#somehow it feels less weird to do these kind of shots with ghost only

[yumethefrostypanda]

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish For the Soap stans 🧼👊🏼

[clea-speaks]

Chris Demakes and Roger Lima of Less Than Jake (TW: SA, harassment, stalking)

PART 1: When I was growing up, I had it kind of rough at home and at school so I would use music as an escape in my room.  One day during my freshman year I had been listening to the local radio station and they were playing 'Johnny Quest Thinks We’re Sellouts' by Less Than Jake and I was immediately hooked. This radio station kind of picked what they wanted to play instead of playing whatever the actual single was. Fast forward to 2003 and I go see Less Than Jake for the first time at a local venue and think they’re great. I met both Roger Manganelli and Chris Demakes after the show and got my Borders and Boundaries cd signed by them. At the time I thought Roger was nice but thought Chris was strange.  The following year they returned, and they invited my friends and I out to a tiny hole in the wall bar after the show. I was the only one of age. During our hangs at the bar Roger paid extra special attention to me and wanted a picture with me. He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him and touched the side of his head to mine. Afterwards my friends kept calling him Uncle Raj and I didn’t know why until much later. They thought he was creepy.

I don’t remember exactly when he gave me his AIM screen name and email address wanting me to keep in touch. It was probably end of 2003 or early 2004 but he found my MySpace. This was really when things started getting weird. He had added me from his other band Rehasher’s MySpace account and in the middle of the night he would slide into my DMs while he had been drinking and/or smoking. At one point I had the song 'The Science Of Selling Yourself Short' on my MySpace profile because it was one of my favorites at the time. One night he slides into my DMs asking me to remove the song so he "could masturbate in peace". At the time I didn’t see all the red flags or realize how inappropriate he was starting to get. I was kind of excited that someone was showing interest in me because I definitely wasn’t cool during my school years. He made me feel like I was part of the cool crowd. As time went on, I was getting instant messages on AIM from him saying that I should do porn, I should strip, saying he wanted to get me a toy because he wanted to see me use it, etc. He’d frequently ask for nudes, but I was hesitant because I’ve always been really uncomfortable with my body. During this time Roger was living with his girlfriend and he told me he had to wait until she was sleeping before he could talk to me. He also liked to randomly say that he was horny and loved blowjobs. Looking back now I would have blocked him and never gone to see them play again. A former friend of mine, who was visiting, and I went to 3 of their shows in 2006. Chris gave her his number, somehow convinced her to send him nudes and then he ghosted her. At a show in 2007 (I think) they were doing the wheel of fortune thing and I won a cereal box with their logo on it. They told the crowd it had a giant d*ldo inside. I was mortified. Thankfully it was just a t-shirt, guitar strings, a shot glass and a couple other little things. During the show I was drinking and drank a little too much. Before I left, I went to go say goodbye to Roger and found both him and Chris outside the bus. They started making comments about my breasts and saying they were fake. They’re not and I told them that. After I said they’re real they both touched my breasts. I never consented to this and couldn’t have with how much I had drank. Never in a million years (at that time) would I have thought they would do that to me.

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

[sweetpxxches]

The little things in Nevada matter most. (Ch. 1)

Hank/Sanford/Deimos/Reader Fic, baby.

This fic has chapters, so this is the first one! I will link the new chapters as ones go by.

Warnings will be listed here as chapters are made, as of now, Chapter 1 contains:

- Alcohol 

- Mild mentions of gore

- Fluff

This chapter’s just the beginning of finding each other out. This is a lot so heck yeah!

Reader is AFAB and uses gender neutral pronouns. (they/them) ^-^

Chapter list: 1 - ?

It was an early evening in Nevada, you missed the sounds of crickets chirping in the night. But due to the events that happened in this place, there is lack of life that surrounds it. All that is left are demons, clowns, sheriffs, and all that utter nonsense that you question how badly this had to be for a state to become it's new circle of Hell. But at that point, it wasn't really worth thinking too hard on. You instead just think about how at least thankful life was to you to give you friends so your life isn't too lonely. Without Hank, Deimos, Sanford, and 2BDamned, life would of been miserable. Despite what they're here for, the red and black tints of the skies seem blue to you. You were sitting on the edge of a bridge, kicking your legs as you took a sip out of soda can, letting the wind blow passed your hair. But you felt the ground rumble and you swiftly got up to face where it was coming from, and you saw the three familiar figures in a truck. With a sigh of relief, you waved at them and they drove by to you. Sanford poked out at the back of the truck, waving. "Hey, Mercenary! We're heading out to look for some bars around here, you up for that?" You shrugged it off, chugging down the rest of your drink and tossing the can over the bridge. "Sure, why not? Not like I got much better to do. Place has been extra quiet since we've bombed one of those factories earlier." You saw Deimos reached out to you, and you grabbed his arm as he tugged you up between you and Sanford. "Welcome aboard, then!" Deimos laughed, patting your shoulder. You smiled at the two, getting yourself comfortable. You turned your head over to Hank, who looked back and nodded. "Glad to see you in one piece, Merc." He said as he started the engine and began driving off. "Good to see you didn't die again either, Hank." You joked, leaning back. It was almost like things were back to normal, the aura of happiness and the cheerful conversations filled your heart with a sense of serenity. It is a rare occasion just to feel the serenity of friendship. Then again, if you could even consider this as friendship. These three made your heart confused, and so your mind. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had decisions to make on the long end. Sanford was the gentle yet mature one in the bunch, his body may be brawns but he was also brains. He didn't take jokes a lot, but sometimes he does choose to have fun with others whenever he can, as well as how caring he is for the group. Sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a major softie who would own rabbits for a living. Then there was Deimos, a cunning and suave guy who most would consider a 'bastard' for how he behaves. Always has a cigarette between his teeth as well as a smug demeanor. You couldn't help but smirk at the times of Deimos trying to show off to you a few times when you first joined the crew, and Hank always telling him to keep his pants on. The one time Deimos even attempted went to failure due to him flexing while trying to shoot with one hand, but his hand got blasted off from a heavy bullet blow, making him shriek and fall over. Although cruel, you laughed at his awful attempt at playing Chad. But despite it all, you still care for the goof. Then there was Hank. Quiet, down to business, but has a rather sadistic side of him. You could say he comes off cold, but there are moments in time where he shows a glint of emotion, most of the time when his bloodlust meets a 'sugar high' to the point he can't control it anymore and lets loose his inner need of murder. You find it intimidating, but also fascinating to see how far he can go. Of course most of the time it leads to him getting brutally killed, but somehow a few days later he always ends up coming back... You remember the first time you saw him get destroyed, a large MAG Agent managed to grab him by the head and ripped him apart, and it made you shriek out to him before Sanford dragged you out the room. But it was days later, you saw him come back as if none of that happened, and you just assumed that's how it will always be when Hank dies. And to no one's surprise, you were right. At that point, you began to care less about him getting killed, sometimes you use his body as a shield whenever he's fallen. Makes you wonder if Hank is even human at all, and is linked to some weird spiritual thing. But those were thoughts to keep to yourself, otherwise it'd make the room awkward, especially to Hank.

Despite it all, these three had their own stories and personalities to show, and you love all three of them.

You dazed off from the conversation between Sanford and Deimos, until you heard Deimos say your name. You blinked awake, looking over. "Huh?" "Hey, the ride's over, we found a place to hang out." Deimos got up and bounced off the truck, reaching over to you. You smiled down at him and jumped right into his arms, leading him to twirl you around and settle you down, making you chuckle. Sanford followed along, stretching his arms out. "Seems like this place is a ghost town right now, wonder why." "We're why, Sanford." Hank retorted, stepping out the truck as he placed two guns in his pocket, in case of anything. "Grunts and agents won't fuck with us, now imagine them fucking with us drunk." He scoffed, walking passed the three of you. You placed your hands behind you back, shrugging. "Oh well, let's hope there's drinks at least." The four of you made way into the bar, a bartender was cleaning an empty glass only to spot the four of you, immediately freezing up in fear. "S-Shit! It's you guys again!" The bartender stood back, keeping a tight grip on the glass in hand, but Hank slammed a hand down on the bar table. "Give us drinks, old man. Or it'll be big time for you." Hank ordered, and without hesitation from the man behind the bar, he simply did as he was told, although shaking in fear from the fact all for of you were present. You eyed him carefully, but sat on a stool twirling around it. "I swear, it gets too boring too quick whenever we have days off." Deimos sighed, sitting on a stool next to you. "You're telling me, this place tends to get quiet quick whenever it doesn't get busy. You think those AAHW Agents are planning something big?" Sanford asked, and saw Hank lean against the table, shrugging. "Hope so. If they're just gonna throw more grunts at our way, I'll consider that a big fuck you from them." He huffed, rolling his shoulder. You leaned on the table. "I dunno, if they retreated this long, it's gotta be something good!" Sanford chuckled, nodding off the statement. "Maybe, maybe... hey, I got an idea, let's all drink 'til something happens!" "Like alcohol poisoning?" You raised a brow at Sanford, and Deimos chuckled under his breath. "Right, right, I'm just saying it's our night, so let's make it worth while." The bartender slid down a few shots for the crew, Sanford took one shot with a quick swig, and raised the empty glass. "Come on, now! Let's do it!" Deimos looked at you and Hank, and the three of you shrugged it off and raised a glass to join with Sanford.

What felt like hours that were only minutes, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, and yourself decided to be reckless. Sanford was a strong one, taking the shots like they were water, while Deimos was making his way to getting on Sanford's level, as for Hank, it was hard to tell if the alcohol hit him at all. But unfortunately, out of this bunch, you were the weakest to alcohol, your mind was buzzing on your eighth shot, seeing the three mercenaries become six, or is it seven? You couldn't tell. But you snapped away when you felt Deimos tugging you over for some kind of sluggish dance. "C'mon, Mercenary! Let's fuck around for a while, will ya?!" He chirped, and you made a groggy 'wait no' as he pulled you around all playful, laughing his ass off. Deep down, you can't wait to kick this guy's ass once things die low. But as of now, everyone was getting tipsy, and who knows what nonsense they'll pull. The only thing you're hoping is Hank won't pull out a gun and shoot around like an idiot. Deep down, you feel like he'll do that. "Deimos, let go of me you idiot!" You shouted over his goofy laughter, but he ended up slipping off and having you two fall on the ground. Hank shook his head, sighing at the sight. "You two shouldn't have alcohol." He snorted, looking over to Sanford who was growing just as buzzed as the other two. It felt like he had to babysit you three, but Hank was personally enjoying the sight of his mercenaries being themselves with no consequences. After a few hours, the rest of the group was smashed. You couldn't tell who you were clinging on, but they were struggling to keep you in their arms. "Shit, what time is it? Is there a place to even hide?" Deimos slurred, wiping alcohol off his mouth. It seems the bartender made his way out before they could even ask for more, which made Deimos growl in frustration. "Dammit! That asshole ditched us!" He raised a fist, but Sanford held his shoulder. "Relax, soldier. We're done for the night. I'm fucking wasted!" He snorted, keeping a firm hold onto you. You looked up at Sanford, noticing you were facing his bare chest, making your eyes widen and have your cheeks flare up.

“Uh...” You blinked.

“Yeah, Merc?” Sanford looked down, noticing your expression. “Shit- you good? You look sick.” He stumbled up and settled you on the table, but you just seem dazed at how nice his body is. Or maybe that’s the alcohol speaking. Unfocused, you grabbed Sanford and Deimos by the shoulders for support. “Maybe we should head back to the hideout we had last time, hardly anyone... goes there.” You paused and blinked at the floor, seeing your feet stumbling. Hank seemed to be the only one capable of keeping his composure, though not really attempting to give anyone a hand at all. “You know what, since I’m not the one who’s fucked up here, I’ll drive everyone back. I figured you three wouldn’t control yourselves, not like I’d be surprised about it.” Hank left out the door, leaving the rest of you to struggle along the way. It was like a difficult obstacle in stepping from point A to point B, Deimos and Sanford pulling you around for support as you all waddled your way to the truck. It was a blur the moment you slumped into the back of the truck, the only thing you could feel was your brain growing an immense fatigue as well as someone keeping your body up. The moment you passed out, you could only feel the nausea upcoming. 

When you woke up, you were welcomed to a face between the bare chest of Sanford, which made you immediately bounce off. But the moment you did, your head pulsed in a sense of pain and confusion, making you hiss under your breath, gripping your forehead. “Son of a bitch...” You muttered, but you saw that Sanford and Deimos were still asleep. Despite them being out cold, you really didn’t expect to have Sanford allowing you to get that handsy with him. Or maybe he wanted you to be comfortable... then again, those were comfortable. But the thoughts went away quick when you felt your head spin, stomach ready to hurl. You went over the edge of the truck, throwing up the excess of what was left in your stomach, the hangover lighting up slightly from the release. You looked over to the edge ahead, seeing a familiar building. It seems that Hank managed to drive everyone home. You really couldn’t help but be thankful that Hank was at least caring enough to drag everyone back. Where Hank was is nowhere to be found, but you can assume he must of went inside without you and the other two. You looked over at Sanford and Deimos, you’re sure they’ll be fine on their own, no one comes here nor interferes in this area. Sluggishly, you rolled out over the edge of the truck, hopping off with a simple thud to the ground. As you dusted off and made way inside, you saw Hank just hanging out on the couch, head held back with a cigarette in his mouth. 

You always found it adorable how he is in his most calm state, you sometimes wish he was like this more often. Though unfortunately, he’s the least likely to contain himself. You could tell he’s still awake, because the moment you shut the door, he spoke. “You’ve finally managed to get up. Head still hurtin’?” You turned over to him, seeing he’s still lazy about. “Yeah, but I’ll get over it. Sanford and Deimos haven’t gotten up yet, but hey, I’m here.” You walked over and sat on a seat beside him, patting his head which only made him grunt at your brave actions. “Remind me to tell you guys when you have one too many, you guys were drinking for hours.” Hank sighed, pulling the cigarette out his mouth, letting the smoke pass his nostrils. “Sorry, I didn’t even catch the time when we even started. Sanford shouldn’t of challenged us... then again, you won anyway.” 

“That’s because I didn’t overdo it. Sanford tends to have too much fun on his free time.” Hank shrugged, “Besides, if I joined in the nonsense no one would be able to take anyone back home. I ain’t risking to crash into a building drunk, won’t be too fun missing my shots.” You could only chuckle, watching him wave his hands about. He wasn’t expressive in face, but his hands were. You wondered if it was a good idea to kill time with him if you would just...

“Hey, Mercenary.” Hank spoke up. “Oh! Yeah?” You blinked back out of thought, looking at him. “I was wondering... couldn’t help but notice how it was kind of cute to see you try and cling onto me earlier when you were drunk.” Your eyes widened in embarrassment, looking away immediately. “G-God! Are you serious?! Fuck I’m sorry, Hank- I really didn’t mean to-” “It’s fine, dear.” Hank waved it off, you can tell there’s a smirk under there. “In fact I didn’t mind you getting handsy.” You puffed your cheeks at him, then giving him a hit in the head, making his shoot up immediately. “Ow- hey!” Hank huffed, rubbing his head. “Bad enough I got my head kicked in everywhere!” You crossed your arms, feeling your cheeks warm from the flustered reaction. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just don’t like it when you make a fool out of me, you always do that with everyone.” He looked at you, tilting his head lightly. “Now you know it’s not me trying to be a dick to you, Mercenary. I just do it because I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind me teasing you.” It took a moment, then you realized the way he worded it. You said he does it to everyone in the group, so does that mean he does it to ease everyone because he likes them? You blinked, looking at Hank. “Wait, you mean just me, or?”

“I mean everyone, you think I don’t bother Deimos and Sanford?” Hank continued for you, crossing his arms. It seems like dots are being made here, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Does he like the three of you the way you like them in return? It made you wonder. But you didn’t want to invade Hank’s personal stuff, you felt like he wasn’t aware of his own emotions. “Huh... Well, I guess I feel a little better about it now. Don’t know what you get out of it, though.” Hank looked over to you when you spoken that, and he looked back at the window, putting his cigarette out on his arm. “Honestly? Don’t know myself either, but it makes me feel a little better knowing it makes you guys get a kick out of my words, hahah.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at him, maybe he is feeling for certain things he wasn’t aware yet. And honestly, you want to help connect these dots for not only himself, but for everyone else. Maybe there is a spark that needs to be set alight, just unsure where to start. But as of now, you just want to enjoy the silence that remains in the room, closing your eyes as you smelled the remaining smoke in the room from Hank’s cigarette.

Maybe this little break for the group isn’t so bad.

[queenofhearts7378]

Constellations Ch. 2

(Yes it finally has a title. Yes this is ending up multi chaptered. Yes there’s another part I’m writing. Yes I already have an outline for a vague plot....Yes I’m still blaming @ladylynse for this XD)

Prev. Chapter  -  Next Chapter

Danny was very much unprepared and underdressed for the time when some wizards fell out of his fireplace.

He paused in the doorway, spoon still in his mouth and cheeks full of cereal, as his brother stood up and brushed the soot off him with a displeased nose scrunch.

Danny swallowed. "And you couldn't just use the door?"

Honestly they're lucky his parents had left to chase down the Box Ghost earlier. Otherwise they'd be covered in a lot more than soot and ash.

Danny couldn't help the snort that escaped at the mental picture of Draco covered in ectoplasm and boiling in rage. 

Draco narrowed his eyes, seeming to pick up that Danny was making fun of him. "Using the Floo was quicker."

"....quicker than walking through the door."

"It's a wizard thing you wouldn't understand." Draco snapped back, his go to response whenever he couldn't argue against Danny's logic at the moment. 

"Uh huh. Anyways what are you doing here?" Danny asked, "You aren't supposed to be here for another two weeks."

Which was time previously planned for Draco to prepare for his summer in America while Danny finished school. Spend the two weeks after Hogwarts let out recuperating and making public appearances with his parents, then spend the rest of the summer with the Fentons.

Actually now that Danny was looking, it seemed Draco had come straight from school. His hair was lacking half its gel, he was still wearing his green tie, and his robes were a very boring black as opposed to the various greys and blues he flaunted around in the previous summer.

“Denebola, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Drawled the man standing behind Draco.

“Hello creepy man that I have never met before,” Danny said, echoing his tone.

Draco choked on air as the discount Kylo Ren sneered at him.

“This is Professor Snape Danny.” A familiar please-don’t-say-anything-that-will-get-us-in-trouble tone coloring Draco’s words. “My godfather.”

Oh the potion guy. Danny remembers Draco talking about him now. He was friends with Draco’s parents, which didn’t really impress Danny that much as all of the Malfoy’s friends seemed to be really rich snobs or really racist. Mostly both.

But he was Draco’s godfather, the reason he got into potions, his favorite professor and someone Draco would willingly go to get advice from. So, Danny decided to reserve judgement till he met him. Well….he met him.

Danny looked Draco dead in the eyes, “My apologies.”

Draco closed his eyes in mortification, which made Danny grin internally. They were really getting the hang of the whole ‘speaking without talking to each other twin thing’. 

Professor Snape just scowled at him. “Where are the….muggles?" Disdain dripped off his words, instantly making Danny defensive. He had heard enough at Malfoy Manor about disgraceful, savage muggles from Lucius. Even Draco had echoed his father till Danny dragged him kicking and screaming into being a slightly decent person.

"My parents," Danny said, stressing the word, "Are working right now."

Okay maybe they were just being their usual trigger happy selves and running after Boxy, but there was no way he was telling Professor Snape that without it leading to an hour long discussion about ghosts. And Danny did not have time for that. He shoved a giant spoonful of cereal in his mouth as he met Professor Snape's eyes and-huh.

Draco never told Danny his godfather could read minds. He could feel the light brushes of a foreign mind attempting to gleam information from his surface thoughts. Danny didn't know if it was his wizard ancestry or halfa weirdness that made him sensitive to this kind of stuff. Either way, it was useful in keeping his secrets in his head from privacy invading school teachers.

Danny glowered at Snape and immediately thought of Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up music video.

The two of them stared at each other for a minute, making Draco more and more anxious as no one said anything.

Finally Snape broke contact, "Where should his things go?"

Danny tried very hard not to smirk after winning that staring contest, "You can just leave them here, we'll get them later."

With one last displeased sneer, Snape turned to Draco. "I'm needed back at Hogwarts. I trust you are in good hands."

Draco nodded, still looking tense and anxious as hell.

Snape walked back to the fireplace. He paused next to Draco, "Take care of yourself Draco."

Draco softened under his glare, "I will Professor. Thank you."

Snape nodded and shot one more glare at Danny, who still had Rick Astley echoing in his head, before vanishing into the fireplace in a swirl of green fire.

Draco turned back to Danny and said, "You stress me out."

Danny snorted before walking back into the kitchen to put his bowl in the sink. Draco followed after him, looking at all the kitchen appliances with a barely hidden curious look.

"Something else we have in common."

"What are you wearing?" He asked with a nose scrunched in displeasure.

Danny shot him a look, "My pajamas, cause I just woke up. I haven't finished getting ready for school. You should probably change too."

"Why?"

Danny started for the stairs, Draco still following at his heels. "You can't wear robes to public school. I think you can fit in my jeans."

"What?!" Draco screeched, halting at the bottom of the stairs, "I'm not going to muggle school with you!"

"It's either that or stay here by yourself for hours." Danny said as he paused outside his room. Draco scrambled up after him. "Cause my parents won't be home for a couple more hours, after which you'll be alone with them till I get home."

Danny smirked at him, "My parents are going to be thrilled to see you, can you really handle their enthusiasm all by yourself?"

Draco could barely stand Danny showing various forms of physical affection, as proven last summer when Danny would throw an arm around Draco's shoulders and almost get hexed. And Ancients forbid Danny try to hug him. Draco might actually lose the wand and just punch him. Danny had spent most of their correspondence over the school year prepping Draco for the Fenton welcome wagon so he wouldn't hiss like a cat when he gets hugged. Okay, and maybe Danny just wanted to see his overdramatic brother's face as he is subjected to his parent's bear hugs. 

Draco scowled at him, "Fine. But I'm not wearing any jeans."

Draco stomped into Danny's room and slammed the door in his face. He heard the lock click as it was shut.

"Hey! I still gotta get dressed!" Danny banged on the door, "C'mon Drake it's still my room!"

Danny groaned before walking over to the bathroom. He phased through the wall and landed on the fire escape. It took a few minutes, but he eventually maneuvered to his window and slipped in.

Draco had dug into Danny's closet and pulled out the most dressy tux Danny owned and was in the middle of putting it on. 

"You are not wearing that."

Draco scowled at him, "It’s bad enough I'm lowering myself by going with you-”

“Lowering yourself?”

“-But,” he said loudly, “I absolutely refuse to wear common muggle wear. If I’m going to this school, I will not look anything less than my absolute best.”

Danny stared at him. “Drake you will be thrown into the dumpster if you wear that to my school. Let me just-”

Danny jumped on him, trying to remove the suit jacket from a struggling Draco. Draco shouted and tried to twist away, only for Danny to pull it over his head. Once Draco was out of sight, and swearing loudly at him, Danny subtly used his intangibility to yank it off him. And if he happened to remove all of Draco’s hair gel that he used to keep his hair slicked back….well, that would have gotten him thrown in a dumpster as well.

Danny tried not to laugh as Draco glared at him, his hair fluffed up and looking vaguely like an angry kitten. 

"Do you know how long it takes me to fix my hair? I have to completely redo it now! And how'd you get that off me?" He pointed at the jacket Danny was throwing back in his closet.

Danny grinned at him, "Magic."

Draco gave him a flat look.

"Anyway we've got to go, otherwise I'm gonna be late again, and get detention again, and you'll be forced to either walk home by yourself or stay at school with me."

Somehow Danny had managed to get dressed and drag Draco out the door with him, texting Sam and Tucker his plans to walk so they could meet up on the way.

"What is that?" Draco leaned over to squint at the phone in Danny's hand.

"My phone. I told you about it last summer."

Draco hummed, "I thought it was broken?"

"Yeah, cause your magic blew it up. My parents fixed it." Danny shoved his phone back in his pocket like Draco was about to blow it up again. "Now what happened?"

Draco shot him a glance, before letting his eyes flicker around them. "I did try to tell you muggle 'technology' and magic doesn't always go together."

"Drake, you know that's not what I mean." He said softly.

Draco was silent, his jaw clenched and his hands shaking before he shoved them in his pockets.

They walked in silence for a while.

"You'll get hurt."

Danny looked at him.

"I…." Draco sighed, "I've never…."

Danny waited silently for him to get the words out on his own, knowing that pushing him will only make him clam up.

"You aren't like us. And I don't mean that in any bad way!" He said quickly when he saw Danny's face. "But you know what my parents are like, and their friends are so much worse, and you're the first person I've ever had to worry about. I just want you to be safe."

Oh Ancients, that was a lot to unpack there. 

Danny had known something had happened during school. The two of them spent the school year exchanging letters, both of them wanting to stay in contact. Danny would tell him about his school, and his parents' antics, and explain random muggle technology to get Draco prepared for his summer with the Fentons.

Meanwhile, Draco had complained at length about Potter and a tournament and Potter being insufferable about a tournament. There was a furious letter about being turned into a ferret and how Potter and his friends keep bringing it up. Draco sent him about three feet of parchment around Christmas just making fun of Potter at a dance and how horrible he was. There was a lot about some famous Quidditch guy and then a lot about Potter’s friend stealing the famous Quidditch guy.

Draco complained about Potter a lot, okay?

But Draco never sent him a letter about the tournament results or if Potter got eaten by a bog witch or whatever it was he was hoping for the last task. He just showed up, two weeks early and clearly shaken about whatever it was that happened.

That isn’t a good sign at all. And Danny had eavesdropped enough last summer to get a decent idea as to what was going on.

“This is….this is about him isn’t it?”

Draco flinched, which was enough answer for him. Danny let out a breath.

