometimes wonder if Wooyoung is a vampire. He never seems to sleep, living and thriving purely off a diet of caffeine and energy drinks and perhaps human blood. Maybe you should start wearing garlic the next time you see him.

“I dunno, but I’m pretty sure San is at home cuddling with Shiber in his sleep.” You reply with a completely deadpan voice, not at all amused at being woken up so early at night. Early at night? Or is it the morning? Late at night? Why are you even thinking about this?

“Aww, you know that you’re my best friend.” You can practically hear the pout on his face over the phone and let out a massive snort, rolling over on your bed to stare at the ceiling, internally letting out a massive sigh.

Best friend. A goddamn best friend is all you are to him. Stupid Jung Wooyoung and his stupid pretty eyes, stupid pretty face, stupid pretty everything. The two of you had met a couple of years back when you’d first started college, seated next to each other on the first day of school. Upon glancing upon his face, you had nearly choked. Knife like jawline, near flawless skin, adorably big eyes behind rounded minimalist glasses, you had momentarily wondered what a model was doing in your school. He could pull off silver hair without looking like an eighty year old man, for god’s sake.

Next to you, no less. You didn’t like how he was making you look like a pig just by existing.

That had already been enough for you to instinctively dislike him, so when the professor had asked for all of you to introduce yourselves to each other, you had intended to give him some silly, standoffish answer and never speak to him again. You knew it was petty, yes, but who had given him the right to look so good?

No one. That’s who.

But to your absolute shock, the young man had simply grabbed your hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically, seemingly overflowing with too much energy to contain.

“You look like my new best friend!”

And everything had sort of… gone downhill from there.

Being Wooyoung’s best friend is somehow simultaneously one of the most beautiful and terrible things you’ve ever had to experience. He’s unbelievably kind, unlike what you had expected from such a pretty face, and possibly one of the most perfect beings to walk the surface of this earth. That’s the good part. You sometimes still can’t believe you’re friends.

The bad part is that you’re in love with him.

It’s no surprise, honestly. Who in this school isn’t in love with Jung Wooyoung? What you hate is that there are so many prettier, sweeter, nicer girls who all want a chance with your best friend, and you find yourself constantly grinding your teeth as they pass you love letters and chocolates with perfectly manicured hands, fighting the urge to throw them in the trash right before their eyes. You wish you could be half as bold as they are, but every time you so much as muster the courage to open your mouth to confess, Wooyoung’s breathless grin stops all brain activity and it just… somehow hasn’t happened for the last three months.

Swift and decisive, that’s you alright.

You scream into your pillow.

Best friend. Oooooh, you hate the sound of those words like it’s the screeching of the devil itself.

“Uhh, Chin Hae? You alright there?” Wooyoung’s voice suddenly drops in tone, a little more concerned and you’re tempted to chuck your phone out of the window while screaming obscenities to the heavens. He’s really not helping with this whole barely buried crush on him. In fact, you’re not sure how he hasn’t noticed. You’re pretty sure San already has.

But the phone. The phone is expensive.

You try your best to force a smile back on your face even though he can’t see it, raising the phone back to your ear. “I’m fine, Wooyoung. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you woke me up. Why exactly did you call me again?”

There’s a brief pause at the other end of the line.

“Do you wanna go and grab some cup ramen?”

You actually lift the phone away from your ear to stare at the screen, as if Wooyoung would be able to see your incredulous face somehow. “Wooyoung, it’s 12.03 in the morning.”

“12:05, actually.” Wooyoung pipes up unhelpfully in a hopeful voice and you groan, rolling out of bed as you search for something appropriate to wear in this ungodly temperature, hoping that your fingers and toes won’t freeze off in the meantime. Shivering and dancing around once your feet touch what feels like an ice block under your feet, the cool marble of your bedroom floor chills you to the very bone.

“Ah, cold, cold, cold!” You yelp, scooting over to the wardrobe as fast as you can, fingers rifling through your selection of puffy coats before they still momentarily on a furry collar. You glance down at your current outfit, a lumpy, knitted sweater and fuzzy socks with reindeer print on them. Maybe you should wear something that looks better in front of Wooyoung?

“Chin Hae? Hurry up, it’s cold out here!” Wooyoung exclaims into your ear, pulling you out of your thoughts. Sighing, you shake you head as you imagine your best friend with an adorable pout on his stupid perfect face, pulling out the thickest black coat you have, one that Wooyoung gave to you a couple of months ago. Then something strikes you.

“You’re there already? Without knowing whether I’d be coming? In this weather?” You say almost incredulously as you shrug on the coat, adjusting the sleeves to fit better around your arms, the phone wedged in the space between your cheek and shoulder.

“Well, I knew you’d come!” Wooyoung says proudly, voice filled with so much surety that you’re tempted to cry for a moment. Maybe it’s just your infatuation, but everything he’s said lately has caused butterflies to flutter in your chest. You both love and hate the feeling at the same time, but it’s not like you’ve had much control over it. “I’m such an amazing friend-”

“Are you stupid?” You grumble, slipping down the hallway and grabbing your boots from the door side. Wooyoung gasps dramatically over the phone at your words.

“How dare you? I am hurt, you know. Are you questioning my mental capabilities?”

“Every single day.” You retort dryly, opening the door only to get hit by a blast of cold air right in the face. Holy shit it’s so cold you’re going to turn into an ice popsicle before you leave the house and maybe you should just go back to that warm, comfy bed-

Wooyoung’s laugh and perky voice comes over the speaker, echoing in your ears. “I’m waiting for you! Be there or be square!”

Before you can protest that he’s absolutely off his rocker for thinking that anyone in their right mind would leave the comfort of their home in this near hellish weather, the call ends and you’re left staring at your phone in wide eyed shock. His contact photo blinks back innocently at you, cheerful, bubbly smile on full display with his arms thrown around your shoulders, the two of you splattered with bright green and red paint after finishing your art project a year ago.

“I’d take being a square any day.” You mumble, then you smack yourself in the head and groan when you feel your heart melting. You’re not supposed to be this whipped for him, damnit! But you can’t find it in yourself to get angry at him in the least.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You hiss vehemently at your phone. And as you stalk towards the convenience store with murder in your eyes, you can’t help but feel like you really need to get over this stupid crush on Wooyoung before he makes you do something stupid.

When you do reach the midnight convenience store, it’s open and you step inside, glad to be free from the bite of the icy winds. It’s absolutely freezing out there, how Wooyoung can come out with the most ridiculous of plans is something you love about him, but will probably never understand.

Standing in the aisle, you wave at the lone cashier at the counter, he’s playing a game on his phone but returns your greeting, and your eyes scan the rows of snacks and bottled drinks in search of your best friend.

“You made it!”

A frightened squeak leaves your lips as you startle at the noise. Then you see Wooyoung sitting at the table near the glass wall with five cups of ramen before him, an endearing shit eating grin on his face.

You smack him in the shoulder hard as you slide into the seat next to him, grabbing your own cup from him with a pout. Wooyoung chuckles in amusement, rubbing at his arm in mock pain.

“I can’t believe you made me come all the way here for cup ramen in the middle of the night.” You tell him with a scowl on your face as you open up the lid. Steam creeps over your numb fingers and warms them up, and you grab your chopsticks to eat your ramen as fast as possible.

After that trek through all that snow, you’re ravenous.

“Hey, don’t eat so fast or-”

Shoveling the piping hot ramen into your mouth, you nearly choke on the first bite as the noodles scald your tongue. Coughing, you set the cup and chopsticks down and you can hear Wooyoung laughing hysterically at your side, his high pitched laughter bouncing off the walls of the empty store.

“Stop-” You cough again and hit Wooyoung on the arm in embarrassment. God, you should have never left the safety of your house. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Alright, alright.” He stifles his chuckles, passing you an uncapped bottle of iced coffee. Grumbling about betrayal and false friendships, you snatch it from him and down what’s left, his warm hands coming up to rub your back soothingly.

“You’re wearing those socks I bought you last Christmas. You swore you threw them out the second you unwrapped them.” Wooyoung remarks with a teasing grin and you growl at him, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“You saw nothing.” You whisper menacingly into his ear, Wooyoung’s eyes glinting with amusement as his gaze meet yours. Your heart stutters for a second.

Then he sticks out his tongue to brush your palm.

“Ew!” You yelp and yank your arm back from his face, only to find him howling with mirth. Scowling, you plop back in your seat and grumble under your breath, picking up your chopsticks.

For the next hour or so, you and Wooyoung eat cup ramen side by side and watch the snowflakes outside fall gently to the ground, covering your footprints from earlier in a blanket of soft, powdery white. Wooyoung speeds his way through the first two cups of ramen before finally slowing down on the third one, his lips adorably red and swollen from the spicy taste. The two of you talk about nothing and everything, merely enjoying the company of each other.

When the two of you step out of the convenience shop and start on the road home, the snow has stopped for the most part aside from a few stray snowflakes here and there, but it’s still freezing cold. You raise your hands to your mouth to blow on them and rub them together, shaking your head in exasperation.

“I still can’t believe you ate five whole cups on your own, Wooyoung.”

“You know me, babe.” He winks impishly at you, but then his gaze softens a little as he looks at you with a fond smile. You watch the snowflakes land in his soft grey hair and for a moment, he looks so ethereal that he really just steals your breath away.

“Don’t call me that.” You bop him on the nose and he jumps, taking your hands into his.

“You’re freezing!” He comments with a pout, puffing out hot little breaths over your fingers. You try to wipe the warm, content smile off your face before he can see it, fixing your face into a scowl.

“Of course I am, who do you think dragged me out at 12:03 in the morning to eat cup ramen?” You shake your head in exasperation as you glance at the head of silvery grey hair before you, his head rising to give you a mischievous grin.

“Alright...” He drags the word out playfully, his cheeks flush from the cold. “Where else do you want me to warm you up?”

You point to your cheeks. The sides of your face feel near frozen. “Here.”

Wooyoung ducks to the side, blowing warm air on each cold cheek. They turn red upon contact with his breath, whether it’s from the cold or embarrassment, you hope he never finds out. “Where else?”

You point to your ears. You can’t see them for yourself, but Wooyoung has always told you that they flush pink in the cold winter air. Wooyoung grins and blows on each too, and warm blood rushes there in response to his touch. “And?”

You point to your nose. “It’s cold here.”

Wooyoung’s face leans forward to meet yours and your eyes slide shut. His breath ghosts over your nose, tickling you just a little, and you can feel his lips brush against your skin ever so gently before he pulls away.

“Where else?” He hums, squeezing your hands lightly in his. There’s a distinctively teasing smile playing on his lips. You touch your own in response.

“Here.” You point at your lips. They get cold fast, and in the winter they always get chapped, which you absolutely hate-

Wooyoung’s mouth dips down to meet yours.

You don’t register it for a moment, the taste of spicy ramen lingering on your lips as you ponder the flavour. It’s faint, not quite as strong as earlier, and you mumble against his lips. “You really ate too much ramen, Wooyoung, even your mouth tastes spicy now-”

Then you freeze.

Your eyes fly open in shock at what has just happened, a sharp intake of breath passing your lips. Wooyoung looks temporarily confused for a moment, before he too, realises what he’s just done.

The two of you spring apart, both turning red as tomatoes. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your brain short circuiting as if you’ve walked straight into a power generator.

“You kissed-”

“I kissed-”

The two of you fall into utter silence for a moment, merely staring at each other in shock. Wooyoung’s face is as red as a cherry, a rosy red blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, mouth sputtering out nonsensical words of its own accord. “You... I... if... kiss... become...girlfriend?”

You shriek and bolt down the path at the last word.

Your short circuited brain can’t take any more.

Wooyoung sighs as he watches you go, shaking his head under his breath. Yes, he has feelings for you. Yes, he has been crushing on you for the last six months. Yes, he has asked you out tonight to enjoy your company because he loved seeing you like that, face bare and hair thrown into a messy bun, completely and utterly real.

But he never intended on kissing you out of the blue!

“I... I just need to apologize to her tomorrow and tell her it was all a mistake.” Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, teeth worrying his bottom lip anxiously. What if you’re too awkward to look him in the eye after this? He smacks himself in the forehead with a groan.

He’s such an idiot.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of crunching snow and blinks in confusion, raising his head. The second he does, soft, warm lips press against his too, moving so gently he feels all the air leave his lungs in one gasp.

Then all too fast, you pull away and Wooyoung only blinks at you owlishly in shock.

“Your lips were cold too!” You shout in his ears, face burning bright crimson with embarrassment. “See you tomorrow, Wooyoung!”

And then you’re running off again at top speed, nearly slipping on the snowy road and his heart leaps into his chest in a panic. But you catch your balance, slipping and sliding, before disappearing around the corner of the street.

His tongue darts out, sliding across his lips in wonderment.

His first kiss tastes like spicy ramen, iced coffee and best of all...

You.

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 1: A Proposition

Read me on AO3!

It had been a normal morning so far. Well, as normal as it could get when you worked for a kind but, quite frankly, sketchy group of people.

You pulled off of the freeway, making your way through crossroads and down a path you previously thought abandoned. After graduating from a master’s in cyber security from Caltech, you’d been lucky enough to land a job almost immediately after your project was handed in, meaning you didn’t have to haul yourself and your belongings all the way back home to the backwaters of Pennsylvania. Sure, you did have to haul yourself across Los Angeles in a giant moving van, but a couple of hours of California traffic was much better than a several thousand-mile journey across the States. Over the last few months, you’d settled nicely into a life you could call your own, filled with people from all walks of life, and with much warmer weather.

You smiled to yourself as you scanned your ID card at the gateway to your HQ, thinking of all the people you’d met so far at this bizarre yet wonderful job. There was your boss, for a start. She’d changed her name so many times that everyone lost track and instead settled on calling her ‘Shark’, which she welcomed with a hearty laugh and a flash of a mouth full of teeth. The name suited her, you thought.

You and some of your other colleagues also liked to use unusual codenames, both for privacy and for fun. There was Vakarian, who had an affinity for calibrating everyone’s computers and was a killer shot with a sniper rifle. Next was Shrike, who had named herself after a type of bird known for piercing its prey on thorn bushes. You decided not to ask her why she chose that name. For yourself, you settled on Zero, a reference to your almost lifelong affinity for binary code which led you down the tech path in the first place.

There were others who just chose to use their real names – Jasmine, Gareth, and Mark. You and Jasmine worked together regularly in the tech department, spending hours chatting in between your hacking sessions and gaining intel on building layouts for the heist experts. Jasmine had been on two heists herself, and always came in the next day talking at a million miles per hour about how fun it was, how it sent her adrenaline skyrocketing higher than any rollercoaster ever had.

By her mannerisms today, you guessed she’d been on a third heist last night. You’d been settled at your desk for all of two minutes when she waltzed in, placing a cup of coffee down for you and twirling in her chair with a gigantic grin on her face.

“Mornin’ Jazz,” you greeted her. “Another heist last night? How was it?”

Jasmine began her spiel before you could even reach a hand towards your coffee. She rambled on and on about the thrill of scaling buildings, how good her new night vision goggles were, and how she nearly got caught but managed to make it out right on schedule.

“Zero, you have to go,” she finished at last, taking a sip from her own cup. “You won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, shrugging your shoulders. “I dunno, Jazz. I’m more of a behind the scenes tech monkey.” You’d been on a few scoping exhibitions, but that just involved sitting on a rooftop watching guard rotations until the early hours of the morning. You’d never done anything more adventurous, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just yet.

