#starting my posting of old fic!

[your-turn-to-role]

An Interlude.

[Takes place just after the Thordak battle - in the campaign, Vax and Gilmore both arrive to search his lair about 20 minutes after the rest of the group, and I wanted to see what that time may have looked like]

If there's one thing Shaun Gilmore knows for certain, it's that he's never doing this again. Never. He's gained a new respect for the fact that Vox Machina throws themself into situations like this regularly.

Everything hurts.

He's been up against Thordak before, briefly, and while that wasn't exactly a walk in the park either, it was relatively quick. He got in, absolutely failed at doing any damage to the creature, and got the fuck back out again, nearly dying in the process.

And to think he'd just managed to heal from that time. Now he's thrown himself into it again.

One dragon's dead, at least. No matter what the future holds, they killed Thordak, and no one's permanently dead. They couldn't have asked for much better.

He would, however, like to not feel like half his body's on fire constantly from the sheer amount of burns that haven't healed yet. He's not in danger of dying, but magic only goes so far, and they've used most of theirs already. Even the great Vox Machina has their limits.

It's strange, almost, to see them like this. He's seen them swagger into his shop with all the confidence in the world, seen them drunk in a speakeasy celebrating his arrival. He thought he came close, that night with the assassins, to seeing them at their most vulnerable, but even then, by the time he arrived, the problem had mostly been dealt with, and the majority of them were back to joking, barely fazed by it.

No one's come out of this with that bravado intact. Sure, they survived, but they're shaken, exhausted. Tending to each other's wounds with a strange quiet he's not used to seeing from them.

They share bandages, and food, taking a moment to rest and process. Grog's run off somewhere, but Pike is going around treating minor injuries the old fashioned way. Vex is just leaning against the cavern wall with her eyes closed, Percy has his head rested on his knees, not looking at anyone. Keyleth is in the corner with the man Shaun hasn't met, but he seems to be comforting her. Even Scanlan seems to have more on his mind than usual.

Vax is asleep on his sister's shoulder, stirring only barely when Vex or Pike need him to move to check on his injuries. They don't seem worried, so he should be alright, but Shaun would be lying if there weren't a few moments in that fight where he'd assumed the worst. He'd heard the sickening crunch of bone when Vax was thrown to the ground, and between the poison gas, the lava, the cold spell... They're all lucky to be alive. As it is, there's still blood down Vax's face from a cut across his cheekbone, several scrapes and bite marks along his arms, and a particularly nasty looking claw mark on his side. The broken bones, at least, appear fixed, so that's something.

Despite himself, Shaun can't help but think that even like this, Vax is the most handsome man he's ever seen. Fate never had the two of them in the cards, it would seem, but he'll never stop appreciating this beautiful, reckless, dangerous half elf. Selfish and selfless in the same breath, the most painful deeds with only the best of intentions, his joy and grief wrapped up in one.

Vox Machina are his friends, all of them, he loves each and every one. But he'll never meet anyone else who can twist his heart in knots like this.

After they've gathered themselves, when all wounds seem to be healed to the best of their ability and they've had their breather, the group starts to wander in small clusters back to the treasure pile. Grog's been there for a while already, so it seems they're not wanting him to have all the fun.

Vex gently lays her brother down on the ground beside her as she gets up. It speaks to the really rough day they've all had that he doesn't even stir.

Shaun should probably go look with them. In all likelihood there's plenty of his own belongings somewhere in that treasure pile, things he put a lot of time and care into that he definitely wants back. Thordak's been sitting on all of Emon's goods for far too long.

Instead, he stays.

Without a word, he stays, and counts Vax's laboured breaths until they sync up with his own.

He can tell when Vax starts to wake up by the way those breaths get quicker and shallower, and, when Shaun opens his eyes, by the way Vax's face is twisting with pain.

Vax groans, carefully pressing a hand to the wound on his side, then withdrawing it and letting it hover slightly above. He still isn't fully awake yet, but he's getting there, twisting himself around on the dirt floor of the tunnel.

"...Shaun?" is the first thing Vax asks, as he blinks groggily, looking around the mostly empty space, eyes finally landing on where he's sitting.

"Sleep well?" Shaun asks wryly.

Vax just lets out another groan, rolling back onto his back. "Not really," he says, rubbing his eyes with his palm. "Everything hurts."

"Hah, tell me about it," Shaun replies, with genuine humor.

Another minute passes as Vax slowly drags himself to full consciousness, sitting up against the tunnel wall. After a moment, he looks around, seeming to just now realise they're alone.

"Where'd everyone go?"

"Oh, off to loot the dragon's treasure, I suspect. We may have let one dragon go, but the other is very, very dead, and therefore no longer sitting on all of Emon's belongings."

"You didn't go with them?" Vax asks, confused.

"I'll join them in a bit. For now I think I could do with the quiet, just for a moment. It's been one hell of a day," he says, stretching his arms out with a bit of a yawn.

"Did you want me to leave?"

"Oh, no, never, you're fine. Stay as long as you like. God knows you deserve the rest far more than I do."

"I wouldn't say that," Vax says quickly but surely, staring intently at the floor.

"You didn't, I did," Shaun counters. "But seriously, look at you! Killed a dragon, saved a city - you're living up to your hero name, and it just keeps getting more impressive."

"This isn't over yet."

"No, but it's four of five down. Take some credit for that! And considering how convinced you were Thordak was gonna kill you, I think you've done very well. I have complete faith in you, all of you, to see this through."

"You're not coming with us?" Vax asks, finally raising his head again.

"Oh nooo, no I don't think so," Shaun says immediately. "I have had, more than enough dragon to last a lifetime. How you lot do this every day is beyond me."

That gets a small laugh from Vax, and he looks down again, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

"Hah, yeah, you get used to it, I suppose. You know, you run your face into the wall enough times, you kinda stop flinching at it."

"That's, concerning, but I'll thank the gods every day Vox Machina's out there doing that so the rest of us don't have to," he replies with a smile.

There's another lull in the conversation for a while, as they collect their thoughts. The awkwardness and tension that's filled so many of their conversations since Vax broke up with him seems to have mostly dissipated, and Shaun couldn't be gladder for it. Even if they're not together, and probably never will be, they still know each other extremely well, and there's a trust there that takes more than a breakup, a pact with a mysterious god, and four ancient dragons to shake.