“We can-we can talk about this later. I care about you too Drake, and I know your family is neck deep in this mess.” Danny bumped his shoulder, “You’re safe here, that’s why Narcissa sent you here right?”

Draco leaned against his brother’s shoulder, eyes still flitting across the street and his jaw clenched. “Yeah. We’re safe here.”

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 15

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” I protest. “You hurt me all the time.”

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The day is bright and pleasant, but the sunlight and soft breeze are an assault on my senses after my time underground. I limp to the ambulance, which is parked on the grass, rear doors open, waiting for me. I ease myself to sit in the back, next to Cardan, who inexplicably has a blanket tightly wrapped around his shoulders. When I’m no longer standing, I sigh. I’d thought that after sitting and lying down for days I’d be desperate to move, but it turns out I’m actually very tired. When no one is looking at us, Cardan leans over and nuzzles my nose with his.

I smile at him weakly. Everything is too much and not enough. It seems to me that I am watching Madoc and Balekin talk to the detectives from very far away, like they are characters on a TV show. I just want to go back to the Amagansett house—or my actual house, hours away—and curl up in a bed that’s mine. But that fantasy leads to complications too. What will Oriana say when she learns what I’ve done? What will Taryn say?

Not wanting to spiral, I search for anything else to talk about. “Are you cold?” I ask Cardan, glancing at the blanket.

“Oh, no. It’s for shock or something.” He looks down at himself. His kitschy t-shirt is partially obscured now. “But, you know, free blanket.”

“Yeah,” I say, like that makes perfect sense. My head is spinning. “Was Balekin… happy to see you?”

He sets his jaw. “He was glad I wasn’t dead, I guess. But that’s about the only thing I did right.”

I look down as my fingers curl into my palms. I don’t examine how much I want to wrap my hands around Balekin’s throat. “My dad knows,” I whisper. “About us. I think I’ve talked him out of killing you.”

“That’s good. I’d really rather not die after surviving all of this already.”

“You’re taking this really well.”

Cardan shrugs. “If we’re bonded now, and your father isn’t going to kill me, that means I’m part of your family. Dain is dead, and Balekin will find it harder to touch me.”

“Oh,” I say dully. No wonder he wasn’t that mad at me mating him. We can’t stay in the basement forever, but he still has a way out. It makes sense. I can hardly blame him.

“Not that I’m necessarily thrilled that your dad could have any sway over me, given that he’s maybe a murderer and almost as scary as you are.”

“Right.”

He cocks his head at me, sensing my reticence. “Jude.”

I look away.

He leans over again and nudges the nape of my neck with his nose. “Hey.”

“What.”

Cardan chuckles, but it sounds nervous. “Jude, I’ve thought about mating with you since I was fourteen. And back then it made me feel panicky and trapped—”

“That’s just what every omega wants to hear.”

“God dammit. Look, I’ve always been afraid to want things—not clothes and shoes and shit, things that matter—because they’re always ruined. I always screw them up, or someone else screws it up for me. This is…” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look down at his hands. “I didn’t want it to happen this way, because who would? But I want to help you through the next heat, and the next one. Actually do it right. I want to be your mate, Jude.”

I turn back around to stare at him, incredulous. “You want that?”

He nods, slowly.

“But you—you didn’t. For days, you didn’t. You held off and it should have been impossible if you actually—wanted me.”

“Well, it felt impossible.” He lets out another nervous chuckle. “I wanted you so bad, but more than that I wanted you to want me. I didn’t want to just go and mount you or whatever the hell I’m supposed to do. For once, I wanted to be better. Sounds crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “It does. You wanted to mate with me so bad that you didn’t mate with me.”

“Jude. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” I protest. “You hurt me all the time.”

“Yeah, I did.” Cardan looks down at his knees. “But not like that. Never like that. I may have made some off-color jokes, but I would never have done what Valerian tried to do. I mean, I hoped I wouldn’t, and now I know.”

“You made me miserable.”

“I know.”

“I definitely shouldn’t want you as a mate.”

“No, I guess you shouldn’t.” Cardan sounds resigned, and hangs his head. “Well, the pheromone marker cleansing is kind of time-consuming and expensive and unpleasant, but I guess—”

I thought hurting him might feel good, but it just feels like a hollow pang in my chest. I ask, “You want me to be your mate, though?”

He looks up at me with those dark eyes. “Yes,” he says.

I nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He stares at me, a grin that he doesn’t dare unleash just yet tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes. I hated you so much for so long because you smelled so good and you were so mean. So if you could stop being mean for a while, and you’ve proven you have, I think we could find some common ground.”

Cardan sniffs. “Well, I may have to remain a little mean. For the sake of my reputation.”

“We’ll see.”

“You don’t want me totally defanged, do you?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He laughs, then he lowers his head to nuzzle again, this time at the bite mark he left on my neck. I am flooded by his delight. From nearby, someone clears their throat. We look up to find a paramedic standing in front of us, face half-hidden by a surgical mask, patiently waiting for us to submit ourselves to examination.

“Oh,” I say. “Uh.”

Cardan, who is utterly without shame, is grinning when he straightens up. “Actually, we’re both fine, thanks.”

“That’s for us to determine,” says the paramedic. Something about him is oddly familiar, but his height and build are totally nondescript. Where could I have seen him before? “To start, we’re going to make sure you’re not concussed.”

Cardan just groans.

The paramedic bends at the waist and takes a penlight out of his pocket. “Just look into the light here for me.”

That voice. It’s the voice. I narrow my eyes at him. It is weird, on second thought, that he’s wearing a mask. It’s not like we’re possibly carrying an infectious disease. Cardan raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t move as the light shines into one pupil. “This is a surprise,” he says, without blinking. “And also, you have to admit, pretty dumb.”

“Suicidal,” I hiss through my teeth. I’m strangely angry. They had to know what a risk it was to come back. They could have gotten away clean. “What are you guys doing here? If my dad catches you—”

“Are you going to tell him?” the Roach asks. He doesn’t sound too worried, which irks me.

I press my lips together, then say, “I should.”

Another of the paramedics kneels at my feet, his sandy head bent. The Ghost. Certainly less conspicuous than the Roach, with his scars. He’s tall, sure, but handsome in a way that’s totally generic. In fact, I’d have a difficult time describing him beyond “tall” and “symmetrical.” He picks up the leg that he shot to dress the wound, once again.

“We had to talk to you,” he says. Always to the point.

Suddenly I am sure that if I turned and looked behind me into the ambulance, the Bomb would wink at me from the driver’s seat. Part of me is relieved they’re okay, and the other part is baffled and horrified at my relief. But they did take care of us through some pretty gross and awful times. They kept me fed, kept me hydrated, kept us company. Maybe it’s natural to feel some degree of attachment.

“Why?” Cardan asks, baffled, as the Roach shines a light in his other eye. “You guys should be on a plane to Morocco by now.”

“Morocco?” I ask.

“It’s pretty. Also, no extradition policy.”

“Why do you even know that?”

Cardan shrugs.

“Look,” the Roach says, “we’re short on time. Your brother and Madoc are going to come over and tell you Dain killed himself out of shame when his plan was discovered. He left a note, confessing, yadda yadda. It’s bullshit. He didn’t commit suicide.”

“What?” Cardan and I ask, in unison.

I shake my head, as if trying to shake off our now unshakeable connection. “Then what happened to him?”

The Ghost doesn’t say anything, or even fully turn his head, but without lifting his eyes from my leg, he somehow indicates where Madoc and Balekin stand, in conversation with the police.

“No,” I whisper. It sounds naive, even to me, but I don’t want to believe Madoc is capable of those horrors, even though the fear our kidnappers expressed when they spoke of him seemed real. “No, it—Dain was a client, he and Madoc were friends—”

“Do you think that would matter if Dain went after Madoc’s family?” the Roach asks.

My stomach turns. “How do you know Dain didn’t kill himself?”

“Because he wouldn’t,” Cardan says quietly. “He’s Dain. He’d think he’s clever enough to find a way out, even if everyone was closing in on him, and he’d probably be right.”

“We don’t know exactly what happened,” the Roach continues. He makes a show of fiddling with the stethoscope around his neck. “We just know that he was increasingly agitated about the way negotiations were going, and then we suddenly had no contact. I went to his office, then to his place. Coroner beat me there. Single gunshot wound to the chest, pistol with his prints on it. Seemed open and shut.”

I sense Cardan’s horror, and look to see that he’s gone pale. I lay my hand on top of his. Something tells me that he doesn’t have much of an issue believing that Balekin is capable of murder, even of a brother. And Cardan clearly didn’t like Dain, but what does that mean for his safety?

“You couldn’t have waited around and told us this in the basement?” I ask, feeling again like I am observing this all from afar, watching a scene in a movie that just happens to star me.

“We didn’t know what Dain told them before he died, so we had to clear out pretty fast. Left your stuff with the cops so you’d be found, left the door unlocked so you could leave whenever you wanted. Besides.” He raises one eyebrow. “You guys were busy.”

I flush; it’s true that Cardan and I couldn’t and wouldn’t have been able to go anywhere once we’d finally given ourselves over to each other. But all of this is too much. “Well, we can’t trust you.”

“You can’t trust your dad,” the Ghost says. “We’ve never lied to you.”

“You did shoot her,” Cardan points out. “Most people would say that’s worse.”

The Ghost just shrugs.

“Look, believe us or don’t,” the Roach says. “But you have to admit that something’s rotten here. You’re going to need help. Eyes and ears. And I also hear that one of you is coming into a very large sum of money and a considerable amount of corporate influence in a little less than a year.”

“There it is,” I mutter.

But Cardan looks delighted. “Do you guys have a business card you can leave with me or something?”

“Are you planning to kidnap anybody?” I demand.

“No, but I could use the help,” Cardan admits. “He’s right. Once I come into that inheritance, there’s going to be a huge target on my back.”

“We’ll call you. In the meantime, you’ve got a clean bill of health.” The Roach pats his shoulder. “Good for you.”

“Thanks, man.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two figures break away from the detectives and begin approaching us. I say, “You’d better clear out.”

The Roach doesn’t thank me, but he gives me a little nod before disappearing around the side of the ambulance, whistling. That’s what passes for honor among thieves, I suppose. The Ghost remains, having drawn the short straw, his generically handsome features apparently working to render him inconspicuous.

“How is she?” Madoc asks him. I make myself look up at his face and try not to think about how, if what the Roach said is true, he might have recently pulled the trigger on one of Cardan’s brothers. The other brother stands next to him, looking less sour than before.

The Ghost stands. “They’re both good to go,” he says. “It looks like she sprained her ankle a few days ago, but it’s healing well.”

“The wound on her leg?”

“Nothing serious.”

Madoc nods, and then turns to me. The Ghost melts back into the scenery as though he wasn’t even there to begin with. No mystery as to how he got that codename.

Balekin stands at Madoc’s side, both men casting shadows across our knees. Madoc’s arms are folded, and Balekin’s jaw is set. I see his eyes find my hand resting on top of Cardan’s, but for some reason I am not at all worried about censure. Not from him.

Balekin says, “We’ve been given leave to take you back to your homes to rest, provided you return tomorrow to give your statements to the police. No one here wishes to… prolong your ordeal.”

“Wait,” I say, my heartbeat picking up in my chest. “Wait. Nobody’s told us what’s going on. Where’s Dain? How do we know he won’t try again?”

“He’s dead,” Madoc declares. “When he realized he wasn’t going to get away with it, that he had no other recourse…”

I swallow. I had hoped he’d say something else, anything else. “Oh. I see.”

Cardan covers his discomfort with a snicker. “Well, good riddance.”

“We’re hoping you can help us fill in the rest of the gaps once you’re up to sharing what, exactly, happened over the past five days,” Balekin says.

“I don’t know how much help we’ll be,” Cardan replies, shrugging loosely. “If it was Dain, we never saw him. And the guys who took us all wore masks.”

I’m surprised at how easily he lies, but maybe I shouldn’t be. I have to reevaluate everything I thought about his childhood; it probably involved a lot of lying to Balekin. Madoc doesn’t seem to notice anything, and it’s hard to get bullshit by him. He just watches me with a quizzical expression.

“Well, maybe you’ll remember something useful after you’ve had your rest.” Balekin jerks his head toward the waiting car, already beginning to walk away, assuming Cardan will follow. “Come on.”

Cardan glances at me with uncertainty, then begins to stand. I take his hand again and pull him back down. “No.”

Balekin turns around. “What did you say?”

I stand now, keeping hold of Cardan’s hand. “I said ‘no.’ I’m sure you have business back in the city. Cardan can come stay with us.” I look at Madoc and try to reassure myself that he is the safer choice. “There’s plenty of room in the house.”

“There is,” Madoc agrees, his tone carefully neutral.

“So it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Balekin looks angry. He doesn’t want to lose his influence on Cardan. “That’s very generous, but I have just gotten my youngest brother back, and I’m not eager to let him out of my sight.”

“He’ll be under Madoc’s protection.”

“You have to admit, it does seem safer,” Cardan chimes in. He seems a little dumbstruck by the way the whole situation is unfolding. Maybe no one’s ever stood up to Balekin before. Certainly

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Balekin says, trying to loom over me. He is tall, but tall doesn’t faze me. “I’m his brother. I’ve been his guardian since he was a child. I will be taking him back.”

“Well, Cardan isn’t a child anymore. He’s an adult, and I’m his mate,” I say, sticking up my chin. “And he is coming with me.”

I yank hard on Cardan’s hand, bringing him to his feet, and start off toward the car Madoc came in. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cardan, smiling, give his brother a shrug. “Omegas,” he says. “What are you gonna do?”

What, indeed. I don’t even know what I am going to do. Everything that happened in the last one hundred and thirty-two hours seems to have pushed us so much further down the road to a strange and dangerous adulthood. I don’t know if either of us are ready for what lies ahead, much less ready to defy our dangerous parental figures or negotiate the relationship we’ll have once I’m in college.

But it doesn’t matter, not right now. Because I have just pulled off a bigger heist than the Ghost, the Roach, and the Bomb could ever dream of. Because Cardan’s hand is in mine. Because his smile is, as always, contagious, so I am smiling too. Because we survived our trial, so maybe we can survive anything. Because he would choose me, and I chose him. Because neither of us is alone. Because he is my mate.

The rest, we’ll figure out when it comes.

[wondernimbus]

a drop in the ocean — sirius black

pairing: sirius black x female!reader

summary: sirius teaches reader that love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

warnings: cheating, swearing

a/n: this was inspired by the song “a drop in the ocean” by ron pope! this is a little different from what i'm used to since the overall theme is a lot more ??? mature ?? i guess ?? i kind of stepped out of my comfort zone with this but i hope you guys like it :')

It's bizarre how much pain can change you.

You become this entirely different person. You look the same on the surface, but somewhere deep inside you, you're someone else. You're stronger. Everything that has happened to you—all the tears you've shed, the people who have hurt you, the pain you've endured—all of them shapes you into something more. Something better.

And one day, you will wake up, look back at everything that you have endured, and you will smile. And it will feel like the puzzle pieces of the world have fallen back into place again—and maybe it's been that way for a long time. Maybe you've come so far in terms of healing and you're only just now starting to notice.

[Y/N] [Y/L/N] wakes up one summer morning, when the sun is warm and promise of a new day looms above her head. She swings her legs over her bed, pads over to the window in the corner of the room where sunshine filters through, draws the curtains open. Here she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just—

Remembers.

And this time, it doesn't hurt anymore.

—

Sirius Black was a charmer.

He wasn't just handsome; he was attractive. He knew exactly how to get people to swoon over him without laying it on too thick. He'd send a quick glance over anyone's way—one that made them feel as though they were the only person on earth he could see—and that person would fall.

They'd want him, fooling themselves into the belief that they were different. That they were special in a way that none of Sirius Black's previous flings were.

They'd end up with their hearts broken, of course. Shattered to bits and left at their feet for them to clean up on their own, because Sirius just couldn't bother.

It would happen within a month or two. Some much less.

But [Y/N] lasted the longest.

She was in Ravenclaw, and had caught Sirius's eye in her sixth year. She wishes she could say that she was different—that she hadn't fallen for him the moment he'd gone up to her in the Great Hall and steered her away from her friends, asking for her name—but she wasn't. She'd taken one look at Sirius's eyes, seen what seemed like genuine sincerity in them, and felt her sixteen-year-old heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest against her will.

Sirius Black liked her.

It took a month before he asked her out. Made it, as some would say, "official". A part of [Y/N] knew that it wouldn't last long, but she would enjoy this—enjoy him—while she still had him. She'd never felt this way for anyone before, and despite her brain telling her that Sirius Black was trouble, her heart said otherwise.

A month together turned into two. And three, and then four, five, and suddenly the rest of Hogwarts was wondering when Sirius planned to break things off with her.

[Y/N] wondered it, too. But Sirius still looked at her the same way he had done all those months ago when he'd asked for her name, like she was everything in the world he'd been hoping for—like she was different. Like he actually held real feelings for her and not just the kind you try out one second and then get bored of the next.

She wanted to believe that look in his eyes, but she'd heard the rumors. and on top of that there were her friends' warnings, telling her that Sirius was no good for her and that he would break her heart one way or the other.

One day, while they sat at the balcony of Ravenclaw tower during one of the many times she'd snuck Sirius into the common room, she glanced at him.

They were sitting on the floor facing each other, legs crossed underneath them. Sirius's hands were in her own; her fingers played with the rings decorating his, turning them over and over.

"I like this one," she murmured, her touch lingering on the silver one on his middle finger. It was elegant, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, simple and with what looked like a crest emblazoned on the middle. She looked up at him and found him looking at her—gaze intense and yet somehow also gentle, like he was memorizing every last detail of her face and committing them to memory. Softly, she asked, "Does it mean anything?"

Sirius made a small sound of confirmation, eyes leaving hers to look down at the ring, watching as her fingers grazed over it. "Yeah," he said quietly, blinking, lashes dusting pale cheeks before he was looking up at her again. It took a while for the rest of his words to get out of his mouth; he looked as though he was in deep thought, watching her with something unreadable dancing just behind his eyes.

And then Sirius was clearing his throat, shifting on where he sat. When he spoke next, his voice was oddly soft. Sincere. (And again [Y/N] found herself wondering: are you pretending?)

Because it was during moments like these that made her think that what Sirius felt for her was real.

"It's from, uh," he cleared his throat again, and [Y/N] didn't fail to notice the sudden rigidness of his shoulders. His gaze was skittering away, looking instead at the scenery below them instead of at her. "It's from James's family. The Potters. I.. ran away from my family, see, about a year ago."

As [Y/N] listened to him speak, watched as his eyes grew hard and he swallowed with difficulty, she realized—this was something important to him. He wouldn't lie about this just to get closer to her; he was laying part of himself bare to her that very few people had ever seen.

"They took me in," Sirius said quietly, still not quite looking at her. "When I had nowhere else to go, they let me stay over at their place. And that same Christmas, they gave me this ring to.. welcome me to their family, I guess." Emotion tugged his lips upwards at the corners. "I'm grateful for them," he told her, nodding a little to himself, and then he was looking up at her, meeting her eyes.

He was relieved to see that there wasn't any sympathy in them. just—and Sirius found it suddenly very hard to breathe—love. Pure, unadulterated love.

"You deserve to be happy," she told him, tone just as soft as the gentle smile on her lips. She pressed her palm into his, fingers slipping into the spaces between his own and squeezing. He squeezed back, still staring at her, and wondered if his lungs had forgotten to stop breathing.

[Y/N] leaned in, lips feather-light in how they ghosted over his cheek, and then she was pulling away, and Sirius's heart was doing something weird inside his chest. "I'm happy you're in a better place now."

Sirius couldn't breathe.

He surged forward, capturing his lips in her own, and at that moment both of them knew this was different; it felt different, more than just a press of the lips, more than just a kiss. Sirius pried her lips apart with his own, taking his sweet, gentle time, and it shot sparks across his body like he'd never felt before. They kissed slow like melted honey, tender and thorough and just a little overwhelming, and Sirius was dizzy with it—he felt like he was drowning.

He was drowning, but he loved every second of it.

—

A few months turned into a year, then two, and before anyone knew it, they were graduating. And still, as they left the gates of Hogwarts to venture out into the world waiting for them, Sirius and [Y/N] were still together. It went against everyone's expectations—and truthfully, [Y/N]'s own—but it made her happy, being with him. and she could only hope that she made him just as happy as he did to her.

They moved into a flat of their own in the outskirts of London. It wasn't anything grand, but it was cozy and clean and it only took a few months for the building to become something of a home to both of them.

[Y/N] loved every moment she spent with Sirius. All their shared smiles, their little, subtle moments of intimacy, the fleeting kisses, waking up in the morning with him by her side—everything.

She loved him so much that it hurt.

Three years into their relationship, as she lay in bed with Sirius, their entire bedroom dark and quiet save for both of their rhythmic breathing, she told him.

"I love you," she whispered into the skin of his shoulder. His arm was draped lazily around her, and she was curled up at his side—and everything about it was painfully familiar. The way his chest rose and fell. The way he stroked at her hair. How he shifted down just the tiniest bit to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

She loved Sirius so much that she didn't even realize—or maybe didn't care—that he never said it back.

—

Maybe it was something that was just ingrained into him. There could have been a million other reasons that all pointed to it not being her fault, but still, for the longest time, she believed that it was.

Sirius was seeing someone else, and he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding it.

One of her friends had told her that they'd seen Sirius in Diagon Alley with another woman at his side. [Y/N] had been angry, but not at Sirius—no, she'd lashed out at her friend, calling her a liar, saying that Sirius would never do something like that.

It's bizarre, the things you do for love. how much you hurt yourself in the process.

Only a week later, she found a letter tucked into the pocket of one of Sirius's coats. It was addressed to a name she did not recognize, and written underneath it were sweet, sweet words that [Y/N] could remember Sirius telling her once or twice before.

you make it hard for me to breathe

everything about you drives me absolutely mad

meet me tomorrow night at the leaky cauldron and

[Y/N] stopped reading. Her hands were shaking too badly; the letter fell from her hands and onto the floor. There was bile rising in the back of her throat.

Her knees went weak underneath her. She leaned on the bed for support—the same bed they'd laid in just this morning, the same bed he'd murmured the very same things written in that blasted letter—

"Oh, God." She let out a ragged, broken sound, hands clutching at her own chest as though it would help ease the pain. She couldn't breathe. "Fuck. Fuck."

[Y/N]  didn't know why, but when Sirius came back home that night, claiming that he'd gone over to James and Lily to say hi, she didn't bring up the letter right away.

"How's Lily?" she asked, not looking up from where she sat on the couch, instead pretending that she was invested in a copy of the Witch Weekly magazine in her hands.

"She's doing fabulous," grinned Sirius, shrugging off his coat as he made his way over to her. "Her belly bump's getting a lot more noticeable. James is seconds away from absolutely losing it. He's always frantic—I swear he thinks the baby's going to pop out out of bloody nowhere."

[Y/N]'s senses weren't working properly. She hummed something inaudible in response. A single, painful thought was wafting around her head—a question that she now knew the answer to perfectly well.

Sirius strode over to her, draping his coat over the arm of the couch before moving around the coffee table to sit next to her. He was smiling. "But how was your day, love?" he said, and then he was leaning over, reaching out with one hand to tilt the side of her head towards him—

You're pretending. Always pretending. As soon as he made contact with her skin, she was flinching away, and Sirius knew that something was wrong.

"Is everything alright, doll?" he asked, brows furrowing into a frown of concern. His hand hovered somewhere next to her face, still, fingertips just barely ghosting her cheek.

Before Sirius knew it, [Y/N] was standing up and flinging the daily prophet onto the coffee table. There was something swimming in her eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint, but he felt something stirring in his gut—something like realization.

Something like guilt.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. "Doll," he said softly, and to him, it sounded like damnation.

And then [Y/N] said something that made his intestines feel like they were twisting into knots—"I know," [Y/N] said, without looking at Sirius. "I know everything."

Sirius blinked.

His grip on her wrist faltered, hand falling into his lap. There was a moment of thick, heavy silence. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by several degrees; Sirius felt cold sweat trickle down the side of temple. The space around him suddenly didn't seem to have enough oxygen.

And yet he let out a choked laugh, if only to quell the storm within his heart. "I don't," he began. His voice was unstable. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She was making her way to the door, but her movements were hesitant, like she didn't quite want to go—or rather, she was unsure where to go. She paused halfway to it, hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Just stop," she said. Resignation etched her voice. She leaned a hand on the wall, back still turned to him as she muttered to herself, sounding as though she'd lived entire countless lifetimes and had had enough, "Stop with the lies, Sirius. I'm done."

Sirius's limbs were getting up of their own accord, approaching her where she stood. But even he knew that he wasn't allowed to have her anymore, not at this moment—not at any moment, not ever—so he halted a few feet away from her, hand reaching out as though he wanted to touch her, gather into his arms and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

That he hadn't done anything wrong. But he did, and now he was paying for it.

When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion and there was undeniable pain in her eyes; “I'm only going to say this once,” she said, the lump in her throat audible. She turned around, meeting his gaze, anyone could tell that she was trying to sound strong—trying to sound like all of this didn't hurt her as much as it really did—but all of her walls were crumbling down on her, and it didn't sound like she'd be able to pick herself back up.

She swallowed with difficulty, blinking rapidly as though to fend off tears. “This is the last time you will ever lie to me again."

She looked up at him. Sirius's breath hitched in his throat. “I’m done,” she spat. “I’m done pretending like I’m okay with all of your crap. I’m fucking done.”

Sirius opened his mouth. There were a hundred explanations resting on the tip of his tongue, but all of them sounded like excuses, and he knew that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

And Sirius was the last person she wants to see.

He watched, with gut-wrenching guilt swimming in the pit of his stomach, as she wiped aggressively at her tears with the back of her hand and sent him a look of the utmost loathing—but Sirius saw right through it. He saw her pain.