She rolled her eyes, wheeling her chair closer to you. “But think about it. You could get some more up-close-and-personal time with Mark,” she whispered, nodding her head to your left.

You followed her gesture. Mark had just entered the office, dressed in all black. He took off his beanie and swept a hand through his dark hair. It immediately flopped forwards again, so he shook his head to one side. The action seemed to go in slow motion, and you tried not to stare.

Before you could chastise yourself for definitely staring, Mark’s eyes landed on yours. He shot you a warm smile that lit up his whole face, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks as you smiled back, giving a little wave before swizzling round in your chair.

“No way,” you hissed in embarrassment, snatching up your coffee before it turned cold. As it turned out, it was still very much burning hot. You tried not to wince as you forced the liquid down.

“Why not?” She shot back. “Look, he’s clearly into you. He practically jumped at the opportunity to show you the ropes of all the heist gear, and to a rooftop night shift with you. You guys are always lingering by the water cooler together on breaks, giggling away like little schoolkids. And, Shrike told me he asked you out on a date last week.”

You nearly spat out your second mouthful of molten coffee. Jasmine sat back in her chair with a smug grin as you glared at her.

“How does she know that?!” You tried not to yell as Vakarian milled into the workplace, throwing around cheery greetings.

“You know Shrike,” Jasmine shrugged. “She gets around. She skimped on the details, though. So, what did he say exactly?”

You could see Jasmine wasn’t going to let this go. You sighed, mirroring Jasmine’s posture as you began to recount the details of that evening.

~

You got out of your chair and stretched triumphantly, knowing you were just about done for the day. The last thing you had to do was collect the blueprints you’d sketched up from the printer, then leave it on Shark’s desk for her to look at in the morning. You did just that, and dusted your hands off with a satisfied smile as you made your way down the corridor to the exit.

You’d been so caught up in your daydream of getting home, changing into your pyjamas, and curling up in front of the TV that you hadn’t realised that you weren’t the last one in the building. That is until you walked straight into another person.

You gasped at the abrupt contact, shutting your eyes as your prepared to hit the ground. The fall never came. A strong hand caught yours and pulled you upright with a gentle grunt of effort. When you opened your eyes, you were face to face with a kind smile and dark, inquisitive eyes.

Mark’s eyes.

Blood rushed to your face immediately, and you stumbled out an awkward apology.

“Jesus, s-sorry Mark. Didn’t realise you were still here.”

Mark just laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, but not an unkind one. “No problem Zero.”

Your eyes travelled back to his from where they had chosen to fixate on the floor. He was still smiling at you, and you managed to smile back sheepishly. His face only brightened as you curled out of your awkward posture to face him properly. He’d been incredibly sweet to you ever since you joined, and you two became even closer after many hours spent on that rooftop in the middle of the night a few weeks back. That night in particular really caused a stir in your feelings, and brought up a whirlwind of emotions you’d never felt before.

That whirlwind started all over again as you realised he was still holding your hand. You cleared your throat and he broke your shared gaze, letting go and scratching the back of his head.

“Hope I didn’t hurt you,” you said, gaining a small amount of bravery and dusting off his shoulders from where you’d collided. A hint of pink appeared on his cheeks at your action, but he covered it up with a barrage of his usual confidence.

“Me? Nah, I’m a big strooong man,” he replied, puffing out his chest and grunting in an exaggerated manner. He curled his biceps for an exaggerated effect, clearly trying to make you laugh.

And boy did he. You doubled over, failing to stifle a snort. Your face grew hotter at the embarrassing noise you hadn’t intended to make, but Mark seemed to revel in it, his grin growing wider with pride at getting such a strong reaction from you.

“Anyway,” he started again as you both calmed down from your shared laughter. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”

You raised your eyebrows and stayed silent, waiting.

Mark let out a short exhale, running a hand through his hair and then across his stubble. Despite the joy on his face mere seconds ago, he now looked a little uncertain. It wasn’t an expression that came naturally to him; he normally paraded around with a kind yet confident smile as he told you about the heists he’d pulled off in the past, about his family, and as he asked about yours. You’d never seen him like this before, and you didn’t know what to expect.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Look, I really like spending time with you here. Showin’ you all the gear, chatting over coffee, all the usual work stuff.” His voice was quiet. He cleared his throat again, taking a step closer to you and looking into your eyes once more.

“But I’d like to get to know you better, in some place that’s not work related. Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

Your mind screeched to a halt as you stood frozen on the spot. Did you hear him correctly? It sounded like Mark just asked you out on a date. Mark the heist expert, Mark the previous engineering student, Mark your very cute co-worker, wanted to go on a date with you.

You couldn’t lie to yourself - the thought had crossed your mind several times over the past few weeks. When he held out a hand to you after you fell flat on your ass when you failed to use the grappling gun. When his form lingered around yours as he taught you how to aim a tranquiliser pistol. When you sat on that rooftop together exchanging stories and his eyes never looked away as you started opening up to him. You just never expected it to actually… well, happen.

A gigantic grin, bigger than all those before, broke out onto your face. “Mark, I’d love to!”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Great!” He exclaimed, a relieved laugh escaping him. “When works best for you?”

You hesitated, remembering your schedule was pretty booked for the upcoming weekend. “In all honesty, I’m pretty busy this weekend. Family visiting,” you tried not to sound too negative. “But maybe after then?”

Mark nodded understandingly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling on the spot. “Sure thing. I’m free most of the time, so whenever works for you, really.”

You smiled back, heart skipping beats as reality set in. You and Mark were going on a date. Sure, you didn’t know exactly when you were going on this date, but it was definitely happening soon.

“I’ll let you know, for sure! For now though, I guess we’d better be heading home,” you replied, a spring in your step as you and Mark made your way to the exit. It was dark when you got outside, so Mark insisted on walking you to your car, even though it wasn’t too far from where he’d parked his own. You turned to Mark when you stood next to your vehicle, unsure of what to expect but not wanting to seem rude.

Mark stood with his hands in his pockets again, beaming at you like before. You felt heat rise to your face again; you’d never get used to him looking at you like that.

“Goodnight, Zero.” He took his hands out of his pockets and held his arms out for a hug, which you more than happily accepted. He was warm and his hold around you was strong but comforting, making you feel safe and at ease. Your heart was beating rapidly again as you wound your own arms around his waist and spoke into his ear.

“You can call me by my real name if you want.”

You let your arms trail away from him as his grip softened. Mark looked surprised, but flattered, by your suggestion. He pursed his lips in thought.

“How about we keep it as Zero for work?” He suggested. “I’ll switch to your real name for our date.”

You nodded as you unlocked your car. “Deal.”

He winked at you as he walked away backwards, almost tripping on his own feet. You covered a small laugh with your hand. Mark regained his composure and waved you goodbye. You waved back, getting into your car and driving into the night.

Next chapter

[lampmeeting]

If it's okay, 2 for Magtok?

YAYYY i was really hoping someone would ask for them, thank youuu :’)

this actually gets really, really......really long so i’m gonna put it behind a cut haha (i have a lot of FEELINGS)

When I started shipping them: fdfkgjdfkh okay i actually just hunted through my archive and i officially admitted it in a post on april 26th. though i KNOW i was lowkey shipping it just a bit before that, and i was definitely going down the magnus rabbit hole for a bit before that. so wow it’s only been like a little over 2 months?? that doesn’t feel right... hm. it feels like it’s been much longer. D: i just checked and i finished Running on Empty on may 1st?? the last two months have felt like a full year what the hell hahah

My thoughts: i know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. 8) but i’m gonna sit here and drink it while making prolonged eye contact. i think it’s a ship that immediately makes people recoil, and yeah, i understand why. but it’s just so interesting and fun to play with. and i have such an awful soft spot for villains, and especially with how magnus ended up at the end of doomstar, i feel like he deserved a second chance to make things right (and i’ve said it before but i’ll say it again, toki would give him a second chance if he lived)

What makes me happy about them: older grouchy asshole meets a younger ray of sunshine? i mean hello, it’s one of my favorite dynamics. the fascinating thing, though, is that underneath both of their baseline personalities is just pain pain pain. it’s nice to imagine that they’d both end up kinda stripping away parts of their veneer and being vulnerable with each other, knowing the other understands. they both find acceptance in each other. :’)  i like to think magnus would fall first just because he’s never had anyone really be genuinely kind to him, but he doesn’t act on his feelings because the guilt over what he’s done is too strong (and i mean, rightfully so). but then toki would make one small move, a look or a touch, giving magnus some sort of permission to feel the way he feels. and things just spiral out from there. i love toki seeing magnus’ effort to do right and make amends. i love toki helping him through whatever recovery process he goes through post-doomstar, and in turn being in more of a position of power over magnus sort of helps himself heal and come to terms with everything. i love magnus finding some semblance of peace in toki’s company, and likewise toki in magnus’. maybe the rest of the band doesn’t quite understand what toki went through, but of course magnus does, even if he was the cause. i dunno, the feelings are messy and the ship is messy, but i love it so much. they’re just two guys fumbling to pick up broken pieces of glass and bandaging each other’s fingers when they get cut.

What makes me sad about them: uhhhh lots of things haha... magnus faking his friendship, the betrayal at the funeral, the entirety of doomstar?? aside from all that, it breaks my heart to think about the two of them deciding to be together only to be met with anger from the band. nathan, especially, would probably try to stop it since he always seems to feel very protective of toki. it would make toki so sad that the others wouldn’t want to accept magnus, and maybe for a while magnus tries to sabotage everything, trying to make toki give up on him and let him go. he wouldn’t want to be the cause of toki being ostracized from the band, my god he’s fucking guilty about things enough as it is. :’( and then sprinkling in more of my personal headcanons to destroy my own heart, i don’t think magnus is very good at taking care of himself. if left to his own devices he’ll just stop giving a shit. he also feels inadequate a lot and on bad days is hyper-sensitive about his age and lack of accomplishments. toki tries to help him figure things out and find his worth. and then with toki... toki has really quiet days and is so used to taking care of magnus that he keeps a lot of his sadness and problems bottled up, and then he’ll have one night where he just gets blackout drunk or beats a man unconscious (or both!) and gives magnus an awful scare.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: i really don’t know how to be delicate about this so i’ll just say it: he’s not a r*pist. yes he violent, but he couldn’t even stomach the murder of one dude he didn’t know.

Things I look for in fanfic: fanfic. :P

My wishlist: more Running on Empty? 8) i would scream. i’d also love more fics of them just being cute!! we all know it’s an angsty ship!!!! i crave....the cute.... toki making magnus smile :’) magnus going out of his way to do something special for toki. i cry.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: this ship is reaching chickles-levels for me real fast haha... that said, nathan/toki is still extremely cute to me. but i don’t know who i could see magnus with post-doomstar if not toki. hmm.

My happily ever after for them: oh gosh.... so many nice AUs that end up so lovely. ;0; for my own personal endgame uhhhhh... let’s see: dethklok takes a long time to warm up to magnus. like, years. for a while there toki’s kinda living this split life because his boyfriend and his family won’t mix. the first big gesture is pickles and charles’ wedding after the events galaktikon (don’t ask me how magnus factors into all that, i haven’t figured it out yet). toki comes to pickles in private and pretty much breaks down, and pickles is like “ah jeez” and has a chat with charlie, and they agree that magnus can come. weirdly enough, everyone has a nice time. the wedding is super chill and beautiful and the beach vibes are good. afterwards, toki tries bringing magnus with him more often when he visits people, and things just slowly start to fall into place and old friendships rekindle. toki and magnus had been living together in a nice house just outside of phoenix, but they eventually move to the coast, maybe northern california or hawaii. magnus goes full beach bum, loves just taking his acoustic and a six pack down to the beach. it’s liked meditation for him. he’s not looking to take on more work or projects, he’s a tired old man, he just wants to kiss his boyfriend and take it easy. toki learns to surf because his boardshorts from prankklok won’t leave me alone and i think he’s the type to watch it like “i wanna do that!” and then just keep trying and trying until he’s figured it out (as magnus watches safely from the shore with a margarita and aviator shades). toki still collaborates with nathan and everybody, though. he keeps working on his sound engineering, too, and works on planet piss when murderface finally gets it off the ground. everyone still keeps in touch and hangs out a lot. at some point down the road they get married?? i think toki would be content to keep things the way they are as long as magnus is happy, but at some point magnus would just get this itch for it. in the middle of the night they’re lying there together and magnus is like “why the hell aren’t we married?” hahah :’) gosh i love them.

[moonythesly]

In A Bunker We Call Home

a.k.a these three wouldn’t shut up and let me write so, here you go! TFC+Cleo+Joe found familyness

He was getting older, his bones creaked and it took a whole lot longer to get up and out of chairs and beds than before. He didn’t mind of course since by noon he was pretty much back to normal and able to get on and about his day. Today that normal was dealing with a few collapsed tunnels near the front of the bunker.

The whole Sahara project had made some of the ground unstable and a particularly heavy rainstorm had finished the job. The Architech boys had been down with in seconds, offering their help and apologies but TFC had brushed them off. He liked working on things, he told them, and this was good busy work to keep  him in shape.

Didn’t stop them from leaving a chest of shulkers filled to the brim with stone, brick, cobble and various woods. It was endearing and he made sure they’d get each shulker box. Even if he figured Grian would insist he keep them; kid had a tendency to try and make up for himself. 

“’ello!”

“Geez!” The voice had startled him, a few of the shulkers clattering at his feet as Cleo, because there was no doubt that is who it was, cackled her way down his ladder. “You know, I am old.”

“No older than me, Tee F!” Well...she wasn’t wrong. He rolled his eyes with a chuckle and tossed a shulker at her. 

“Well if you got time to give an old man a heart attack, you got time to help.”

The pirate shrugged, green eyes gleaming a bit as she set the shulker down and began pulling out the blocks, “What happened?”

“Ah, tunnel collapse. No big, just a lot of diggin’ and blockin’.” And clearing water but he’d handle that and-

“Cleo!” TFC sighed, looking up as another Hermit made his way down the stairs.

“Hey you caught up. Here!” She hands the poet a shulker box and he nods.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a nice, full day for ourselves. Where are we startin’ TF?”

“Now hang on.” He didn’t mind either Joe or Cleo helping, but both of them? Together? It would be giggles and fooling around and, somehow one of them would end up back at spawn by sunset. 

“Just some repair work. We can take one end of the tunnel and Tee F can take the other.” 

“He’s gonna help now? Cleo I-”

“Oh, these blocks are nice. Hey, maybe we could do a mix pattern? I seen Scar do it a few times, looks pretty nice.”

“Thhere should be plenty to do that!”

Wait.. TFC shook his head, the rubbed the bridge of his nose. The two Hermits were talking animatedly about the tunnel, Joe cautioning Cleo not to dig too far and Cleo either ignoring him or challenging him, TFC couldn’t tell the difference (and probably neither could Cleo). The bickering started to lower, but only because they’d gone down further- something about tools or supplies? Either way how did they know the short cut to his kitchen?

He tsked and followed after them, noticing just how familiar the two were with his bunker. Joe knowing where the cups were and which belonged to who (TFC’s being a bit chipped from so many world moves) and just how much tea to put in each. Cleo on the other hand was bustling between cupboards and grabbing bread and steak and some veg to make a proper meal. Had he eaten yet? The morning had been a blur of coffee and paper work and he couldn’t remember anything beyond the hard bread.