"How are you doing?" Vax asks, after a moment.

"I feel like I should be asking you that," Shaun says wryly. "I mean, could do with fewer burns, will not be jumping into any more fires in the near future, but I'll heal. And Thordak's dead, thank you again for that. So I think we've both got all the vengeance we needed to."

"It doesn't bring back what we lost."

"No, it doesn't," he agrees, simply. "But he won't be doing it to anyone else."

Vax sits in quiet agreement another moment, then gets a curious smile on his face.

"What are you thinking?" Shaun asks.

"It doesn't bring back all that we lost. But I seem to recall a lot of your shop making its way into Thordak's gold pile. Care to find out how much is left?"

Shaun had said no to the same question when he himself asked it, fifteen minutes ago. But he's feeling so much more renewed suddenly, now that they're all awake and alive.

"Before Grog or, gods forbid, your sister, get their hands all over it? By all means," he says with a grin.

"She's not that bad," Vax protests, but there's just laughter in his voice.

"Oh I adore her, don't get me wrong, but when it comes to my business dealings, I'll take a rematch with the dragon. She will come out of this with more of my belongings than me, just you watch."

Shaun's entire body rebels again when he tries to get up, reminding him just how many burns he sustained in that last fight - but eventually he manages it, with minimal embarrassment.

"Give yourself some credit," Vax says, leaning back against the wall and looking up at him. "I mean, not even I managed to seduce you into giving us stuff for free."

"Yes, because I run a fine boutique of magical items, not a charity for down on their luck adventurers." Shaun holds out a hand, and helps Vax to his feet. "No matter how good looking they may be."

"Hey, the way things are going, we might end up with more gold than you. Four dragon hoards and counting, it's no joke."

"Oh, really? And remind me, how much of that did you make yourself?"

"Hey, you get paid to make magical items, we get paid to fight dragons. It's not stealing if it was already stolen by a dragon and won't be missed."

"I will find the last remaining functional postal service on the continent and I will mail your sister a full inventory, don't test me."

"Yeah, funny thing, she tends to just rip those up."

"I am so very unsurprised by this."

And they walk away.

[damian-lil-babybat]

'Dead Poets Society' gang

Headcanon that these four drop poetry and literature quotes on their conversations unprompted.

Jason 'English-major-I-only-visit-the-manor-for-the-library' Todd-Wayne

Damian 'I-master-liberal-arts-unlike-you-plebs-PHD-holder' al Ghul-Wayne

Cassandra 'I-learn-English-thru-Shakespeare-as-god-intended' Cain-Wayne

Duke 'only-title-holder-of-vigilante-poet-and-will-cuss-you-just-as-poetically' Thomas-(future) Wayne

[thatdeadaquarius]

sagau with the language barrier issue except... the creator is sick and tired of trying to ask for things so they do everything themself.

and it gives their followers mass anxiety bc they can't even ask what you're doing... bc they know they won't understand anything...

SUCH A GENIUS NARVI 10/10 GOOD WORK SORRY IM SUPER LATE BUT THIS IS *chefs kiss*

Like, that's literally how I feel like I first played Genshin LMAO

Also this has a cont. Part 2 at the bottom bc tumblr fucking hates me UPDATE I FIXED IT THANK FUCK

Paimon was like "and then we go to Mondstadt- ! NO, not Wolvendom, to Mondstadt! NOT THE THOUSAND WIND TEMPLE WITH ENEMIES OUT OF UR LEAGUE, ENTER MONDSTADT FOR THE FIRST TIME BEFORE U EXPLORE THE REST OF THE MAP!! >:("

SO MANY IDEAS YET SO LITTLE WRITING SKILL GUYS HELP-

Also warning this is ROUGH in terms of spelling and editing and im so sorry abt that! I have my art show today so you're welcome to come back if you want to see it a little more readable tomorrow lmao

Edit Update 4/6/23:

Revised and fixed all the bad spelling and grammar (hopefully) so make sure to give another read if you havent read the cleaned up version lol

I dont have a beta reader so its just me trying my best ok-

Everything was like kinda chaos tbh at first

WOW- MY FIRST 1,000+ NOTES POST??!?! U GUYS, WHAT ARE R YOU DOIN??!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! IM GLAD U GUYS ENJOYED IT SM!! Also look out for more encoded stuff in the future since i mentioned wanting to continue stuff like this + ARG stuff :) <3

Edit 9/7/23: 2,000+ NOTES?? THANK YOU???

Like u wake up under the Irminsul, and u think ur hallucinating a goddamn gacha game for like a solid 5 minutes, or ur lucid dreaming, 

but once u actually took what felt like hours to process that u might actually be in fucking Genshin Impact-

Nahida came running from, somewhere?? Its kinda just very floaty dreamy in here so, unclear, she’s beaming with a giddy little smile (💘)

It’s… so much more than what her game model could manage.

I mean, you knew that, of course you did, but- to see the tiny goddess smiling in person, her cute chubby arms waving in the air, her cheeks all plump with baby fat from her excited smile, pretty green eyes that sparkle only in the way excited toddlers do-

It was just…wow. 🥺

You can’t help it, her sheer carefree excitement, exactly like a child but you know that she must be really overwhelmed with joy if shes letting herself act like that so blatantly, you feel ur muscles tug gently into a smile, you try to muffle it but ur happiness leaks out anyway

She's panting as she stumbles on short chubby legs to reach you.

After just staring at you with those big green clover eyes for a few seconds, she physically shakes her head to knock herself out of it,

Nahida places her hand over her heart, and bows elegantly, going back to looking at you with a small but bright smile, her voice is kind of quiet, muffled in a soft way, much like her game depiction,

“Hzozn! R'ev yvvm dzrgrmt gl nvvg blf! R wrwm'g gsrmp blf dlfow wvhxvmw fmgro R dzh zg ovzhg z uvd gslfhzmw bvzih low!” *

…Nahida begins to look a little concerned… her eyes get impossibly bigger.

…Oh no.

♧

Nahida had apparently quickly spread the news that you can’t understand them, but luckily it seems like all the characters still know you!