Pain he had caused. Pain he knows he still caused.

“I hope you’re fucking happy,” she choked out, meaning to sound angry, but all Sirius heard was pain.

As she slammed the door shut on her way out, Sirius wondered to himself, as his knees buckled and he leaned on the couch for support, if [Y/N] would ever be the same again.

He'd made a mistake; a terrible one. And there was no going back from it now.

—

She did.

That is—she healed. It took her time, of course. Quite a lot of it.

Years passed by in a hazy blur. There were people who grew close to her, people who promised her the same things that she believed in so long ago. That she would be loved by them unconditionally if she just let her walls down and gave herself a chance to try and trust someone again.

It was difficult. She'd loved Sirius as though he were everything in the world that mattered—she had offered him all of her despite knowing that every moment he spent with her was a lie. every kiss, every promise; lies. All of them.

And yet she'd loved him, and when you love someone, you don't care about anything else but them. You don't listen when all of your friends tell you that he isn't good for you, and you don't care when he climbs out of bed in the morning, not quite meeting your gaze when he tells you he's going to visit a friend.

If you love someone, you don't care about all of that.

Or at least you tell yourself that, until you realize that you do. You do care.

[Y/N] realized it far later.

It was that that gave her the strength to walk away from him, despite her heart telling him that it's okay—why should it matter if he doesn't love you back? As long as you love him, it's okay.

It wasn't.

God, it really, really wasn't.

So [Y/N] lived on, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. And it's funny, how pain changes you. At first you think you're never going to be the same again—that you will be heartbroken forever, wallowing in your own self-pity—but the more time passes, the stronger you get. You don't feel it right away.

But one day, many, many years later, when her heart has healed, and she wakes up and realizes that she is loved by people around her and by herself, the way Sirius Black had never done—she realizes:

She is strong. So much stronger than the person she was before.

For the first time in a very long time, when his name wafts back into her head again, she doesn't feel pain.

Instead, the corners of her lips tug up into a small smile.

Here, in front of the window, with the warm sunlight painted across her face, her lashes flutter open.

I'm done pretending.

And now, there is no more pain in her eyes. 

There hasn't been for a long time now.

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​

[purplerose244]

My thoughts on Seabound!!! 🌊🌊🌊 (3/4)

SPOILERS ALERT!!!

Yep yep yep, I'm liking this season a lot! 😍 Although I hope we'll get into a more frantic situation now, like with more battles and more bonding moments (Nya and Maya hopefully, but with Bentho too 🦈🦈🦈)! We got half a season to go, I'M READY!! 😎😎

Alright, here we go!

GENERAL THOUGHTS

I do like the season a lot, maybe MoM was a little more cohesive? Idk but it's not a big complain, I still love it so far 😍

Also maybe I would've liked more interactions between Nya and Maya about how they've been apart for so long, they had a chit chat but I would've loved even more. Maybe with Nya saying that it was fine and she grew up only to realize she is still hurt by that, even though it wasn't Maya's fault. I still like how they did it, I wished there was more that's it 🤷‍♀️

While I do make sense to Maya's behavior, that while it seems a little different from Hands of Time it had its logic in my opinion, maybe Ray feels a little weird? He seems less courageous than before, and it was established that he is a hothead like his son so that came off as unusual 🤔🤔

But I do love the fact that he's here and he's bonding with his son, for real, I've been waiting for this for so long so I'm happy nonetheless 🤩

Maybe I'm just easy to please and I take all I can get idk 😅

THE STORM AMULET

Oh, are we gonna address the wind element? It feels like we haven't really seen a Morro reference since Hands of Time, that would be cool! 😍 I mean, why even mentioning the wind then 😅😅

Well what do you know, they tracked them, who saw that coming?... me, I saw that coming... we all did probably 🤷‍♀️

Jay took upon himself making a quick recap on how Ninjago will be destroyed this time, thanks Bluebell 👌

Yep nyeheh electricity makes Nya go crazy for sure ❤💙 ... wait it wasn't a Jaya pun?

Jay wear your seatbelt please, you risk you life enough 😅😅 Pff lol "are we there yet" and they are actually there, biggest plot twist I've ever heard of 😂

LEGO HUG 💜💜💜

And with someone who might as well join the League of Jay apparently 💙

I liked The Island yet it was not as exciting as I hoped for, but now understand the meaning of it. The ninja helped the keepers and they are all allies. Without The Island the moment where Mammatus gives Nya the amulet wouldn't be as meaningful

Is it just me or Nya looked even more gorgeous during that moment?... just me huh? Okay then 😂💕

Wait that's a fake? Wait... UNCLE POWERS?!? OMG THAT I ACTUALLY DIDN'T SEE COMING 🤯

Here I thought he was just messing around, he always makes things harder 😅 Or maybe better? I mean, they kinda missed a bullet on this one...

BENTHO IS SO SWEET AND COOL OMG HE IS ALREADY OUR FRIEND 💙🦈💙🦈

Jay somehow had his own TV show in the past and yet he's got that horrible acting skills wth 😂😂😂

Kalmaar is a very cool villain, like, deeply evil. Not only he's calculated and merciless, he stops at nothing to get what he wants. And the people that get in the way? He wants them to suffer because they had dared to confront him 😳

And yes the voice does help a lot, I'm sorry I'll keep saying it until the season is over 😂 (or even beyond? Please cast Giles again LEGO 🥺🥺🥺)

Awww Nya no my poor girl 😢 Jay wanted to hug her to comfort her he is so sweet my SHIP ❤💙❤💙

MOM PEP TALK MOM PEP TALK!!! 🤩🤩🤩 How cool was it?

Like, this isn't even Maya asking Nya to believe in herself, this is her saying that she KNOWS her daughter can do anything when she puts her mind into it. FINALLY SHE SEES HOW AMAZING WATER GODDESS IS 💜💜💜

MORE LEGO TEARS OMG THIS SEASON IS FILLED WITH TEARS 😱 Which... kinda makes sense considering it's a water based season 😂

Nice one, and now? NOW WE GO BACK TO KAI COLE AND RAY YAS!!! ❤🖤❤🖤

RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX

That is... surprisingly Egypt theme like? It feels like a title coming from the Fire Chapter of season 11... well we got two fire elementals so 😍😍

SPARRING KAI AND RAY

I REPEAT SPARRING KAI AND RAY!!! SPARRING KAI AND RAY!!! ❤❤❤ Lol Ray got old, but how can someone blame him? He did touch death while aging in Hands of Time, I'm just happy he is alive 😂

Yep, master prankster Wu, that's what I love 👌👌 I always thought Wu had become a father figure for Kai at the beginning, so seeing Ray and Wu in the same picture feels very wholesome to me 😚

Ah, uncle Powers, I both love you and hate you so freaking much 😌😌 But you make cool slides nonetheless 😂

ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME WITH BEAUTIFUL SMITH INTERACTIONS??

BECAUSE I LIKE IT KEEP GOING 🤩

Oh no you guys are stranded on an island whatever are you going to do?? It's not like you had already before and managed to survive (Skybound) or you got stranded on a rock in a sea of sand filled with giant monsters (Fire Chapter) or you were on a freaking COMET in SPACE (Rebooted). Yeee, this is the worst yet 🙂

I'm starting to think these ninja are just a bunch of drama queens so no matter what happens, it's always hopeless 😂😂 I feel like I'm kinda right on this one honestly 😛

Whoa whoa WHOA WHO IS NYAD THIS SOUNDS VERY COOL???

Aww I like that, while Ray told his kids stories about dragons and how they traveled through the Underworld, Maya told them about Nya the first water master that could summon whales 💙❤💙❤

Pff imagine if it turned out Nya was the master of fire, carrying a very water based name? Lol

Maya: I would know if it was possible!

Nya: Yeah, like she knows that I can control a bit of ice because it's frozen water

Maya:...

Maya: YOU WHAT

I find both interesting and very annoying that this explorers club thinks so highly of themselves, to the point the deny to aid even the FREAKING SAVIORS OF THEIR FREAKING LAND 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Misako got good reflexes after all, Kai was probably ready to melt this guy's face 😅

Oh, so a trial by Sphinx is a challenge? A mental one? A cultural one? A physical one? Idk but Misako is actually taking charge and that is cool I guess 🤷‍♀️

Okay this is kind of weird, how is Ray so afraid? Is it because there's fire?... did he... did he grow afraid of fire for some reason? Because it feels a bit off for now, but if there is a deeper meaning that could be interesting 🤔

Wait is that the riddle from Decoded? That's fire right?

IT IS FIRE 🔥🔥🔥

Lol at least in this one Kai wasn't completely ignored 😂 I know my flame babe isn't the most rational person, but I do like that it was an answer connected to his element where he used his head!

Ah Clutch, you really got no backbone 😅 And apparently you're the only explorer who doesn't, dang look at the others go! I'm having a bit more respect for them now 😚

LOOK AT SENSEI GO FINALLY!!! 😍😍 FIGHTING SCENES HECK YES!!!

Kalmaar: I'm your conquerer

Wu: so after skeletons, the serpentine, nindroids, the Stone Army, Chen's army, ghosts, oni, more snakes but on fire and people from a game, that makes you the tenth. Have a free cookie

Kalmaar:...

Wu: you're not special

Is this a little throwback to Possession too? Nya seems to always control better water when she doesn't actually think about it. When her feelings are free, so are her powers 🌊🌊🌊

Also this opens up more possibilities! Creatures connected with other elements might get summoned too! I would love something like that 😍😍

This was NEAT, or maybe I just missed Kai that much ❤ What's next??

PAPERGIRL

ANTONIAAAAAAAA!!!! MY GIRL IS BACK!!! All my girls are back in this season, I'm so happy 😍😍😍 And if she is here, sweet little Nelson has to be around and I cannot wait! Bring in the purple ninja! 💜

Owww Antonia's last day as a papergirl? Nooo why??

She's got a job at the... DAIRY DRAGON??? OMG OMG OMG IT'S THE ICE CREAM PLACE BRAGI TOLD US ABOUT ON TWITTER!!! 🤩🤩🤩 I remember the post, he was asking about names for the place and ice cream flavors. Now I can't wait to see what did he choose 🍦🍦🍦

UNAGAMI BABY HI HONEY!!! 🙋‍♀️ I hope he's doing great 😘😘

This is so cool honestly, Antonia got her own character arc going on! Living in a chaotic city like Ninjago City must be pretty dang exhausting 😅

Was... was that Dareth in the garbage can? Am I wrong? Poor brown ninja 😅🤎😅

SPINJITZU SWIRL, BANANAKHAN, ORANGE SERPENTINE, I'M DYING 😂😂😂

Their friendship is so wholesome, I'm so happy they are still together no matter what happens 💕

I thought Kalmaar wasn't much of a fighter but DANG he's got skills! Also the fact that he uses tentacles makes the fight very cool to watch! 😚😚

RAY RUNNING IN AFTER KAI GOT HURT HECK YES ❤❤❤

Well at least you tried Ray 😅

Ah, little cameo of the original Weekend Whip, always nice to hear it again... AND DO THE WEEKEND WHIP!!! 🌪🌪🌪

EVEN NELSON GOT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT I'M SO PROUD 💜

I don't even know what is cooler, the kids being mad lads on their bikes, Kalmaar driving a TRUCK or Kai going full parkour on the buildings to follow them 🤯

I'm sorry... am I the only one that during the Kai and Kalmaar talk kinda thought of Jestro and Clay? I miss my boys from NK, they're even more at odds now 😭😭

KAI YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE OR EVEN TRY TO DIE GET BACK HERE AT ONCE 😱😱

Kalmaar just loves to make everyone feel inferior, gotta be his hobby 😶

Oh good Kai is back

OH NOT GOOD KAI IS NOT BREATHING?!? FLAME BABE I TOLD YOU YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE 😱😱😱

Antonia, Nelson, you guys are now my heroes. You saved my fave, I'll be forever in dept with you ❤❤❤ Am I being overdramatic? Most likely, but Kai is one of the few that didn't almost die or did die in a dramatic situation and he is also my absolute favorite character so that... kinda keeps my sanity in check in this show 🥴

I wonder... does he still not know how to swim? He saved Lloyd in Possession but I wonder if he was only trying to float on the surface... THAT'S TERRIFYING

This episode was so adorable, I love Antonia and Nelson so much 💜💕💜💕 It's nice to see what the other people of Ninjago do while everything goes mad 🤣

Wait hang on my Ninjajan is a little rusty

"Ninjago City. City that never sleeps" well if that ain't the truth 😂

MASTER OF THE SEA

Like Master of the Mountain? Wait are we going back to Shintaro?? VANYA?? ANOTHER BEST GIRL RETURNS??? 💛

Hey hey hey, we got a full Nyad backstory! I really like when they do these little drawn shots, they feel more like legends! And... the ending sounds terrifying? Like, they wouldn't let Nya sacrifice herself and die... again... right? 😱

Bentho: and the world was in balance, until now because of my brother

Lloyd: and the Overlord before of course

Bentho: the what now?

Lloyd: the evil one my grandpa the first Spinjitzu Master fought?

Bentho: YOUR WHAT NOW

Why do I like this offscreen "hiiiyaaa" that sensei Wu does before actually going into the scene? 😂😂

No matter if they come from the underground or the sea, these are all snake-like creature with the same intellect 😅 Kalmaar and Garmadon would have a lot to talk about, sea king dealing with his minions does remind me of Lord Garmadon in season 2 a lot 😂😂

KAI AND RAY FIGHTING TOGETHER KAI AND RAY FIGHTING TOGETHER ❤🔥❤🔥❤🔥❤🔥❤

OMG Kalmaar is such a brat and petty villain I love him so much 😂😂😂 Yes I didn't even mention his amazing voice!... AH DANG IT 😳😳

*Misako kicks Kalmaar and is actually useful* 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️

*Misako gets taken as hostage immediately after* 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

KAI LITERALLY JUST GOT SAVED FROM DROWNING WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO HIM!!!... and Ray and Cole and Wu of course, I care okay 😅

OMG that face 🤣🤣🤣

That some meme material right there

Whoa Vincent that voice just got super up when the Unsinkable showed up, it kinda sounded like Jay's lol

NO NOT BENTHO!!! 😢😢😢

Kai: Nya talks to whales now? (I snorted so hard at this 😂😂)

HECK YES NYA GOT THE AMULET!! 😍😍😍 ... we got, like, four more episodes to go so something needs to happen in between... do I need to be scared? I feel like I need to be scared 😅

Jay starting a fire then blaming Kai?... this is so in character I got chills 😂😂

SHARK BOY IS STAYING TO THE MONASTERY THIS IS SO PRECIOUS!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 I want all the shenanigans and we need to write fanfictions about more shenanigans and AAAAHHHHH 🦈🦈🦈

Bless these two fire idiots

They own my heart ❤🔥❤🔥 Also Vincent, this is supposed to be a fun little gag moment, your amazing voice acting is kinda distracting me 😭😭😭

ANOTHER LEGO HUG

YOU GUYS ARE SPOILING ME OVER HERE HECK YES 💙🌊💙🌊

Maya learned that her daughter is capable of everything, I love that. Nya simply understood that she doesn't have to give up when something gets difficult. She is AMAZING and can do anything she puts her mind into. She simply has to hold on until the end 💪💪💪

Omg Benthomaar playing billiard with the guys I already love this 😍😍

YES IT IS SHINTARO!!! THE UPPLY ARE HERE OMG!!! HI VANYA YOU LOOK AMAZING GIRL MISS YOU I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OKAY!!! 💛💛💛 ... I just really like Master of the Mountain okay 😅

I love how Vanya doesn't even question it. It comes from Cole and he said it needs to be protected? Done and done 👌

Wait what, did something fall?

IS THAT THE FAKE?!?!? WHAT HOW WHEN??? UNCLE POWERS??? OR KALMAAR DID SOMETHING??? SOMEONE??? I'M LEGIT CONFUSED AND EXCITED??? 🤯🤯🤯

Well dang, I didn't see that coming, now what Seabound? What do you have for me?

[eigakan-no-neko]

Pulse - Kurosawa

I really did enjoy this movie until the ending. The last 30 minutes should have just been cut or at least after the Harue kills herself in the abandoned factory (also when she shoots herself there’s no blood so it just looked like she shot herself with a fake gun and died somehow). It was another horror movie we watched which I thought the horror aspect of it was fine. When people die or disappear in the film all that is left of them is a black outline of their body which looks like black mold. That to me is pretty terrifying since the unexplained is more scary to me than any jump scare or body horror will ever be. In the university the computer program with the dots was really interesting and I thought it would have more to do with the plot than it really did. The beginning of the movie primarily uses technology as a medium for which the ghosts use to haunt the characters. I was really disappointed when they just abandoned that towards the middle of the movie. It was also really confusing to me as well since I thought the movie was going to focus more on "the ghosts are in the internet ooo scary" kind of plot. Through out the movie I did notice that there were less background characters and I did not take that as them dying from whatever was ultimately killing everyone. I thought that this indicated the loneliness is a terrifying feeling and the isolation that comes with it makes it seem like you are the only person left in the world. Oh my god did the ending just throw this out of the window. The end of the movie just turns into the movie "Left Behind" which is just really funny honestly. I'm pretty sure that movie came out before this one so it might have influenced this movie a little bit. Again, I really wish it did not end like this. I could get around the part where the friend disappears into a weird flurry of cgi ashes that really did not age well but when the US military plane crashed into a building I just thought the movie was just too silly. Another thing that took me out of the whole horror aspect of the movie was when the first guy who walks through the red tape is scared by the woman. Also on the note of the red tape, I took that as a reference to the lambs blood in Exodus during Passover which was really neat to me. Back to the woman, the woman’s arms and weird dance combined with the strange choice in music just totally took the scary out of it. Like, she just dances towards him slowly and he’s scared of that? This movie started out really strong for me which really let me down because it could have been a really scary movie about the internet and computers but the end just totally ruined it for me.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

for the ship headcanon meme: star trek pairing of choice, #16-#20?

Bet you thought I forgot about this ask meme, fuckers!  And you’re right, I did, but the beauty of forgetting is that sometimes you remember.  Anyway, as always, it’s Michael/Saru Hours, lads.

16) When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

This is not a headcanon, but I have this fragment of a fic idea in my head based on this question, and that fragment of a fic idea is like...some kind of case fic where Discovery finds a planet being ravaged by Basically A Zombie Apocalypse and Michael and Saru get stranded there.  Ideally, for my personal enjoyment, I would want to slot it into the plot of s1 as early as possible, because the best/worst dynamic there would be Michael choking with guilt and yet still one of the finest scientific minds in Star Fleet, and Saru unable to keep himself from pressing on the fresh bruise of loss, unable to trust her, and the two of them still working together flawlessly.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?  Even when they can’t stand each other, they argue like a choreographed dance, and when the chips are down and they have to think on their feet, they still move like Georgiou’s trusted right and left hands.

Anyway.  That, but make it zombies.

17) When they find a time machine, where do they go?

If Michael came into possession of a time machine that actually allowed her to reliably control where she went and let her come back, I think she would sit down and try to do the temporal math to figure out how to avert the war.  I do not, however, believe that Michael and Saru, survivors of a fair amount of timeline hopping already, would actually risk going back in time.  I think they would both talk about wanting to go back, specifically because they know the other will talk them out of it, but I don’t think they would do it.

That being said, I would love a lotus eater prison AU where Michael and Saru are trapped in an idyllic dream of a world where the Shenzhou was never destroyed, Michael was being prepared to be promoted off the ship as a captain, and Saru was preparing to take her place, ft a lot of sadness about Georgiou and Michael and Saru working together to find a way to wake up.

18) When they fight, how do they make up?

Michael wears Raised On Vulcan tattooed on her face, sometimes, and especially when she defensive or guilty--if she’s angry with Saru, she’ll tell him exactly what she thinks he’s doing wrong, to his face, and it takes her a long time to learn that she should pull that punch a little more with people she cares about.  On the upside, that means that, when she feels like she’s been out of line and unnecessarily harsh, she’ll walk right up to Saru and tell him, blunt as anything, what she did, why she thinks it was wrong, and that she understands if he’s angry with her.  

This was initially…a weird experience for Saru on several levels, if he’s being honest.  A lot of his experience with people is colored heavily by the fact that very few people know how to deal with Kelpiens, and that means that he’s either handled like glass or he puts in the work to be treated like any of the other crew members. He’s not really sure how to deal with someone who handles him with exactly the same unemotional ruthlessness as everyone else, and it’s disorienting, and it makes him angry that it’s disorienting, because that’s what he wants, but also, Michael is sometimes an asshole.  She’s the first person that he’s ever argued with on the regular—really argued, a push and counterpush, shoving each other away from the science console and pulling out ad hominem attacks in a way that visibly infuriates Michael’s Vulcan training.  But quite frankly, they never felt like they needed to apologize for those early fights, under Georgiou.  It was part of the ship dynamic, to have Burnham and Saru trying to take strips off each other in a very professional and scientific manner.  As long as Saru never took a cheap shot over Michael’s upbringing and Michael resisted the impulse to go full xenoanthropologist on Saru’s species, they were very good at fighting.

(Personally I am of the belief that Michael only tried to pull the I understand where you’re coming from because of what your species makes you after the mutiny, after she was trying to be nice.  Before then, she expected Saru to perform to her standards and fuck the details.  Half the reason he’s so coldly furious with her over it is because he knows she’s trying to manipulate him, because if she wasn’t, she would never play that card, because no matter how nasty their fights were, she always fought with him as a person, not as a Kelpien.)

19) Where do they go on their first date?

There’s a fic that bounces around my brain every time I watch Discovery, and it’s about Michael and Saru having a first date (sort of) very late at night, when they’re both having trouble sleeping.  It’s not an arranged date, they’re not even really friends even though they’ve gotten past the stage of Michael letting Saru flay her alive for her guilt, but Michael is having trouble sleeping and she’s not a prisoner anymore, so she wanders, and Saru, frankly, sleeps like hypervigilant garbage since the Binary Stars, so he has a preferred hiding spot on one of Discovery’s few observation decks.  As Lorca likes to point out, they’re not a goddamn pleasure cruiser, but Star Fleet never built a ship without at least one view panel, not even their top-secret war machine.

Michael is avoiding people—she hates being asked why she’s awake, gets tangled up in her automatic shame over not being able to control her emotions.  It’s the middle of the “night” by ship standards, but Discovery seethes with activity around the clock, especially since Stamets pulls regular all-nighters when he gets really entranced and often has to be peeled away from his work by Local Exasperated Doctor Hugh Culber.  So she ducks into the parts of the ship that she usually doesn’t go, the places that are more for socializing and are empty at this hour, the places that aren’t often used, the places that are quiet.

She finds the observation deck dim and blessedly silent, with the stars spreading infinitely outside.  The room is faintly lit by the nebula off to the starboard bow, the one they’re using to hide their signature while they run some necessary repairs.  It’s a practical use, but it’s also beautiful, every window in the ship glowing with warm reds and golds, and Michael still finds the stars soothing after all this time, and so she drifts up to the glass with the vague plan of sitting down and spending an hour or two there in an attempt at meditation.  She only sees Saru, leaning back against the edge of the viewing window, when she’s close enough to nearly trip over one of his long legs, stretched out in front of him.

Michael, of course, apologizes, and turns to leave.  Saru never really does have a good answer, as to why he stops her.  But he doesn’t ask any questions about why she’s awake and she doesn’t ask any questions about what he’s doing here, and instead they sit in relative quiet for a while before Saru sits up straighter and offers Michael, again, a small bowl of fruit. It’s not familiar to her, this time, but he says it won’t hurt her, that it’s sort of like a lychee, and she believes him.  It leaves a bit of thin red juice on her fingers when she bites into the first one, and he recommends eating them whole to avoid it while she ruefully sucks the juice off her thumb.  It’s good—less sweet than she expected.  Saru settles next to her in the middle of the window and sets the bowl between them, and she asks how he always manages to have fresh fruit, and he admits that he can wring a lot more out of the replicators since he never gets meat. Somehow it turns into—talking.

Michael is startled to realize, around the hour mark of murmured conversation, that she might have literally never just talked to Saru before. It’s—nice.

(Because I’m physiologically incapable of letting things be nice, if I wrote this fic there would be an immediate sequel of Observation Deck Chats Redux, featuring them doing basically the same thing but after Michael gets back from the Mirrorverse.  Michael leans against Saru’s shoulder in a way that she would never, if she hadn’t been awake with nightmares and grief for pushing three days, and she tells him about the Empire like she’s confessing her sins, and they talk quietly about the ghost haunting their ship in the shape of Empress Philippa Georgiou. It’s not nice, but not for lack of kindness.)

20) Where do they go on holiday?

I think Saru and Michael would have two very distinct kinds of “holiday” and they have two destinations accordingly.

The first kind of holiday is Nerd Holiday, in which they find an unexplored planet and appoint themselves to the away team—everyone else on the away team is wryly aware that they are, essentially, third-wheeling a date, but Discovery has watched this whole situation unfold and honestly the popular opinion is that it would actually be easier to deal with a little bit of PDA than the current Very Professional Mutual Adoration Show.  Local Red Shirt Absolutely Agonized By The Very Correct Ten Inches Of Space Between Her Captain And First Officer, Reports As They Come.  Michael and Saru are pleasantly unaware of this and are having a great time arguing over whether they need another sample of that plant if it’s just a different color.

The second kind of holiday is actual fucking shore leave.  They both prefer planets or stations with a large variety of species—Saru is uneasy with being the center of attention among strangers, and since he stands head and shoulders above a decent percentage of the Federation, it’s hard to avoid unless they’re in mixed company; Michael never quite recovered from the perpetual sense of disjoint when it comes to being around all humans or all Vulcans, so being in a place where everyone is different makes her feel less out of place.  Neither of them like big crowds, so they’re the tourists who immediately leave the usual Tourist Area and find somewhere else to be, which has its ups and downs.  The first time they get into trouble on a totally safe colony planet because they decided to go exploring, there’s a beat of them looking at each other and silently agreeing that they won’t be telling the crew about this, because there’s already a running ship joke about what trouble magnets they are and they do NOT need to feed anyone more material.