“Oh, maybe we should reinforce a few other tunnels?”

“Huh?”

Cleo snorted, “I said should we reinforce a few other tunnels? I noticed some looked all wobbly nearer the surface.”

“Xisuma said he was still workin’ on the codin’ for the storms so there might be a few more. No, wait.” Joe stared off a moment before nodding, “Yeah there’s gonna be one. I remember the good Docm saying something about tridents and creepers.”

TFC sat down, taking the tea from Joe before sighing and just looking at the two. “Now hang on a second.”

Two faces looked at him in expectation, bright eyed and full of energy for the project they were planning. With him. To help him. And now they were making sure he’d eaten, without saying a word (Joe knew he’d complain and refuse if it was brought up). 

“Don’t you have something much more entertainin’ to do than stick around here for the day? Explore the new game district or, I dunno?”

Cleo laughed, light and honest, as Joe grinned and rested a hand on TFC’s shoulder, “Nope! Come on, TF. What would be better than spending a day with family?”

TFC just drank his tea, a smile in his eyes because well, he couldn’t come up with a better answer.

[mushroommouth]

The Good Mourning Part III

A/N: Haha, guess who’s not dead? 

Anyway, happy we’re-done-with-January! Sorry this chapter is somewhat dialogue-heavy. There was a lot of resolution that had to be done and not much action to go along with it. 

Additionally, there are some scenes missing/ things that weren’t addressed quite just yet. Some of them were removed for for flow purposes, and others. Well. We’ll get there when we get there. 

Regardless, I hope you enjoy the finale of TGM! 

-Skye (👻)

-

“Easy, easy—”

Aaron laughed and nudged his boss’s hand off his arm.

“I’m burned not busted. Besides, you’re the one a billion years old.” Aaron smirked and readjusted the icing bag. “I should be worrying over you, if anything.”

 “Very funny. I’ll fire you any day now, I swear.” Aaron’s boss rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter. “Besides, you got burned on your dominant hand. Look at this frosting work. It’s- actually, It’s fine. But you’ve certainly done a lot better.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just kind of hard to get a good grip. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“And your leg?”

“Again, I said I’m fine. What the hell is your problem? It’s been almost three months.” Aaron rolled his shoulder and sighed before setting down the icing bag. “Also, I can’t work when you’re looking at me like that. Just…really. What is going on with you, Stanley?”

 Stanley sighed and rubbed his face before nervously scratching at his beard.

“I…I don’t know. I guess I never really had a family and–  c’mon, you little shit. Don’t make me say it.”

“Aww, boss. You never told me you had a heart deep beneath that gross crusty old man act.” Aaron laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Real cute. See if I sign your check next time, much less open up.” Stanley stormed across the kitchen to wash his hands. “You’re real charming, kid.”

“Oh don’t be like that.” Aaron picked up the icing bag and started gently swirling frosting onto each cupcake. “You know what I mean. When I was out, there’s no one else I woulda trusted to watch Tom ‘n the kittens…’n…I don’t know. If I could have my cat in here, with you guys and baking and all… I don’t think I’d ever leave.” 

Aaron smiled slightly.

“Besides, you were there for me when I had no one and you hired me as a cashier, and then you gave me the chance at…this.”

Aaron froze before bursting out in laughter.  

“Stan, are you-are you crying?”

“I’m just thinking about how terrible of a cashier you were.” Stanley sniffled and wiped at his eyes in the crook of his elbow. “You were friggin terrible. Got to me is all.”

He put gloves on and walked to stand next to Aaron. 

“We lost almost as much money from you doing math bad as when you were out.” Stan grabbed a tray of red velvet and got started icing them. “We needed ya here. We were hit pretty hard without you. I…should have really kept my promise and made the big guy pay for it.” 

“You mean Dan? I mean, they were hit pretty hard, too.” Aaron sighed. “I mean, literally, sure. He’s been in and out of the hospital since. I can’t imagine what his copay is, and if he didn’t step in front of it for me, I’d been finished for, I’m sure. But also… I dunno. I don’t really have a family either, but when I do it’s this.”

“You’re a good guy, Aaron.”

Aaron snorted. “You’re just saying that to make me feel good about myself.” 

“Yeah, you’re kind of a jackass.”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah. No worries about losing the money though. People have been trailing in here non-stop because they thought we closed for a bit because something happened to you. Y’know, in your fragile, elderly state.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, it’s a shame the fire didn’t burn your hair off. You look like a frickin’ hippy.”

Aaron laughed harder. “Maybe for your birthday. You’ve only got so many left, after all.”

“Shame it didn’t burn your mouth off, too.”

They iced in silence for a moment before Stanley spoke up again.

“Hey, once we’re in the clear again and have enough money saved up, I think you gave me an idea for our next spot, Aaron.”

—

Cody cautiously opened the door.

“Hey Milo?” He asked. “Dad and Miranda want to know if you would rather have sparkling red grape juice or sparkling…red grape juice?”

Milo looked up from his project.

“…What?” 

“We’re out of white, but the red are different brands.” Cody said. 

“I… got that. I meant why, I guess.” 

“Oh! Dad and Miranda, uh. Do this dinner thing on special occasions. They get Italian takeout and wine, light a bunch of candles and pretend it’s all fancy. They started getting the grape juice, so I feel included and junk.”

“Huh.” Milo picked up the duck tape. “Sorry, I…uh. Does this look right to you?”

Cody stepped into the room and flicked on the light.

“It looks like…holy cow, are you done?”

Milo held Jake’s guitar close, fidgeting with the neck. 

“Almost, I think! The top part needs a little more tape and junk.” Milo set the guitar down gently on the bed. “How does it look?”

 The guitar was, truthfully, an amalgamation of glue and tape, but it was the first time Cody had seen it in one piece in months. All the strings were fixed, the paint that could be reapplied was, and it seemed finally whole. Cody walked up and smiled, taking in the details of the guitar.

As soon as he looked up, though, the smile fell in an instant.

“Milo?” 

“Hmm?” 

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

 “For more than two hours?”

 “…That’s not fair.” Milo rubbed his eyes as if trying to wipe away the bags. “’Sides, look how far I got!”

“Milo, that’s cool and all, but—”

“Cody, you know this is important to me.” 

“Yes, but at our age we need ten-to-twelve hours of sleep.” Cody sighed. “Milo…I’m worried about you. You’re all pale, and…you look like you’re starting to get sick. Sleep is–”

“I can’t sleep, okay?!” Milo balled his fists. “I tried. I really, really tried. I know it’s important. I just…can’t.”

 Cody grabbed some tissues and sat down on the other side of the bed, trying not to jostle the guitar.  He reached over and handed a tissue to Milo, who immediately began wiping away the rapidly-beading tears. 

“Not like I can tell Dad, right?” Milo laughed dryly. 

Cody forced a smile. 

“Well, you can soon, right? That’s what we’re celebrating. Dan is finally getting his wires out. He’ll be able to eat for real soon and his teeth were all fixed and the surgery went well-he’s in the clear! It’s your last night with us with Dan hurt. Everything’s going back to normal.” 

“‘Cept it won’t.” Milo muttered. “One of my dads is still gone and hasn’t made even a little bit of a sign to say he’s out there. And I saw the other- Cody, I don’t ever want to see Dan like that again. I…” 

“Daniel Fuller, sit down!” 

Dan whipped his head around from beside his hospital bed, looking dazedly at the IVs he ripped out and back up at Reese. 

“Whhh…” Dan’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton. That felt correct given the circumstances, but he couldn’t remember exactly why. 

Reese sighed and began walking across the room to guide him back to the hospital bed. 

She forced a slight smile as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“…Welcome back to the world of the living.” 

Finally, it clicked as Reese began putting back in the IVs. If Reese was here, then he was at the hospital. And if he was at the hospital… 

“Whirrrrrr…is Ja’e?” Dan asked. “Mi’o?” 

Reese frowned and looked to the other member of the room. Milo was looking back at Dan with wide, puffy eyes. His cheeks were streaked and stained with tears. He was holding something up with his sweatshirt, keeping it tight to his chest. 

Milo stood up, taking a step toward Dan, wanting nothing more than to lunge at his dad and cry for hours. However, the movement seemed to remind Milo about what he was holding onto and he tensed up again. 

Dan looked at Milo worriedly. He moved to to get up again, but Reese gave him a stern look. 

“That’s enough, Mr. Fuller.” She watched him as he hesitantly scooted back into the bed. “You were concussed something fierce, not to mention the broken jaw and fractured cheekbone. You are going to stay still until at least the swelling goes down so we can do surgery.”

That was right. He and Aaron went to Donna’s old house. The rest was kind of  fuzzy, but Dan was pretty sure Jake ended up being there. Milo was left with Cody. And now Dan and Milo were both at the hospital. 

“It’s weird treating you and not Milo. You’re usually the safe one,” Reese forced a faint smile. She looked at Milo for a moment and back to Dan. “I have to go do rounds, but I’ll be right back. Just- please. Stay still. There’s the call button if you need me.”

Dan absentmindedly touched the bandage around his face while looking over Milo carefully. Milo seemed beyond upset, but not physically hurt. Dan sighed in relief and sank back into the hospital bed. He closed his eyes without realizing it, and jerked back awake from the movement on the other side of the room. 

“Dad.” Milo sniffled, holding on to what was in his sweatshirt in one hand and wiping tears and snot off his face with the other. “Dad, Dad, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t-“ 

Milo was cut off by Dan wordlessly cupping a hand (the free one, the other was resting with the IVs) on the side of his face, silently wiping some of Milo’s tears away. 

“Mi’o.” Dan said again, this time quieter but equally as desperate. He looked at his son intensely, desperate to say more and comfort him but not about to test the waters with Reese any further. 

They looked at each other for a moment before Milo ripped his gaze away. Without another word, he dumped the splinters of Jake’s guitar onto Dan’s bed. 

To Dan’s credit, he didn’t scream or wail like Milo feared he might—or like what Milo felt like doing. In fact, other than a faint gasp,  Dan was so quiet that Milo had to force himself to turn around from the comfort of looking at the wall. 

Dan was holding part of the neck, eyes wide. Tears were pooling up and spilling down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to realize it. He gently nudged one of the pieces aside, looking at the scope of the damage. 

The only response from the anchor- the thing keeping Jake with them- was a pitiful and faint cyan glow before fading out entirely. 

Dan tightened his grip on the piece he was holding and began to tremble. 

He didn’t scream or wail. Instead he cried quietly, holding the remaining pieces of his best friend. Milo wasn’t sure how long he watched Dan cry. Milo cried too, sure, but it felt strange. Dan, Dan Milo’s father, Dan the strong, Dan the one who had to keep it together so long for both Jake and Milo. 

Neither talked much except occasional choked off apologies or reassurances. After awhile, it seemed to wear Dan out significantly. He fell asleep holding Milo’s hand in one hand and the same piece of the guitar in the other. Milo gathered up most of the pieces with his free hand, trying not to wake Dan up. 

And when Reese came back, she didn’t comment on the broken guitar in the bed or report Milo staying past visiting hours, sleeping by Dan’s side. 

And when Milo woke up with an additional blanket on his shoulders, his father fast and deep asleep still from painkillers, he didn’t say anything, either. But neither forgot. 

“-ilo? Milo?” 

“Hm?” Milo shook his head of the memory, trying to clear it like an Etch-a-sketch. 

“I lost you for a second.” Cody offered more tissues, and Milo was shocked to realize how many tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

“Sorry, I thought I was done with…all this.” Milo scrubbed at his eyes and wiped his nose

They sat in silence for a moment. The only sounds were Milo’s stifled sniffling and the gentle hum of the heater. 

“It’s…okay to be upset. It was scary.” Cody sighed. “But you can always talk about it, ya know? It’s been fun with you being here more– though the situation isn’t great– and I just wish… I don’t know.” 

Cody scratched the back of his neck and looked away. 

“Make sure to take care of yourself too, Milo.”   

Milo was silent for a moment before picking up the tape again and pulling the guitar into his lap. He ripped off a piece of duck tape and firmly wrapped it around the neck of the guitar. 

“I know.” He finally responded quietly. “‘Sides, even if I didn’t, I think you would- I don’t know.” 

“Post a ‘Milo cringe compilation everyday until Milo eats like a human?’” 

“I dunno, I’d have to be embarrassed first for it to be cringe.” Milo laughed. “I wasn’t eating like a human before, anyway.” 

“What about a ‘Cody snitches and tells Tegan, who won’t leave it alone’ kind of thing?’”

Milo gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Nah, that’d be low. Even for me.” Cody leaned back before grinning. “Maybe…summoning an ancient god to hex you for your hubris until you get a full night’s sleep?” 

“Actually, that’s your closest yet.” Milo smiled back. “But where’ll you get the tome?”

“Ah. Rats.” Cody snapped his fingers. “You got me there. For now.” 

“You’ll find a way.” Milo yawned. “Always do.” 

“Heh.” 

The two sat in quiet for a moment as Cody watched Milo tinker with the guitar.

“I…think it’s finally sturdy.”

Milo gently handed the guitar for Cody to look over. Cody ran his fingers along the cracks and seems, before holding it as if to play. He then looked at it again before beaming at Milo. 

“Milo, you did it!” Cody handed it back. “It looks great.” 

“Thanks!” He took the guitar back and began gently picking at a piece of glue that obtruded above the crack it fixed. “All that’s left is tuning it, I think. I think.”

“Now would be a good time to take a break.” Cody got up from the bed. “Dinner’s been here and ready. I just came up here to ask about the grape juice.” 

“I…either’s fine? I guess?” 

“Does that mean you’ll come down?”

Milo looked away and held the guitar close. 

“Milo-“

“I just need to tune it. I already found tutorials online.” Milo smiled tiredly. “I’ll come down when I’m done, okay? And that’s it.” 

“…Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Cody sighed and stood up. He hugged Milo briefly before heading to the door. 

“…Your plate will be in the fridge.” 

Cody stepped out of the room and headed to the kitchen. Cody couldn’t bring himself to meet Dom’s hopeful eyes. 

“Milo’s not coming.” 

  —-

“-Then let’s hear how it sounds all together! If you don’t have a pick, for a gentler sound, strum your guitar using your thumb like this!” The grainy figure adjusted their camera slightly before demonstrating a simple thumb. “My dad taught me this trick when I was-“ 

“Yeuch.” Milo shut his phone off before the tutorial could finish and flopped back onto the bed. 

He rubbed his eyes, wishing he shut the light back off when Cody left. He lay like that for a moment and counting his breath, hands gently pressed into his eyes until he saw the slightest bursts of stars. 

Finally, Milo shot up and began flapping his arm nervously, trying to calm down. 

“Okay, okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath and grabbed the guitar. “Dad, I dunno if you can hear me, but if this doesn’t work- if this doesn’t work, I’m going to take a break for a bit, okay? I’ll come back, but I’m beginning to think Cody’s right, and- okay.” 

Milo held the guitar like how he saw in the video and took deep breaths in and out. 

“Okay. On the count of three.” 

“One-“ Milo lifted his hand shakily and held it just above the chords. 

“Two.” He took a quick shallow breath, meaning to do the exact opposite. 

“Three.” 

Milo strummed the guitar. There was the sound of glass breaking and a bright cyan light engulfed his vision. 