Alhaitham is pretty much a constant by your side, you knew he was vaguely studying linguistics in the akademiya… but that knowledge still didn’t prepare you to be intensely stared at with his diamond pupils for hours. 💀

Then he’d tap your shoulder or something, and you quickly picked up that he wanted you to just try and say something.

Then he would scribble for hours.

Turns out they can understand you about as much as you understand Teyvat language (s? You can’t even tell if there are multiple languages, that’s how unrecognizable this language is, damn)

The more extroverted or friendly people, like Venti, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Jean, Noelle, Amber, Xingqiu, Hu Tao, Zhongli, Ganyu, Barbara, Beidou, Collei, Ayaka, Gorou, Nilou

At least attempt to talk to you, and try very hard to watch what you gesture with your hands or body language

They're pretty much ready to play charades at all times for you lol

Interestingly enough, they only ever understood you when you typed in the chat (with other ppl)

But even then not immediately, 

Sumeru scholars basically had to make a whole new department (regardless of how much you play with others) to decipher your ancient language (to them) like those old clay tablets with cuneiform we’re still translating?

Like that, your words appear in elemental magic heavy places (so like that abyss lang. It’ll appear on walls or structures, so like Andrius’ stone colosseum? in Wolvendom gained some of your chat replies inscribed and glowing a rainbow of colors on the top edges of the walls)

Much like the abyss language you see throughout genshin, most Teyvat scholars (across nations/internationally) agreed your language is the oldest form of language known!

It’s like modern languages having roots in older ones, like English with Latin, greek, or German roots, or Sanskrit and the Prakrit for Hindi language today

…so of course no one really speaks the root languages anymore, because they’re so old, so those ancestors who spoke those languages would have little to no understanding of their modern counterparts…

◇

Occasionally if you turned your mic on for whatever reason there would be a gentle whisper on the winds in Mondstadt of your voice,

or your laugh in the waves washing ashore in Inazuma and Fontaine,

your startled noises or screams from battling bosses mixed with the landslides in the mountains of Liyue

So they know what you sound like, but that doesn’t mean they understood your language :/

Nahida had been hoping that you’re actual physical form being here would help improve the language barrier

But unfortunately, those things remained the same, but at least you were physically here to talk to now and give more content for the scholars to study rather than them having to make do with your snippets of language from chats

…so needless to say, it took you a long time to realize they viewed you as a god of sorts.

You kind of knew something was up when at least two allogenes were by your sides at all times, or eremites would replace them if they really couldn’t stick around

You figured they knew you weren’t nearly as combatant-ready as they were at all times, hell you obviously didn’t have a vision hanging off you somewhere, and you only really had a knife strapped to a belt, courtesy of the Thirty Corps

You are still kind of convinced that the people of Teyvat, or Sumeru at least, are just pretty polite (and in the allogenes case, very kind or friendly, even people like Alhaitham or Cyno, resting bitch faces they have, seem to soften a little when they’re walking around with you… maybe you’re just imagining it…)

And as much as you would love to wait until they understand you to do something more fun, as you can see the frustration on Tighnari’s face (and his ears try to flatten back hehe) as he looked like he was debating heatedly with some of the Sumeru sages who insist you stay in the city

…so why not go?

It’s not like they’re going to get it anytime soon, and it’s still too frustrating for yourself to charade things or draw things for them because you can’t even hear their guesses 💀

You can totally handle being like the traveler too, 

You still have access to your inventory afterall! Plus, lucky for you, you still find a pass for the Serenitea Pot in your little pocket dimension!

So now you have somewhere to sleep at night, and while most of your stuff went to the traveler’s pack, the things like Primogems

(which.. Okay now you really want primogems bc theyre so pretty and shiny irl)✨️

And other high-level things, or just objects of no use for the traveler (so basically all your hoarded level up stuff and infinite amount of weapons lol) came along with you

So you did have to wander the first week or so around the city and even commission the Adventurer’s Guild to grab you food supplies to cook with

Filling up, along with a few big waterskins, you’re off!

...and everyone collectively has a heart attack!

◇

When you show up in Ghandaraville essentially all “✨️💖☺️✨️” on Tighnari’s doorstep-

He chokes on the tea he’d been sipping on before he opened the door lol

He looks a little frazzled so you try to just gesture with “calm yourself small animal” energy with your hands

“Tivzgvhg Oliw! R'n- R- sld wrw blf-?! Mvevinrmw, xlnv rm, xlnv rm, ivhg! ...R mvvw gl hvmw z nroorlm ovggvih mld gl ylgs gsv vmgriv xrgb lu Hfnvif, gsv Zxgrmt Tizmw Hztv, zmw gsv Nzgiz nlhg orpvob…” he began out looking at you and talking and gesturing to his small dining table (the game sucks, his house looks great and has lots of cool rooms filled with interesting plants… oooo…so pretty...) 

But then he kinda just devolved into rambling, no need to understand, you can read the vibes and just know that's what he's doing lol

Collei eventually ducks in, and she looks a little panicked?

She’s quickly followed by Cyno, pushing past her to call out into the house,

His voice seems hard and stressed, looking at Tighnari, “Grtsmzir, szev blf hvvm gsv Tivzgvhg Oliw zmbdsviv, gsvb dviv hvvm xlnrmt gl Tszmwziezeroov ozhg-” 

Cyno stops and blinks.

Collei’s mouth is slightly dropped open, she also just, blinks.

You blink. 

Tighnari blinks tiredly, he looks like he’d rather be done for the day, you think.

The doctor sighs, and moves his head to nod towards the other dining seats.

◇

Sumeru foods are so much better looking in real life, and they’re so good too, your practically bloated by the end of dinner, 

As a thank you, bc u cant say it obv, you just gesture for Tighnari to stay sitting, and he gives you a raised eyebrow and a suspicious ear twitch

But stays still, and you reach out to finally hit the eight-pointed star hovering over his, and all playable characters chests at all times.

Like you suspected, it brings up a holographic character menu, but rather than his full model, it kind of hovers in front of Tighnari’s face, replacing his old 3D model self with framing the real thing for a portrait just in front of his face

The poor Denro user nearly jumps a foot out of his chair as he looks in shock at your screen, you do the same “chillll boy” gesture with your hands and press his shoulders for a second to remind him to not run off or panic

Cyno and Collei had done the dishes and put up leftovers, and are now standing behind Tighnari, watching with equally wide eyes,

“...Dszg ziv gsvb wlrmt gl blf?