[doctors-star]

u want prompts? i am going to make shit up. how about trying to outrun a horse or piggy back rides for cowboys

“Well,” Finn says cheerfully, patting Johnny’s chest with the flat of his hand as though to reward him for good behaviour. “This may just be our dumbest idea yet.”

“Then we ain’t doin’ half bad,” Johnny objects, shifting Finn’s weight on his back as he carefully picks his way through the grasslands. In the half-dark of the moon and stars, the prairie is as a great aquamarine ocean of shifting blue-green grass that brushes against Finn’s dangling ankles as Johnny walks, and it has the curious edge of unfamiliarity and unreality in the night. Finn ain’t that heavy, and he knows the lands around Danser well enough not to be worried about getting lost, but it’s more than just the occasion that has him pressing hard for home - there’s a distinct undefined weird at play tonight, and he’s keen for familiar sights and sounds to ground him. Bitchin’ at Finn goes some way towards that. “If me carryin’ you through the night is our worst, we got a good ways to fall.”

“Oh, sure, and we’re gonna,” Finn says, still irrepressibly bright. “But we are tryin’ to outrun a horse, so. Although, I guess you’re outrunning the horse - I’m competing with the rider.”

Johnny considers, not for the first time, the merits of dropping Finn, and finds them barely insufficiently compelling. “You’re being the horse next time,” he grunts.

“Never fear,” Finn says smugly and ruffles Johnny’s hair now that he’s too pinned down to wriggle angrily away - Johnny does toss his head crossly, but this just makes him stumble. “Next time we have to run for it on foot in the night on account of how everything’s gone wildly tits up and Ainsel’s accidentally made off with our horses, you can stick your foot in a gopher hole and I’ll carry ya home.”

“Too kind,” Johnny grumbles absently, pausing to make use of a small rise and reacquaint himself with his surroundings. The desert falls off to the south, the trees forming a sharp dark line to the north and east, and somewhere between ‘em, Danser. And, god willing, Ainsel and Tommy with the horses, Will with his bag of bandages, and Noel with some helpful words of severe disapproval. No matter what Johnny had said about having yet further to fall - this displayed a level of ineptitude Noel was not, exactly, going to love.

“We’ll have more cover in the trees,” Finn points out rather more seriously.

Johnny makes a face. “Too dark - ain’t no sense in us both busting our ankles and falling in the creek in the dark.”

Finn pauses, like he’s weighing the truth of that against how funny he reckons it’d be, but concedes the point. “Desert’s a bit exposed, though,” he says, sounding resigned.

“Yeah,” Johnny says slowly, and not without confusion, as he continues down the rise and on through the grass. He shifts Finn on his back again - all right, maybe Finn is kinda heavy, or at least, his weight is wearing on Johnny - and there’s a rustle in the grass on the tree-side of them. Johnny doesn’t figure it’s much they gotta worry about: coney maybe, or gopher come out to ogle the humans outta their natural habitat - but Finn flinches away from it like he reckons the gophers have all gone rabid, or something. “I figured we’d keep going in the prairie grass ‘til we hit town.”

Finn fidgets awkwardly and nearly sends them both arse over elbow until Johnny works a hand free and smacks him quickly on the thigh. “I just-” he begins awkwardly, giving off the impression that it is only a great deal of effort that is keeping him from fidgeting. “I don’t much wanna be on prairie lands after dark, y’know.”

Johnny does not know. “I don’t wanna be out here either,” he says, bewildered. “That’s why we’re heading on home.”

“Oh, sure,” Finn says, like he’d kinda forgotten that they were desperadoes on the run, “but - I don’t wanna be here, specifically. Desert’d be fine.”

“‘Cept how we’d be shot for morons without any cover,” Johnny points out, not very gently. He twists his head awkwardly and manages a good squint at Finn’s cheekbone and a crick in his neck. “What’s eatin’ you, huh? You ain’t never gone off the prairie before.”

“Hayfever?” Finn tries.

“So help me God, Finn, I’ll drop you.”

Finn clings a little tighter, ankle flinching away from the floor. “Awright, jeez. It’s just-” he sighs massively, breath gusting down Johnny’s neck like the touch of a ghost and making him shiver. “I don’t wanna come across the Coyote.”

Johnny shifts Finn’s weight again and ignores the twinge in his back, pressing on along his straight line across the grasses to the faint lights of the town. “Coyotes aren’t that dangerous. Will says-”

“Not coyotes,” Finn corrects, “the Coyote. He, uh, might not want me hanging around long after dark. Not my patch,” he says, as if that’s cleared everything up.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got a feud with a coyote that’s landed you a curfew?”

“No-o,” Finn says carefully. “It’s not that bad. But. We might be better off in the desert.”

“Did you hear me about the gettin’ shot thing?” Johnny snaps, a bit louder than he had meant to. And then he stumbles forward a few more steps, emerging into a bizarre clearing of grass which he definitely had not seen from the little hill, or even one step before landing in it - this perfect circle of mown-short grass. Sitting in the middle of it is a coyote.

It tilts its head on one side.

Finn offers a sharp, nervous grin. “Technically,” he says to the coyote, “I am not on the prairie. So.”

The coyote does not so much as blink.

Johnny reckons he might be in over his head more than a little. “Desert, you said,” he declares firmly and begins trekking south.

Finn does not relax. There is a rustling noise behind them - quite a lot like the sound of a coyote following them through the grass. Johnny attempts to pick up the pace.

“I am sorry about this,” Finn says conversationally. “But can you go any faster.”

“Nope,” Johnny puffs. “You’re fuckin’ heavy.” He manages a slight increase in speed, which the coyote matches easily, and nearly trips over his own feet for it. This had not been so difficult when they’d started out - Finn seems to be getting heavier by the second, like every inch of him is slowly turning to lead.

It reminds him of a warm day when he wasn’t quite grown, but wasn’t a boy either - there had been an accident, and his Uncle Jack had died, and he was tall enough to be one of the men carrying the coffin. If, and only if, he could contain his excitement at being considered one of the men, said his mother, for long enough to behave decently, jeez. So he’d wrangled himself into solemn calm and taken up his place behind his father, and lifted when told to - and he remembers thinking, dang, why’d we need six men? Uncle Jack isn’t heavy at all. Until they’d started walking, and then Johnny had been glad of the others - but still, not too bad. But they’d kept walking. And kept walking. And by the time they’d reached the church his arms were shaking and his breath came fast and he couldn’t put Uncle Jack down fast enough, the corpse’s limbs all slowly petrifying and dragging them all down, inexorably, inevitably, into the dust.

Finn is heavy as a dead body on his back.

It is suddenly less difficult to push those last yards and hurl them both over the boundary, into the dirt. Finn is thrown from his back and rolls neatly; instinctively he tries to stand, and crumples into a small ball of hissed curses as his ankle makes itself known. Johnny himself manages to control his stumble to his knees and scramble backwards away from the grassland. He watches a black nose press through the leaves, white-glowing eyes the only thing visible in the shadows; after a considering sniff, all melt away. There is no sound, but he no longer feels eyes on him - and then there is a barking call far to the north, and the pound of hoofbeats drumming through the earth under his palms heading for the disruption, and then nothing.

He turns, very politely and calmly, to Finn. “What the fuck was that?”

Finn waves a hand dismissively. “You don’t want to know. But he’ll probably hold ‘em off for a while, as long as it’s fun to do it - we should keep goin’, though.”

“No no no-” Johnny says firmly, holding up one hand. “This - weird shit has gone on long enough. What in the god damn hell just happened to us?”

Finn narrows his eyes and tilts his head to squint thoughtfully at Johnny. In the darkness, sprawled out at the foot of the desert with limbs in every direction and propped up on his elbows, he nonetheless looks strangely alert - as though he might at any moment leap onto his twisted ankle and outdance the devil to keep them both safe. For all that the desert leaves them exposed, Johnny feels safer here than he did in amongst the prairie grasses, the same way a man feels safe from wolves behind a stock fence, for all that wolves can jump. This space has been demarcated, somehow, and called Finn’s, and Johnny don’t reckon anything else is going to come in and mess with that.

“Alright,” Finn says eventually, still with that considering tilt. “This town ain’t what you think it is. There are more things in heaven and earth, Johnny McPherson, than you ever dreamed of. There’s magic in these hills, in them stars above, in you - like as not - and definitely in me. Ainsel pretty much isn’t anything else. Sold his soul to them devilish fae.” Finn spreads his palms to the night and Johnny feels it pressing close like a crowd of people, wrapping him in the tangible darkness of a shroud, the cloying earth of the grave. “But this night - in this place - is mine. And nothing out here can hold me,” he says, eyes fixed on Johnny and black-dark in the moonlight, “not on my lands. No-one can touch me; nothing can stop me in any way that matters. Why should I fear the grave, Jonathan Elmer McPherson, when I’ve known it already? I felt its touch and it could not keep me. I am master of Danser Town, and I am chained to it like a dog. A dead-and-alive dog, black as shadow an’ the world beyond the end, and there ain’t none as can move you on without my say so. You, Jonathan Elmer McPherson,” Finn says, with a grin as cold as hard iron and as pointedly canine as a wolf - it sets Johnny’s teeth on edge, makes him shiver under his skin, makes the soles of his feet tingle with the urge to run like he’s being stabbed by a hundred tiny needles but he can’t move can’t run can’t look away from Finn’s terrible black eyes and shining silvered teeth - “you are my little lamb.” Finn raises an eyebrow in amusement. “And I will look after you.”

The desert is horribly silent for a moment. Johnny’s toes dig into the dirt. A breeze strokes through the hair at the back of his neck, and he shivers

“Well, you ain’t gotta pull my leg,” Johnny grouses, indignant more than cross. “I was only askin’.”

Finn snorts inelegantly and throws his head back to howl with laughter at the moon. Johnny feels around for a pebble and bounces it neatly off Finn’s drawn-up knee.

“An’ how come you know my middle name, anyhow?” he says, pushing up onto his feet to glower down at Finn as he snorts and tries to get his breath back under his control. “You been writin’ to my momma, or what?”

Finn unfurls, still wheezing slightly, and Johnny hauls him up onto his good foot. “Aw, never you change,” he tells Johnny fondly. “Anyhow, someone’s gotta know what gets written on your headstone. Gee up.”

“Oughtta leave you here,” Johnny grumbles, bracing for Finn’s weight. The man ain’t quite so heavy now - or not yet - Johnny reckons maybe he’d just needed a rest. They ought to make Danser, no trouble. “I thought I was a lamb, not a horse.”

“Nah,” Finn says with confidence. “I’m the lamb. You can be Saint John the Baptist.”

“I ain’t got the patience.”

“You out-walked a horse with marvellous patience,” Finn points out cheerfully. “And, as Saint John, you get to dunk me in a river and claim it was for the good of my soul.”

“Oh.” Johnny tilts his head and shift’s Finn’s weight on his back as they set out once more for home. “Well, when you put it like that.”

[wickedsingularity]

Can’t Sleep Without You [One-shot]

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Jim Kirk x reader (but not really), Leonard McCoy, mention of Spock Words: 2359 Warnings: Use of medication, use of possible addictive medication, insomnia, nightmares, almost graphic description of a disturbing dream

Note: A somewhat self-indulgent story that I posted a little while ago, but had panic about after a few hours and then deleted. It felt too personal, too self-indulgent, amongst other things. I planned on giving it some time, and then rewrite it so it was less personal. I did give it time, but I haven't rewritten it, just edited. And now I'm giving it another go, hoping that I don't panic this time around and telling myself so fucking what if it's self-indulgent. And hopefully people enjoy it because I do like this story.

Summary: Having suffered from insomnia for a long time, Jim is the only thing that manages to calm me enough to function when it gets bad. But Jim is off on a mission...

"You look like something the cat dragged in, Commander."

"Thanks a lot, Doctor." I glared up at Leonard McCoy as he towered over me. Even if I couldn't stand the stuff, I was now on my third cup of coffee of the day. But I was also on my fourth day of barely any sleep, and I was desperate for something to keep me alert.

"Have you had trouble sleeping again?"

I downed the last of the coffee, cringing as the bitter liquid made its way down and sat the cup down on my empty lunch tray. I closed my eyes for a moment and grit my teeth, trying not to snap at the obvious question. "Looks that way."

The doctor sat down at the other side of the table and looked at me with worry, not even phased by my annoyance. "I've seen you getting worse the last few days, Commander. Why haven't you come to see me?"

"What you gave me three days ago made me wake up after four hours with a nightmare from hell. I'm still seeing ghosts in broad daylight."

He pursed his lips. "Please stop by the medbay at 2200 hours. We'll try something else."

I sighed, knowing that there was only one thing that would help, and it was not something our Chief Medical Officer could provide no matter how good he was. But I nodded. "Yes, doc." Then I pulled myself to my feet, grabbed the tray and went to put it back in the replicator for recycling.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had some form of insomnia. It hadn't been a problem when I was younger, I had been more energetic, more durable, not to mention more careless. But as I got older it got worse. Most of the time I managed to keep it under control, but sometimes it took on a life of its own. And when it did that, there was no medication, meditation or treatment that worked better than the captain of the ship, my boyfriend.

There was just something about Jim that calmed my mind like nothing else.

Funnily enough, insomnia was what brought us together. I had been wandering around the ship one night, after several nights of little sleep. Finding myself in the briefing room, I had sat down in the chair reserved for the captain, put my feet up on the table and gazed out at the streaking stars. After a few minutes of silence, the door had slid open and Captain Kirk had walked in. We were already on friendly terms, so I hadn't bothered taking my feet off the table or giving him the chair, even when he made a joke about it being his.

He'd been having trouble sleeping too, claiming his mind was running at warp 5 after an exhausting meeting in that very briefing room earlier in the day. He'd chosen to go back there in the hopes that it would clear his head.

We sat next to each other, him in the First Officer's chair and I kept occupying his, and chatted for a while. All the while we both seemed to gravitate more and more towards each other and I got sleepier at the same time, until I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. He had gathered me up in his arms and ordered a site to site transport, dropped me off on my bed and pulled a blanket over me, before going back to his quarters, falling asleep as well. After that, our friendship had shifted and things escalated quickly from there.

Now though, he and Spock and several admirals were trying to work out a peace treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. We had dropped them off on a colony near the Neutral Zone and had then gone off to survey a newborn nebula a couple of systems over. We weren't scheduled to go back for them for another two or three days, the trip itself took a whole day. And my body was kind enough to refuse to sleep properly without Jim now, no matter how much in control of the insomnia I was.

I made it through the day somehow, with at least two more disgusting cups of coffee. Thankfully, there was more than enough to do in Engineering that I decided to not leave once my shift was over, it was better to keep working than sitting in my quarters and feeling like I had been in the middle of a warp core breach. As soon as Jim and Spock came back, Starfleet wanted us to check out an uninhabited planet that a passing cargo ship had detected held large deposits of deuterium and our long-range sensors had detected too much atmospheric disturbance for transporting, so we had to adjust the shielding on several shuttlepods. I was barely conscious when I stumbled into the medbay at 2200 hours.

"Not looking any better, I see." Bones appeared out of nowhere and would have scared the daylights out of me if I hadn't been so sluggish.

"Your bedside manners are always so lovely."

He ushered me over to a biobed and pulled a tricorder from one of his pockets.

"There's no need to scan me. We both know what's wrong. Just give me what you think I need and I'll be off." I looked at the tricorder with annoyance.

He didn't answer but started scanning me anyway, so I sat there patiently, closing my tired eyes and listening to the whirring of the device. "It's a wonder they haven't found a cure for this yet, after 200 years of research," he muttered to himself.

I looked up at him and saw him analysing the results. "You've found a cure for some pretty serious viruses on your career, why don't you find the cure for this?" I argued.

"This isn't a virus, sweetheart."

"Still, I'm sure you're brilliant enough to find a solution." Bones always said that flattery would get you nowhere with him, but I found that more often than not, he enjoyed having his ego stroked. He was that good too.

He just huffed and went over to a cabinet. I saw him pull out a vial and fill up a hypospray. "I know you have tried this before and it didn't work so well. But that was a few years ago, it might work better for you now." I nodded and obediently bared my neck to him. One touch of the cold metal to my skin and it was done. "I want you to go straight to bed now. It should work quickly and you have to be in bed when it does."

"Yes, sir."

It did not work. Or, I did sleep through the night, but the dreams had me waking up more exhausted than if I hadn't slept at all. It had been worse than last time, the irrational, weird and disgusting dreams had just come at me, one after the other. I would honestly prefer good old-fashioned nightmares over this. I called Bones as soon as I had showered away the night and he was at my door by the time I had dressed.

"Sit down," he barked, the tricorder out and a deep furrow between his brows. "What happened?"

I told him all about the night, even gave him some snippets of the nasty dreams for emphasis, each one of them still crystal clear and disturbing in my mind. The way he cringed at some of it, told me just how disturbing they had been. It wasn't normal to dream that you're pooping out severed arms, after all. *

"This is very strange," he said after he was done scanning. "Barely any light or deep sleep at all. Dream sleep almost all night. I've heard about a few phenomena that cause a person to not have any dream sleep at all, but not nothing but dream sleep. You're not getting any more of this medication, and I'm making a note in your medical file."

I sighed, trying to think about what I could do to help myself that night. But Bones had suddenly gone very quiet. I looked up at him and there was a deep furrow between his brows, his eyes gazing down at the tricorder, but it looked like he was mentally lightyears away. "What's wrong, doc?"

He didn't react right away, but then he blinked and looked down at me. "There is something we can try, but it can be highly addictive if the dosage is off by even a fraction. Call Scotty and tell him you'll be a bit late. I need to take some blood for analysing."

All through that day, I felt a bit apprehensive about what Bones was planning on giving me later. And I missed Jim so much it ached. This was the worst it had been without him and it was also the longest we had gone without each other since we got together. I missed him because of his absence, of course. But in my sleep-deprived state, it felt a million times worse. It felt like there was a gaping, bleeding hole inside me where he should be. I needed him to calm my mind, to kiss me and tell me it's okay if I can't sleep, that I'll sleep when I'm ready and he would be there with me all the while. I needed him to breathe with me. I needed to feel him. He was able to relax me enough that I could function.

After working well past my shift again and forcing down too many cups of coffee, I forced back tears of exhaustion and desperation and went to the medbay, got the mysterious hypospray and went straight to bed.

Apart from the fact that I woke up every ten to fifteen minutes, this one worked a lot better. In the morning, I felt less like I had been hit with a meteor shower and more like I had just tumbled through a thick atmosphere without a spacesuit. Bones came to check up on me in engineering after lunch and I asked if I could get a higher dosage, hoping that maybe that would finally be what helped me sleep through the night. But he refused, he had given me as much as my body could handle without becoming addicted or suffering other nasty side effects. In defeat, I told him if I couldn't have a higher dosage, I didn't want it at all. Then I started counting the hours until Jim came home, and drank all the coffee I could stomach so I wouldn't feel like a zombie.

I was just starting to doze off. It was probably just an hour or so until my alarm, but I let sleep take me. I would take anything I could get. What felt like just a minute later though, the computer spoke to me.

"The time is 0630 hours. The time is 0630 hours."

"No no no," I moaned in annoyance, screwing my eyes shut to the illumination in the room becoming stronger. But then a pair of lips landed on my cheek.

"Forgot to turn that off," someone said.

I didn't process this right away, but in the back of my head I knew that voice and knew it was important, so I forced myself to open my eyes to the way too bright room. Jim was there next to me and judging by his one barely open eye, he had just woken up too. "Hi..."

My heart was beating wildly in my chest, the room seemed to be spinning a little, my vision getting blurry, but then he smiled with his eyes closed and started to clumsily kiss my cheek and jaw and everything cleared up.

"When did you come home?" I whispered.

Jim didn't answer but kept trying to kiss me, but he was struggling, he too seemed exhausted, not able to aim. "A while. Laid down minutes ago. Tired. Want lips."

I made a happy sound and rolled around to face him. He opened his eyes a fraction, revealing the brilliant blue I loved so much. His lips landed on my nose, then my cheek before finally finding my lips. The gaping aching hole inside me seemed to vanish. I moved closer, pressing my lips and my body to his and everything inside me seemed to settle down, mind was quiet, all tension washed away. When I needed air, I pulled back just enough so I could stare into his eyes and see every little shade of blue in them. "You're home."

"The time is 0635 hours. The time is 0635 hours."

"Home and tired." His breath washed over me when he spoke and I wanted to breathe nothing but him for the rest of my life.

"Ditto. Haven't slept since you left."

"I know, Bones told me. I'm so sorry, Supernova."

"'s okay. Just missed you." My voice broke, and all the frustrations from the past week made a few tears fall. Jim snuck one of his arms around my waist and I moved even closer, burying my face into his neck, breathing in the smell of stars and nebulas and galaxies. "How were the peace talks?" I asked between lazy kisses to the soft skin on the side of his neck.

Jim didn't reply right away. Instead, he kissed my hair, breathing it in for a moment. "Exhausting. I'll tell you all about it later."

"The time is 0640 hours. The time is 0640 hours."

"Have to get up," I mumbled against his skin, but my entire body felt like lead in Jim's arms.

"Computer, turn off the alarm." A gentle beep confirmed it was now turned off. Then Jim pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "Bones told me to tell you that he has declared you not fit for duty today and that he has ordered bed rest, and if you disobey his orders, he will not hesitate to have you strapped to a biobed with a force field."

I blinked. "But..."

"And your Captain concurs. He recommends you spend the day with him in bed and sleep." He was grinning at me. "He's been flying fancy admirals in a shuttle all night and is in need of some tender loving care from the love of his life."

I knew there were things I had to do in Engineering. It would take time and almost all the Engineering staff to get the shuttlepods ready in time for exploring the deuterium planet. But as I looked into Jim's eyes, I felt exhaustion all the way to my bone marrow, and there was no point arguing with that, or the Captain and the Chief Medical Officer. I teared up with relief and buried my face in Jim's neck again.

Jim settled down on his back and pulled me halfway on top of him. I swallowed down my emotions and rested my head on his shoulder, tangled my legs with his, and laid my arm across his stomach. Peace filled me and I barely had time to mumble love you before I was fast asleep.

Note: * Yes, I have actually dreamed that as a side effect of taking melatonin.

[fanfalc-616]

Time for Amnesia

Chapter Ten: “Don’t Make Me Repeat Myself.”

(Previous Chapter Here)

Yeah sorry for the mix up here’s the chapter I finally wrote after like 6 months-

Something pokes his face.

Blinking groggily, Kai looks around. Where the hell is he this time? What’s going on?

It takes him a few moments to realize that he’s stuck in some kind of prison cell, laying uncomfortably on the floor.

Jay pokes him again. “Are you awake yet?” He prompts.

Kai immediately gets to his feet, cursing at the stone walls lined with metal and the way the sole window is in the door, a set of bars through it for extra security.

“Yeah, we’re kinda stuck. Captured. The others probably have no idea where we are or who kidnapped us- we don’t even know who kidnapped us.” Jay gives a quiet laugh- one more out of fear than humor.

“We’re gonna die. This is it. We’re just going to get murdered here. Are we even going to find out who captured us? I mean probably, but we’ll be killed immediately after. I’d say we haunt them as ghosts, but after seeing what that did to Cole, I’d rather be in an afterlife. I think. I’ll have to ask him what being a ghost was really like- or I would, if we had the chance to see him before getting murdered!” Jay’s clearly panicking, and- hey, isn’t he supposed to be the experienced one here?!

Kai stares at him for a few moments. “We- we’re not gonna die.” His voice is shaky, but he tries to ignore that as he goes up to the barred window in the door. No, he won’t die, he refuses to die. This can’t be how it ends, with him not even knowing who he is! That’s not fair!

He wills his fire into his hands, but nothing happens. Scowling, he tries again, but for some reason, it still doesn’t work.

Ugh, come on, he did this before without even really thinking about it! Why is it so hard to do now?!

“Jay, blast this thing with lightning!” He instructs. “We can figure out where to go from there.”

Jay looks unimpressed. “It’s vengestone. You can’t use elemental powers when there’s vengestone.” He sounds tired, and Kai gives him a glare.

“Would you mind picking an emotion and sticking with it? Panic or calm or annoying or whatever? I’m not in the mood to navigate whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

He ignores the sputtering noise the ginger makes in response in favor of looking closer at the bars of the cell they’re in. There’s gotta be something he can do here…

Unfortunately, if there actually is something he can do, he can’t figure out what it is. Which is bullshit, but something tells him this is how his life usually ends up going.

With a grimace, he looks back at Jay. “Do you know who captured us? Or why?”

The other shrugs, which only serves to fuel his annoyance. “No idea,” he admits, “but they’re probably trying to keep us from stopping them from doing something evil.”

For a few moments, all he can do is stare. Seriously? This is what he’s working with here? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” he grumbles sarcastically, silently lamenting his past self. Why would he hang out with these people to begin with? Sure, they said something about him needing to rescue Nya, but couldn’t he have just left afterwards? Why would he let himself get put into these situations?

“Look, we- we’re probably gonna be fine.” Jay assures. “It’s just- uh. I tend to overreact a lot. It’s gonna be okay, I just freak out easy.” He sounds uncertain of himself, and Kai resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Like I said: pick an emotion and stick to it,” he snaps, turning away again. This entire situation is infuriating as it is, he really doesn’t need Jay pissing him off more.

Shaking his head, Kai comes to a conclusion. He doesn’t know what’s going down here, but whatever it is needs to hurry up and just happen.

Narrowing his eyes, he takes a step back, trying to dig back into those forgotten memories. He knows how to fight, doesn’t he? Why can't he remember it?!