  —-

  The guitar was ripped away before Milo could realize what was happening. 

It floated to the middle of the room, where it hovered before a figure formed around it. The figure, entirely blank other than vaguely humanoid, hesitated before quickly taking on their features. First was a neat burial suit, followed by tired eyes and a shock of blonde hair. 

  In a matter of seconds, there was Jake. 

  Jake collapsed to the floor, holding on to the guitar strapped to his chest like a lifeline, and took a deep and unnecessary breath. His hand moved from the guitar to grab at his unmoving chest. He gasped again before starting to get up. 

“Dad?” Milo tried to blink some of the blotches out of his eyes. 

“Milo-“ Jake started, but Milo had already jumped off the bed and bounded toward him. 

Jake instinctively raised his arms to hold Milo in the embrace, but they phased right through Milo. The guitar stopped Milo from going through him entirely, which caused Milo to gently lay a hand on it as be began breathing faster and faster. 

“Sorry,” Jake started. He cringed slightly at the echo effect of his voice. “I don’t think I’m all the way back yet-“ 

“Dad, I’m so sorry for fighting with you and saying you’re not my dad, and for making you feel like you can’t tell me stuff, and I’m sorry for taking so long to fix this and for the haunted house and for talking back to you and-“ 

“Breathe.” Jake smiled softly and got as close as he could to wrapping his arms around Milo. Milo shuddered for a second at the cold sensation rather than the feeling of touch. “Milo, you did so, so great.” 

“But I- but I…” Milo trailed off and burst into tears. 

The two stood in the mock hug for a moment, Milo’s hand not leaving the guitar. Jake waited until Milo’s breathing evened out somewhat into a quiet hiccup. 

“You brought me back.” Jake reached up and held his hand as if he were cupping Milo’s cheek. “You put back together the guitar—that’s incredible! You’re incredible, Milo.” 

“Yeah.” Milo sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah! Take that, Cody! Sleep is for the weak!” 

Jake chuckled. 

“I don’t know about that.“ He cleared his throat. “Im fact, I think sleep might be up there in the whole ‘human needs’ thing. When’s the last time you slept?” 

He sighed in relief as the echo effect dissipated, pulling back slightly to take in Milo’s expression. 

“Boo, not you too.” Milo pouted. “Cody and Dad have been getting on my case nonstop already.” 

“Well, they’re right. I…” Jake looked away. “How…is Dan doing, by the way?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Is he okay?” 

“He’s getting his stitches out today!” Milo smiled for a moment before his expression fell into confusion. “That’s why I’m at Cody’s. Uh, here at Cody’s. I guess.” 

“Uh-“ Jake blinked in surprise. 

“Did…you really were gone, huh?” 

Jake scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor, still somewhat surprised by the realization he wasn’t in their house. 

“Not gone. It was like-“ He shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe it, but not gone. And just now, Milo, you made the door to bring me back here.”

Jake held up the guitar and smiled. 

“I could feel you, though. Whenever you touched this, Milo, I knew it was you. And Cody sometimes. But Dan…” He trailed off and the smile vanished entirely.

“I think he’s been having trouble.” 

“Oh.” 

“He missed you a lot.”  

Jake laughed dryly and looked away again. 

“Well, I missed him too. I missed all of you so much.” 

Overcome with the need to ease the tension to the point he was nearly vibrating, Milo quickly replied. 

“Not as much as Cody’s gonna miss his window!” 

“What? Oh- oh my god.” 

Jake stood up quickly to get a better look at the blown-out window.  

“Did I do that? Or did you do that?”

“Definitely you. You know, this time.” Milo followed suit and peered around Jake to take in the scene. “You exploded before you came back. There was a bright light and boom, you knocked out the window. It’s…weird no one came up to check on the noise.” 

“I will definitely make sure that gets fixed.” Jake walked over to sit on the bed. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before absentmindedly fiddling with the tuning pegs of the guitar. 

Milo hesitated before sitting on the bed beside him. 

“…Was I close to doing it right?” 

“You were really close. It just needs a little more tweaking, but I can’t say it enough-the fact you fixed this without me teaching you about the parts of a guitar, the way you fixed all the pieces together- you’re incredible, Milo. And I’m so, so proud of you.” 

“Thanks.” Milo yawned. “I think it’s dumb that you can sit on furniture but you can’t hug me after being gone for like three months.” 

“It has to do with affecting the environment versus affecting a person.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Environment comes first.” 

“You sound a lot like Cody.” Milo scooted back so his back was to the wall. 

“He taught me everything I know. Which is pretty ironic if you think about it.” Jake stopped tuning and looked out of the corner of his eye at Milo. “You never answered my question. When’s the last time you slept?” 

“Last night, technically.” 

“I can’t say it enough how proud I am of you for this and being brave,” Jake fully turned to get a better look at his son. Milo turned away. “But that’s not the answer I was hoping to hear.” 

“I know. I just haven’t been able to with, you know, everything going on.” 

They sat quietly before Jake grinned.

“When you were little-really little, you’d fall asleep right away if I played for you.” Jake turned his gaze back to the guitar. “You’d always sneak out of bed and say you were going to get a snack, or use the bathroom, or get a glass of water, but instead you’d go play with your toys.” 

Jake looked around the room and locked eyes with a video game ghost plush in the corner. “Now, you sneak out of bed and come here if you can’t sleep.” 

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for tradition.” 

Jake laughed and Milo cracked a tired grin back. 

“You should play.” Milo said. “If you want.” 

Jake hesitated before adjusting the guitar slightly as if to play it. He got his fingers over the chord and before stopping jerkily. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Milo quickly added. 

Jake nodded and played a few chords, expression falling to that of focus as he tried to get the feel again. After some more nitpicking with the tuning pegs, he began to tentatively pluck out more notes. 

He looked back over at Milo and the bags under his eyes. 

“You’re sure it’s not going to make you fall asleep?” 

“I promise it’s not. I’m fourteen, remember?” 

Jake’s grin came back with full force. 

“Oh, of course.”

Without another word, he began plucking out a lullaby from a decade prior. The room was silent save for the gentle music, the house almost seeming to have emptied itself to make room for the sound itself. 

Learning an effective lullaby after the much louder and angrier Problem Sons was tricky. However, it was nowhere as tricky as an energetic toddler—or, beyond that, losing Milo Sr. 

Once Jake was comfortable enough repeating the chords of the chorus, he began to sing. His voice soft and hoarse from disuse and his eyes never left the guitar as the melody played. 

By the time he was finished, he took a breath and turned slightly to gauge Milo’s reaction. 

Of course, it was an unnecessary measure. Jake chuckled and stood up, slinging the guitar around to his back. 

“You shouldn’t make promises you don’t think you can keep.” Jake whispered to Milo’s sleeping form.

He gently brushed the hair out of Milo’s face and kissed his forehead. 

  “Goodnight, Milo.” 

  __

  The young woman shuffled in the room holding two mugs, still shaking slightly from the events that unfolded months prior. She offered a cup to her guest and took the other before sitting on the couch. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call,” she said. She took a long drink from the coffee and took a deep breath. 

“You’re quite alright.” The guest fiddled with an unlit cigar. “You’ve been such a help for us. I’d love to return the favor any way I can, though I can’t say the same for your husband.” 

“I know, but you’ll do it for me, right?” The woman looked up hopefully, holding her breath for the response. 

“Ghosts are typically not something the Church helps with. Demons, sure-but ghosts?”

The priest set down the coffee mug and stood up, walking around the room and looking at the pictures that hung the walls. He stopped at the painted portrait of the Virgin Mary and sighed. 

“Even if it was something we normally helped with, it’s been months.”

“I know.” The woman sniffled and set down her coffee mug to grab a fistful of tissues. “It’s just- I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m still scared of it coming back-it used this fire, and while it didn’t burn anything inside, it still was bright blue and real and- did you know the house that used to be here burned down? What if it was the ghost? We can’t afford to move again-what if it comes after us this time?” 

“Calm down. Take a deep breath. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.” 

The woman obeyed, taking in a lungful of air and holding it until the priest spoke again. 

“Your family has been in our church for decades. I cannot emphasize this enough- this is not something we can normally do. But-“ He sighed and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I will do it for you, just for you, and just because it’s you.” 

“Oh, thank you-“

The priest interrupted. 

“I fully believe the ghost is no longer within this building. However, for your ease of mind, I promise I will track it down if it’s still on this plane and send it to its rightful place.”

 He stuck the cigar in his mouth, chewing a bit at the mouthpiece while thinking. “Therefore, we need to know more about it. You said this place burned down before?”

“Yes. It was completely destroyed. The owner sold the property immediately after. We bought it from her and built the new house.” 

“She might know something; I’d be happy to reach out to her and get this started. Do you happen to have her name?”

“I took out the house information as soon as I heard you were coming.” The woman responded.

 She went to the dining room before returning with a handful of papers. She dug through them before coming across the deed. 

“Oh! Here we go. That’s right.” She looked up and smiled at the priest, waving the sheet of paper. 

“It was Ms. Donna Pierly.”

[darisu-chan]

Waiting

Yo! I’m back with more prompts from last year.

Hope you all enjoy it!

You can also read it here.

Prompt: summer

Summary: After not being able to answer to her confession, Ichigo waits all summer for Rukia to come back.

Ichigo sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in just an hour. It wasn’t uncommon for the teenage boy to be moody, but even then he rarely sighed. In fact, so far, he had been in a better mood than usual. It wasn’t strange to see him smiling these days, sight which would have been rare only a few months prior. Certainly something had changed in his life that had contributed to his overall happiness. His family had a good inclination on what exactly had happened, though they had ultimately decided not to mention anything, least they, somehow, ruined the teen’s good humor. However, looking at how pitiful he seemed, his happiness had been tarnished anyway.

“Hey, Ichigo, are you alright?” Isshin, the boy’s father, had been worried about his son the whole dinner. He hadn’t smiled to his sisters, complained about Isshin’s antics, nor had he punched him in the face, just nothing. And he had been particularly obnoxious too! He hadn’t even been able to cry to Masaki’s poster once! That normally occurred at least twice before eight pm. Just what was going on with his son?

The boy simply shrugged, and instead of complaining his father was being nosy, he merely said, “Nothing.”

Father and daughters exchanged an incredulous look, at a loss on what to do. Yuzu, the youngest sister, decided to try next, believing her beloved older brother would certainly show her any kind of reaction.

“Is the food not to your liking, onii-chan?” She asked him, using her best cutesy tone of voice, as well as staring at him with puppy eyes, which would usually do the trick.

“It’s good.” Was his reply. He hadn’t even turned to look at her! He hadn’t eaten either. He had just played with his food ever since he sat down on the dining table. This worried his sister, who knew that her brother, though not a glutton, had a healthy appetite. It meant that whatever was going on was more complicated than they had previously thought. Helplessly, Yuzu turned to look at her twin sister.

Karin, who in many ways was like her older brother, sighed heavily. Alright. It seemed it was time to take out the big guns, she thought. Nodding to her sister, she turned towards Ichigo and gave him her cockiest smirk, one that would surely piss him off.

“What? Cat got your tongue, Ichi-nii?” No response. “Or was it something else?” She wondered, the smirk never leaving her face.

“Karin-chan.” Yuzu warned her, but her plan was already in motion. There was no time to stop it now.

“Or, maybe, it was someone, right?”

That at least got them a reaction. Ichigo had stiffened immediately upon listening to her words. Yet, he hadn’t looked at her even once.

It was finally time to strike.

“Sooo,” she drawled out the syllable, “are you gonna tell us what Rukia-chan did to you or what?”

Karin hadn’t even finished speaking when her brother got up and left towards his room, slamming the door for good measure. The three which were left flinched when they heard the door slamming. Then, Yuzu turned to look at her twin and glared at her.

“Now you’ve done it.”

The other girl rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. But now we know what’s the problem. It’s obviously Rukia-chan.” That was something the family had inferred from the very beginning, but they had needed a confirmation of sorts.

Yuzu gasped at that. “Do you think onii-chan confessed to her and Rukia-chan rejected him?”

“I dunno. Could be.” The other sister answered, trying to not sound disappointed.

Isshin, then, dramatically stood up and rushed towards his late wife’s poster.

“Masaki!” He wailed, tears streaming down his face. “Our idiot son failed to get our third daughter! Now he’ll never be a man and we won’t have grandchildren! Oh, for shame! And he’s also gonna die a vir─”

Before he could go on with his rant, Karin punched him on the face, letting him fall to the floor with a loud plop.

“Glad you’ve got your priorities straight, old man.” She muttered as she crossed her arms, fed up with her father already.

“Masaki! Now our daughter is being mean to her father! Where did I fail, Masaki?! Please tell me!”

Yuzu ignored them, for she was already used to their behavior. Instead, she thought long and hard about the situation.

“What should we do? Should we go and talk to Rukia-chan?” In her highly romantic mind, there was no good reason why Rukia, her brother’s closest female friend, would reject Ichigo. They were simply meant to be, and if the girl couldn’t see it, then Yuzu would show her exactly how special her brother truly was!

However, Karin didn’t agree with that way of thinking. “It’s best if we don’t get in the middle of whatever’s going on. Ichi-nii’s old enough to handle it… I think.”

“Well said, Karin!” Isshin had finally stopped crying, and was up and about with a full energy. “If Ichigo can’t get the girl he likes, he’s not man enough!”

“Never mind the fact that Rukia-chan also has the right to choose.” She grumbled.

“Yes, well, but if we let her choose, she might go for another boy, like that guy with tattoos she frequents.” The father answered. “Now that I think about it, there are many better guys out there. No, we must not let Rukia-chan choose or she’ll never go for your brother!”

“You’re so mean, dad!” Yuzu complained this time. “Onii-chan is quite a catch!”

“Exactly.” Karin nodded. “If Rukia-chan’s not fast enough, another girl’s gonna swoop in and get him, like Orihime-chan or Tatsuki-chan.”

“No.” Yuzu shook her head. “Tatsuki-chan’s more like a guy friend for onii-chan. And I don’t think Orihime-chan’s his type. Rukia-chan’s feminine and headstrong at the same time. Therefore, she’s the best girl for onii-chan. Exactly his type!” She explained matter-of-factly.

“Precisely, Yuzu! That’s just the type of woman the men in my family are attracted to! Why, if I was a few years younger, I’d─”

“Dad, if you don’t want me to punch you again, please stop talking.”

“Don’t be so mean to your poor old father, Karin!”

Before their argument could carry on, another voice could be heard throughout the house.

“Could you guys shut up for one second?! You’re too loud!” It was Ichigo, who had been listening to his family talk about him for the past fifteen minutes or so.

“Sorry, onii-chan!” Yuzu shouted back, feeling slightly ashamed for discussing her brother’s love life behind his back.

“Anyway, I guess it’s best if we wait until his bad mood goes away.” Karin replied to the unspoken question of what they could do next.

Isshin sighed. “I’m gonna go pray to our ancestors. Otherwise, I might really not get grandchildren.”

“You do realize Yuzu and I could still get married, right?”

“No! You’re my babies and no man will ever touch you! I forbid it!”

“Ew gross.”

“Daddy, stop it!”