Cyno’s voice is even deeper and quieter than usual, you feel goosebumps run up your spine

“Ziv blf tvggrmt yovhhvw, Nzhgvi Grtsmzir?!” Collei’s sweet voice is also hushed like she’s witnessing something sacred, Tighnari gently shakes his head negatively in response, his shoulders shrugging,

“Nzbyv? R uvvo... z orggov hgilmtvi, zmw nb Erhrlm rh zxgrmt fk zh dvoo…”

Though he’s replying, Tighnari’s eyes haven’t once left your ancient magic? technology device? hovering in front of him,

and as he crosses his arms and squints to try and look closer at everything floating in front of him, you can see the childlike gleam of awe in his green eyes, (so cute) in fact, now that you glance up and look, both Collei and Cyno have the same quietly excited and fascinated sparkle in their eyes too

With a displeased sneer, you chuck his old level one bow into the material grinding spots, hope he wasn’t attached to that…

Oh well, he’ll like the new one better, afterall, with no characters, all your best weapons and artifacts are ready to use!

With a small smile of reassurance, you finally finish gearing Tighnari up, tap a miniature version of that 8-point star in the corner like an “X” button, and it retreats like a classic TV set📺 turning off into his chest, he startles but then carefully stands

You decide to just start making decisions bc its worked out so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And grab his hand and haul him out into the forest, Collei letting out a surprised squeak, her and Cyno hurrying after

You reach the nearest clearing, and gesture at Tighnari like a bow and arrow firing, he gets it, and your glad he already trusts you, because he doesn’t take long to summon his bow

He takes aim at a smaller tree about two cars length away

You can feel them all holding their breathe, as Tighnari charges it with Dendro, the arrowhead glowing, (it looks so cool and badass irl god you feel envious even tho ur already here-)

The ranger lets it fly, it streaks neon green, whistling through the air, it hits the tree-

and it fucking explodes.

Vines and leaves and the trees roots all rapidly swell like theyre filled with water, like it literally got hit by a superhero with plant powers, which, not that far off actually.

The green floating Dendro seeds make a ring around the tree its so full of elemental energy-

You give a wild grin, you still got it, hell yeah. >:)

Your grin widens as you look over at Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno

Cyno has a smirk lighting up his face, eyes eager, Collei’s jaw has dropped and she’s just frozen staring as the tree finally settles from the burst of the dendro powered arrow

…Tighnari has lowered his bow, and his mouth is only slightly open, his ears perked straight up into the air, shaking with excitement? Happiness? Interest? You don’t know how peopl-animal-hybrid ears work,

and you STILL cant talk to any of them to ask what they thought, so looks will have to do >:/

Tighnari is the first to move, his head snapping over to look at you, the brightest, kinda feral tbh, smile taking over his face-

“Blf pmld, dv xzm'g fmwvihgzmw blf, zmw blf fh, bvg R xzm'g dzrg gl hvv dszg rm gsv dliow blf'iv tlrmt gl wl mvcg. Blf'iv znzarmt."

… and you just 🙂? Cool!

And give a thumbs up👍LMAO

☆

Bonus:

Alhaitham was literally running around Sumeru City trying to find you when you left, tho you did try and leave a translatable-in-3-to-5-business days-note, he didn’t have time to translate that because you were gone.

Or worse, lost in the city, and he would never forgive himself if he lost you, esp as Acting Grand Sage-

Kaveh got a letter a day and a half later from Tighnari letting them know you were having a sleepover in Ghandarvaville lol

Kaveh also had to hunt down Alhaitham to give him said news, then force his roommate to go sit or lay down for the rest of the day to recover lmao

(Haitham honestly kinda freaked Kaveh out bc he’s never seen him that... desperate, it was like seeing a statue emote lol)

♡

ARE YOU KIDDING WE ALMOST HIT LIMIT AGAIN?!

Bro has anyone else had this problem???

I literally had to switch from PC to mobile and copy and paste it there to get all my shit in and tumblr not throw a hissy fit???!!!

FUCKING TUMBLR- SUCK MY BIG FAT- 👹👹 UGH

ANYWAYYYY SO I FINALLY CAVED 

And started doing ciphers for when you dont get teyvat’s language! I meant to do something fun like this for awhile but I wasn’t sure if that would be kind of annoying, but if you’re interested in learning what they actually say (which the whole point of this is that dw it doesnt rlly matter lol) here’s a hint:

*hint = Atbash

:> good luck!

Wish me luck on my art exhibition today!! Then I’ll be homefreeeee 😭

Safe Travels,

💀♒

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

[myokk]

my favorite bookworm

[micamicster]

Super Rich Kids

Close my eyes and feel the crash...

I wrote this one on post-its on a trans-continental flight after my phone (where i was re-reading the raven cycle) died. 0/10 plane experience would not recommend but I did manage to entertain myself! And now hopefully you as well!

When Ronan pulled into Monmouth Manufacturing he knew Gansey wouldn’t be there. Adam Parrish was, though, sitting on the steps in the golden afternoon light, bike dumped to the side in dying grass. He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelid when Ronan bootlegged the BMW into an approximation of parking on the far side of the lot, which was fine because that’s how he would have parked the car anyway, whether or not Adam was here.

Ronan was pretty sure that Gansey had arranged a shift system with the other boys, to prevent Ronan from being unaccompanied on the rare occasions of his own absence. The idea of a babysitter should have rankled Ronan, but Adam did not seem particularly invested in his role. Small favors.

As he got out of the car he gave Adam his customary once-over, as brief as it was habitual. You could notice a lot in a single glance, if you were Ronan, glancing at Adam.

Adam was wearing long sleeves (his father? Or just because it was October?) and his faded camo pants, the ones Ronan said made him look like a jingoistic meathead. They had recently acquired a tear in one knee. Not in the stylish, deliberate manner in which Ronan’s own jeans were shredded, but awkwardly, in an L-shape, where they had caught on some jagged edge and given way before even careful Adam had noticed and unhooked himself. The tear gaped open at times, like it was doing now, revealing Adam’s knobby left knee and, worse, a triangle of his brown thigh.