With a huff, he comes to a decision. He’ll give this a shot and hope that his muscle memory will take care of it.

“Kai?” Jay speaks up behind him, but Kai ignores him in favor of taking a deep breath, preparing himself.

“Kai, I don’t think-“

Summoning all of the rage and frustration inside of him, Kai moves forward, kicking the door with as much strength as he can muster.

But even with all the force in his hit, the door only rattles against its hinges in response.

As a matter of fact, the only real result is the red-hot pain that’s suddenly jolting up his leg.

The high-pitched yelp that escapes him is just plain embarrassing, and as if to damage his pride more, he ends up stumbling backwards, falling flat on his ass against the stone floor.

“Ow,” he grumbles, grabbing his foot instinctively. Damn, that hurt a lot more than he thought it would- well, actually, he wasn’t expecting it to hurt at all. In the movies, the door would’ve just swung right open.

But this isn’t a movie. This is real.

The sudden understanding hits him like a bucket of ice water.

He keeps not thinking, he keeps just acting, but this isn’t a game. He knows nothing about what’s going on, he doesn’t know what enemies he has, and all he’s done so far is alienate the people who he needs to stay alive.

Jay pries his hands off of his foot, and Kai feels himself flinch. When had he gotten that close?

“Alright, uh, maybe don’t do that again.” The ginger suggests. “It doesn’t look too bad, but there’s probably gonna be a few bruises.”

Grimacing, Kai nods. “Okay,” he agrees, ignoring the frustration boiling in his chest.

He can’t afford to keep doing this. Like it or not, this is his situation. If he keeps this up, he’s going to get himself killed. He needs to work with the allies his past self had made- he has them for a reason.

That doesn’t make them any less annoying, though.

Jay seems surprised- probably because he didn’t snap at him. Well, actually, if he’s being honest, he probably needs to do something to fix whatever damage he had done to their relationship since he woke up.

Not romantically, though. He doesn’t even want to think about that.

Gritting his teeth, he abandons his pride- for the moment, at least. “I was being mean to you earlier. ‘m sorry.” He mutters the words in a low growl, refusing to look at the other while he does.

Even though his eyes are on the floor, he can still tell how startled Jay is. Which is honestly fair- Kai hasn’t exactly been the nicest since he woke up.

“What?”

Flashing him a glare, Kai struggles to keep his temper under control. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snaps.

He has to get along with these people, sure- he doesn’t have a choice- but would it really hurt for them to be less annoying? Or is that just their personalities?

Jay opens his mouth to reply, but just then, there’s a weird slithering noise coming down the hall, growing closer. Silently, they exchange a glance. The ginger seems to be trying to tell him something, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what.

Quickly pulling the two of them to their feet, Jay grabs him by the arm and pushes him against the wall by the door. Once he has, he takes a few steps back, staring out the window definitely.

It takes a moment before that clicks- if the door is opened, anything on the other side won’t be able to immediately see him. Of course, it comes with the risk of getting a bloody nose, but-

The noise stops just outside the door, and even though Kai can’t see past the bars where he is, he can at least see the ginger’s almost shocked expression.

“Hello there, ninja. Long time no see, hm?”

Taking half a step back and clenching his fists, Jay seems to be trying to swallow back his fear. “Ha, with that ugly mug, I wish it’d been longer!” He snaps.

“And you are still as unoriginal as always, it seems,” the stranger tsks, sounding amused. “But I suppose I must ask, what happened to that little fire-starting friend of yours? He was in here earlier, I know.”

Kai feels himself tense, but Jay doesn’t even glance in his direction. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” He finishes the words off with a hesitant smirk, but then pauses. “Well, I mean, I guess technically I’m the one with the lightning powers… but I’m still not telling you anything!”

There’s another pause, and after a few moments of it, Jay huffs, narrowing his eyes. “I see that someone doesn't know their memes, huh?”

“Yes, well, some of us are actually intelligent. But that is… besides the point. I wasn’t aiming for the two of you in particular for this, but I suppose you’ll do.”

This time, Jay does glance towards Kai, a poorly-hidden terrified look on his face for the split second their eyes meet.

“So he’s just beside the door, then? Hmm. I suppose I had a bit too high of an opinion of you both to think one of you could have escaped,” the stranger chuckles again, somehow making it sound even more insulting than before. “But then again, I most likely would have caught him again anyway.”

Kai can feel his breathing catch at the words, his entire body tensing with apprehension.

Who even is this guy?!

Jay scoffs, but he’s still clearly stressed out. “Don’t flatter yourself, Pythor. We’ve beaten you before, and we’ll do it again!”

Alright, so their name is Pythor. If Kai didn’t know any better, he’d say that that kind of name would belong to a serpentine. But serpentine are just an old bedtime story, so they can’t be-

Well, it wasn’t long ago he thought the same thing about magic. So it might be possible. But it still doesn’t sound-

Wait. When Lloyd was telling him about the volcano… he mentioned serpentine, didn’t he? And- and this Pythor guy specifically!

… and this serves to show that Kai should really pay more attention to what these guys talk about.

Speaking of which, he should probably tune back in to whatever’s going on with Jay and Pythor now.

“-can’t be serious. I mean, I knew you were crazy, but this is a whole new level, even for you. Didn’t someone actually say that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results? I don’t remember who, but my point stands! You-“

“Yes, well, I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. I do, however, have other questions I would like answers to.” The words are spoken threateningly, intense enough that Kai can feel himself shudder.

Jay, however, looks unaffected- actually, he looks like he’s starting to calm down from his earlier panic. “And why would we give them to you?”

Fear still coiled in his guts, Kai forces himself to take deep breaths. This doesn’t look good, and Jay just seems to be escalating the situation. And Kai would try to do the opposite but one: he doesn’t know how. Two: he’s pretty sure Pythor wouldn’t listen. And three: he has a very intense desire to punch this guy in the face. There’s not really a reason, he’s just annoying and sounds really punchable.

“Well, blue ninja, I think you’ll find it’s because you don’t have a say in the matter. One way or another, I-“

Fuck it.

Shoving his rational thoughts to the side, Kai quickly sidesteps in front of the door. And- yeah, that’s definitely a serpentine. Still, he doesn’t let himself dwell on that. If anything, the long neck is a plus.

Because it’s that much easier to reach through the bars and grab.

Hand tight around Pythor’s throat, he yanks him into the door, forcing his head to slam against it with a very satisfying smack.

Kai lets himself smirk as he lets go, expecting the snake to collapse to the floor from the force of the hit.

Instead, he finds himself staring into infuriated magenta eyes.

Oh. Okay.

Kai may have made a mistake.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Masquerade (Moonflower pt.2)

Part 1 - Moonflower Part 3 - Magical/Misery/Massacre

Warning: Harassing, Reader kinda suggest that she wants to have a meaningless One-Night-Stand, I kinda somewhat specified the height of the reader (by saying that you have to put your neck back to look at people over 6ft) so if your a tall boy/girl/dragon/human please just pretend you’re not thank you very much, swearing, again there are Yandere vibes (this time even more), also murder, but only in the Yandere Addition... Word count: 4k (sis snapped again) Summary: When the Riddler keeps ghosting around in your mind you know that you have to do something about it, that you couldn’t keep on harboring feelings for him, so you put on your mask and make your way to find distraction, but sometimes the things we see when we wear masks are not the things we expect... 

Two months. It took not even two months for the mayor to forget the disaster of a Gala that he had organized last, even though it was a rather interesting experience for you, but for a completely different reason, and decide that it would be a great fucking idea to throw a masquerade ball. A MASQUERADE BALL?!? Who, in their right mind, thinks that it's a good idea to throw a ball where the people come in masks and costume-like dresses in a city WHERE MASKED LUNATICS ARE FIGHTING AGAINST OTHER MASKED (slightly less) LUNATICS??? Well, seemingly, it was the man who should, in theory, know best and somehow always proved you that he did, in fact, know just about nothing. So yes, after a long discussion about whether it was a good idea or not and Bruce somehow managing to convince Jason and Dick to come along (the party was only for grown-ups - much to Damian's, who hasn't left your side for longer than he had to ever since the last Gala, dismay), you were sitting in a car driven by one of Wayne Inc's chauffeurs in a deep violet dress that clung to your curves like a cosset, before blossoming into a wide skirt, beside Dick in a black and Jason in a very dark red suit. The fact that they both had worn these suits countless times before already while you had to buy this dress especially for this event pissed you off to no end. And not only that, no, because it was custom for males to wear simpler masks, Jason had a phantom of the opera-like mask, while Dick had decided to try and be funny by wearing a cheap Zorro-mask he had bought in a dollar store. You, on the other hand, looked down at the gold mask that Alfred had had custom made for you. It was incredibly beautiful. It was extremely filigree and looked like a complex mandala of golden wire which formed a fascinating swan over where your right eye would be.

"Are you okay?" Jason's voice from your right ripped you out of your thoughts and you looked up at him beside you. He eyed you somewhat concerned and you just slightly smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, everything fine, I was just lost in thoughts." He nodded unconvinced but turned forward again, not even budging when he felt you carefully leaning against his shoulder like you have done countless times since the two of you officially became siblings. You also felt Dick's eyes on you, but you just held your hand out to him and let him take it. Jason shifted a bit under you and you could've sworn that you heard him sniff at your hair, making you narrow your eyes in confusion. As if to confirm your assumption, he nudged you a bit and asked: "Are you using a new shampoo? Or is that a new perfume?" You had to physically restrain yourself from tensing up, your mind filling with the memories of the little gift the Riddler had left you and about how often you had packed it out again - thinking about what you should do - before putting it back, ever since the night you had found it. "It's a new shampoo, Cass gave it to me: Peonies and gold, not sure how gold is supposed to smell though," you told him truthfully, meeting your brothers' expectation and allowing them to get back to what they were doing, Dick playing on his Phone and Jason reading a pocket novel you had given him earlier this week. But you couldn't get back on your train of thoughts. Like so often these past eight weeks. You had no idea why, but ever since that kiss, the rouge just wouldn't leave your mind for longer than an hour at the time. You just couldn't understand how it had come to this. You didn't know him, he was basically a villain, he had kidnapped you and the kiss was only a distraction... And still... The kiss filled your dreams ever since, the scene just playing on repeat in your head. Maybe it would've been different without his little gift, without you knowing that he was thinking about you too. God, what were you supposed to do? You knew that what you were feeling had to be some weird sort of Stockholm syndrome or something like this, something that would go away after a while, because if not...what would you do if not? You couldn't realistically think that he and you would ever have anything close to a future together. You just had to forget him, so ever since you had seen the invitation for the Gala, you had made a plan. This party would be full of eligible bachelors who would have no idea who you were (or at least not at first), some of them had to be good enough for you to try to forget about your unlucky crush. "We're here," filled the voice of the chauffeur the car and you sat up straight, looking out of the darkened window to see the red carpet and the paparazzi that were taking pictures of the masked celebrities walking towards the city hall. "Here we go," you tightly smiled and put the mask on, securing it with the black ribbon behind your head. The man who had driven the car got out and opened the door, making space for Dick to leave the car and walk forward, greeting the Cameras with his trademark smile. You had agreed earlier that you would leave a minute between every one of you exiting in a cheap attempt to make it less obvious who you were. It was clear that everyone would recognize Jason and Dick by their height and the suits, but you - due to a good mix of make-up, hair styling and the mask - still had hope left that you would get through the evening unrecognized. When Dick had disappeared inside you nodded at Jason and took your chauffeur's hand as he helped you step outside, trying to smoothen the skirt of your dress in the process. Immediately flashes off light filled your eyes and you tried your best not to blink and keep the smile on your face. For a few seconds, you struck a few poses, presenting the beauty that was the dress, before you followed your brother, giving the space up for Jason to do the same.

The inside of the Hall was filled to the brim with people in all kinds of dresses and suits with just about every kind of mask on a face somewhere. Groups of people were scattered around the room and you could see that Dick had already made his way over to a small group of girls who wore matching black dresses with white carnival-like masks. You rolled your eyes, but smiled and turned away to decide what to do next. That was the problem with Galas like these. Even if you knew people, you couldn't be sure where they are or if they were even here, so it was like a college party only days after you moved to a new town. Well, you got through your college parties by drinking so why not give that attempt a shot now too, right? So you sashayed over to the bar that had been constructed on the side opposite of the entrance and gestured the bartender over to you. He nodded and quickly made his way over, taking your order before turning around and getting started on your Old fashioned. "Well, hello beautiful," a dark, hoarse voice rang through your ears from beside you and you turned into the direction it came from, your eyes landing on a man that looked like he was as sure of himself as it could get. He was wearing a metallic-silver suit with a black shirt below it and, even though you yourself wouldn't necessarily go for it if you had to choose, you had to admit that it looked good on him. On his face was a mock-batman-mask and he had a five o'clock shadow that looked just groomed enough to be handsome. He will do, you thought and forced yourself to smile at his cheesy 'not-even' pick-up line. "You don't look too bad yourself," you shrugged and bowed your head slightly in thanks at the bartender who handed you your drink. "Ah, a girl of good taste," he smirked, trying to be smug and funny by not clarifying if he meant the drink or your comment. The physical restrain you had to put yourself through to not roll your eyes almost surprised you and you took a big sip of the drink, hoping it would loosen you up enough to make you look over the comments. You welcomed the burn in your throat but inwardly damned yourself for having a high alcohol tolerance that would make it impossible for you to get drunk from under at least thee drinks. "So," you sighed and leaned against the bar, "What's up with the mask?" "Don't tell anyone, but I'm really Batman and I'm just here undercover," the man said just slightly too serious to make you believed he was joking, bringing whatever attraction you had towards him down. "Does that line ever work?" "You'd be surprised, but you look like the kinda girl who doesn't need a pick-up line for some fun," he winked and came uncomfortably close to you. Welp, so much for that guy... "You know what-" you downed the drink, put it back onto the bar and turned to go, "-I'm not really in the mood for some fun, so if you'll excuse me." That was when you felt a hands on the side of your torso, just inches below your chest, and a sense of Terror filled you. Terror not for you, but for the man that had been foolish enough to touch you without permission in a room with any of your siblings. Your eyes quickly flew through the room, searching for your brothers to find out how long the douchebag had before his arms would be ripped out (figuratively) and you spotted Dick on the dance floor with a girl in a sparkly pink dress, but Jason - even though he should be visible alone by the sheer size of him- wasn't anywhere to be found. "Listen, buddy, you really don't wanna-" "Here you are!" a voice interrupted your warning and both you and the man that was behind you looked to your right to see a tall man, towering over you even more than Jason usually did,  in a sharp, expensive-looking, green suit. He stood out like a sunflower in a field of tulips, not only because of the outfit but because he was the only one in the room who wasn't wearing a mask, and something about him made your breath hitch slightly. He seemed eerily familiar, but you couldn't place his face with anyone you knew. It was like time was frozen while your eyes wandered his body up until you reached his face, having to put your head back a bit, and you took in his neatly dishevelled brown hair that looked like it was always this way, but others would try for hours to replicate it before they ended looking into his blue ones. Suddenly time started again and the sounds of the room, that had been drowned out by your thoughts, came crushing back and you had to slightly shake your head to keep your composure. "I've been searching for you all over, you've promised me a dance remember?" the man smiled and you quickly realized that he just might be your (and with that unknowingly to both of them also your harasser's) saviour. "Oh, right, sorry, I was otherwise occupied, but I have the next dance reserved for you," you played along and removed the Hands on your waist, they had been wandering downwards when the man had realized he was in a tricky situation, stepping forward to take the hand the maskless man was holding out towards you. "You can't just-" the man behind you, that seemed to have snapped out of the trance he had been in, started to shout, but was almost immediately interrupted when your saviour put the hand that wasn't (very gently as you noted) holding yours onto his shoulder. You could see the fabric of the silver suit wrinkle notably under his seemingly forceful grip and the look on the face of the man in said suit twisted in pain confirmed your suspicion that the hold he had on him had to be way harder than necessary, not that you complained. "I think the lady just said that she had the next dance reserved for me, right?" his voice was polite, but even the most social clueless person would be aware of the threatening undertone. Your harasser could only nod before his shoulder was released and he hurried away, trying to hide that he couldn't move his arm properly anymore. When he was completely out of sight your saviour let go of your hand and eyed you as if he was making sure you weren't hurt, before smiling at you with something like fondness. "Thank you for that," you smiled back and smoothed your dress down before holding your hand out again, ignoring that he had let it go only seconds earlier. He looked down at your hand with confusion and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit, not noticing how his eyes seemed to widen and his cheeks seemed to redden just the slightest. "I told you I have the next dance reserved for you and after you saved me that's the least I could do to thank you. Only if you want of course." It was like that flipped a switch inside him because before you could blink you were standing on the dancefloor with the arm that wasn't holding his hand around his neck and his on your waist, high enough to not be sexual, but low enough to not be completely innocent. "So-" the two of you swayed to the rhythm of the classic song playing in the background and you couldn't explain why you felt the urge rise to lean against his chest "-what's up with the lack of the mask?" He slightly tilted his head to the right as if thinking about what to answer, while simultaneously spinning the two of you around. "Maybe this is my mask," he simply stated and you knew it was just supposed to be a humorous comment, but you couldn't shake the feeling like it was more cryptic than you thought, "And I got invited pretty short term and didn't have time to get one." That was more like it.   You giggled and couldn't help but play with the hair on the back of his neck, glad that he didn't seem to react to it. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're not wearing one because if you had been, I'd be deprived of that face," you smirked slightly and decided to take the initiative. You had no idea what it was about that man, but the two of you dancing so close to each other, his eyes gazing into yours and his hand on your waist, made your heart beat out of your chest, it was like the kiss you had with the Riddler all over again and for the first time in weeks the thought of that kiss disappeared again seconds after it came into your mind and you couldn't help but think that maybe this man was just what you were searching for. For a few seconds, the two of you just looked at each other, your eyes having the conversation that your heart wanted and it was like a bigger power was in control of your bodies when both of you started to lean in for what was supposed to be a kiss if it hadn't been for someone tapping at your shoulder. It was like a spell dispersed and you couldn't help but flinch away, even if all you wanted was to continue what you were doing, not noticing the slightly angered tint that made its way onto your dance partners' face. "Uhm, are you Y/N?" the girl, which you recognized as Dick's companion from earlier, asked you shyly, clearly aware that she had interrupted a situation. "Yeah," you sighed, thinking that this was Dick's attempt at being a protective older brother without actually being at blame. "Your brothers said that they have something to talk to you about, they are waiting outside." You turned to look at the exit to the garden, flashes of memories of being drugged in front of your eyes, before turning to your partner and smiling apologetically, "I'm sorry, I just have to quickly go, but I'll be right back, don't move okay?" He returned the smile, but it didn't seem as genuine as it was earlier and nodded.

When you stepped into the cold night air you couldn't help but sigh at your lack of luck. You looked around and saw your brothers at the outer wall that parted the garden from the street seemingly talking in hushed voices. Jason was the first who noticed you and soon the two of them started walking towards you, the three of you meeting in the middle. "So? What's going on?" you asked worried, recognizing the look in their eyes, the same look they always had when there was an unexpected mission. "Bruce just called, there's a Joker attack a few blogs from here and he needs all the help he can get." "Okay, I'll excuse you if anyone asks where you are and recognizes me," you just shrugged, not sure why they had to meet you outside for that. It was surely not the first time they randomly disappeared during an event and you had to make up excuses. You had expected something more 'serious'. "I'm afraid that this won't be how it'll go tonight-" Jason sighed and petted your head slightly, "-Bruce clearly stated, that he wants you to go home, he already sent the driver. He's still a bit shaken up by what happened last time." "What?" you exclaimed questioningly, "But that-" "No discussion," Dick stopped you and gave you a small peck on your forehead before he and Jason hurried to the gate that would bring them to the ally where they had hidden their costumes beforehand. For a while, you just kept standing there, the cold air crashing down onto your skin and making goosebumps appear. You tried to think of all the ways that you could just get back to what you were doing before, how you could get back to the man that had your heart beat quicker just minutes after having met him, but all your thoughts just went right back to the fact that you couldn't. That you had to leave now. Your thought process was disrupted when you felt something smooth cover your shoulders and arms. A quick look down your body showed you that a familiar green suit jacket had been laid onto you. Swiftly you turned around, hoping your dance partner would stand behind you but there was no sign of him anywhere near. Confusion filled you and you hurried over to the doors leading back inside, thinking that you may see him going back in, but he was nowhere to be seen.   Before you could start to search for him further your chauffeur from earlier caught your attention, waiting for you at the entrance. There was a war being fought inside you, your heart wanting to go back into the crowd and find him, your brain knowing how hopeless the situation was.

One of the side-effects of being raised by Bruce Wayne was that your brain won the fights it had against your heart. That was why, a few minutes later, you were sitting in the car on your way back to Wayne Manor, the jacket still around your shoulders despite the confused look your chauffer had given you. It was basically pooling around you, multiple sizes bigger than you and you couldn't help but relish in the sense of security it gave. You leaned against the backdoor, your forehead against the cool darkened window when you felt something solid pushing against you. A bit perplex you straightened up again and started to tap around until your right hand landed on something that was slightly budging out the right Jacket pocket. Curiously you put your hand into the opening and pulled out its contents. You stared down at the little green, velvet ring box that was laying in your opened hand besides a black business card. Even though you couldn't rip your gaze away from the box, your left hand grabbed for the card and turned it around before you ripped your eyes to it for the fraction of a second before your heart figuratively stopped. The only thing that was printed onto it was the image of a green Questionmark, leaving the origins of the card without any ambiguities. But that means... This Jacket, the man you had danced with, the man you had almost kissed... Well, seemingly almost kissed again... It was him all along, he had saved you and had let you flirt with him right in front of your brothers, without knowing how risky it had been. Your mind was starting to get fogged with all kinds of thoughts, but they all scattered again when you looked back to the box. Your movements were slow as you laid the card down on the seat beside you and opened the velvet cap. Every blood cell in your body stopped moving when you saw the vast Amethyst that was embedded into a ring that looked tiny in comparison with the stone and for the second time that evening it was like you weren't in control of your body as you took the ring out of the case and brought it up into the light to look it over. It had to be extremely expensive, something that even Bruce would think about twice before buying, and it wasn't just that, no, your eyes landed on an engraving on the inside of the ring. For my one and only Moonflower -Ed.

[Yandere Addition]

Trevor Beck's night was far from great. At first, the hot chick he had tried to chat up on the party his dad had dragged him along to had rejected his advances even though she had clearly been interested before and then this creepy dude had grabbed him so hard that he had surely dislocated his shoulder. With pain running through his arm, he decided that this stupid Gala wasn't worth it and called a cab to bring him home. He didn't realize that what happened before was not even close to the worse that would be happening to him this evening, because when he came home, he wasn't alone in his apartment. When he came into his bedroom, there were bags filled with stolen money and jewellery lying on the floor. And when he wanted to call the police upon seeing the letter that was lying on his dresser, a letter written in his handwriting that confessed to his family having had money problems and that he couldn't live without this lifestyle and decided to take matters into his own hand, only to regret what the letter said he'd done, a single shot through the side of his head kept him from following up on that action. Edward was careful as he planted the gun that Trevor had kept in his night shelf for protection into his palm to make sure his fingerprints were on it, before making sure no traces would suggest that he had help with ending his life. He knew that besides the lack of evidence they'd have for it to be murder, the GCPD would be happy enough to have found the one (allegedly) responsible for one of the biggest and unexplained jewellery heists and even if it was suspicious that Trevor had no prior criminal record beside harassment, they wouldn't investigate further. Ed tried to tell himself that he only did this to avoid gaining the attention for the heist, but deep inside he knew that he had many options on how to do that that wouldn't include killing. Deep inside he knew that he had done that because Trevor had dared to touch what was supposed to be his... Had touched his moonflower...

A/N: This was one of - if not the- most requested things I’ve ever had on my blog! Thank you all so so so much! This also inspired me to try my hand at Aesthetics and I’d be happy if you guys would let me know if you like it! And....maybe, if people like it, there’s still some inspiration left for a final part three....who knows? Also, here are the non-anons who requested a second part: @sirkekselord​ @redhildatodd​ @nate-sakura​ And for all of you who are wondering, the Yandere addition at the end is not really relevant to the story and most likely won’t be picked up again, but I just had that thought in my head while writing and thought people might like it.

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg thanks for the appreciation! TnT

Heads Up- Part 14 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"Is that necessary?" Suzi complained, as Joseph placed a motion sensor on the table next to Caesar. "And where did you get that, even?"

Joseph grinned his characteristic smirk. "It's to keep the neighborhood kids from messing with my bike. I have to leave it outside cause I don't have a garage..."

"You sure are prepared for everything, Jojo!" she giggled.

Joseph always had the knack for expecting the unexpected, ever since they were kids. Perhaps that could partly explain why Joseph got used to having a talking art project so quickly. How he made it look so normal.

"Okay, Caesar. We're gonna have to get you to not move, not one twitch!" Joseph instructed him. "If you move even the slightest bit, this alarm goes off."

Caesar blinked, and the sensor immediately began to beep.

"Sorry bout that," Caesar apologized.

"You don't need to blink, don't you?" Joseph asked as he reset the sensor.

"It's a force of habit!" Caesar said defensively. "I know I don't even have any tear ducts but it's a reflex! Maybe Anthonio used to blink!"

"Of course he did, he was human," Suzi said.

It struck Joseph as odd that Caesar referred to Anthonio as someone else.

Did he not consider himself Anthonio? Or at least, not anymore? Suzi did, after all, say Caesar was less of a ghost, and more of a reincarnation. Maybe he'd found a new identity.

Maybe he'd found a new purpose.

The entire situation intrigued Joseph. "Say, Suzi, about those Mesoamerican lore of yours..." he asked, "How exactly do those 'spirit guardians' work?"

Suzi laughed. "You're really curious about all this, aren't you?"