***

In the privacy of his own room, Ichigo muffled a groan against his pillow. Why did his family have to be so meddlesome? It was bad enough they were talking about him behind his back, but now they were talking about Rukia too! That was both embarrassing and unacceptable. Especially since they had gotten it all wrong. What had happened hadn’t been her fault at all. If anything, he was the one to blame, as he had been the one to hurt her when all she had ever done was wear her heart on her sleeve and say those words which had turned his world upside down. If anything, he was the one who needed to be haunted down and hit square in the face for being such a damn fool! Well, that would probably end up happening once Byakuya found out about what exactly he had done to his precious younger sister. Ichigo was not looking for that ass whooping, and yet he knew it would probably hurt less than what he was feeling at the moment.

The girl of his dreams had confessed to him, and Ichigo, like the idiot he was, hadn’t said anything. He had just let her walk away to never be seen again.

Alright. That was an exaggeration. Admittedly, Rukia had confessed to him on the last day of school before the summer holidays. Apparently, she was going on a trip with her brother and would be back until the weekend before classes started again. She had wanted to get her feelings off of her chest, as they wouldn’t be seeing each other for months. Admittedly, a part of Ichigo felt she had been unfair, springing those feelings on him and then walking away. Even going to her house had been off the table because, as luck would have it, she was supposed to get on a train that very afternoon. However, a larger part of him blamed no one but himself. It was really no secret among their friends and relatives that feelings were brewing between them. On the first week of classes, after meeting each other, rumors had spread about them hooking up, which was very far from the truth as they couldn’t really stand each other at first, and only spent so much time together because Ochi-sensei had paired them up for a project on the first day of school. Ironically, the experience had made them become friends, and even as they befriended the rest of the class, it wasn’t unusual to see him hanging out with Rukia. Next to Chad, she was his closest friend. That was a problem in and on itself. Kuchiki Rukia was special to him in ways Ichigo couldn’t begin to describe. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, of course, as not only his family but Kuchiki Byakuya himself had pointedly asked them about it, his tone of voice suggesting he knew more about their relationship than even they did. Mutual friends made it their daily task to pester them about it. Each and every time they denied it, but Ichigo new deep inside him that it wasn’t the truth. As strange as it sounded, in the few months they had known each other, Rukia had become an integral part of his life, one that he wasn’t willing to lose. That was why the moment those pesky feelings had appeared, he had tried with all his might to push them away. He had truly believed they were unrequited, and hadn’t been able to bear the thought of Rukia finding out and rejecting him, thus destroying their friendship. It was upsetting to think that what had happened instead was that she had been the one to confess to him, and he had been the one to not say anything.

Guilt gnawed at him. One of the reasons he hadn’t even thought about asking Rukia out was that being rejected would hurt like a bitch. Now he had subjected her to that pain he had tried so hard to spare himself from. Coward, his mind called him on a loop. If only he had said something, anything, they wouldn’t be in this situation. Ichigo wondered how she was faring. He knew for a fact Rukia hadn’t really wanted to accompany her brother, but it had been her responsibility to oversee with him their company’s new businesses. It probably sucked even more as she was probably feeling like shit right now. Fuck! What if she was currently blinking away tears, thinking about him? It had only been a day after all, and the pain would still be fresh. Wait! Did that mean he had made her cry? Double fuck! Oh no! He was definitely so screwed! If he had made Rukia cry, never mind the injuries Byakuya would give him, Ichigo would throw himself out of a window or commit seppuku or anything that would restore his honor. He wasn’t even exaggerating.

But what if Rukia had believed she’d be rejected? She had told him on the very last day of the spring semester, knowing she’d be going away. It certainly wouldn’t made the pain hurt any less, yet, it would mean he had just, inadvertently, given her enough peace of mind to move on. The thought made Ichigo blanch. Rukia was a very beautiful girl ─ not that he would ever tell her, but he’d be a goddamn idiot not to have noticed. It was highly probable other guys would like her. Hell, just in their class alone she had more than one admirer. What if she met someone new? Someone who came from a rich and honorable family like she did, someone more up to Byakuya’s standards? Or what if Renji swooped in? It hadn’t been a stretch when his father had believed Rukia was seeing Renji, as they did spend time together, being childhood friends and all. It wasn’t a secret that the guy harbored such feelings for Rukia. She probably wasn’t even aware, but now with Ichigo apparently out of the picture, nothing was stopping Renji for doing what he himself had failed to do. He could see it now, Renji taking her out, maybe to the park, and bringing her flowers (lilies, her favorite), dropping on one knee and confessing his undying love towards her. His treacherous mind supplied pictures of the two of them, making him gag.

He was the worst!

He had had the purest, most gorgeous girl ever declaring her love for him, and he had blown it! Due to what? The shock? Fear? His brain rebooting? Excuses, all of them! The only thing Ichigo had left was wait until the end of summer, and make some sort of gesture to convince Rukia he was madly in love with her, hoping against hope she wouldn’t reject him.

Yep, that would have to do.

Ichigo cursed and muffled another groan.

Summer couldn’t end fast enough.

***

“Kurosaki.”

“Hey, Kurosaki, I’m talking to you.”

“Kurosaki!”

Ichigo blinked and turned to look at the boy beside him. “What?” He drawled out, blinking owlishly.

“I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes, and you’ve been unresponsive. What in the world is going on?”

Ishida Uryuu was probably the closest thing to a brother he had. He was his cousin on his mother’s side, and although he had other cousins from his father’s side of the family, he and Uryuu had grown up together, as they were of the same age. Over the years, they had developed a sort of rivalry which resulted on them calling each other by their last names. However, his cousin was one of the few people who knew him inside out. Ishida had probably guessed already that there was something wrong with him, so there wasn’t any use in lying.

“Nothing.”

It didn’t mean he couldn’t try, though.

Ishida sighed in exasperation and put their books away. He had invited Ichigo to his apartment in order to finish their summer homework early on. As he had some trouble in a few of their classes and Ishida was a complete nerd, Ichigo had accepted. The original plan was to go over their homework, eat some takeout, and, if there was time, they would play videogames. Although he had gone with high spirits, he hadn’t been able to focus so far, and it was clear his cousin had gotten already fed up with his moping.

“Look, you can try to lie to me all you want, but you and I know I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

It was the truth, Uryuu was remarkably persistent.

Still, Ichigo did not answer. He merely went back to the algebra problem he had been trying to solve for the past fifteen minutes or so.

“Is this about Kuchiki-san?” Ishida tried again. Bingo he thought when Ichigo flinched. “Because if so, you have nothing to worry about. She’s going to come back soon enough.”

Cursing his treacherous body for reacting to her name, Ichigo shook his head. “It’s not about her.”

“Really now.” Ishida muttered dryly. “So who’s got you in such a mood? Maybe your father has finally decided to make you speed date in hopes of getting a grandchild.”

He snorted. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Then what is it?” His cousin questioned. “And don’t tell me nothing again, Kurosaki. I have no patience today.”

Ichigo, then, realized he had two options. He either lied again and hoped Ishida would drop it, or he took a chance and talk about his feelings for the first time.

“I’m just scared that I blew it.”

“With who? Kuchiki-san?”

“Well… yeah.”

Ishida gave him an incredulous look and then scoffed. “I think it’s impossible you’d blow up your chances with her. For some odd reason, Kuchiki-san’s smitten with you.”

That got him raising an eyebrow. “Jealous, Ishida?”

“Not of whatever you’re thinking of.” Uryuu answered honestly. “Although Kuchiki-san’s very pretty and whatnot, I value her as a friend. Only.” He said very pointedly. “But I’ll admit I envy the bond you’ve got with her. It’s one of a kind and I wish I had something like that.” After saying those words, he blushed, probably recalling a certain orange-haired girl they both knew. Coughing, Ishida went back on track. “Which is why I doubt you could ever do something that would make Kuchiki-san dislike you.”

Oh, if only his cousin knew!

“What about accidentally rejecting her?”

Ishida blinked at him. “How the hell would you manage to do something like that?”

“By not answering to her confession?”

Ishida groaned. “Useless. You’re useless.”

“Thanks. Like I didn’t know that.” Ichigo replied sarcastically.

“I just can’t understand how you couldn’t say anything when the girl you like confesses to you. Are you daft? Do you know how many would kill to be in your position?”

“I panicked, okay?!” He yelled, not wanting to keep getting scolded. “I didn’t see it coming, and when my mind worked again, she was long gone!”

Once he had realized Rukia wasn’t inside the empty classroom anymore, Ichigo had rushed outside, running through the corridors, trying to reach her. However, when he had reached the school gate, she was already inside her brother’s limo, being whisked away to the train station.

Ishida tsked. “Well, have you at least texted her?”

Ichigo shook his head.

“Kurosaki!”

“It’s just this kind of things should be told in person, y’know?” His cheeks turned red as he talked.

“You’re surprisingly romantic for a brute.”

“Gee, thanks, cuz. What would I do without ya?”

“Enough. We can still salvage this.”

“We?”

“I’ll grace you with my help, just this once, and only because, frankly, I’d only be able to put up with Kuchiki-san as my cousin, and I can’t be sure you’d choose someone as great as her next time.”

“Now, who sounds like he’s in love with Rukia?”

Ishida rolled his eyes. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Oh, I know, ‘cause you like Ino─”

“Shut up!” Completely and utterly flushed, Uryuu reached out and covered Ichigo’s mouth with his hand. Then, taking calming breaths, he moved aside. “Anyway, what you need to do is text her the day she comes back, asking her if you two can talk, then you’re gonna take her somewhere romantic and drop on your knees, begging her to take you, is that clear?”

“Yeah, I’d figured out as much. What I still need to think about is the place and the grand gesture.”

Ishida pondered on this for a moment. “You need a place which is both romantic yet private… Oh, I know! What about the river bank close to your house? At sunset it must be quite a sight.”

Ichigo nodded, pleased. “Great idea.”

“And as for the gesture… what about flowers?”

“Too cliché. Rukia wouldn’t like that…”

“What about giving her a letter? You’re much better at writing than talking, and we can’t have you becoming speechless again.”

He would have hit his cousin for that comment, but it was actually a pretty good idea. Ichigo let Ishida know, and the boy nodded, pleased with himself.

“Now all it’s left is for you to get on writing that letter and wait for the rest of summer to end.”

He sighed loudly at that.

“Now, let’s finish our homework. I don’t want to get behind on account of your girl problems.”

***

“Ichigo! Aren’t you having fun?!” Keigo exclaimed rather loudly.

As a matter of fact, he was not, but it wasn’t as if he could ever tell his friend that. They had been planning this outing since before classes ended, and Ichigo didn’t want to be the one to ruin it. And it was not as if it wasn’t a fun event. Summer festivals, even with the crowds and the way vendors would scam the general public on their booths, were highly entertaining. The fireworks were something to look forward to, and the food was good, while the company was even better. His friends were all there and Keigo hadn’t been pestering too much. In any other occasion, he would have enjoyed himself. Unfortunately, his mind was plagued with images of black hair and violet eyes, which didn’t let him focus on anything else.

“Yeah… I am.” He said, trying to smile, but obviously he didn’t do a good job as his friends didn’t buy it.

“Kurosaki-kun, are you feeling sick?” Inoue asked him, her tone worried.

The rest also stopped what they were doing to look at him.

“Yeah, Ichigo, you looked kinda pale.” Tatsuki assed.

He waved them off. “I’m fine… So, what’s next?”

Not wanting to argue with him just in case that would set him off somehow, his friends kept walking, moving to the next booth. Ichigo felt bad about the whole situation. He truly was trying to enjoy himself, yet he was having what Ishida would refer to as Rukia-withdrawals. She had been gone for a few weeks now, and she hadn’t called him nor texted him. To be fair, he hadn’t tried to either, but the lack of communication was slowly killing him. The more time passed, the more he worried his cousin was wrong and that Rukia wouldn’t take him back or even hear him out. His heart clenched with pain just by thinking about it. On the other hand, he knew there wasn’t much he could do at the moment other than trying to enjoy his summer. Rukia would, probably, not want him to wallow in self-pity. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to feel excited about anything.

It was funny, really. Ever since his mother passed away, Ichigo hadn’t felt the right to just be happy. Until Rukia wormed her way into his life and heart, that is. He hadn’t felt alive, like he could breathe in piece, until he had met her. It was like he actually mattered. Like he had a place in this world and he wasn’t just getting by. But without her, or, more specifically, without her reassurance, Ichigo was a lost cause. It was hard to admit, but he didn’t know what to do with himself now that she was gone. Probably the only thing keeping him from being out of wits was the fact he knew Rukia would be back, eventually. He thought to himself that, if she ever left without knowing if she’d ever come, he would more than likely lose his mind.

“The fireworks are about to start!”

“Everyone, let’s move back there!”

“Yeah, the view’s good over there!”

Ichigo followed his friends, just going through the motions. They all sat down on the outskirts of the festival. His friends were clearly excited about the event. Keigo kept whooping, Mizuiro was taking pictures with his cellphone, and even Tatsuki looked relaxed. He walked away from them, though, wanting to sit by himself. He felt as if he couldn’t share their joy at the moment. Ignoring Ishida’s worried glances, he settled down as far away as he could. A noise suddenly alerted him to another presence. Glancing up, he saw Chad sitting down next to him. For a moment, neither spoke a word, merely enjoying the fireworks as they eclipsed the night sky. One that wasn’t blue but not quite violet either caught his eye. The lights looked like Rukia’s eyes.

“You know, summer’s ending fast.”

That was all that Chad said. Ichigo smiled at him.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

They fell silent again, merely enjoying the moment.

It was all they needed.

Ichigo hadn’t really thought about it, but fireworks truly lit up the sky. Where once was a bleak nothingness, now there were millions of colors dancing against the darkness, twinkling like stars. Somehow, the view was comforting.

“Before the holidays are over, let’s hang out again.” Ichigo found himself saying.

“Ah.”

“Let’s invite the rest too.”

“I’m free next week.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As summer faded away, his resolve only strengthened.

Even if he wished for it to end soon, Ichigo decided to stop feeling bad for himself and start living once more.

Rukia would never forgive him if he didn’t, after all.

***

“What’s up, Ichigo?” Isshin asked his son, plopping next to him on the couch.

“Nothing. Just finishing up this level.”

In an effort to be a little more social, Ichigo had moved his videogame console from his room to the living room. There, he could play with Karin, while Yuzu eagerly cheered them on. Today, though, both girls were out. Karin was out playing soccer with her friends, while Yuzu had gone out shopping with her own friends to a new store which had just opened. That left the two men of the house by themselves.

“Slow day at the clinic?” Ichigo suddenly asked.

It wasn’t every day he would be the first to start a conversation with his father, so Isshin was a bit perplexed. He quickly recovered and smiled at him, even if his son was still focused on the screen. “Yeah, kinda. With everyone out of town, few people are getting hurt.”

“Well that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Not for our business, no! I wish more people got hurt so I could cure them and charge them!”

“Tch. You don’t even accept all the money anyway.” He muttered as he blasted more robots.

They grew silent as Isshin contemplated his next move. There were things he wanted to tell his son about, but he didn’t know how to. Ultimately, he decided on a roundabout approach.

“I see you’ve been very intent on playing this game lately.” He said, gesturing to the controller on Ichigo’s hand.

“Yeah, I wanna beat it before school starts again.”

“Right.” Mulling over his words, he tried again. “What about your homework, though?”

“Ishida made me finish it on the first week.”