Ronan looked away.

Ronan never allowed himself, even in dreams, to trespass beyond the carefully demarcated boundaries of Adam’s clothes. And Adam was usually helpful in the maintenance of this boundary. Unlike Gansey, who could be found working on his model Henrietta in boxers at all hours of the night, or wandering to and from the shower in a towel, absent-mindedly forgetting his clothes in bathroom or bedroom. Unlike the boys Ronan played tennis with, who stripped down casually in the locker room after practice. Unlike even Ronan himself, who’d never met a shirt he couldn’t rip the sleeves off; Adam was always fully covered.

This summer, foolishly, Ronan had imagined that this might change. Now that the hideous secrets Adam protected with his long sleeves were no longer his alone. But by now he knew what kept those sleeves in place, something that Adam had already understood: that knowing and seeing are two very different things.

For example: this. Ronan knew that Adam, like most people who walked around on earth under their own power, possessed thighs. Two of them, attached in the normal way to other body parts, such as knees and hips. To know this was one thing.

Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The way his knee bent, and the muscle above shifted as Adam made room on the steps for him. Ronan was looking away, out at the familiar, grounding, skid marks on the concrete of Monmouth’s lot, but he could picture in their place with deadly accuracy the hinge of Adam’s knee, the tanned skin of his thigh, scattered with golden-brown hair. He could dream about pressing his face against it.

He picked up a rock and hurled it. It glanced off the side of the soulless suburban and fell anticlimactically into the grass dying by the rear tire. It didn’t help.

Adam shifted next to him, subtly.

“What?” said Ronan. “Impressed?”

“Surprised, more like. I thought you were supposed to be the tennis star.”

“You think you can do better?” Ronan pried another hunk of gravel or concrete out of the dirt and tossed it in his left hand, tauntingly.

“I know I can.”

“But?”

“But,” said Adam, with some hint of exasperation coloring his voice, “I’m not going to sit here chunking rocks at Gansey’s car to prove it. My ego’s not that fragile.” His accent slipped out on chunkin’, not as if Ronan had pissed him off enough to forget to hide it, but as if it was a word he’d never used any other way.

Ronan threw his rock again. This was, if anything, a worse throw than before, and it skittered harmlessly across the suburban’s roof.

Adam made a small but contemptuous noise.

“Don’t give me that shit, man. You know he hates this fucking car.”

“That was for your shitty aim.”

“Come on then.” Ronan hefted another piece of gravel. “Ten points if you knock out his taillight.”

“It costs a hundred and five dollars to replace a taillight on that make and model. Plus tax.”

Ronan’s brief cheer was collapsing again. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to bust Dick’s lights.”

Adam blinked slowly, his dusty eyelashes obscuring the contempt in his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll leave.” (He wouldn’t).

Ronan dropped the rock. Next to him Adam sighed. Abruptly, he put out his hand. “Telephone pole. Six feet from the top.”

Ronan swept back up the rock and dropped it into his hand. Their fingers did not touch. His heart thudded.

Adam tossed the rock once, testing its weight while his gaze, cool and assessing, remained on the telephone pole. It was a splintered, tilting thing, shamed by his attentions. In one smooth, economical movement, he rose to his feet and let the rock fly. His leg went forward, knee jutting out of his clothes, his back curved, and his arm swept around in an arc, fingers scraping at the blue October sky. Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to know if the rock hit—he could see it in the brief hard satisfaction on Adam’s face.

Adam turned back to him, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to earn that hundred,”

Adam shrugged. The gesture was disinterested, but there was a quirk to his mouth that contradicted it. “I know nothing blew up, but…”

Ronan already had another rock in his hand. “West corner lightbulb. It breaks or it doesn’t count.” Adam rolled his eyes, but turned agreeably to watch Ronan miss.

“Would you like to get your tennis racket?”

“Eat me,” said Ronan. (Maybe).

They traded shots back and forth for a while, calling increasingly specific and complex plays.

“Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Get the government to pay for some glasses, Parrish, and then come back and try to tell me that wasn’t a fucking bullseye—”

“It wasn’t even close! You—”

“You calling me a liar?” Ronan loomed, and Adam, as usual, was unimpressed.

“Just because you don’t lie doesn’t make you right all the time! Like when you said that quote on Tuesday was Seneca. It doesn’t stop being Martial just because you’ve got a child’s sense of morality—”

“See, right there.” Ronan pointed triumphantly at an invisible scuff mark on the doorsill, marking where his handful of gravel had made impact.

Adam gave it a skeptical glance. His face was faintly flushed from exertion in the cold air, but his eyes were as cool and considering as ever. “What we need,” he said, “is a knife.”

Ronan was not allowed knives.

~

“Are you trying to stab each other in the feet? Why are your shoes off! It’s October!”

“Equal playing field.” Ronan wiggled his toes against the cold asphalt. “Parrish’s shitty knife is no match for my boots.” Over Gansey’s head, Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eye, to share a ‘can you believe him’ sort of look. Adam’s embarrassment over being caught acting irresponsibly meant Ronan could expect the look to be rebuffed, but he couldn’t help himself from trying it anyway.

Adam was bent over, eyes hidden. He carefully dusted off his socked feet one at a time before sliding them back into his shoes, as though the socks or sneakers could look any worse. A little parking lot crud might improve their appearance, actually.

Next to him, Gansey was still fussing. Without the pressure release valve of eye contact with someone who knew Gansey was overreacting, Ronan snapped, “Come off it, man, I’m not going to slit my throat while Parrish watches. He can’t afford that caliber of snuff film.”

Gansey’s concern transformed into revulsion, but underneath it he looked hurt, which was far far worse.

Adam straightened up. “We were just using it to mark where we hit. Honestly, we could have done it tossing a sharpie, but neither of us had one.” He sounded conciliatory, which pissed Ronan off. But Gansey was letting it go, returning the knife to Adam with an apologetic smile. Sorry for the fuss. Sorry for Ronan. Ronan’s bare feet were cold against the asphalt.

“Well? Are you going to throw or not, Parrish?” he said belligerently.