Joseph shrugged. "I suppose."

"Hmm. Well, it says here in these old texts, that most spirit guardians were ancestors that returned to the mortal plane, when summoned by those in need, to act as a guardian angel of sorts."

"Heh! Guardian angel you say?" scoffed Caesar. "I'm just a goddamn head."

Suzi shot him an annoyed look and continued on. "Anyway, it's said that these new beings were usually a 'predescessor' of some way. Not necessarily by blood, per se, but by legacy-- say, a warrior could summon a spirit of a warrior before them, or a scientist that of an old philosopher..."

"...and I suppose Anthonio was a sculptor who sought to carry on his legacy in you."

"Then why don't I remember being Anthonio, then?" Caesar retorted.

"Because, Caesar," Suzi said, "the wisdom of the past is tainted with the memories, the identities of those who experience them. I can never be too sure, of course," she shrugged, "but I feel it's made that way to pass on their wisdom to a new worthy successor to their legacy-- yet from a whole new perspective unclouded by their own beliefs. So that Joseph's art would be inspired by Anthonio's, but still be Joseph's own."

Joseph laughed at the irony. "Like how I copied...er, based, Caesar's face off on the statue Anthonio made...which he'd actually based on his own face."

Destiny sometimes did strange twists to absurd results.

"Alright, let's do this one more time!" Joseph said, replacing the motion sensor.

--------

Day by day Caesar practiced standing still. Trying to look like a perfectly ordinary, non-living sculpture. Trying not to blink, or move reflexively, just staring vacantly into nothingness like the lifeless figure he originally was.

It helped that Caesar's eyes never felt dry, even without blinking, they were clay, after all. It didn't hurt, or feel very uncomfortable, but it did make him nervous.

But he fought said feelings, because he knew it was all for Joseph.

He was doing it for the person he loved the most. After all the things Joseph had done to make his life a happy one, this was the best way for Caesar to pay him back.

By serving his original purpose as Joseph's grand masterpiece.

And it was enough to motivate him to try his damned hardest.

"And that's eight hours!" Joseph exclaimed, checking his stopwatch. Caesar had managed to keep still without triggering the beeping of the motion sensor for a record period of time.

"You can relax now, Caesar. Eight hours is all we need."

Caesar blinked and sighed.

"See, you could do it!" Joseph encouraged. "Eight hours each day for two days. Enough for the gallery to hold you on exhibit, and have the judges grade you. And then, hopefully, I graduate and get to have you back."

"You promise?" Caesar asked, in almost a pleading tone.

"I'll try my hardest to get you back," Joseph told him, his mind lingering on the faint possibility that Caesar might be selected for permanent display.

Joseph used to want to make a sculpture so exquisitely defined that it would be put up there in the gallery, alongside those of the greatest artists, forever. How strange that he now wanted the opposite.

He'd made Caesar far too beautiful, and because of this he risked losing him.

"Say, about that thing you said earlier?" Suzi told Joseph. "You based him off an old sculpture by Anthonio, didn't you?"

"I mean, it wasn't a painted statue, so I doubt they'd see the similarities with Caesar all colored and all." Joseph added with his usual mischievous grin.

"Still, he does look a little plain," Suzi pondered, as she looked at the bust from different angles. "We ought to spice him up a little!"

"Oh great," Caesar complained. "More dress-ups."

Suzi pulled out a handful of ribbons, scarves and other accessories and began trying out a bunch of styles to make Caesar look more striking-- and hopefully disguise him from anyone who would suspect Joseph stole the design.

A bowler hat, necktie and a monocle. "This is stupid," Caesar grumbled.

A masquerade feather headdress and a colorful bead necklace. "Hell no," complained Caesar again.

A magenta beanie hat, heart sunglasses and a short shawl. "Are you kidding me?" Caesar cried irately.

But there was one set of gear that made an impact on Caesar, when Suzi put them on.

A headband, designed with a zigzagged line between orange and violet, with a pair of prominent white feathers on each of the temples, and a soft, pink scarf to complete the look.

Caesar opened his mouth to complain, and quickly shut it again as soon as he saw his reflection.

He...actually kind of liked this one.

"Say, that actually suits you well," Joseph said.

"I think so too," Caesar smiled, pivoting slightly on his neck base to see his reflection from another angle.

"So it's settled then?" Joseph asked. "You'll be wearing that to the exhibit?"

"Sure," Caesar agreed. "Anything that won't make you look like a ripoff."

Joseph smiled. He admired Caesar's getup: with the scarf and the headband, he looked positively divine. He looked lovelier than he'd ever had.

He knew that the judges would absolutely like him.

He just hoped they wouldn't like him enough to take him away.

-------

It wasn't long before the day of the exhibit, of Joseph's graduation, was close at hand.

Sleep came little to the troubled artist, as he lay on his bed, his eyes blankly fixed onto the ceiling. The room's only light came from a harsh, white table lamp.

It was three days, before he had to prove himself to the world.

To his mother, Professor Lisa, that he was worthy of her respect.

And to the legacy of his late grandfather, Jonathan, who had been his inspiration, as a child, to become an artist in the first place.

Joseph imagined his grandfather watching him from the stars, invisible but ever present. If only he could see him now. If only he could tell what he'd have thought of him.

His mind drifted back to Suzi's quote, about the spirit guardians being the souls of those who came before. To pass on their legacy.

He couldn't help but imagine. What if Grandpa Jonathan himself had possessed his project bust? He giggled at the thought of his beloved grandpa as a talking, bouncing clay sculpture.

But yet fate seemed to have chose Anthonio Zeppeli to be his guide.

There must have been something special about him that he needed to pass on.

Or maybe, it was just Anthonio himself being perfect for him. Strange that they had to meet in such an improbable way.

He was different now, reborn as another person entirely. Another person that Joseph adored the way he was. Body or no body.

Thinking about Caesar made Joseph's heart thump hard within his chest. Why did he feel this way? To a figure he created? Was it weird? Was it wrong?

And yet as he listened to the steady drum of his own heartbeat, he decided that no, it seemed like nothing felt more right. Caesar was his.

It was then Joseph realized that the steady thumps were getting louder. He first feared there was, perhaps, something wrong with his cardiac rhythm. But then he felt there was another source, that seemed to be coming from outside.

And as Joseph turned his head to look, right on cue, Caesar came bouncing into his room.

In the dim light, Joseph marveled at his bizarre, surreal beauty as he hopped across the floor, still clad in the headband and the scarf that he'd come to enjoy wearing.

Somehow, as ridiculous, slow and clumsy as his only mode of transportation was, Caesar looked oddly majestic.

The vigor and strength with which he pushed his neck against the floor with each hop. The gracefulness as his head turned upward at the highest point of each jump, his headband's feathers fluttering almost like tiny wings. The way his torso stump flexed as it barely cleared the floor with each little forward bounce. And of course, the sheer look of focused determination displayed on Caesar's face as he made his way toward the bed.

He was scarcely even half a man, but his spirit had the strength of many.

To even move his clay form along the distance from kitchen to bedroom took considerable effort, without the aid of arms and legs. And yet Caesar made it work. Caesar made the impossible possible. In spite of his tremendous handicap, he learned to persevere, to overcome.

And maybe Joseph realized why he admired Caesar so much.

Not just with his gorgeous, colorful clay exterior, but with the soul within, burning so bright with passion and determination, despite all odds that barred his way.

Perhaps this was why they were fated to meet.

"Jojo, you awake?" Caesar said, snapping Joseph out of his admiring stupor.

"Huh, yeah, I am now," Joseph mumbled. "What's the matter?"

Caesar looked downward, sadly. "I just feel lonely."

"And next you'll say, 'Can I sleep on your bed tonight, Jojo?' huh?" Joseph smirked.

"Can I sleep on your bed tonight, Jo--" Caesar began to say, before realizing it. "Huh? How did you know--?"

Joseph laughed warmly. "You don't even need to say it, Cae. You're always welcome with me. Anytime."

Gently, he lifted the bust up from the floor. By now, his heavy weight now felt familiar and no longer burdensome. He gently laid Caesar onto the pillow next to him, and, removing his scarf and headband and placing them onto his bedside table, lovingly laid a blanket over Caesar's stubby torso.

With his body, or lack thereof, covered by a quilt, Caesar looked less like a sculpture and more like Joseph's very own, perfectly typical roommate.

Joseph laid back down onto the bed, gently embracing what little body Caesar had, warmly and tenderly underneath the covers.

"Goodnight, Caesar," he said, resting his head against Caesar's soft, warm clay body.

"Goodnight too, Jojo," he responded, as he closed his eyes for the night.

Artist and artwork fondly embraced, within the dimly lit room without anyone else to witness. Suzi was at her home today. It was just him and Caesar, together alone, gently feeling each other's gentle warmth in a fleeting yet sincere moment, as rest soon enveloped their tired minds.

A fleeting yet sincere moment that Joseph wasn't sure he'd get to have again.

--------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

[slightlymore]

cute~

- a pride spin-off -

pairing: haechan x mark

other characters: doyoung, jaemin, jungwoo, onew (??? only bc I needed a name 😔)

genre: angst!! smut! fluff!!! one-shot, company!au (you can read this without reading "pride" first but make sure to read at least the little synopsis below, just to have some kind of context for the first part)

warnings: 18+, language, sexual activities, alcohol, drunk characters

words: 14K (oops)

for those who didn’t read pride and don't want to: doyoung and y/n are in love with each other but because of a series of unfortunate events (them being stupid) they can’t be together. doyoung leaves her after college and starts working at haechan’s company while being miserable; the two boys become enemies/friends. everything goes relatively well until one day y/n makes an appearance and starts working there as well. doyoung and y/n finally get (their shit) together and become a couple. haechan is the happy friend witnessing all of that and this is his story

(the photo was meant to be a shitpost but now I kinda like it lmaooo)

The phone rang for the millionth time that morning, a piercing and resounding noise, making Haechan unable to hear his own thoughts. The boy groaned. It was only 10 am yet everyone suddenly needed to speak with him. Haechan would have loved to spend his workday gossiping on the phone. Maybe chit-chatting about everyone. Listening to his colleagues talk about George's new too-expensive-for-his pockets-but-he's-an-idiot car, or the scandalous hairstyle Alex tried out to impress his already-married-and-twenty-years-older flame, or to hear how someone heard from someone else that somebody had sex with someone somewhere. But not that day. Haechan was exhausted, physically, and mentally, head buried between his arms, the white noises of the office almost putting him to sleep. The infernal device stopped ringing for a second and the young man sighed relieved before it rang again soon after. Haechan whined, almost sobbing, while lightly hitting his forehead on the desk. A soft 'what the fuck' made him raise his face with pained eyes squinting from the sudden too much light. "Are you alright?", the same voice asked, his desk neighbour inquiring. "Mind your own business, Owen", Haechan mumbled and finally put one hand on the phone while massaging the base of his nose with the other. "... my name is Onew", the dude whispered offended, but Haechan's little attention was already drifting away. A female voice said something that Haechan couldn't catch but to which he replied with a short "yeah, thanks", having figured out the words "intern" and "acceptance" through her quick mumbling. When he first heard the news during the beginning of the year reunion, Haechan was ecstatic, to say the least. They said he was responsible and could handle taking care of an intern making Haechan's shoulders widen at the compliments. Also, having an innocent soul to bother for a few months? It meant some company and less work for himself. Paradise. But Haechan had already forgotten about the joy he felt before. He had been feeling weird for a while now and he hated it. The previous night he didn't go home after Doyoung and Y/N left the company building. He listened to them talk for an excruciating period while pretending to sleep. It was beautiful, choked voices and raw confessions, and he felt like the third wheel in his own life. When Haechan walked out of his office one day, months before that, with the intention of "grabbing something important from somewhere" (or taking a break while making it pass as work) and heard the loud bang of the neighbour office door, he didn’t think that his life would go spiralling down from that moment on. It took him days. No, it took him weeks, maybe months, before the uncomfortable feeling creeping on him, making his spine shiver and palms sweat could be classified as something real by his brain. As a feeling. Sitting down on his chair, tired fingers tapping away at the keyboard for hours, he would suddenly feel this ungodly urge to get up and go to that office again as if an obscure force possessed him. To do what? To see a pair of angry eyes. Angry and full of pain. They were beautiful: round but also angled, dark but also light, absent as if looking at anything but their surroundings. Looking at something only they could see. That thing, sadly, was never Haechan. The boy tried everything to be seen by them. Being friendly, being funny, being helpful. Then he tried being rude. To his immense joy, the latter worked better, as if those eyes hatched such an enormous amount of anger that they had to spill some onto someone. And Haechan didn’t mind being that someone if it also meant being the object of those eyes’ attention at the same time. Then he realized that he didn’t want to see only the eyes. Something else was fighting for Haechan’s regard. Pink and soft looking, often stretched in a line, sometimes forming a pout. God, Haechan would have done everything to be able to touch those lips even once, even for a second. And he did it during his most feverish dreams. The first time, he woke up panting, ashamed, shaken to the core, the feeling of that soft skin still ghosting his own lips. The second time Haechan raised a trembling hand and touched the place where his subconsciousness created such a realistic scenario. He caressed it slowly, laying in that obscure slumber, silently, afraid to wake up his rational side. The third time he didn’t need to dream. He just imagined, shamelessly. His lips got kissed and his name was pronounced with such lust and desire to leave Haechan panting. So real, as if Doyoung whispered that while being beside Haechan in his room. It took Doyoung a few good weeks to call Haechan by his name in real life. When he finally did it, he wasn't even scolding him. No. From weird conjunction of stars, Haechan didn’t need to do something to gain Doyoung’s attention that day. He was in the photocopying room. One hand was mindlessly using the machines, the other was warmly hugging a mug of coffee. His slowly descending glasses were being pushed back by one of his fingers when a fluttering shadow appeared behind him. Haechan’s hands stopped as if his crawling skin could physically predict the future.   “Haechan”, Doyoung said. Just like that, sweet and soft. And the boy with that name let his coffee mug fall to the ground. Oh. “Haechan!” Doyoung repeated. “What the hell?” Yes. Yes. Haechan. That’s me. That’s my name on your lips. Say it again. “Haechan! You’re doing this on purpose now”. Doyoung stood tall with hands on his hips, looking at the way Haechan was failing to grab his mug, letting it comically slip from his hands, again and again, new coffee stains covering the carpet. I just love how my name sounds in your mouth. I don't want you to stop. Please. “Oops”, Haechan chuckled, the mask he carefully crafted for Doyoung easily slipping on his face, and despite everything, Doyoung rolled his eyes with a little smile himself. “You’re such an idiot”. Oh fuck. That. Haechan almost forgot. The boy could drown in the light that Doyoung’s face emitted when he was smiling. It would dissipate for a split second the darkness lingering around him and it was Haechan’s doing. Haechan did that. It made his little heart buzz every time and soon enough he started to fantasize about a day in which Doyoung would not have that expression line between his eyebrows anymore. And it arrived eventually. Haechan realized everything would go downhill for himself when he got blinded by Doyoung’s soul. He could see it before as well but not this way. Not while the older man's cheeks got red and his pupils were trembling. And Haechan understood soon what that was because a sick person recognizes another sick person easily. Was Haechan like that as well? Were his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy every time he looked at Doyoung? Ah, Doyoung’s soul. He took it out so suddenly and poured it into that girl’s hands. Haechan felt like dying. No. No, wait. It's supposed to go like this. I should be there. I worked so hard. I endured so much. It can’t end like this. This is my story. Isn’t it? And it was, but not the type of story Haechan imagined. In this universe it ended in him being alone, bones cold and empty, looking at Doyoung’s back as he carried his love in his arms. Haechan stayed back there, motionless, no arms holding him. He bit his lips for a little while, looking around the office as if not knowing on which planet he was. Then he crouched down and cried. He was tired. Yeah, he was just tired. It has been a long week and a long day. He was exhausted. That was the reason. Haechan, you're good. Just get a good night sleep. You’ll be fine. Now get up and go home. And he did that. Like a robot. He was alone inside the 4 am metro, blinding, fluorescent lights burning his fatigued eyes. His feet dragged him towards his apartment although he found himself knocking on Jaemin's door instead. Jaemin was a weird guy and Haechan loved him dearly. He just never slept. Every time Haechan called him, he somehow was wide awake doing some random shit. Haechan hoped that he didn't suddenly change his habits because he desperately needed some arms to crash into. And Jaemin opened the door as expected, a popsicle between his lips, eyes wide and bright. Haechan stepped inside and took the snack away, putting his lips on Jaemin's instead, pushing him against the wall, letting the coldness of Jaemin's tongue numb his thoughts. And he let the popsicle fall from his fingers when Jaemin wrapped him between his arms, guiding him towards the bedroom, no questions asked, no romance. I need a distraction right now, Haechan's whole being was screaming and Jaemin was good at reading people. Quickly and effortless, clothes sliding down, Haechan's mind finally lingered in a grey bliss as the only thing he could think of was the way Jaemin rolled his hips into him, sending shots of pleasure through his whole body. But then Haechan's slipped. "Doyoung-", he whimpered then gasped, eyes wide with horror and cheeks reddening. Jaemin didn't care if Haechan called other guys’ names but when Haechan put his palms on his face, chest rising and falling quickly, sobbing desperately, Jaemin stopped and sighed. He let Haechan go and rolled over, wrapping his shaking frame with his arms. "Do you want to talk?" he asked softly. Haechan shook his head, burying it into the other's chest. Jaemin stayed quiet, the only sound in the dark room being Haechan's irregular breaths, his fingers delicately drawing patterns on the other’s skin. "It's going to get better", Jaemin whispered after a while. "You're going to be seen by someone one day, just like you see everyone else”. It was weird how Jaemin always had the perfect thing to say. Though Haechan didn’t believe that, he had no force to argue. He stayed like that for the next hour, in silence, until the sun came out. Then he got up and let Jaemin prepare his breakfast that he barely touched. Haechan then borrowed the other's clothes and said it was fine for him to go to work that morning. You have to be sick to be able to call in sick, Haechan said. Because you’re someone that follows rules and does an honest job, Jaemin commented sarcasting with a raise of the brow. I just need to be busy, Haechan added and left.

Now, heading towards the acceptance, he regretted not staying home, maybe sleeping the whole day. Sleeping would be good but dreaming? He was afraid of that. The squeaking sound of Haechan’s shoes on the main floor tiles was so distressing that Haechan felt like taking them off and throw a tantrum in the middle of all those white collars. Blinking fast he sighed when he saw the new guy, an anonymous-looking young man looking around as if uncomfortable and slightly afraid. Haechan introduced himself in a monotone voice, letting the intern shake his hand then he turned around with a short 'follow me', not giving the other time to do anything else besides tailing his supervisor. Haechan has been babbling about the company for a good five minutes now, walking quickly through the corridors, showing rooms and people. He wasn't doing a very good job because he didn't care. The new guy, weirdly enough, didn't seem disoriented at all and Haechan shrugged internally. "And this is the terrace", the boy finally finished his monologue as they both stepped outside. It was a sunny day but the wind was quite strong, making Haechan close his eyes as his fluffy hair danced around his forehead. "Cute," the guy commented with a soft chuckle. Haechan looked around. Cute? It was kinda cute, he guessed. Too many ugly buildings around though and it wasn't the best-kept terrace. He turned his head to face the intern. "What's cute?" Haechan asked. It was the first word that guy said and Haechan wanted to hear him speak.  The intern was looking at him already instead of the surroundings and Haechan could have sworn that the dude's cheeks were flushed with a pink hue.    "You are", he said shyly, eyes big and twinkling. Haechan could only blink back. Wait. What? Did this guy just call him cute? Cute? "Listen, thanks, but you have to pay me respect. I'm your supervisor", Haechan replied trying hard to keep his voice stable. He wasn't annoyed but he couldn't just giggle, could he? Also, who calls strangers cute? On the workplace? What a weirdo. The guy’s expression shifted at Haechan’s words as if in slow motion. "Oh God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", the intern babbled and stuttered, cheeks going from pink to red, eyes darting around, not knowing where to look. Haechan has never seen someone that transparent with his feelings before and he could tell that he was very honest. Looking so naive, Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes at him just to make him feel even more embarrassed. "I can't fire you personally or anything and I'm not your boss, but I can tell people to fire you", Haechan tried to sound cold even if the situation was rather funny. The look the guy gave to Haechan was of pure terror a for a split second Haechan felt almost sorry. But then the dude’s eyes darted to Haechan’s hair, still flying around his forehead. Haechan puffed annoyed and put one hand on top of his head as to stop the motion. The intern’s expression relaxed. "And what are you going to say? That it's because I called you cute?" he asked. His lips were back into a timid smile. Haechan was baffled. "What is so cute about me?", he sniffled, sure that he caught a cold already and switched the hand from his hair to his ear as the wind got even stronger. The intern took the question seriously. "You have curly purple hair-", he started then stopped as if that was enough to explain his comment, "-and well, your cheeks are full and now they're uhm red and it's... very cute. Also, your eyes are big and round and it's very cute-" 

Haechan groaned incredulously. 

"Oh my God! Stop saying cute", he spoke up to make his voice heard over the loud rumble of the wind, before turning on his heels and walking towards the terrace door. The intern’s cheeks turned pink again as he tried hard to not add whatever he wanted to say.

_______

Mark was told that he was somewhat of a dense guy. He disapproved. He just paid attention to what he wanted and disregarded the rest. So, if you asked him to show off the company to you, what tasks he had to do or where the bathroom was, he wouldn't know where to start. But if you asked him to tell you how many moles Haechan Lee the Supervisor had, he could answer in a second. It was weird and Mark wasn't a romantic person at all. But when he saw the guy walking out the elevator, eyebrows furrowed and dark circles underneath a pair of tired and red eyes, Mark felt a tingle in his stomach that he could only describe as love at first sight. Okay. Maybe not love. Crush at first sight? Attraction? Mark didn't know what that was and it made him so confused that he could only look at the guy's back when walking around the company as if it could give him some answers. Haechan, he said while letting Mark shake his hand. Of course. It fit him perfectly. Mark could see it - the sun - underneath his skin. Their fingers parted ways too quickly after shaking hands and Mark felt so paralyzed by the sudden tingle on his skin that he couldn’t fully pay attention. Was he also warm to the touch? Mark desperately wanted to find out. Was it weird? He was being weird. But God, he was so cute. Cute. Very cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute. 

This is all Mark’s mind was thinking about and when Mark thought about something he would just say it. Just like that. Cute. Don’t say it now though. Cute. I swear, Mark, shut up, for once. So cute. Please, not now. “Cute”, his tongue slipped. 

Goddammit. 

“What’s cute?” Haechan asked. The view. The view is cute. The view, Mark. Mark, say it. Mark, are you listening? The view. “You are”, Mark said instead and Haechan suddenly turned even cuter. Mark gasped, firstly because of the way Haechan’s cheeks turned red and his eyes round and big, then after a good full second that felt like an eternity, because of embarrassment. Oh shit. Fired. He was about to get fired. "God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", Mark felt like running away. He woke up that morning with the intent of finally living the life he worked so hard for and there he was instead, calling strangers cute and making everyone uncomfortable for the sole reason of not being able to shut his mouth for once. Haechan looked embarrassed as he was though and that little detail made Mark hope that it wasn’t all over. Then Haechan shut some cold blinds on his own face and Mark knew that Haechan thought he was safe, that Mark wasn’t able to see his feelings underneath all that. It wasn’t an efficient job and Mark wondered if other people needed just that little act to not see Haechan anymore.

_______

"Good morning". Haechan saw the intern’s feet first before hearing his voice, but he didn't raise his face as suddenly something very important and urgent was being shown on the computer screen and he couldn't physically let his eyes fall on the way the guy wore his suit. 

It was terrible. Long legs and strong thighs on display right in front of his desk? Terrible, and he didn’t need any more distractions in the workplace. After the intern left for the day with a soft “see you on Monday”, both tired having spent most of the time walking around the company and explaining boring paperwork, Haechan had not been able to stop thinking about him the whole weekend. No. No, it wasn’t a crush or anything. Haechan was just, what’s the word? baffled, s h o c k e d, appalled. Some random guy called him cute and Haechan acted that way? Blushing timidly? Was he feeling that bad? Was he that sick? Unacceptable. He was Haechan, for fuck’s sake. And Haechan didn’t just blush. He could not slip anymore. "Yeah, hi Mike", he replied lazily, fingers typing something he didn’t really need to write. "It's Mark", the intern replied in a neutral tone. Haechan knew it was Mark. In fact, he also knew his full name. Mark Lee. Born on August 2nd, 1999. Toronto. Moved to Vancouver. Graduated from university a few years ago. Great grades. Interested in music and sports. Plays the guitar. Good boy. Loves animals. Does charity work regularly. Has a normal amount of friends. Doesn't know how to take selfies. No, he was not being weird. He just read his CV. 

Obviously. 

He was his supervisor. He needed to read that. The other info? He Googled him only to make sure that he wasn't a criminal. And the social media research? It was just to check on his personality. 

Obviously. 

What if he posted about illegal shit? He had to check every photo and tagged person. It was part of his job. He was single, even if Haechan didn't search for that in particular. Haechan loved his work a lot and he didn't care that he worked on that until 3 am, scrolling through his phone, drifting to sleep with Mark's selfies impregnated on his lids. It's just that he took his job seriously.  

Okay. Okay. 

It wasn’t the whole truth. Haechan was curious. Who calls you cute all of a sudden? Haechan had to know more. 

"Okay, Matt. What about you go and bring me a coff-", Haechan started but got interrupted by a hand, delicately placing a cup of steamy coffee in front of him. Haechan stared at it as if not understanding what that was then finally raised his eyes to meet Mark's gentle ones. He was smiling. "I stalked your Instagram. Full of food and coffee", Mark explained honestly with a shrug while walking around the desk and sitting down on his chair. They had to share a desk and Mark was as close as to touch elbows. Haechan hated having people so close to him when he didn't want them; especially at that moment, as Mark rested his head on his hand and just stared. 