“Ah, Uryuu-kun’s always been a diligent one.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Silence fell over them once again. Soon, the screen changed and the words “You Win!” appeared on a bright green color. With the pushing some buttons, the screen was back to black. Putting his controller away, Ichigo turned to look at his father.

“Alright, what do you wanna talk about?”

“What?” Isshin blinked at him.

“You’re sitting here.” His son answered, gesturing towards the coach. “That means you wanna tell me something, don’t you?”

The father laughed. “Nothing escapes you, huh?”

Ichigo scratched the back of his neck. “I guess… So…?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I started dating your mother?”

That picked his interest. Moving to sit closer to his father, he shook his head. “No. I don’t think you ever did.”

“We met when she was a third year in high school and I was a freshman in college. To be honest, we met by accident, when she pushed me away from a moving car which almost ran me over. I was too dumbstruck by her to tell her anything cool, but somehow she still befriended me.”

“Huh.” Ichigo muttered. “You never told us that story.”

“Well, I didn’t want my own children to think I was uncool.”

“Too late. We already think that.”

He chuckled. “Masaki didn’t think I was cool either. No wonder it took years for us to start dating.”

“Wait, what?” The son gaped at him, dumbfounded. “I thought you said it was love at first sight!” He accused his father.

“For me it was. For your mother… not so much. She believed I was an idiot, and I guess she wasn’t mistaken.” He grimaced at that.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Ignoring Ichigo’s commentary, he continued on with the story. “Still, she wanted to be my friend. I guess she realized how lonely I felt living in a new town, feeling severely out of place. Much to Ryuken’s chagrin, she visited me often and invited me to hang out with her. And I was happy because I’d never had a friend like her. When I was with her, for the first time in my life I felt like I belonged.”

“Yeah… I know that feeling.”

Isshin smiled softly at him. “Your mother, Ichigo, was like the sun. Anywhere she went, she brightened the whole place. It was difficult not to love her, y’know. Ever since I met her, my whole life revolved around her. And I continuously worried about her not being by my side. I thought I might die. That’s what I was afraid of confessing my true feelings for her. I feared she wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore, ‘cause no way in hell a woman like her would like a dork like me. So I let time pass by, and until I had finally set up my own clinic, did I feel like I was man enough to confess to her.” He paused to observe his son’s reactions. The boy seemed very interested in what he wanted to say. “Do you know what she told me when I finally asked her out on a date?”

Ichigo shook his head no.

“Took you long enough.”

The son laughed. “Sounds like mom.”

“Yeah, you’ve got that from her. Always making fun of me. That and your hair, your eyes, your ability to unite people. That’s all her.” He spoke fondly. “Sadly, you got your cowardice from me.”

“Hey!” Ichigo exclaimed, offended.

“When I see you dancing around your feelings for Rukia-chan, I see myself a few years ago.”

“A few years? More like over twenty years ago.” He grumbled.

“My point is don’t waste your time feeling scared. If I had known your mother would be taken from us so soon, I would’ve told her sooner. I would’ve cherished every waking moment with her. I didn’t get the chance, but that doesn’t mean you throw away your shot.”

Ichigo sighed. “I feel like I already did.”

That intrigued Isshin. “What do you mean?”

“Well, before summer vacations, Rukia confessed to me.”

“Really?! And what did you say?!”

“I… didn’t.”

“What?” He blurted out.

“I didn’t say anything, okay?!” Ichigo groaned. “I froze like an idiot and she just slipped away.”

“So that’s why you’ve been grumpy all summer? Well, grumpier than usual.”

“Pretty much.”

That explained everything. Isshin had feared Rukia had rejected him, but this changed everything. It did mean his son had a chance, however slim it seemed.

“Do you know what you gotta do?”

“I mean, I’ve got a plan. I just… I don’t know what to tell her.”

Isshin patted his shoulder. “Son, just be honest with your feelings. I’m sure Rukia-chan will understand.”

“I hope so. I wouldn’t hold it against her if she moved on, though.”

The father shook his head. “She won’t be able to even if she tries. Believe me, I know. People like you and your mom are hard to forget.” He winked at him.

Ichigo smiled. ���I guess all that’s left to do is for her to come back, so I can answer her properly.”

“Yeah, and then she’s gonna give you all the smooches you want! Remember to use protection. I know I joke about being a grandfather a lot, but I’m too young for that. And if you want more romantic advice, you can always come to me! I know more than one thing to please the ladies.”

“Dad!"

***

Summer had finally come to an end, which meant it was time for Rukia to come back. Ichigo had been a jittery mess once the final week of the holidays arrived. He had been counting the days until Rukia would get to Karakura. As the date grew closer, the more anxious he became. He had the letter all written down and, after having Ishida read it (which was embarrassing to say the least) everything was set. The only thing that was missing was having Rukia meet him at the river bank. At first, he had thought on making the girls to tell her to meet them there, but that involved getting more people meddling in his very personal affairs. Ishida refused to help him out on that particular detail of his plan, and it would be too weird if either Chad, his sisters or, god forbid, his father of all people asked Rukia to meet them there. No. The only way this could work was if he asked her himself. On the Friday that she was supposed to arrive, Ichigo bit the bullet and sent her a text.

Hey! How was the trip back?

Though a little impersonal, Ichigo hoped it’d show that he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable or anything. It seemed to do the trick, as she answered almost immediately.

Tiring but I’m just glad to be back home

That’s great

Yeah I know (=^_^=)

Taking a deep breath, he began typing his question. He erased it multiple times, but he eventually hit send.

Hey I wanted 2 know if you’d like to meet me at the river bank tomorrow

He waited for what felt like an eternity but was in reality a few seconds.

Sure

At what time?

6?

Okay. See you there!

Yeah! See you

On Saturday, Ichigo woke up early. He took a long shower and then went downstairs to make breakfast for his family. Yuzu was thoroughly surprised but altogether pleased. He also offered to accompany her to do some grocery shopping later that day. His younger sister easily agreed. He also went out and showed Karin some soccer tricks. The girl was taken aback by his offer, given the fact it had been a while since the two had played together. Both girls looked at each other, trying to find an explanation for their brother’s good mood. Isshin, for his part, seemed more amused than anything. He kept sending his son playful looks, knowing exactly what was going to happen that day.

After lunch, Ichigo went back to his room and took out the clothes he had set aside for the day. It wasn’t much, but he thought a pair of dark jeans, a black tank top and a red shirt would do the trick. He put on cologne and made sure he had shaved properly. Finally, he took out the letter he had written and put it inside a blue envelope. With one last look on the mirror, he went out of his room and down the stairs.

“I’m going out. See you later!” He waved goodbye to his family, an easy smile replacing his regular frown.

“Alright, what’s up with Ichi-nii?” Karin asked the moment her brother was out of the door.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Isshin replied, trying to keep his giggles in check.

His daughters didn’t believe him one bit.

“Something must’ve happened to make onii-chan act so… happy.” Yuzu said.

“Yeah! And you must know, so fess up, dad!”

Isshin let himself chuckle. “I can’t tell you much, just know that if everything goes well, you’re gonna have a new sister-in-law.”

The sisters grinned at each other.

“You can do it, onii-chan!”

Meanwhile, Ichigo was a nervous wreck. He had arrived fifteen minutes early, and as time went on, his worries increased. Millions of doubts circled around his mind. What if it was too late? What if Rukia rejected him? What if she had truly moved on? Or, worse, what if she didn’t even come? He began pacing and he was sure he would have dug a hole on the grass if Rukia hadn’t arrived exactly fifteen minutes later, at five o’clock.

“Hey, Ichigo!”

Turning around, he finally got a good look at her after so many weeks.

God! Was it even possible that she had gotten even more beautiful from the last time he had seen her? Her black hair moved with the wind and her eyes seemed to sparkle under the sunlight. The blue dress she was wearing only made her eyes and soft-looking skin pop up even more. And don’t get him started on her lips! They looked specially plump and pink. He briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

“Hey.” He said lamely once she was standing in front of him. “How… how was your trip?”

“Boring.” She deadpanned. “I’m happy to be back, though I didn’t enjoy my vacations.”

“Right.” He replied, feeling his mouth go dry.

“And what about you? Did you have fun?” So Rukia was trying to make it seem as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. However, Ichigo didn’t have it in him to pretend any longer.

“Well, not most of the time.”

That confused her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that… I had to think about something.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the letter and gave it to her. “This is for you. Sorry that I didn’t say anything, I just thought it’d be better this way.”

Rukia’s eyes widened and with shaking hands she took the letter. “Ichigo… I…”

“Don’t say anything. Just read it. It’ll explain everything.”

Nodding, she opened the envelope. Carefully, she took the letter out and began reading.

Dear Rukia,

Writing this is harder than I thought, but there really is no other way for me to say this. But before all that, first let me apologize for not giving you a proper answer. For some reason, which Ishida refers to as my idiocy, I got stunned and couldn’t say anything. I know. How uncool of me. No need to remind me. Then, in the blink of an eye you were gone, which makes me think you really didn’t want to wait for my answer. That or I froze up for longer than I thought. You’re gonna have to tell me which is the true reason you seemingly left so quickly.

Yeah, I know you probably don’t want to read my ramblings and want to get straight to the point. It ain’t happening. I spent weeks Rukia, weeks, trying to come up with something to say to you, as I kept imagining worst case scenarios, like you wouldn’t even want to talk to me again, much less see me. I’m not even sure you’re gonna read this later. That’s how bad it is! I was miserable. Like you’ve got no idea. I felt shitty for letting you go just like that, and all I wanted was for summer to be done already so I could see you again.

But do you know what was worse than the uncertainty? It was not being able to hang out with my best friend. I was afraid to text you, much less call you. Every day I found more things that I wanted to tell you about. I wanted to know how you were doing, if the meetings were as boring as they sounded, if Byakuya still had a stick up his ass, and so on. I missed you terribly. More than I thought it was possible to miss someone. I now realize I took you for granted, and I don’t want a repeat of that ever again. Basically, this is me telling you that next time Byakuya decides to take you away for more than a couple of weeks, I’m literally gonna fight him, Rukia. This is no joke. I’m gonna throw hands at him to get you a responsibilities-free holiday. Fat chance I’m gonna let him take you away this winter break too! And don’t try to argue with me on this. I’ve got my mind set and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Now, on the topic at hand, before telling you anything, let me tell you that, whatever happens, nothing will change for me. You’ll still be my best friend. Forever and always. ‘Cause there’s really no one like you, Rukia. You’re one of a kind and I’m lucky to be your friend. I’m even luckier to be the person you like (if as of the moment you get this letter you still feel this way, that is).

So, before going away on the first day of summer, you told me you wanted to talk to me. You told me that, try as you might, you couldn’t let go of these feelings. You said you liked me. And that was probably the happiest day of my life. I’m sorry that I went ahead and ruined the whole thing. And although you didn’t really ask me anything, it was a confession nonetheless and I feel like you need a proper answer.

Rukia, I like you.

I don’t know if I started falling for you the moment we met, but I know it was pretty soon in our relationship. Somewhere, somehow, in the middle of all the bickering, the petty fights, the laughter and the heart-to-hearts, I fell in love with you and, honestly, I don’t think there’s a way back. Before I met you, I didn’t know what I was doing. It was like I was in a limbo. But you helped give me a purpose. You’re, quite literally, my ray of light, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably lose my damn mind. See the effect you have on me?

I’m not sure if by the time you read this letter you’ll still like me. I’m aware that there are many guys out there who’re a million times better than I am. I’m quick-tempered, foul-mouthed and a brute (that last part was added by Ishida). But I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life cherishing every waking moment I get to live with you, because, goddamnit, I’d be damned if I let this chance slip away.

So, if you still feel the same way, awesome!

If not… well, I’d still like to be your friend. You’re gonna be pretty fucking difficult to forget, but I’ll try to do my best.

Now I’ve got a question for you.

Rukia

Would you like to go out with me? Like, on a real date?

I was thinking laser-tag and then eating at that ramen stand you like, ‘cause dinner and a movie is way too cliché for us.

I’ll be waiting for your answer.

─Ichigo

P.S. What exactly is the color of your eyes? I’ve been trying to describe them on a poetic way, but I can’t get it right.

When Rukia finished reading the letter, she had tears streaming down her face. Ichigo instantly panicked and attempted to comfort her, but she simply raised her hand to stop him.

“Four things, Ichigo.” She muttered. Holding up one finger, she said, “My eye color changes with the lighting. Sometimes it’s more blue, others more violet. Both are fine.”

“Thought so.” He replied.

“Two.” She said, holding up a second finger. “You’re also my best friend and nothing in the world will change that, you hear?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Three.” She held up a third finger. “I didn’t want to listen to your answer ‘cause I thought the feeling wasn’t mutual. When you froze up, I thought I had fucked up and that’s why I left so quickly.”

“Next time, hit me in the stomach or throw water at me. That’ll do the trick.”

“Duly noted.”

Taking a deep breath, Rukia continued. “And four… like hell I’d stop liking you in one summer, Kurosaki Ichigo. I’m not sure you know but you’re pretty damn difficult to forget. There’s no one like you.”

He chuckled at that, his own eyes filling with tears. “Thanks, you too.”

She snorted. “Is that the best you can say?”

“For the moment, yes. Bu aren’t you forgetting something?

Rukia considered it for a moment and then smiled devilishly. “Y’know, I should probably wait like a whole month before I get back to you on that last point.”

“You minx.” Ichigo grumbled.

She grinned at him as she walked closer to him until their chest were touching. Grabbing his shirt and standing on her tiptoes, Rukia kissed him fully on the lips. Ichigo closed his eyes and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her even closer to him. It was everything he had ever wanted. Once it was over, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Of course I’d go out with you, Ichigo.”

He bent down to kiss her again.

“Would you be my girlfriend, then?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Ichigo simply raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I’d gladly be your girlfriend.”

“Good.”

With that, they kissed once more.

[zachvillasource]

interview | zach villa - schonmagazine.com

As the infamous Night Stalker, Iowa-born actor Zach Villa is a chaotic evil in the latest series of American Horror Story. Entitled AHS: 1984, the show plays off the hopes and tropes of the 1980s, incorporating elements from films like Friday the 13th and Halloween into a spine-tingling thrill ride. The chief villain of the series is Villa’s Richard Ramirez, a reality-based serial killer set on making the lead characters’ lives a living hell — quite literally.

In real life, however, Villa is an obvious contrast. A multihyphenate with a strong career across a range of disciplines, he first caught the attention of the mainstream from his collaboration with Evan Rachel Wood in the project Rebel and a Basketcase. Now, as AHS: 1984 keeps audiences around the world thoroughly spooked, Villa opens up to Schön! about growing up in Iowa, his willingness to collaborate with Taylor Swift, and the unexpected call that announced his role on American Horror Story.

How did you get your start in acting?

Well, I’ve been on stage since I was two, so the whole shebang started quite early. Acting, oddly, was an afterthought when I first started. I had been dancing and singing on stage for years, idolising great song-and-dance performers like Gene Kelly, Donald O’ Connor, and Sammy Davis Jr. when it occurred to me that I should probably focus on learning the craft of acting if I wanted to continue pursuing that particular path in the entertainment industry. I had focused intensely on two out of the three “triple threat” disciplines, so I guessed it was time that I figured out the third part. It was an accessory to being able to perform musical theatre roles more effectively, and I guess that backfired in a sense and became a more central focus as I developed.