Adam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stooped for gravel and let one fly at Ronan’s open bedroom window, a shot he made easily.

Gansey whistled. “You’ve got quite the arm on you. How come you’re not on the Algionby baseball team?”

Adam shifted his feet, awkwardly.

“Please,” scoffed Ronan, “he’s not a team player.”

Gansey did not let it go. “Bet you’d have a better fastball than both our pitchers.”

There was a pause, during which Adam’s face clearly showed all of the thoughts he was trying to corral into a polite response to Gansey’s unconsidered enthusiasm. Ronan got there first. “Yeah, Parrish, why not hitch your wagon to the star of organized sports, like every other rags to riches wannabe?”

“Ronan!” said Gansey, Ronan’s offensiveness registering where his own had not.

“Hitch my wagon to a star?” Adam was unruffled. “I thought quoting Transcendentalists could get you excommunicated.”

“Who said I know it’s Emerson. It’s a sourceless idiom to those of us who aren’t sad little nerds.”

Adam smirked. The smirk said, I never said Emerson. His words said, “Gansey’s damning me with faint praise. No one’s going pro out of an Algionby sport team. Even tennis.”

“Ouch,” said Ronan, cheerfully. “Hit me where it really hurts. My school pride.”

~

Now that Gansey had arrived, his plans for the day took precedence over noble pastimes such as flipping pocketknives at each other’s feet. His plans involved comparing readings from various instruments and then placing said various instruments in various new locations, all of which were equally arbitrary (to Ronan’s eyes) and inaccessible. Gansey’s plans involved him waiting by the car to monitor the readings while people hiked with antennae to the outermost reaches of the signal. People, in this instance, being Ronan and Adam, Noah having mysteriously and silently fucked off, as he so often did when a job required carrying anything.

Ronan put his head down and trudged. It was brambly here, and slightly damp, and he was beginning to work up the kind of counter-intuitive sweat that appears from working in the cold, the kind that makes you colder later.

As the person leading the hike, custom would dictate that he should catch and hold the long clinging arms of the brambles for the following hiker. This presented a dilemma. Ronan compromised, and set about stomping the multiflora into the ground as he walked. Scarlet hips burst under his feet, invasive and beautiful, spreading their millions of seeds across the damp earth. Noxious weeds.

“It’s too unreliable,” said Adam, into the silence. “Sports. It all depends on… your physical condition.”

“And your condition is shit.”

There was Adam’s ironic smile. “Yes. So.” He shrugged. There was the part they weren’t saying, which was that his physical condition could always get worse. Unexpectedly.

“My dad hates baseball.” Ronan heard himself make the slip—hates and not hated—and a spark of fury burned through him, brief and inconsequential.

“My dad loves it.”

They marched on in silence.

Adam swore as a bramble Ronan had beaten down sprang up again, catching him right across the tear, where his skin was exposed. He bent to unhook it from the camo with deft, deliberate hands. “What?” he said, like he could feel Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan looked away. “Why not the military?” He kicked purposelessly at the bramble and heard Adam sigh. “And don’t tell me you never thought about it. Test scores like yours out in hicksville high school, you must have had recruiters hopping all over you like fleas.”

“Would you believe I had a moral objection?” Adam’s smile was self-deprecating. Ronan studied it.

“No.”

Adam shrugged. It, too, was self-deprecating.

“I think you had a superiority objection. You think you’re too smart for that shit.”

Adam blinked at him. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Ronan snorted. “Hell no. You can do better than getting blown up in a desert for the United States government.”

The smile, when it came, was small and stunning. “Damned by faint praise again.”

[frame-of-mind-au]

If you still give a shit about this AU and you're 16 or over interact with this post or I'm purging you from the following list

[lovesickeros]

☆ the dove

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence, blood {☆} word count 0.7k

Her hands are weapons, forged in a tragedy as much as a war of ash and blood that seeps into the earth and rots it from within. To them, however, she is salvation. Her hands are a kindness, not a threat. She sees it in their puffy, red eyes just brimming with tears, their fragile body so delicate and weak is still remains marred by wounds new and old – the gold still stains their skin, even long after it had been washed away.

She has seen it all – and she takes the injured dove beneath her wing with the sickly sweet promise that someday she shall mend its broken wings and teach it to fly again.

And in their stupor, they do not see her clip their wings.

It is for the best.

The wolves still salivate below the nest, waiting for her little dove to fall again – no, she shall not send her little bird to fly when it will just fall into their waiting maws once again.

This..this one is hers, she has decided.

Her little bird who dreams of the sky and the woman who clips their wings..what a tragic pair they must make, she thinks.

Not for her, of course. Yet not to them, either, unaware of the way she grounds them and keeps the key to their cage tightly in her fist.

"Tsaritsa?" The soft, meek lilt of the little bird draws her from her reverie, and she smiles – all teeth and little else, wolfish and predatory.

Yet the bird sees nothing but love in the sharp points of her canines.

As it was meant to be.

"Yes, little bird?"

She coos in honeyed tones, brushing her cold, cold hands against their skin, reveling in the way they shiver and shake beneath the ever present chill in her very bones. They do not fear the claws that ghost across their skin, and the smile they offer that illuminates their eyes like stars only proves her right – she wants to devour them whole. To see the stars in their eyes burn out beneath her teeth, their golden blood burn upon her tongue and down her throat.

"You promised to take me to the gardens today, remember?"

Her pearly, sharpened fangs peer out beneath her lips as she grins wider, unnerving to all but the little bird who sees not the wolf but the wool it wears, her hands finding their place upon their shoulders as she whispers into their ear.

She will guide her little bird where they cannot go, where their clipped wings cannot take them.

She will give them that bittersweet taste of freedom and then watch them try to catch the stars..

Just to drag them back down to earth where they belong.

"Of course, Creator – I am a woman of my word, am I not?"

Such sickly sweet lies come to her with ease – she lies and she lies and they do not see past the woolen cloak of the wolf until its jaw has snapped around its throat and its blood has painted the world a shimmering gold.

She will delight in that, too.

"If I may be so bold, Creator, you have been distant lately..have you grown tired of me already?"