Yeah, he stared. His eyes were piercing, looking at Haechan as if that’s what normal people do. Scanning him from head to toe, then looking into his eyes as if able to see something there. 

Haechan ignored him and looked away. "Stalking my social media is problematic, Mike". Mark chuckled lightly. "You did the same". Haechan's head snapped. "And why would I do that?”. Mark shrugged. "Close the tabs if you didn't want me to find out," he smiled staring at Haechan's laptop. 

The younger’s eyes suddenly widened and with a quick hand, he closed it in a second, cheeks hot with shame. He opened his mouth to say something to get himself out of that embarrassing situation but Mark thankfully didn't give him any time. 

"What are we doing today, sir?" he asked instead with a sly smile. "We write codes", Haechan replied quietly. "Fun", was Mark's comment. 

And they did that the whole morning, ignoring each other's knees as they sometimes brushed against each other. And they ignored the way their knuckles touched when both reached for their own cup of coffee. And Haechan ignored Mark's cologne while Mark ignored the way the computer lights made Haechan's skin glow. Mark loved programming, he always did, but that morning he thought that it would be nice to not be a programmer, just for a minute, just to be in a well-lit office and see how different Haechan would look under the sun instead.

_______

Haechan stared down at his sandwich, sitting still wrapped and untouched in his lap. Then he looked up at the blue sky and let the white fluffy clouds calm him. 

It happened close to the lunch break. 

"Spaghetti", Mark said suddenly. Onew had left already and in front of their office, everyone was walking the corridor heading out. Haechan was finally getting into the flow of working when Mark's hoarse voice startled him. "It's your favourite food, isn't it?" Mark asked, explaining himself. "Soup. I don't put things I love on my Instagram", Haechan replied. Mark looked pensive. "This is why there's no girlfriend photo there?" he wondered with a timid smile. Huh? What was that? So this is what was happening? This is the reason for the cute? 

Haechan had no force to being hit on, as much as Mark intrigued him. He had zero force and suddenly all the thoughts that Haechan buried away for a few days, came back like a bulldozer. 

Haechan bit his tongue before talking too much. "Maybe the girlfriend doesn't exist", he mumbled before getting up and grabbing his wallet.  

"Wait, are you going away?" Mark got up as well, surprised. "I thought we were going to eat together. I don't know other people-". "Well, I don't want to. Make some new friends", he replied and just walked away. No, he ran away and the first place he thought about was the terrace. It was the only uncontaminated place in the whole company. Doyoung has never been there before. 

And Haechan loved the clouds. He loved the wind moving them around fast. It was mesmerizing and in moments like those, he was able to not think about anything, until he was not Haechan anymore, until he was a cloud himself, floating in the blue sky. 

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your favourite place", a voice startled him for the second time that day. 

Haechan looked at his right where Mark was standing with a plate of food in his hands. He looked like a scared deer, turning around to leave Haechan alone, probably wondering what he did wrong but too anxious to confront Haechan about it.  

"It's alright. You can stay", Haechan spoke softly and resumed his cloud gazing. 

Mark stopped uncertain, standing still for a little while but then he walked towards Haechan and slowly sat down, resting his back on the wall as Haechan did, raising his eyes to watch the sky.

"Pretty", Mark commented and this time he was actually talking about the view. 

Haechan hummed, then after a moment of silence, he apologized. 

Mark began eating his food. "For what?" he asked with his mouth full. They both knew the reason but Haechan still appreciated Mark’s effort to showcase that he wasn’t mad at him. "For telling you that I don't want to eat together. I was being an ass for no reason", Haechan explained. Mark shook his head. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I came off clingy". Haechan huffed. "Funny. Usually, I'm the clingy one". 

Mark swallowed and Haechan looked at him. "I haven't been myself lately. But I promise I'm not an asshole". Mark smiled back kindly. "I know. I can see that". 

Haechan's expression flattered. 

Mark took another bite. "You look very warm. Your name is very appropriate for your personality. You're just… very cute", he added with a shy smile. 

Haechan continued staring at the other, unable to make a single sound. 

The other had a few other bites as if not noticing the way his words made Haechan feel then he finally raised his gaze. 

"Why are you not eating? Are you sick?" Mark inquired eyeing Haechan's sandwich. The boy finally sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Maybe". "Well, you'll get worse if you don't eat", Mark commented and grabbed the sandwich, unwrapping it and putting it into Haechan's hand with force. "I can't believe you're treating your supervisor like this. Calling him cute and forcing him to eat", Haechan stared at the food in his hand before taking a small bite, mostly to make Mark happy. The other shrugged. "You act like no one calls you cute every minute. Also, I am older than you. I can do that”. Haechan rolled his eyes. "I'm still your senior. You don't want to see me get mad. I can guarantee you that". Mark opened his mouth to say something dangerously similar to “cute” but then smiled instead, shaking his head. Haechan forced himself to keep a straight face. "If you say it again…", he warned the other. Mark cleaned his already clean fingers on a napkin then suddenly grabbed Haechan's cheek with two fingers. The boy's eyes got wide and he almost dropped his food, his mouth open in a surprised o. 

Mark smiled even more at his reaction, gulping his last piece of food while gently pinching Haechan's face as if he were a child. Then he let him go and got up, dusting his pants. "I didn't say anything this time", Mark explained innocently. 

Haechan looked up at him, still shocked. 

"I'll see you in the office. Finish your food", Mark told him and left. Haechan could distinctly hear Mark comment "so fucking cute" while he was descending the stairs.

_______

That night Haechan fell into his usual decadent slumber. He was almost fully unconscious, the twilight sleep making space for a depraved and troubled dream. Fingers twitching and muscles quivering, Haechan’s mind transformed his day yearning in darkness. Images of eyes and lips tormented him again. It has always been the same pattern, yet something new derailed the boy’s focus that night. Little details. The roundness of the eyes, the form of the lips, the touch of the fingers, the voice. That voice sounded different and it whispered something Haechan has never dreamt about before. A single word, soft but sensual, repeated again and again in Haechan’s ear. 

That morning, after a very long time, the boy woke up with a new name on his lips.

_______

Mark sometimes thought that everyone was just stupid besides himself. 

Not because of an unhealthy superiority complex or something, but because he couldn’t understand how everyone could be that blind. 

“Oh, Lara, I love your new blazer”, Haechan would say while walking around the company with Mark following suit. Poor Lara would blush and be genuinely happy about the compliment. But Mark could see that Haechan thought it was atrocious. And Adam’s stuttering speech a well. Oh, and Joseph’s wrinkly newborn. 

However, it wasn’t this fake persona Haechan had that made Mark uneasy. It was the one he would wear when talking about himself. Oh, I slept very well last night. No, I don’t need any help. Yes, everything is fine, what do you mean? Smiles and laughs and sarcastic comments. 

Mark wanted to know. He wanted to get closer and dust off the misty layer on Haechan’s eyes. 

Maybe Mark thought too highly of himself. Maybe it was his ego talking. 

I’m going to be the one to help Haechan, that’s the only thing he could think about. 

And lately, during sleepless nights, Mark would beat himself up about it. 

It’s not your business, Mark. You want this to feel a good person. 

Except, he would then frown and hug his pillow tighter, getting annoyed at himself. 

No, I would want it even it wasn’t me to help Haechan out. I just want to see him happy. 

Yeah. This sounds good. 

So he would drift away to sleep, peaceful, knowing that he was selfless. 

Alas, it took very little to Mark to realize that he wasn’t that selfless as he thought. 

Mark raised his eyes when Haechan’s abrupt manners opened the office door with a kick. “Haechan, you look good today”. The other smirked. “I always look good. What do you mean?” As if the literal sun entered the room. Mark was blinded. “Did something good happen?”, he watched Haechan’s hair bounce at his every step, like a little seedling gently moved by the breeze. Haechan’s smile widened as he sat down, rolling around in his seat, pure energy sprinkling from every pore. “So I guess the answer is yes,” Mark found himself smiling as well, although a bitter taste pasted his tongue on the palate as he spoke. “I just remembered how much serotonin a good fuck gives you,” Haechan opened his computer and started working on his tasks, not paying attention to Mark’s face. 

Oh. 

Mark hated it. Oh, he hated it so much. God, he hated it. 

The boy tried hard to not think about Haechan that day, resulting in him thinking about Haechan all day. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about his body touched by somebody else. 

It was almost lunchtime when Mark finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dating someone?” Haechan raised an eyebrow, eyes still too focused on his computer to give his full attention to Mark. “What? No. Why?”, he mumbled distractedly. Mark blinked for a few seconds. Haechan finally processed and laughed. “You’re kinda sweet Mark. I just got dicked down, that’s all”, he got up and stretched his arms up with a whiny yawn. “Come on,” he lightly hit the other’s shoulder, “I think today’s menu is soup”.

______

Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark. 

It was as if Haechan was going crazy. 

It was just a dream. A single dream. 

When did this happen? How was it possible? 

“Fuck, Haechan, you’re-”, Jaemin gulped, his adam apple going up and down inside his stretched out throat just like Haechan’s body moved on top of him. “Yeah?” the directly concerned boy smiled. “-crazy today”, Jaemin concluded. “Who made you this horny?” Haechan bit his lower lip, hating his mind for not leaving that thought out, even if for a single second. “Call me--”, he ignore the other’s question, cheeks violently turning red. Jaemin groaned at the way Haechan sunk deeper on him in the process. “Call you what?”, he asked breathless, fingers tightening around Haechan’s painfully hard length. “Cute”, the boy finally whispered. And Jaemin said it, again and again until that word replaced Mark’s name from Haechan’s head.

_______

That day’s menu was indeed soup which only added to Haechan’s general euphoria. Mark walked one step behind him, troubled by the double sword his feelings formed inside his heart. His eyes were only on the younger’s face and Mark could only sigh every few seconds. 

Oh, I’m falling in love. I’m falling in love. 

Lost in his melodramatic thoughts, Mark didn’t notice when Haechan suddenly stopped.  “Hey, boys. Haechan,” a dude greeted generally before locking eyes with the younger one.  Haechan rolled his eyes and made a step back from where that guy was. The dude’s smile flattered as if annoyed at that obvious showcase of hatred towards him but kept his fake expression on as he looked at Mark instead. “So, I’m organizing this party downtown at the Garages. Do you want to come?”, he asked.  

Mark furrowed his eyebrows and eyed Haechan to see what the deal was about.  

Haechan huffed. “Mark doesn’t like parties and neither do I, Jungwoo. Thank you”, he replied snarkily while making a step to continue walking. 

Jungwoo smirked. “Says the party animal. You never mentioned it to me while I had you on my-”, but Haechan interrupted him, hitting his chest with the back of his hand. 

Jungwoo chuckled with satisfaction. 

“Oh, so the boy doesn’t have to know?” he asked indicating to Mark, faking innocence.”

Mark felt his jaw muscle flinch and a sudden urge to punch that dude in the face made his fists almost tremble. 

“The boy doesn’t like the way you’re making his friend uncomfortable right now”, he spoke with a cold voice not breaking eye contact. “Whatever happened between you before, now Haechan doesn’t want to see you again and certainly he doesn’t want to come to your party”. 

Haechan opened his mouth to say something but Jungwoo's laugh interrupted him. 

“Oh, but he does want to see me again and come to my party. Don’t you, Haechan?” the dude asked. 

“Of course I don’t, Jungwoo. Get fucked”, Haechan replied quickly, eyes rolling in their sockets, feet turning direction and walking away. 

“I bet I will”, Jungwoo shrugged with a little smile, throwing one finger gun at Mark.  “By Haechan”, he whispered with a wink while leaving him alone in the corridor. 

To Mark’s horror, despite those two’s abrasive conversation, he could definitely see that as a silent promise.

So Mark went there as well. 

Why? He didn’t know. He liked to think that he was concerned about Haechan’s safety. 

That Jungwoo guy had some rancid vibes and Mark hated the idea of the two together. Because he was concerned for his safety. 

Not because he was jealous or anything. 

Haechan could do whatever he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted to, but what if, just what if, Haechan changed his mind and chose Mark over the Jungwoo dude? 

Mark could do that. 

Mark wasn’t self-centred but he still realized that Haechan deserved better and he could provide that. 

If that was Haechan needed to soothe the darkness in his eyes, Mark could do that.

But Haechan wasn’t there and neither was Jungwoo and the thought of that man’s hands on Haechan’s skin made Mark’s guts twirl on themselves. 

He looked around, frantically, breathing the sweat-impregnated air, trying to avoid being hit by people’s sticky shoulders. Until he started to feel sick, not only because of the loud music and blinding lights but also for some obscure reason, grabbing his throat and choking him. 

He had to drown that down.

_______

When Haechan arrived Mark was surrounded by people, eyes closed, face up exposing his neck, laughing and screaming, jumping and moving his body as Haechan has never seen someone do before. 

His legs were nicely on display in a pair of severely ripped black jeans that Haechan had no idea Mark liked to wear. 

The younger boy was so concentrated on the way a plain white T-shirt could look so good on a person that he noticed too late the way Mark directed his eyes towards him. 

He was far away and Haechan couldn’t decipher the other's expression but it didn’t matter as Mark quickly made his way to where the younger boy nervously stood. 

Mark was drunk. A lot. 

But he still somewhat fluidly avoided the crowd as if dancing until getting as close as hovering above Haechan. The boy had never noticed that Mark was taller until he had to raise his face to look up, his back and palms pressed against the wall. He didn’t notice when he walked backwards either. 

“Haechan”, Mark said his name with such worry to make the other’s heart beat like crazy. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”, or that's what Haechan deciphered from his lips since the music was so loud that his ribcage felt about to be ripped apart. “Home. I’ve just arrived”, Haechan yelled and Mark got even closer, giving his ear to the boy’s lips to hear better. 

Haechan couldn’t do anything else besides inhaling his odour. Mark was a little sweaty and his breath smelled of alcohol, but Haechan has never found someone sexier than him at that moment. 

His eyes were dark under his black curls and his lips looked swollen as if someone sucked on them. Haechan felt like prey and unconsciously pressed his body against the wall even harder.

“And where’s Jungwoo?”, Mark’s voice tingled Haechan’s earbuds. “I have no idea. Why would I know?”, Haechan replied, acting as if he didn’t realize why Mark was behaving like that. 

It made Haechan’s palms sweat. 

He thought about that a lot, at the way Mark got defensive of him in front of Jungwoo, at the way Mark’s expression darkened even after Haechan told them that he had no intention to go to the party, at the way Mark has been looking at Haechan a lot, at the way Haechan couldn’t just stop thinking about Mark for a single second either.  

He came to the party because of that. Haechan’s mind was running again and he wanted to stop it. And also because he played with his phone all day, looking at Mark’s number for a long time. 

Mark would have replied but did Haechan really want it? He was such a sweet person and Haechan didn’t dare to contaminate him with his presence. Mark didn’t deserve to be used as Haechan needed. 

So he went to the party, ready to contaminate somebody else instead. Who knew that Mark was there waiting for him? 

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole night”, Mark talked again after staring at Haechan as if trying to understand the younger one’s thoughts. Just like he has been for the past few months, making Haechan feel small and naked. "Yeah, I bet. While letting those people grind on you?" Haechan replied sarcastic trying hard to conceal his shaking voice. 

Mark got closer, bold and cocky, putting his hands on the wall, caging Haechan between his arms, leaning in and whispering into his ear. "Yeah, I was imagining you grinding on me", his confession tickled Haechan’s ear and the boy tried to move his head away on the side, afraid to do something he would regret, but Mark's hand was there and his head had nowhere to go. It wasn't right. 

Haechan was sober while Mark was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. He had to go away, push him back, but his limbs weren't cooperating. Mark's hand though was working just fine and it gently grabbed Haechan's face, turning it into his direction. 

"Haechan, please, let me kiss you", he begged, his breath caressing Haechan’s lips. 

The boy gulped down surprised, shivering with desire, fighting with himself. He put his hands on Mark's chest, with the intent of lightly pushing him away, but he was made of iron. No, Mark, no, please. You’re too precious to me for this. 

"You don't know what you're talking about", Haechan mumbled. 

Mark breathed heavily. His jaw muscles tightened. Then he put his head down as if trying to gain forces. 

"Yeah, sorry, okay okay, I'm leaving", he retrieved his arms and let them fall to his sides like dead flesh. 

Haechan looked at them with some relief, suddenly feeling exposed and cold, even if the club's air was so hot that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just him having breathing difficulties. Haechan had no idea. 

"No, wait", his lips betrayed him. "Just-", Haechan interrupted himself, eyes squeezed together as if already regretting what he was about to say, unsure, holding Mark's wrist with both hands. Then he opened his eyes again. 

Mark was looking at him his heavy lids. His gaze wandered from his face to his exposed neck, then to his collarbones and chest. Mark was undressing him without touching anything and Haechan felt like going crazy. 

"-just a kiss. Okay? It's going to be a short kiss", Haechan continued, unable to believe he was actually saying that. 

But there was no harm in that. A little kiss. Just a harmless little kiss. Like the ones you'd have in college during stupid games. No one thought about those in the mornings.

But when Mark's lips curved in a little smirk and his body got as close as to press on Haechan's one again, the younger boy knew that it wasn't going to be just a kiss. Not for him at least. And not only he would think about it in the morning. He probably would think about it for a long time. And he was right. It was indeed memorable. Slow and careful but not timid. Mark cupped the other’s face, palm pressed on his jaw, fingers as far as touching his neck and ear, the other grabbing his hips, pulling them against his. Haechan’s head felt light and he couldn't fathom how Mark managed to have so much control when he was about to lose it all. And then it became even worse as Mark slipped his tongue inside of Haechan’s mouth and the younger boy had to tighten his grip around Mark’s torso. He whined into Mark's mouth, making the other hum back, picking up the pace, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, letting his hand fall from Haechan's face to his neck, then chest, then to his stomach, grazing the skin separated by Mark's fingers only by his thin button-down. 

Haechan had to stop him. It was going too far. That was a mistake. They still had to work together. There’s a reason why Haechan avoided talking to the coworkers he fucked before. Mark wasn't realizing that but Haechan did. He had to be responsible. 

Stop him, Haechan. Stop him. 

"Mark, wait", he broke off the kiss when Mark's hands reached his jeans button. The boy looked down at him, panting, eyes half-closed: he was begging Haechan to let him continue. 

Haechan grabbed his shirt and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?", he warned him, shutting his brain off. "Okay", Mark replied quickly putting his mouth on Haechan's again as if unable to be away from it for too long. And he put his hands on Haechan's jeans again as well, opening the button, letting the zip fall slowly, tucking his hand underneath Haechan's boxers, feeling his soft and hot skin, wrapping his fingers around him tightly, not letting the struggling Haechan to break off the kiss to moan. And he didn't even last too long. The boy came shuddering all over Mark's fist after a few good strokes and the older finally let him press his face into his chest. 

Shit, he had never lasted this little. What the hell.

Haechan was fucking embarrassed and if Mark wouldn't have been too drunk to remember anyway, he would have just run away to hide in that exact moment. 

"Fuck", Mark cursed under his breath, feeling Haechan’s hot release on his skin, nudging at Haechan's temple with his lips while the other came down from his high.   "Oh, fuck, you're so hot like this, Haechan. And cute. Shit, you're so cute, I'm going crazy", he babbled before letting Haechan's cock go and trying to bring his fingers to his lips. "Oh no", Haechan gulped trying to stop him. "Mark, don't. You touched all sort of things in the club with that hand", and Mark stopped for a second as if processing the information before dropping to his knees and tasting Haechan directly. 

The boy opened his mouth in a silent gasp and he was still so aroused that feeling Mark's tongue made him hard again in a second. 

"Fuck", Haechan swore loudly, pressing his fingers into the wall behind him, letting his head fall back, feeling himself grow harder inside Mark's mouth. 

He didn't expect it. He didn't expect any of this. Innocent and soft Mark Lee sucking him off like no one has done before in the dark corner of a club? Haechan the slut coming in two seconds and getting hard again soon after? Past Haechan would have laughed, yet there he was, moaning Mark's name like a mantra, coming for the second time in minutes like a little virgin. 

It was no dream. It was a reality. 

Mark didn't let him go and Haechan felt like flying as his cum descended inside Mark's throat. And then he looked down right in time to catch a glimpse of Mark's eyes, looking up at him, letting his cock out with a lewd plop. "Mark, where did you learn that?", Haechan asked suddenly exhausted. The boy licked his lips and held onto Haechan to get up, shakily. "Was that good? It was my first time doing it", he mumbled with a smile before resting his head on Haechan's shoulder, the cocktail he had right before adding to his brain fog.

_______

Mark woke up to the sound of a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deep and regular. 

He groaned softly as his lids realized they were getting hit by bright and irritating sunlight. Then he opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the windows first, vision blurry, then on the plant underneath it, then on the young man underneath him. 

Mark's muscles got a spasm and woke up completely as his brain finally made sense of what was going on. Meaning that his face was resting on Haechan's chest. Bare chest. And his own torso, bare torso, was wrapped by the boy's arms. 

Oh fuck, he thought. Oh shit. 

"It's too late in the morning to run away", Haechan mumbled, waking up softly as well. 

Mark froze as he was trying to get up. He was propped up on an elbow when Haechan opened his eyes and Mark felt his breath hitch. 

Haechan was there, pillow adorned with his luscious locks lying all around his head like a halo, chocolate eyes warmed by the sun shining through the windows and his skin, God, he looked like an angel. 

"I'm not going away", Mark lied, surprising himself by how deep and hoarse his voice sounded like. "Fuck, you're so cute right now", he whispered soon after, unable to control himself. 

Haechan's eyes got wider at Mark's words. He expected Mark to freak out, and Mark was freaking out inside a lot, but having Haechan like that, underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful as never before, made Mark feel peaceful at the same time. 

This is all he wanted in life. 

The older managed to keep it together for a few other seconds, trying to look confident, but when Haechan's cheeks reddened with blush, Mark lost it and blushed as well, rolling away, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in with a scream. 

"I can't believe it", his voice came out muffled. "Oh my God", he yelled quietly. 

Haechan started to chuckle embarrassed. "What an idiot". 

"How-", Mark removed the pillow enough for one eye to poke out. "How far-", he stuttered. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, faking nonchalance. 

"Just oral", he whispered while getting up and putting his feet on the ground, turning his back to Mark, unable to look at him in the face either. 

"Oh", the other sounded weirdly disappointed. Haechan pinched the base of his nose. That man was sending such mixed messages. "You did dry hump my ass if that makes things better", Haechan spoke through his teeth, embarrassed out of his mind, grabbing the bottle of water he kept on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. You deserve to get fucked properly", Mark replied quietly as if thinking at loud, making Haechan choke on his water and spit it all around the room. 

Mark sat up quickly and placed a hand on Haechan's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

The choking boy turned around to face him. 

"I thought you'd be all embarrassed about this", he commented while drying his wet lips with the back of his hand. 

"I am!" Mark's eyes got wide and his red ears confirmed it, but it was still not what Haechan expected. 

"I mean", Haechan hesitated, unsure of what words to use, "I thought you'd regret it in the morning. You were really drunk last night and you had no idea what you were doing”. 

Mark's face visibly darkened. 

"Do you regret it?", he asked. 

Haechan went on with his phrase ignoring Mark’s question. "-like I was sober and I was worried that maybe I should have-". 

"Haechan". 

Mark's voice was so deep and serious that Haechan's heart started to beat faster upon hearing him calling his name like that. "Answer me. Do you regret it? Did I- fuck - did I do something wrong?", Mark asked ruffling his hair with one hand. He looked so worried and distressed that Haechan for a second didn't know what to say. 

"No", the younger finally shook his head. "No", he repeated. "I was aware of everything and I made my choice consciously but you-", Haechan hesitated again.  "Me too", Mark spoke up, nodding. "I remember everything until you helped me to get out of the club. After I sucked y-".

"Don't say it", Haechan stopped him with a raised palm. 

Mark chuckled embarrassedly. 

If only Haechan knew how cute he was being in that moment, faking his serious face and steading his voice. Mark would have wanted to see Haechan confess just how weak he was. 

"So you, like, you wanted it? Not because you were just drunk and I happened to be there?", Haechan asked timidly. Haechan couldn't believe he was so shy to talk about sex with someone. It has never happened before. Nothing he did with Mark happened before. 

Mark gulped down. "I wanted it, yeah. I didn't do it because I was drunk. I did it thanks to that. I don't think I would have had the courage otherwise", he explained. "But I'm also sorry. It mustn't be nice to- like--uh, you know, with a drunk person", he stuttered, eyes closing and opening as he thought about the words to use. 

Haechan looked down, shyly. "You were very hot actually", he whispered back, scratching the back of his head. 

"Haechan," Mark finally found his voice after a moment of shocked silence. "I swear to God, I would take you-", but interrupted himself abruptly. 

Haechan looked at him flustered. 

Mark cleared his voice. 

Then he shook his head. 

"No", he chuckled at himself. "Nothing, never mind", he added suddenly getting up, the covers sliding down his naked body. 

Haechan looked at it. He had looked at it the whole night. That night he kissed every inch of that skin and listened to Mark's soft moans. And Haechan realized that it wasn't a hookup. At all. Not for him. But Mark didn't remember that part and Haechan didn't want to tell him. If Haechan had to think about it for the next month, so be it. It was all on him. He let himself go too far and he wasn't talking about the physical aspect. It was all his fault if his heart was aching to see Mark get dressed instead of lying beside him, cuddling, or better, doing what Mark didn't dare to tell him.

_______

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?".

Forgetting. 

Mark wanted to forget but he couldn't do it. Not the day after and not on Monday morning, seeing Haechan's pretty lips so close to him and not being able to kiss them. 

Mark lied when Haechan asked him what he remembered. 

Well, not entirely, because he did forget some parts. 