Iowa isn’t the most common birthplace for a big-time actor. What does your family — and presumably other Midwestern relatives — think of your journey into Hollywood?

They are both thrilled and confused. Don’t get me wrong — my family is very happy for me, and while we have had our spats over the years about whether or not I should be pursuing a highly volatile, financial unstable career, they have ultimately come through and rooted for me and my success.

That being said, I think pursuing a career in the mainstream entertainment industry is a very singular experience. Unless you’ve lived it and hit the pavement in NYC, L.A., etc., it’s very hard to understand the day-to-day struggles of a performing artist. I think that certain regions of the country are — generally — a majority of media consumers as opposed to creators, and there is a disconnect between the public and those of us pursuing an arts career that propagates the fallacy of things being easy and breezy, since you don’t have to get up every day at 6 AM, go to the office, and then come home and make dinner. People see that lack of structure as undisciplined and fancy-free. Let me tell you, it’s anything but. Artists have to hit the pavement in a very different way that is highly varied from day to day, and that uncertainty introduces a unique kind of stress, in addition, to actually trying to be good at your job. I always say that booking work is my “job” as an actor, and when I actually book a gig, that’s where the job ends and the craft and career begins. Translating that to someone without firsthand experience can be infuriatingly difficult.

Where were you when you found out about landing AHS: 1984 and the scope of your role? What did you do?Who did you call first?

I was in the studio recording an audiobook — one of the many ways that this particular actor has been able to supplement their income, and it has been such a gift. I was waiting on the call, and I stopped narrating mid-sentence — much to the puzzlement of my audio engineer — and picked up. I got the news, opened the door of the vocal booth and leaned against the front wall, sliding down to a sitting fetal position, and started to tear up. I called a few close friends and family and walked around for the better part of an hour mildly freaking out. The studio staff secretly went and bought a bottle of champagne down the street, and after I finished my page quota for the day they surprised me with a toast. Then everything in my life became a blur.

Of course, without spoiling anything, what can you tell us about your role as Richard Ramirez in AHS: 1984?

Oh, that’s a very difficult question. Richard Ramirez was a real person. I am playing a character that shares his name and is informed by him and his history. Beyond that, you’ll just have to wait and see.

What was the most memorable moment from shooting the series?

I can’t say my absolute favourite without revealing secrets! But I’ll say that the encounter with the hiker in episode two was quite “fun” — if you can call pretending to murder someone “fun.” The makeup and FX team on the show is the best in the biz, and the blood rig that was used in that scene was just wild. It was messy and crazy, and [there was] high pressure to get it right in one take, and I loved it.

What’s your method for getting into character, both in the weeks and moments leading up to a shoot or performance?

I have to play these cards close to the chest. Some of it is instinct. I just feel as though I am inside the character’s head at some point after spending enough time with the material, but it’s different with each role.

Sometimes I need to know how they sound, sometimes it’s historical research. It’s ALWAYS spending an exorbitant amount of time with the script — that’s the golden rule for me. Whether its Shakespeare or the 200th episode of Friends, you have to start with the text as an actor, and the most minute differences in phrasing, punctuation, word choice, etc. are clues to how this person operates as a human being and in the world. I always come back to the text. Any other secret sauce that I do I’ll keep secret for now.

What’s been the most challenging part of playing a character like this?

I’ll modify the question to ask what’s the most important part of playing a character like this… and that, I think, is being able to let it go at the end of the day — which I don’t always succeed in doing. Sometimes after an intense shoot it takes me a minute to let go of the energy I was carrying around on set. I pride myself on being able to flip in and out, but that is challenging from time to time for me on this particular project.

If you could only watch one film and one television series for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

The Back to the Future Trilogy for movies and Battlestar Galactica for TV. Nerd alert.

Apart from acting (and dance) you’re also well-versed in music. How did you begin as a musician?

The same time that I started hearing it, so very, very early. Growing up with a dance studio attached to your house, you hear a lot of very diverse music over the years. That all seeped into my subconscious, and I was writing full-on symphonies in my head walking through the woods in Iowa when I was seven or eight years old. Mind you, I didn’t have the skills to put that into writing or notation — and still don’t, not for the symphonies anyway.

I learned how to read music by playing the violin in elementary school. I didn’t pick up a guitar or actually start producing original music in any tangible way until my junior year at Interlochen Arts Academy. There, my roommate Filip — a wildly talented self-taught metal guitarist and visual arts student from Macedonia — taught me things here and there, and I also taught myself by ear. The Internet, man.

Who are some other musicians with whom you’d like to collaborate?

St. Vincent. Top of the list. Blink 182 — a childhood dream. Jimmy Eat World. John Mayer but only if he lets me be in his next ridiculous green screen music video. Mac Ayers, Tears For Fears, Snail Mail, and oh, I dunno… Taylor Swift. Come at me.

Who are your biggest musical inspirations? And what have you been listening to lately?

Biggest? That’s tough because it changes with each project. Tower of Power is a huge influence for me. My first band was funk-based, and man, they are so groovy. If you don’t know, now you know go listen to them. St. Vincent. Jimmy Eat World. And, regardless of the drama surrounding this artist from time to time, John Mayer. He really is one of the great guitarists of our generation, and more importantly, the songwriting that he produces is top-notch. I’ve learned a lot from diving deep into his material over the years. Miles Davis, and jazz in general, is huge for me. Brain fuel. Listening lately to Sleater-Kinney’s new record, Knuckle Puck, and a lot of 2000s pop-punk.

What else can we look forward to from Zach Villa — be in 2019, 2020 or later?

World domination.

The track on the video content [for this shoot] is the first single — a tease if you will — of my new solo project. Go check it out. My band Sorry Kyle will be dropping a ton of music over the next few months if you’re into punk and emo.

And that’s just music. Acting-wise, post-AHS I’m waiting to see what comes down the pipe. I’m always creating. I want to be fluid in music, movement, film and TV, directing, etc. There’s no time like the present and the present is, well, now. So hang on tight.  

[skadventuretime]

like crystal glasses, falling

hey guys! i participated in the @soulmakazine2018 with @ahshesgone and this is my entry! please see HERE for ash’s i n c r e d i b l e art; she was the best friend and inspiration for this, and i’m so thankful for her influence on this piece. 

i hope you enjoy!

“Pass the salad, wouldja?”

Forks and knives clink on Tsubaki’s finest china while everyone tucks into the mountains of food before you. It is the biannual Spartoi dinner, an event that had grown organically once the mental scars from the battle on the moon made themselves known. You started coming because you thought humans needed companionship during rough times, but you are no longer certain you know anything about them at all.

Ox is chewing with his mouth open to your left. A gob of something lands on your arm with an impact soft as a fly and just as pestilent, drawing all of your focus to that small spot near the crook of your elbow. You can almost feel the saliva eating into the fabric, sinking closer and closer to your skin and then what will you do, then how will you keep the contamination from spreading through your skin through your veins inside your mind --

“Dude, the salad. Or do you need that in writing, too?”

Black*Star’s sneer splits your focus. His right eye is a nauseating blend of pallid yellow and deep purple, and there are many more small scrapes along his chin as if he had been knocked onto the pavement. Given the jobs he takes these days, he likely had been.

You tell yourself that Ox’s spit will not actually rot you from the inside out, and pass the bowl overflowing with vegetables Tsubaki must have picked from her garden. He takes it from you and doesn’t care that his fingertips slam into yours, doesn’t care that dead skin cells from the both of you are now in free fall, becoming dust.

“Would anyone like more to drink?” Tsubaki asks from the head of the table, a carafe of red wine in hand.

“Please,” says Maka from her right, and Soul shifts beside you.

“Same here,” Kilik adds, one arm around Black*Star and the other around his wine glass.

Yours is empty. It appears your father was right about your humanity, or rather, your distance from it. Alcohol does not affect you as it does your peers, sleep has only ever been a choice, and the smile lines you see at the edges of Tsubaki’s mouth will never crease your face. You are a visitor in their world, an observer and an escort. You do not need to fit in, though you wonder why you share their feelings. Loneliness seems unbecoming for a god.

(rest under the cut, or on AO3)

“She never used to drink,” Soul mutters to himself, as if saying it out loud will shed new light on why that is.

You remain quiet. It has never been your place to judge the souls of man (Leave living to the living, Black*Star once told you, sprawled out to watch the setting sun while his face burned with the glow of it), but there is something about being an observer that leaves you empty. Perhaps like them you are still growing, and in another hundred centuries this malaise will be a hazy dream.

“So Death, got any big gigs coming up? Maybe a plague or a natural disaster we should know about?” Liz is leaning back in her chair, nails lacquered daggers, looking at you with eyes that bring you back to the cold Manhattan night you met.

“Sissy, his name isn’t Death, it’s Kid. Death the Kid,” Patti says, worry lines creasing her forehead.

“Death is what he deals in, sounds fine to me,” Liz replies. She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at you and says, “Well? What’s up and coming in the underworld?”

“He’s not an oracle,” Soul snaps, sitting up. His anger filters into you through the lowkey resonance neither of you can escape at this proximity, and you try to diffuse some calm to him. It only seems to tighten the snarling coil in his soul.

“Aww, defending your new soulmate?” Liz purrs, leaning in. The tablecloth bunches in Soul’s fist. “Thought you’d be surly forever now that you’re not attached to Maka’s hip.”

Thoughts pour into your mind as his soul ruptures into yours, he’s too angry too out of control too why did Maka leave, I was trying to be her friend, what about that night beneath the harvest moon when she put her hand on my heart that afternoon picking strawberries when she took a bite and her lips glowed like stained glass that morning she was humming in the kitchen with flour in her hair that moment when --  

You cut the thoughts with the sharpest knife your mind can muster and grab his hand. You’re okay, this is fine, you’re okay, you tell him, projecting a calm you hope he sinks into. You know he wants nothing more than to lose himself in your combined souls, feather out the edges until he no longer has to be himself. There was a time you had thought you wanted that, too, but after many tear-soaked practice sessions it became clear that you would never be Maka and he would never make you any more human.

Soul exhales through his nose. Maka is still determinedly in conversation with Tsubaki farther up the table, her face turned sharply away. Soul glances at her and then fixes Liz with a smoldering stare. “What about you, now that you don’t have the prestige of being Death’s weapon? Guess you’ll need to find a new sugar daddy.”

Kilik snorts and Black*Star grins. “Attaboy, don’t let her talk to you like that,” he says, purpled skin crinkling around his bruised eyes.

Harvar sighs and tips back in his chair until the front legs lift. “Are you both really going to be like this? We hardly have to see each other any more, does it kill you to act civil for a few hours twice a year?”

Liz snorts and starts talking to Patti about the high-rise penthouse suite she spent the night in a few weeks ago. Next to you, the tension drains out of Soul, and he slumps over his still-full plate. “I hate these things,” he mutters, moving a piece of broccoli around with the tip of his steak knife. “It’s been years since we’ve had anything to say to each other.”

“Speak for yourself,” says Black*Star in tones of mock offense. “I for one love to spend time with people who sit around judging or just plain ignoring each other.”

Maka stiffens and narrows her eyes. “You have something to say to me?” she asks, voice low and somewhat hoarse, like it was the day she requested a personal day to move away from Soul.

���Not everything’s about you, princess,” Black*Star replies. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say most things are not about you. So go on, get back to whatever little conversation you were having to avoid looking your former teammates in the face, Miss I’m-Too-Good-For-Y’all.”

“Now now, let’s be nicer to each other,” Tsubaki says with a nervous hand on her throat.

“Oh come on, we all know she’s not that great anyway,” Ox says from the other end of the table. A faint flush appears in Maka’s cheeks, and you feel the growl building in Soul’s throat echo in yours from the force of his emotion.

“Funny for you to say, Dr.-- oh wait, that’s right, you never could finish your dissertation, could you?” Maka says with a smile more suited for Medusa.

“Oh, real original, go for what has been common knowledge for over a year now; nobody cares,” Ox says, but the hand gripping his steak knife trembles.

“Yeah, get a room already, you nerds obviously need a hatefuck to clear the air,” Liz adds with a jagged smile at Soul.

“Guys, please,” Patti says, hunching over in her chair. “Stop.”

“I dunno, I think we just need to stop having these pointless get-togethers.” Everyone turns to look at Kilik, who has scooted back in his chair like he is about to leave. “What are we playing at? Nobody here actually gives a shit. We fought together when we were kids, but guess what? We were kids! We saw a lot of shit! And now we’re expected to play nice with the actors in our nightmares? No thanks.”

“Nightmares? A little dramatic, don’t you think?” Harvar says, giving his untouched wine a bored swirl.

“Yeah, well, you know, some of us saw a liiiiitle more bloodshed than others,” Black*Star says, teeth glittering. You have to quell the urge to go put a hand on his shoulder.

“Cry traumatized all you want, I’m just saying either deal with it or shut up,” Harvar replies with a shrug.

“I’m going to bring out the roast,” Tsubaki says a little too loudly, and shuffles back into the kitchen.

The reminder that they are guests in her home seems to dampen the mounting aggression. You take a bite of mashed potatoes and wonder if the act of eating is, for you, the same as throwing it away. Does the small enjoyment it brings make it worth the energy the plant used to convert sunlight to sugars, the human effort in feeding and tending the land, the water pulled from faraway aquifers, the fossil fuels burned to transport it to you, Tsubaki’s time in preparing it? You will live either way. The energy for life should not be wasted on a death god.

Tsubaki returns with a beautiful beef roast that she carves on a side table. When the platter piled high with meat comes to you, you pass it straight to Soul and tell yourself that someone worthier of it will now get to benefit.  

“Would you pass the green beans, Harvar?” Maka asks, ignoring the disgusted looks from Liz and Ox. Unease sours your stomach. You don’t remember them being this rude to each other.

“Not really in a passing mood, thanks,” he says, and takes a delicate bite of salad.

You see the old anger flash in Maka’s eyes and open your mouth to say -- something, anything to stop the imminent violence you can see unfolding as if you have choreographed it -- but then Soul stands up. He strides over and grabs the bowl of roasted green beans without acknowledging Harvar’s exaggerated scoff, and then takes the three steps to Maka.

You expect him to place the green beans down near her plate, but instead he waits. Seconds tick by as he stands at her shoulder, bowl proffered, and you don’t know what to make of the sudden stillness from Soul’s side of the bond.

Maka tilts her head back. You feel it when their eyes meet, a buzzing mosquito that has finally decided to land. “Thank you,” she says, and helps herself to a portion of green beans. Soul stands there a heartbeat longer, face full of the depth of emotion that makes you wish again that you were human, before returning the bowl and taking his seat.

Conversation resumes, but it is quieter somehow, less for show, as if seeing what had been the longest-standing partnership speak again made everyone realize that civility has always been a choice. You remember how much their teamwork had always meant to everyone, had meant to you. You frown. Perhaps Black*Star was wrong, and you have living yet to do. Perhaps that, too, is a choice.

What happened between you and Maka? you ask Soul, who is still toying with the food on his plate. It was never something you felt was your business, but now you see that your detachment from the lives of those around you was not because you were concerned about their feelings, but because you did not want to hurt when you carried their souls to the other side.

Far too much, he responds alongside images of all of you trying group resonance, Maka’s expression when she burned dinner, everyone making faces at Stein behind his back during class, Maka holding out her hand. We didn’t know how to be in love and in pain at the same time. I want to be able to talk to her again.