Her words were as sharp as a blade, yet as dull as a rock, as sweet as they were dangerous. Like watching a mouse trap luring in its prey, she would snap it shut as soon as the little bird strayed too close.

"No! No, that's not..you've just been busy lately, I didn't want to intrude."

They remind her so much of a rabbit in those moments, and she so badly wants to know what would happen if she just took a small, insignificant bite..yet she restrains herself with a far too wide smile, her jaw clenched so hard she almost thinks they will hear it creak.

"Intrude? You could ever hardly intrude, Creator – what is mine is yours. Though, perhaps I shall have to lock you in my room to ensure you compensate me for depriving me of your presence."

In just a few short words, she snares the rabbit – her little bird, her Creator. They will see nothing but the sickly sweet lure of her smile, letting out a pretty laugh of their own as they press closer, like a bird wandering into the open maw of the beast lying in wait.

"As long as it has a nice view, I suppose I won't mind."

They jest, but she does not. And oh, how easy it is to ensnare an unsuspecting prey.

"Of course, Creator – just for you."

It won't be long until her little bird returns to its gilded cage, now. Permanently.

It is better that way.

[lizardkingeliot]

Suddenly got smacked with a wave of end-of-season grief and I’m so sad you guys someone come hold me 😭😭😭

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Could you do Accidental sworn brothers NHS, JC, WWX?

ao3

“So,” Jiang Cheng said.

It was a very ominous sort of ‘so’.

“Hi, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “Have you eaten? I trust you been well. I’ve been all right, myself. Things are pretty quiet. The weather’s been pretty nice, though I don’t think it’s ever as nice in Qinghe as it is in Yunmeng. Has it been raining much?”

Jiang Cheng was giving him a death glare.

“…lots of rain, huh?”

“I don’t care about the vast majority of what you did to get revenge on Jin Guangyao,” Jiang Cheng said flatly. “But you put Jin Ling in danger.”

“Not…much danger.” At Jiang Cheng’s incredulous look, Nie Huaisang shrugged. “He kept him alive this long, didn’t he? I figured Jin Ling was pretty safe, as these things went. It was only at the very last moment that he actually threatened him directly – and Jin Ling wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

Judging from Jiang Cheng’s expression, he wasn’t buying Nie Huaisang’s argument.

“All right, fine,” Nie Huaisang said. “Still, you came to visit me, which means that you’re not just here to yell and tell me that our friendship is over, you could do that by letter. You want something from me?”

Jiang Cheng struggled for a moment, then grimaced. “Yeah, I want something.”

He was so predictable sometimes.

“Tell me what you need me to do to get your friendship back, and I’ll do it.” Nie Huaisang thought about it for a moment. “Within reason.”

“I want you to help me fix my relationship with Wei Wuxian.”

“…I said within reason, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said, horrified. “Do you want me to bring the moon down and give it to you while I’m at it?”

“It’s not that bad!” Jiang Cheng protested, except, no, really, it was exactly that bad. Years and years of deception and betrayal and bad feelings on both sides, an incredibly knotty tangle of emotions with no one completely right and no one completely wrong and debts and anger and – it was bad, okay? “Anyway, you managed to fix Jin Guangyao, didn’t you, even though he was Chief Cultivator and you had basically no evidence? Fix this, too.”

“It’s in no way comparable!”

“Listen, you said you wanted to know what you needed to do to get us to be all right with each other again, right? This is it. Do it.”

Nie Huaisang opened his mouth in protest.

“I won’t accept anything else,” Jiang Cheng said, and crossed his arms in a way that suggested finality. “You’re the mastermind, aren’t you? So mastermind!”

-

Nie Huaisang really didn’t want to lose Jiang Cheng’s friendship, now that he knew there was a possibility of keeping it, but he also had no idea how to even start going about fixing the unfixable. He flattered himself to think that he knew Jiang Cheng pretty well after all these years, but based on everything that had happened, he didn’t understand Wei Wuxian well enough to know where to start.

Clearly, he needed help. No, more than help – he needed expertise.

Currently, Nie Huaisang was sitting in one of the rooms in the Cloud Recesses the Lan sect used to host guests waiting to see the sect leader on business. Of course, with Lan Xichen in seclusion at the moment, the actual person taking petitions was the person Nie Huaisang come to see: Lan Wangji.

He didn’t expect to be seen to quickly, the way he might have when he’d been on familiar terms with Lan Xichen – he was a Great Sect leader, yes, and an allied one, and so ought to be accorded first priority, but Lan Wangji was also a petty little brat sometimes. Lan Qiren had come by in an unofficial capacity, looking long-suffering, and they’d had an unexpectedly enjoyable conversation on the subject of the rules relating to filial piety and revenge, which Nie Huaisang interpreted as possibly the first time Lan Qiren had ever voluntarily given him a good grade on anything.

(He was weirdly moved by it, but mostly still traumatized. He’d hated school.)

After the old teacher left, Nie Huaisang sat around waiting and drinking tea, amusing himself by thinking of all the ways this forthcoming conversation could go wrong, and just when he’d gotten to the end of the fourth scenario, Wei Wuxian himself came strolling in.

“Oh, hi, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said brightly, not allowing considerations like shame to apply. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” Wei Wuxian said. “And you?”

“Well, I’m –”

“It works out quite well that you’re here, actually,” Wei Wuxian said, barreling onwards without waiting for the answer. “There was something I was hoping you might help me with.”

Nie Huaisang hid his face behind a fan. “Who, me…? I mean, I’m always glad to help, if it’s within my power – and, I mean, I’m glad you asked! And here I was worried that Wei-xiong didn’t like me anymore.”

Wei Wuxian waved a dismissive hand and sat down.

“I’m sure it’s something you can help with,” he said, smiling in a way Nie Huaisang didn’t like. “After all, you led the entire cultivation world around by the nose to catch Jin Guangyao, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“Well, I would. This should be no problem in comparison!”

Which meant, of course, that it was going to be a problem, because anything was easy in comparison.

“Oh, Wei-xiong, I really don’t know…”

“Don’t give me that! At least listen to it, okay?”

Nie Huaisang was always willing to listen. He nodded.

“I need you to use your mastermind skills to help me fix my relationship with Jiang Cheng.”

Nie Huaisang blinked once, long and slow. “With…Jiang Cheng?”