But he was definitely lucid when Haechan went down on him, slowly, after kissing his lips, then his neck, sucking on his skin, then his chest and stomach as Mark wrapped Haechan's hair around his fingers. The boy asked multiple times if Mark was okay with that until Mark had to basically beg to just suck him off already. And God, he was so cute doing it. He would never forget how that felt. Divine. His head was so light as if zero oxygen got to it, every drop of blood concentrated inside of Haechan's warm and wet mouth instead. 

And he was staring at that mouth now, as Haechan explained the work to do for the day. Mark wasn't even that horny. No. He just wanted to hold him again and softly press his lips on Haechan's plump ones. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this". 

Haechan was sober when he said that. He meant it. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. Right? Should he ask? Haechan, did you forget? Do you want to forget? Because I don't. 

And I can't. 

"Mark", Haechan snapped his fingers in front of him making the boy jolt. "Focus", he ordered. "What are you thinking about?".

You. I'm thinking about you. You. You. I've been thinking about you for days, Haechan. 

"Lunch", Mark shrugged. Haechan rolled his eyes. "What an idiot".

_______

That afternoon Haechan was in a relatively good mood. 

He should have known that the most peaceful days could bring the most terrible storms though. 

So he jolted at the sound of a voice he almost forgot how it sounded like. 

"Haechan, I thought you died or something". 

The boy in question looked up from his computer to see a pair of feline eyes. 

They were bright and amused. Then he saw the lips. Soft and pink stretched in a sweet smile. 

Doyoung was still like a house with all the lights on, but now it wasn’t empty anymore. Now everyone was home. This house was full of people, all happy and content. 

Haechan was so glad. He truly was. This is what he has always wanted to see since first locking eyes with that man. But he also felt suddenly miserable. Miserable and confused. 

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat like that. Not anymore. 

"I did die and I just got back from hell", he replied, trying to sound as snarky as possible. It wasn't entirely a lie. 

"What about you? You also went missing". Doyoung blushed subtly at the innuendo and Haechan felt the urge to punch the table. Or himself. "I've been busy", Doyoung replied softly. "So you went to paradise instead, I see", Haechan commented with a smile hoping that no one noticed how fake it was.

_______

"A man can't have his alone time in peace. What do you want?", Haechan rolled his eyes while Mark sat down beside him, resting his back on the rooftop wall, looking in front of him at the blue sky. 

It was a sunny day with a slight breeze, enough for Haechan's fringe to wave gently. 

Mark loved it when the wind ruffled Haechan's hair but he couldn't bring himself to look at the younger boy. Not at that moment. 

"I didn't know", Mark whispered. "What?", Haechan's voice came out irritated but he didn't care. 

"That you were in love", Mark added. 

Haechan choked on his breath. 

"I'm not", he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes as if sunbathing. Conversation over, it meant. An angry bronzing session. 

Mark finally looked at him then, feeling safe as he wasn't seen back. He watched the way Haechan’s skin glowed under the warm rays. Mark thought about how it would feel under his fingertips but he wasn’t sure. He touched it before but now he couldn’t remember it. Mark wanted to raise one hand and touch his cheek again, this time fully concentrating on the feeling. He wanted to let it slide down the boy’s jawline, feeling the sharp bone, then on his neck where the angry pulsating artery pumped blood at a crazy speed. Then he wanted to hear Haechan’s soft breath as his hand unbuttoned his shirt, this time feeling his heartbeat. Mark wanted it to be fast and only for him. For Mark. 

It all made sense now. But why does it have to be like that? What should Mark do? What do people do in this scenario? 

Was he thinking about this Doyoung guy? Has Haechan been thinking about other men? The whole time? While Mark was thinking about him? 

Was he imagining kissing that man's lips while Mark's mind was full of Haechan and Haechan only? 

Of course, he would. 

What was Mark thinking? Isn’t this what he accepted? Isn’t this what he decided to adventure in? Why was Mark suddenly so hurt about Haechan behaving as he anticipated him to do? 

We forget about this in the morning and Mark was certain now that Haechan actually did forget. 

"Does he know?", Mark asked after a while. Haechan snorted. "Of course he doesn't". "He doesn't know what?".

The other boy sighed at the trap. 

"Just leave me alone", he ordered. And Mark actually got up and left. 

Haechan's cheeks got wet right when it started to rain.

_______

"Mark, if you have something to say, just say it". 

It's been a few days of Mark not talking but still looking at Haechan as if about to burst in a monologue anytime soon. 

Haechan had been brusque with him before, but it never came to Mark not talking to him. 

The younger boy wasn’t stupid. It was obvious what was going on with Mark but Haechan didn’t have the force to deal with it sooner. 

"I don't have anything to say", Mark replied. "Do you have anything to say?".

Haechan rested his back on the chair and looked at Mark, irritated. 

"Okay, we need to sort this thing out. We can't work like this". "Like this how? We're working just fine", Mark didn't raise his eyes from the computer. "Mark, you've been writing and deleting the same line for a while now", Haechan indicated the screen with his chin. "Well, maybe something is going on with me but it doesn't have anything to do with you, so we don't need to talk about anything", Mark replied finally starting a new line. 

So Mark was able to lie as well, huh?

"Mark", Haechan lowered his voice. "Do you perhaps have feelings for me?", he whispered. 

"What?!" Mark yelled. 

Onew jolted on his seat. 

"Keep your voice down, you dumbass", Haechan put one hand on his thigh. Mark looked down at it then at Haechan's face. 

Haechan retrieved his hand back. 

Mark breathed heavily before talking. 

"It's just--”, he rested his back on the chair as well, “I've never been with someone like that before and I'm so confused right now, like, I don't know if I have feelings for you or just--like, I need closure?", he questioned as if talking to himself. 

Haechan was surprised that Mark told him all that. 

"You mean that you're a virgin?", the younger asked incredulously. "Uhm, I can hear you", Onew said. "Then get your ass up and take a stroll, Owen", Haechan spoke up. 

Mark flinched at his sudden and loud voice. 

Their colleague shook his head as if not believing he was dealing with some weirdos and got out of the office mumbling something about gen z people. 

"I am not a virgin. I meant hookups", Mark explained after a little pause while his cheeks acted like a virgin's. "You said you've never sucked someone before", Haechan raised one eyebrow. "It's alright if you're a virgin, Mark. You just have to tell me and-”, he interrupted himself as if realizing what they actually did, “-fuck, you had to tell me before as well. God, I acted recklessly, I should hav-".

"I am not a virgin! Stop saying that. I've never sucked before because I've been eating pussy, okay?", Mark raised his voice.

Haechan blinked at him. "So you're confused about your sexuality?" 

Mark rolled his eyes defeated. "I know what I like! I'm not confused. Just hear me out!" "You said you were confused just a minute ago", Haechan said. "But not about my sexuality. Because of the hookup!"  "Why are you yelling?", Haechan yelled.  "I'm not yelling!", Mark yelled back.  "You're arguing with me right now". "Because you're not listening! I don't know how I'm feeling about you because I've never slept around before. I-- just--don't like it", Mark stuttered.  "Then why did you sleep with me?", Haechan was exasperated.  Mark whined. "Because I liked you already”.  "So you do like me. You have feelings for me", Haechan raised his hands as if talking with a fool. 

The other shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable. 

"Don't all people like their hookup partners though? Like, would you sleep with someone if they were ugly as fuck? I don't think so. You still need to be attracted to them a little". 

Haechan sighed while massaging his temples. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Didn't you have crushes before? Don't you know what it feels like to be in love?".

Mark groaned tiredly. "I did. And I know. But this is different", he spoke with a softer tone. 

Haechan sighed. "So what? Am I supposed to help you figure that out? If you like me or not?". 

Mark straightened his tie and focused on his computer again as if the conversation was over. 

"Listen, you wanted to hear me talk, so I did". 

The younger boy stared at the other’s fingers as they started to type something, probably useless. 

"Do you even want to like me? Like what's your expectation?". 

Mark’s fingers stopped and he remained silent for a little while. "Well, you like somebody else, so it wouldn't be nice if I had feelings for you, would it?". 

Haechan prolonged the silence a bit. "I'm getting out of it".

Mark turned his head to him. 

That was a lie, Mark could see it. A blatant lie. 

"Do you want me to like you?", he asked. His voice was soft and low. 

Haechan thought about it for a second. He didn’t know what to say. 

Mark sighed, unable to wait like that, and closed his eyes, reclining back on his seat again. 

"I like you, Haechan. Okay? I like you, fuck. I don't care if you like somebody else". 

Haechan’s heart started to beat even faster than before. 

“Was this the problem, then? You were jealous?”, Haechan’s voice came out quieter than he intended. 

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped together. 

He shrugged. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I just needed to say it. I’m not asking for anything from you”, Mark directed his gaze towards Haechan. 

He looked so serious that it made Haechan’s cheeks get pink again. 

Mark’s eyes trembled imperceptibly at that reaction but he didn’t dare to say anything about it. 

He cleared his voice as Haechan couldn’t bring himself to add anything either and got back to work.

_______

It was very late at night. 

Haechan had no idea what time it was but it was not a time normal people would be awake at. 

He fidgeted under the covers, restless and irritated. He felt hot and his mind wouldn’t let him sleep. 

His hands found his phone after a while, ready to click on Jaemin’s name. But then his thumb slid down and it stopped over Mark instead. 

Haechan stared at the bright screen until he felt his eyes tear up from lack of blinking then just pressed it with a huff. 

Bad person Haechan. You’re a bad person. You’re such a bad person. A mistake. You did a mistake a now you were about to make another one.

“Yes”, Mark’s rough voice interrupted Haechan’s train of thoughts. 

The younger boy opened his mouth to breathe better and he let that monosyllable caress his ears even after the sound already died. 

“Hey”, Haechan whispered, closing his eyes, helping his other senses to get sharper. 

Mark groaned softly and shifted in his bed, probably turning in a more comfortable position. “Haechan”, he said in the same sleepy and deep voice and Haechan had to make an effort to not whimper into the phone. 

Why was Haechan so affected by this boy but at the same time so afraid of him? He shouldn’t have let Mark get so involved. Haechan should have put a wall between them the first time his lips said that first “cute”, then another one when he blatantly saw the way Mark’s eyes couldn’t leave him, then another one that night in the club, and another one when Mark asked him if Haechan wanted to be liked. And now as well. Just end the call. 

But he couldn’t. 

His walls were not strong enough for Mark and Haechan was a bad person. 

He liked it. He liked a lot. Haechan wanted more and more even if he could give back only darkness. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, Haechan said after waiting a few seconds to recollect himself. 

Mark hummed as if telling him that it was alright. “Is everything okay?” he asked and Haechan noticed the way Mark was slowly waking up by the growing concern in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, everything is good. I just…”, Haechan hesitated. 

Why did he even call Mark in the first place? Did he need company? Rude. Did he miss him? Gross. He was a bad person, using people when he needed, disregarding their feelings? Yeah. 

“I wanted to speak to someone”, he decided to be honest. 

Mark’s breath got louder for a second as if he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you thought of me, then. Unless you called other people first and no one replied”. 

Haechan smiled, feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush, then stopped, starting to hate himself. “No. You’re the only one I called”, he confessed. 

What was he doing? Bad. Bad Haechan. Bad. 

Mark went silent and Haechan listened to his breath for a while.

“You confuse me so much, Haechan”, Mark’s voice was a whisper and Haechan swallowed nothing, feeling his throat suddenly dry. 

Yeah. It was not fair. Not when Mark told him how he was feeling and Haechan couldn’t do the same. 

“But I’m not complaining”, Mark added before Haechan could apologize and end the call, finally getting to his senses. “I don’t care, Haechan. I like you so much. You can do whatever you want to me”. 

Haechan bit his lower lip. God, he hated himself. 

“Mark-”. “Would you do something for me?”, the boy interrupted him. “Mm? What?”. “Would you-”, Mark stopped, breath suddenly quicker, “-would you-uhm-- shit”, he repeated softly before chuckling, slightly embarrassed. 

Haechan’s skin got goosebumps, wondering if he understood what Mark wanted. His heartbeat started to pump blood at a crazy speed at it all went in a single place. 

So he did what Mark asked, even if he would end up being wrong, only because he wanted it too. He slid a hand under his t-shirt, slowly, until reaching his nipples, and whined into the phone. 

Mark went completely silent for a second. 

Haechan whined again a little louder. 

“Fuck, Haechan”, Mark’s voice trembled. "Are you-- are you touching yourself?”.

Haechan hummed. “My nipples”, he simply replied as he pinched them, playing with himself, feeling his boxers get tighter at every stroke. “Oh fuck”, Mark’s rough voice made Haechan squeeze his eyes together and open his mouth in a silent moan. 

They were both panting. Haechan couldn’t tell if Mark was just lying there and imagining or if he started to shyly let his hand slide south as well. 

“How does it feel?”, Mark inquired with a shaken voice and Haechan realized he still had too much control to be rubbing one out as well. “It feels so good, Mark”, the younger one replied, adding soft swears as his fingers got under the fabric of his boxers, letting the elastic hit his abdomen once, loudly, making sure Mark heard it as well. “Hmm -a-ah”, he wrapped his cock with his hand, pumping it slowly a few times, pressing his thumb on the slit. 

He didn’t need to exaggerate any sound. Knowing that Mark was listening could make Haechan go over the edge alone. 

“Haechan, you make me go so fucking crazy”, Mark’s shaking voice made Haechan bite his lower lip. “You too, Mark”, he confessed in the cloud of sensations. 

Then listened to the way the other boy’s bed sheets irrefutably shifted and the bed creaked and his breath hitched as he started to pleasure himself to the sound of Haechan’s whimpers and the image he had of him.  

They didn’t talk anymore. There was no need to and they weren’t able to either. Not having Mark near him, made Haechan last longer but it was still too quickly than usual so he stopped right before cumming, edging himself until the other whined into his pillow, cursing and calling Haechan’s name.

_______

Haechan avoided Mark the whole day. He told Mark that he had some other work and barely came into the office. 

The older boy would sigh every five minutes, mind racing, making the poor Onew groan. 

“He’s feeling awkward. You guys fucked, it’s normal”. 

Mark turned his head towards him as if awoken from a dream, cheeks blushing violently as soon as he made sense of the other’s words. 

“Also, you’re in love with him. I would avoid someone in love with me as well if I only wanted to fuck them,” Onew added as if talking about the weather. Mark was unable to speak. “He’s afraid to hurt you now”. 

“I told him it was alright, though”, Mark finally whispered, trying hard to suppress the hysterical little chuckle he would get when nervous or talking about embarrassing stuff. 

Onew got up with his empty coffee mug in his hand. 

“Show it. Do something that can make him realize that it’s okay for you to be in this type of relationship”, he added before walking out whistling with not one single worry in the world. 

Mark would have wanted to whistle as well but couldn’t. 

That advice was breaking his heart. 

It was true. Mark said that he was okay, but he was lying. 

Of course, he was not alright. 

He wanted to, oh he wanted so bad to be alright but it was so late. It was already late from the beginning. Mark didn’t want that kind of relationship. He wanted more. 

But Onew was also right. Mark had to do something. If being able to have Haechan like that meant breaking his own heart, Mark was ready to do it. 

And when that night he went to Jungwoo’s monthly party again, he forced his beating heart to stop upon seeing Haechan’s back. 

The young men’s slender figure was curved in a laugh, the pretty sound almost audible to Mark’s far away ears. Then Haechan sipped from the drink in front of him, still amused by the handsome bartender’s joke, and spun around in his chair right in time to see Mark being hit on by a woman. 

Haechan’s lips stopped on the edge of the glass, eyes unable to blink, staring emotionless at the way Mark’s lips curved in a timid smile while his hands weren’t timid at all, firmly grabbing that girl’s hips as she wiggled her ass against Mark’s crotch. 

Haechan turned around, placing the drink on the counter with a slightly shaking hand. 

“Everything alright?”, the bartender asked. 

Haechan didn’t reply and threw his head back, finished his cocktail in one gulp.

_______

It was quite early when the boy left the party. Haechan felt like suffocating in the middle of all those people breathing heavily, clouding his mind. 

Waiting for his taxi outside, ignoring the stares of horny people smoking and grinding against each other by the entrance of the Garages, he got reasonable startled when two hands suddenly wrapped his torso. 

But those were some delicate fingers and Haechan could recognize that cologne in a thousand others. 

Mark rested his face on Haechan’s shoulder and no one said anything for a little while, listening to the deep bass coming out of the club, the yelling and the traffic on the main road just a few blocks away. 

“Sorry if I startled you”, Mark mumbled. 

Haechan bit his lower lip and turned around, expecting a drunk and horny Mark yet again. But the boy’s eyes were wide and awake, his usual staring-as-if-reading-your-soul eyes met Haechan’s ones. 

The younger looked at them for a second then he eyed the bright red hickeys on the other’s neck as well as the slightly unbuttoned shirt. 

“I see you’ve had some fun tonight”, Haechan commented unable to hide his bitter tone. Not that Mark wouldn’t have been able to see through his fake face anyway. 

Mark licked his lips and tugged Haechan’s hips towards him. 

"Is this alright?", his voice was low and sultry, ignoring Haechan’s little jab, caressing his lower back instead. 

Haechan started to pant softly, unsuccessfully trying to take a step back then he gulped down staring at the other’s lips getting each second closer. 

"We can pretend it didn't happen", Mark went on, "just like we've always done, isn’t that right?", and Haechan could have sworn that Mark was a little pissed off. “Fucking at night then pretending we don’t know each other during the day, huh? Isn’t this what you want? I can do that”. 

Mark's fingers reached the hem of Haechan's t-shirt by now, hiking it up slowly, dragging his fingertips on his skin. It was warm, just like Mark had always imagined. A loud cheer mixed with glass shattering made Haechan flinch but Mark shushed him, every second closer until they were breathing each other's air. 

"I really want to take you right now, just like this". 

Mark's whisper made both of their hearts beat like crazy.  The first, not believing he was talking like that, the second, not believing that Mark was telling him that. 

And when Haechan finally closed his eyes, ready to melt into the kiss, Mark's lips ghosted his cheek and neck instead, fingers still drawing little circles on the younger's chest, resting his palm on the beating heart. Then he pulled away. 

“It’s a shame that you’re pushing me away like this”, Mark straightened his back and walked away.

_______

Mark was a weird guy. 

And when Haechan bumped into him inside the local supermarket near his apartment, a large sweatshirt on his frame, boyfriend jeans, ruffled hair, a little stubble, concerned expression behind his golden round glasses, the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips mindlessly, deciding what brand of cereal he wanted, Haechan felt the urge to go there and yell at him that he's in love. 

Haechan never liked the "what are we" question. 

Everyone around him asked that. What are we? Friends. Friends with benefits. Nothing, we're just fucking. Haechan has never adventured there. But now, looking at Mark's profile, his hand finally picking up the cereal pack, Haechan wanted to ask him that question. 

What are we, Mark? 

Because I want us to be something. 

I want to claim you in ways that give other people no place to do the same. 

Not a friend, not a colleague, not a friend with benefits. 

An etiquette that only Haechan could claim. 

Even if Haechan didn’t deserve that. 

Mine. My boyfriend. Mine. Mine. All mine. 

Was that wrong? Probably. 

But Haechan felt no remorse. 

Was that love? Haechan was unsure but he wanted to find out. 

So he walked over. Was Mark there because he hoped to see Haechan? "Oh, Haechan", Mark seemed genuinely surprised when the younger called his name. "What are you doing here?", the boy asked. 

Mark looked around briefly as if suddenly not knowing where he was. "The meat here is higher quality than the supermarket near my apartment", he explained and Haechan could see the way Mark's expression screamed honesty. 

He wasn’t there because of Haechan. Mark might have had a crush on the other but he was slipping away now. 

Come back, Mark. Come back to me. Call me cute again. Touch my skin. Don’t do this. Don’t play with me like this. 

"Haechan", Mark's voice wavered as the boy got suddenly closer. "We're in public". 

Haechan didn’t look away. “You didn’t care about the public last night. You let that slut fuck you in front of everyone then you dared to flirt with me and leave me on the edge like that?”, he confronted him. 

Mark’s little stunt made the younger so mad the day before that he felt like bursting in his pants during the drive home. Cheeks flushed and trembling hand, he didn’t even bother to walk to the bedroom. He closed his eyes and threw his head back to rest against the entrance door as soon as he stepped into his empty apartment. He came and came, again and again, until he felt too sensitive to touch himself anymore. God, he was so mad. 

“Haechan, are you jealous?”, Mark’s eyes relaxed, the cereal pack still between them, the gaze of some elderly ladies not leaving their backs. 

Haechan’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yeah. I am. I am jealous. I am fucking jealous. Okay? I hate it. I hate that you sleep with other people. You’re mine and mine only”, Haechan spat out quickly before he could regret saying it. 

He was panting and he didn’t even have to look at himself to know that he was all red. 

Mark’s breath hitched in a startled laugh. 

“And I hate that you have all of this control over me. I was done, okay? I was done with feelings and here you are, doing all of this bullshit to me. Your little game worked. Are you happy?”. 

Getting out of the apartment that late morning, Mark didn’t anticipate getting a confession from Haechan in the cereal aisle while said person looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, doe eyes and a trembling lower lip. 

God, he was so cute, Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him. 

“You saw my game and played by my rules?”, Mark asked impressed. 

“You didn’t even give me time to play at all! I got defeated before starting”, the other admitted frustrated. 

Mark chuckled. “Why are you getting mad at me, Haechan? You ignored me in the first place, sleeping with other people.” 

The boy huffed exasperated and walked away, bumping Mark in the shoulder, making the other pirouette and grab him by the forearm. 

“I was joking. Come on”, he cooed. “This is what I’ve always wanted”. 

Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek, annoyed. “What? Me making a fool out of myself?”

“Showing yourself to me”, Mark replied kindly. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, still using his faking-nonchalance-to-not-show-his-feelings technique, but Mark was already immune to that. In fact, he has been immune to that from the start. 

Haechan loved it. 

Haechan loved it so much that he got scared. It was too good to be true.

________

It was pouring heavily when they got out of the supermarket. Haechan had his apartment windows open and they could smell the scent of rain, clean and refreshing. 

It was cold but Mark's body heated the boy in a second, groceries fallen on the floor, wrapping his arms around the other’s frame. 

They did not kiss and Haechan was quite surprised but he didn't say anything, hiding his face the crook of Mark's neck instead, inhaling all of his favourite scents at the same time. 

"I called you upstairs for a different reason," Haechan mumbled, surprised at the sudden softness, the sound of his voice muffled by the other's slightly damp sweatshirt. 

"I know," Mark whispered against his temple. 

He placed a delicate kiss there, then another one slightly below, then another one, drawing a line until reaching the jaw. Haechan raised his face and Mark kissed the corner of his lips, then the other cheek, and jaw again, and the other temple. 

Haechan closed his eyes with a little smile as if giving up. 

Mark, what are you doing?".

"I want you to think", the other replied, lips still busy. Haechan scoffed. "I want to stop thinking". "I want you to think about me". 

His lips reached Haechan's forehead and stayed there for a little. 

The only sound was the rain and Haechan's quick heart. 

"I already think about you a lot", Haechan confessed, face close to Mark's collarbones. 

"And why do you want to stop?" the other murmured. 

His voice was so relaxing and calming that Haechan for a second forgot why was he trying to not think about Mark in the first place. Why was he pushing him away? Why has he been pushing him away all of that time?

Then he remembered when Mark's hands slid down Haechan's back. 

"Because I'm a bad person". Mark sighed as if he expected that but still wanted to hear the other say it. "You're not a good judge". Haechan tsk-ed. "Well, thanks, I guess." "I am the one who has to decide if you're a bad person or not, and I say that you're not." "You're blinded by love”. 

Mark hugged Haechan even tighter. 

"Yeah, I am, so Haechan, please, let me love you", his tone darkened suddenly. "Stop pushing me away. I can handle anything". 

"I'm going to fuck up", Haechan shook his head. 

"You won't and if you do, I still want to take my chances. What if I fuck up before you do?" 

Haechan laughed, resting his chin on Mark's chest, rising his face to look at the boy in the eyes. "Mark, you're a saint".

The saint’s eyes were those of a sinner though when he pressed his thumb on Haechan’s plump, lower lip. 

"Have you ever made love to someone before?", he asked with a deep voice. 

Haechan's eyes widened with amusement. "Are you joking? I’m a hoe.” 

Mark hummed. "No. I said, love. Have you? Because I haven't either and I desperately want to make love to you right now". 

And Mark was right. 

Haechan had never made love with someone before and he realized it as soon as the other's hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips softly, pushing him back towards the bed, making him sit on it, letting Haechan watch as Mark elegantly took away his sweatshirt first then the shirt underneath it. 

Haechan blinked, emotions he has never felt before invading his whole body as Mark pushed him down with a gentle touch, kissing his stomach and going up, taking Haechan's top with him, letting the cold air caress his skin making it all shiver. It would have shivered anyways, goosebumps forming at every feathery touch of Mark's lips. They took away all of the remaining clothes, touching each other slowly, curiously, exploring everything, with fingertips and lips and tongues. Attentive, remembering which stroke made the other whine louder, what kind of whisper pleased the ears more, what pet name made the other blush. 

It was still raining hard, but they weren't cold, tightly wrapped in each other arms, the heavy covers to hide their secret whispers from the world. They were hidden in giggles and heavy breaths, "here?", "yeah", "like this?", "hmm", and Haechan felt so present. He was there, at that moment and he was seen. Mark was looking at him, really looking and Haechan didn't have to do anything to make it happen. There was no reason to put on an act. He just had to be himself. Vulnerable and- "cute," Mark whispered, chests rising, short breaths, his thumb caressing Haechan's red cheeks. 

"Say it again", Haechan smiled. 

Mark imitated him, his lips murmuring the word until they didn't have to, the feeling of it lingering in the air by itself.