You look around the table at all these people you had fought and laughed and bled beside, and for the first time in almost five years think of yourself as part of the group instead of by nature separate. You have been a fool to believe you should not still care for the lives of your friends even if you will outlast them, because whether or not you're human doesn't matter when you're brave enough to try. So you sit up straighter and ask with a directness you haven’t allowed yourself in so long, “What do you all want to do with your lives?” The question is met with abrupt silence. Everyone turns to look at you with varying degrees of surprise and indifference, which you can’t really blame them for. You don’t remember the last time you addressed them all like this, as a friend instead of Lord Death. “What are you, our high school guidance counselor?” Black*Star says. “Yeah, not to be rude to the boss that hasn’t given a shit about us in however long, but why are you asking now?” adds Liz, ruffling Patty’s hair. “I want us to act like friends again,” says Tsubaki. The worry and uncertainty that had clouded her eyes before is gone, and in its place is a fiery determination you last saw before the battle on the moon. “I want to stop waking up worrying one or more of you has gone and gotten yourself killed —“ a glance at Black*Star, who is fully attentive for once “— and then I want to teach the children of Death City that they are important and loved and will never have to throw away their lives for a conflict their parents or parent’s parents started.” A tear is running down her nose by the time she stops speaking, but her voice does not waver. “I wanna become a botanist,” Patty says with conviction, wiggling out from under her sister’s hand. “I wanna document all the native flora around here and see what kinda cool stuff they might do for medicine or agriculture and whatnot.” Liz looks momentarily taken aback. “I didn’t know that.”   “You never asked,” Patty replies, and looks away. “I want to run for Congress,” Maka says, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I am disgusted about how we were the primary line of defense against kishin for so long, that others couldn’t have been trained in our stead. There must me thousands of people out there with weapon genes who don’t know how to deal with it, and I want to make sure those who are out there know they can learn to control it.”

Soul sits up next to you. “I don’t really know what I want to do,” he says, looking steadily at Maka. I only know who I want to do it with.

The vitriol from earlier in the meal fades. You see tired faces, some nostalgic, others hurting, and a few, like Harvar’s, blank.

“I don’t know what I want to do either,” Harvar says into the silence that followed Soul’s admission. “Nothing at all. What does that leave me?”

You see Kilik nodding while Liz stares at her plate, eyes empty. You are afraid of what you’ll see when you lean forward enough to catch of glimpse of Black*Star’s face, but that’s okay, because you have decided to live.

“I think that leaves you with possibility,” you say, meeting Black*Star’s eyes. “Not knowing means there is room to discover.”

Ox snorts. “Easy for you to say, Lord Death,” he says, putting his hands on the table. “But for the rest of us mortals, we can’t just up and decide to do something and have it all magically work out.”

More nods around the table. Maka is chewing her lip, looking like she has remembered something she would rather forget, and Soul has slumped in his seat again. “You’re right,” you say. "Anything people do takes time, and effort, and there are no guarantees. But it seems to me that the first choice anyone has to make is whether they are willing to try."

“Does any of it really matter though?” Kilik says, fist balled on the table. “The choosing, the decisions, any of it? What does it matter if I work for this job or that one, wear this color shirt or another? At the end of the day, we’re just slowly rotting meat.”

“I thought so, too,” you tell him. “I thought that nothing I did would matter to you, because what does a death god know of how to live? But here we are, really talking to each other for the first time in so many years. I think,” you pause to look around again and see traces of the people you had known bleeding through like sections of old photographs, “I think that will be the key for us. We were told for so long what does and doesn’t matter. Now we have to choose that for ourselves.”

There is another silence, though it is one you cannot place. Tsubaki breaks it after a minute to usher everyone into the living room for dessert and coffee, so you sit on her sofa and imagine what it would be like to see everyone smiling again.

Maka approaches you with two black coffees. “That was a lot,” she says, handing you one. “I didn’t know you had so many feelings.”

“Neither did I,” you tell her, and take a sip. It is intensely bitter.

“It sounded nice, but --” she pauses and looks around the room. You follow her lead and notice that the same small groups are gathered like pockets of the same magnetic charge. You suppose it was too naive to expect anything else.

“Change takes time,” she says, glancing briefly in Soul’s direction. “Unless you force it. But that creates its own problems.” She sighs and takes a step back. “Thanks for saying something anyway. It was a nice reminder that things don’t have to be this way.” She leaves.

You watch her walk over to Soul and place a light hand on his arm. You feel through the bond a wave of surprise and anticipation before you seal it shut in your mind. It is not your place to witness whatever comes next from such an intimate vantage. You do, however, watch the shape of them, hips squared and arms uncrossed. Perhaps something positive will come of this reunion, after all.

Soul sidles over to you once Maka is back in conversation with Tsubaki. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, I guess.”

You nod. “Was it a productive conversation?”

“I think so,” he says, and clears his throat. “She said she was sorry about how she ended things, and that she wants to talk again. She, uh.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “She said she still has my old bomber jacket, the one I thought I lost.”

That reminds you of how Black*Star used to take your shinigami mask every time he came to see you and wear it half on, half off until he left. You think of the power in such gestures, and allow yourself to hope.

So you and Soul enjoy some of Tsubaki’s fruit tartlets while quiet conversation hums around you. Every now and then, you catch lingering glances from one group to another, a considering stare where before there would have been outright hostility.

You take another sip of coffee. For now, it is enough.

[mythicalsecretsanta]

Like Coffee, Like Tea (T)

This gift is for: Natas (AKA @electricdoves)

This is obviously inspired by and owes a great deal to Ren’s drabble “Like Coffee”, helped along by some hand-holding from @whotookmyusernameidea.

I just thought “what is the fluffiest, most adorable, silly college rhink I can manage? Ah yes, this one.” So I pulled it out of the ideas folder and made it into a real thing for you deary. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Rated T for a tiny bit of language and some off color humor. 

From your Secret Santa, Julia (AKA @archionblu)

Link to AO3 or read below:

It all starts out with a joke, really.

The four of them have just left the student center, heading for the library, and they are joking about their drinks.

“I like my women like I like my coffee.” Ben says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Full-bodied and several times a day.” His smirk doesn’t even falter when Greg, laughing, shoves him and nearly makes him spill.

“Yeah? Well I like my women like I like my coffee.” Greg says, expression salacious. “Steamy and full of cream.” he makes a lewd gesture with his hips and wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully in a way that makes them all groan.

“Dude, gross.” Link complains,  trying to balance his to-go cup and his stack of books. “Okay, I’ll bite. I like my women like I like my coffee…sweet and strong.” That gets several eyerolls. Link has always been the romantic.

“C’mon, Rhett, your turn.” Ben says, walking backwards and almost running into another student.

Rhett doesn’t know what makes him answer honestly; normally he’d just lie, say something like ‘hot and keeps me up all night.’ Something appropriately raunchy. 

Instead, he says, “I like my women like I like my coffee.” and stops.

The other guys kept waiting for him to finish his sentence, but it never comes.

Eventually, Link frowns. “Man, you don’t even like coffee.” he complains.

Rhett dares to look his best friend in the eye. “Yep.” is his short reply.

There’s another beat of silence, and then all three of his friends stop walking and Link’s mouth drops open. Rhett keeps walking, his breath catching in his throat.

He’s only able to breathe again when he hears them hurrying to catch up as he pushes open the door of the library.

To his relief, instead of throwing questions at him Ben changes the subject. “So has anyone else figured out problem three on the stats assignment? I’m totally lost and I can’t afford to fail again.” he asks.

Rhett gladly jumps on the topic, plowing past his inadvisable revelation, hoping everyone will just forget about it.

The conversation moves forward, but unlike usual, Link remains quiet. He doesn’t demand an explanation from Rhett, but he continues to stare at him like he is something new that Link has never seen before. It makes Rhett nervous.

Eventually, nearly an hour later, Link seems to snap out of whatever transe he’s fallen into to interrupt Greg’s boasting about his project for Mechanical Engineering:

“Now hold on man, I’m in Draganski’s class too. Your refrigerator didn’t work for shit. There was goddamn chilly willy juice all over the linoleum where your box was sitting, so I dunno where you’re gettin’ this ‘He loved it, I’m totally gonna get an A’ crap.”

Link glances at Rhett and gives him a smile, that special one that’s only for Rhett. The smile says, ”We’re okay.” and “You’re my best friend no matter what.” and occasionally ”You’ve got something on your face and I’m trying not to laugh at you.”

Rhett feels something loosen in his chest, and he smiles back, finally relaxing. Everything was okay. Link doesn’t care if he…likes tea.

~*~

After the Incident, as Rhett haw come to think of it, Link’s behavior changes. Not in a bad way, just…in a way.

Whenever Link grabs himself a coffee, whether he’s making it in the tiny pot they are not supposed to have in their dorm room, pulling it from the machine in the cafeteria, or splurging on it at the student center, he comes back with something for Rhett as well.

Not a cup of coffee; a cup of tea.

It’s plain black tea, nothing special, and the first time Link brings it for him Rhett has to dump a boatload of sugar in. Link takes note and the next time it’s perfect. Link always sets it down by Rhett’s hand with that same smile from before, /their/ smile.

For weeks, it goes on like this. The thrill of Link’s acceptance doesn’t fade, no matter how many paper cups full of tea he sets down on the library table between them. It makes him want to grin like a fool, every damn time. He doesn’t, he’s got at least a little pride. But he wants to.

~*~

It’s late November and finals are coming fast upon them. They’ve been holed up at the same table in the library for what feels like days, and Rhett’s eyes are starting to cross. He’s hasn’t processed a single word on the page in front of him, despite the fact he’s been staring at it for half an hour.

“Hey.” he feels a nudge to his elbow and looks up blearily.

Link is standing there balancing two cups and Rhett can see the hot steam rising from the small holes in the lids. He hadn’t even noticed that Link had left.

“You’re a fucking lifesaver, Bo.” Rhett groans in relief, greedily huffing the steam once he gets it in his hands.

It takes Rhett a moment to notice that Link is still standing at his elbow, an expectant look on his face.

“What?” Rhett asks, not picking up on whatever Link obviously wants him to pick up on.

“I got tea, too.” Link says, a little bashful, pointing to the little tag hanging over the side of his cup. It was the same kind that he always got Rhett.

“Oh.” Rhett says, unsure of what else to say. They stare at each other for a moment before Rhett asks, “Uh, why?”

He can’t figure out whether or not Link is trying to say something specific here, or whether he just, like…chose to get tea today, for some reason.

Apparently Rhett’s response was not what Link was looking for, because his shoulders slump minutely and he drops his eyes to the floor before pulling out the seat next to Rhett and plopping down with a huff.

“Nothin’, I just wanted to try it, that’s all.” he mutters. He fiddles with Rhett’s pencil, body language defensive and closed off. Obviously he had been trying to say something specific with his choice of beverage, and Rhett has gone and screwed it up by being too exhausted to pick up on it.

“Hey.” Rhett says, nuding Link’s shoulder gently. “Thanks, man.” he doesn’t specify what he’s thanking Link for.

“Do you, uh, like it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. For some reason, this makes Link blush.

“Uh, yeah, I think…I’m developing a taste for it.” he says shyly. “But only this specific blend?” he tacks on, more of a question than a statement. “I still like coffee, but this is good, too.”

His eyes are just as intense as before, trying to communicate all sorts of things that he’s not saying. This time, Rhett thinks he understands what it is he isn’t saying, and it makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

Rhett’s smile lights up his whole face. “Yeah? I’m glad, brother.” He says.

Very deliberately, he presses his leg against Link’s beneath the table, and touches the toes of their shoes together so that they’re entire lower halves are in contact.

He turns back to his work, but the smile doesn’t fall from his face, only growing larger when Link reaches out to squeeze his knee below the table before starting back in on his own studying.

~*~

Rhett can’t stifle his grin as he hops into the passenger’s seat, sliding an extra large to-go cup into the holder. Link had asked for Rhett to grab them some caffeine for the trip home, and instead of bringing back two cups, he brought one.

Rhett shrugs with one shoulder at Link’s questioning glance, the grin still firmly on his face. “I figured, since we’re both drinking tea lately, I’d just get us one big cup to share.”

There’s mischief in his eyes as he waits for Link to point out the supposed flaw with that plan.

Link looks between Rhett and the cup. “But…I’m worried I’ve got an outbreak coming, man.” he says, rubbing at his lips.  “It’s alright, I can manage until we get home.” he shrugs it off.

“No, c’mon, it’ll be fine.” Rhett says picking the cup back up and pushing it towards Link until the other boy dutifully takes a sip, peering over the lid at him.

“Ain’t you worried about gettin’ my mouth herpes?” he asks curiously.

Rhett’s grin grows impossibly wider. “Well, I was sure hoping that in a few moments, it won’t matter anymore.”

Link just looks more confused, but his expression clears up with Rhett hooks a hand around his neck, gently pulling him over the gear shift towards him.

“Oh gosh, Bo…” Link whispers.

Their breath mingles in the small space between their faces, as Rhett pauses inches from Link’s mouth. His eyes dart back and forth between Link’s eyes and his lips, licking his own unconsciously.

“Yeah?” Is this okay? he asks.

He watches Link take a shuddering breath, and then close the space between them, breathing the words against Rhett’s lips: “God, yes.”

They don’t end up leaving the parking lot until an hour later.

~*~

They have just come inside from shovelling the front walk and the driveway,  their noses red and cheeks equally rosy from the biting cold. While Link is preoccupied with getting his coat zipper unstuck, Rhett disappears into the kitchen and returns a few moments later with two steaming hot mugs of cocoa that’d been keeping warm in the slow cooker all day.

“Meaty Cheesies are almost done. Mom says we can have two each, but we gotta leave the rest for the party.” Meaty Cheesies are an abomination of ground beef and velveeta that are Rhett’s absolute favorite holiday food. Honestly he could eat a whole tray of them by himself, given the opportunity.

Noticing that Link is still struggling with his coat he puts the mugs down on the coffee table and knocks Link’s hands away to deftly unzip it for him. Link grins sheepishly when Rhett laughs, gladly accepting his mug now that he’s no longer trapped in his parka prison.

They curl up on the couch together, mugs in hand and eyes on the random holiday movie the tv is turned to. They sit in silence for a long time, content to warm themselves with their hot beverages and enjoy each other’s company.

When the credits of Home Alone roll and the banner is advertising that Home Alone 2 is coming up next, Link finally speaks.

“So, if coffee means you like women, and tea means you like men, what is hot chocolate a metaphor for?” he asks, downing the last sip that has been lingering in his mug.

Rhett, who had finished his cocoa earlier, laughs and sets his mug down, stealing Links to place it next to his own on the table.

“I dunno.” he purrs, pushing Link back into the cushions. “But I heard somewhere that Chocolate is an aphrodisiac.”

“Is that so?” Link asks archly, suppressing a giggle. “Well, we should test it out. Y’know, for science.”

“I think that’s one of the best ideas you’ve ever had, Bo.”

Rhett’s smiles their smile as he brings his lips to press gently against Link’s, barely waiting before sneaking his tongue out to ask for entrance.

Link doesn’t keep him waiting, and soon they’re wrapped around each other in a way that at a glance, one wouldn’t be able to tell where one ended and the other began.

And there they stay, warmed by hot beverages and their love for each other. Two bodies, one heart, inseparable.

Well, at least until the Meaty Cheesies come out of the oven.