“That’s right!”

“But…why me…”

“Everything is just a complete mess between us,” Wei Wuxian said plainly. “It’s probably mostly my fault, and I’ve probably wronged him in ways I don’t even remember, but – I’d like to fix it. I’ve tried to fix it. I even tried leaving it alone to see if that would help, and it definitely didn’t. Everything I’ve done only makes it worse! So I need someone else to manage it.”

“And you picked…me?”

“Don’t put yourself down, Nie-xiong. You’ll manage!”

“I haven’t even agreed yet!”

“You need something from Lan Zhan, don’t you?” Wei Wuxian said, grinning at him. “You’ll agree.”

“Of course I’ll agree,” Nie Huaisang said with a huff, tossing his head. “You’re a dear friend, Wei-xiong! Why wouldn’t I agree?”

Anyway, he had to do the work for Jiang Cheng anyway. Might as well score some points flattering Wei Wuxian while he was at it.

“You’re so kind,” Wei Wuxian said, rolling his eyes at him. “Thanks, Nie-xiong. I look forward to hearing what our next move is. Have fun having tea with Lan Zhan!”

-

“You did this to yourself,” Lan Wangji said solemnly.

“I know,” Nie Huaisang said. He was lying on the floor, arms and legs splayed to the sides as he stared up at the roof in an effort to express the depths of his desolation. “I’m well aware.”

“Mm.”

“I’m having a crisis over it, even.”

“Mm. Could you have the crisis elsewhere?”

“Don’t be mean, Lan Zhan. Of course not. I need your help!”

“Denied,” Lan Wangji said, as if Nie Huaisang really were just one of the random petitioners he had to deal with these days.

“If you don’t help me, I’ll fix up their relationship so good that you’ll have to deal with Jiang Cheng all the time,” Nie Huaisang said threateningly, and noted with amusement the way Lan Wangji’s brow twitched at the thought of having to share either space, time, or Wei Wuxian with Jiang Cheng. “Listen, no matter what the others think, I’m not really a schemer or a mastermind! I just ran with the course of events and tried to change them when they looked like they weren’t going my way, that’s all.”

“I wish you luck,” Lan Wangji said, immoveable as an iceberg.

“If I try to solve this, I’m only going to make it worse,” Nie Huaisang said. “That’s not even a threat. It’s just a fact.”

“I look forward to seeing the end results,” Lan Wangji said.

Cruel, indifferent man.

“I don’t even have a good model on how to solve this,” Nie Huaisang complained. “I mean, I don’t think I know of any relationships that splintered and then were actually repaired? The only thing that comes even close is what er-ge was up to with da-ge and san-ge all that time ago, when he was trying to get them to like each other again – of course, san-ge ruined that by committing murder, but I think we can probably avoid that here! I mean, I think we can. And it’s not workable, anyway, because…”

He frowned. Nothing was coming to mind.

Nothing at all.

Well then.

“Actually…”

Lan Wangji actually put down his brush. He looked mildly alarmed. “Nie Huaisang,” he said. “What are you thinking of doing?”

“Nothing, nothing…nothing at all…”

-

“How did this happen?” Jiang Cheng wondered.

“No idea,” Wei Wuxian said. “But at least we’re friends again, right?”

“Not just friends,” Jiang Cheng said. “Isn’t that right, da-ge?”

Wei Wuxian puffed himself up like a peacock. “You bet, er-di!”

“The sacrifices I make for my friends amaze even me,” Nie Huaisang said to a stunned-looking Lan Wangji. “I’m really all heart, aren’t I?”

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. “I am going to kill you.”

Nie Huaisang cackled. “No, you’re not,” he said cheerfully. “Or else my da-ge and er-ge might have something to say about how you’re treating their san-di…and I, at least, promise not to kill either of them!”

[blubebbie]

feathery like dino?? fluffy like birdy?? yes.

[mishy-mashy]

Kudo makes funny facial expressions

[nostalgia-tblr]

having a vague "why am i writing this horrible story?" crisis about the anglo-saxon au fic that has taken over my mind since *checks* about two days ago. i have approx 2000 words of it written so it is going fairly well in that sense but i have gone a bit niche with my fics recently and am starting to think "nobody wants to read this, people will be annoyed at you if you post this" a bit more often, even though they probably won't because it's a free cake and it's rude to complain about free cake.

[whattraintracks]

22. Puzzling - TMNT 2012

Don't worry, guys, that wasn't supposed to happen.

When the bit of Kraang tech he's examining (read: poking randomly in the hopes that something will happen) explodes, Donatello's not sure if he or Raphael shrieks louder. He thinks it's Raph. Which would be way funnier under different circumstances.

He blinks against sooty particulates. "Huh, well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

He's amid a cloud of unexpectedly thick, slightly pink smoke. Which is on-brand but frankly annoying. He waves at the air in a vain attempt to disperse it. Maybe he can move this operation to the kitchen, work under the exhaust hood. He should probably install one in here. He gives up flailing his arms, and backs away from the desk. Step one to solving any problem is getting some distance. Step two is—oh, that's weird. The cloud doesn't seem to have moved since the initial explosion. What kind of particles are these? He hasn't seen Kraang tech do this before.

The moment he remembers Raph is also the moment he trips over him. With a yelp, he hits the ground. Hard. Raph giggles. Rude. He's going to have at least two bruises tomorrow. And his scream was definitely louder than Raph's, so he's lost any right to make fun.

"Dude," Donnie groans, pushing to his feet. At least he's away from the Kraang smoke, "Why'd you trip me?"

"I don't know," comes the high-pitched reply, "Why're you so big?"

By the time his eyes clear, he's pretty sure it's a genuine question, not an insult about his height. It makes more sense once he looks down, down, down to find Raph miniaturised.

Donnie throws his hands to his head. "That wasn't supposed to happen, either!" Raph just giggles again.

"Leo!"

As far as they can tell, based on Raph's appearance and memories, he's about five. Donnie can't even remember being that young. Which he counts as a good thing because kids are weird. Or maybe that's just mutant turtle kids. He doesn't have experience with normal children to establish a baseline. Leo and Sensei do, though, and they seem unperturbed by Raph's behavior. Even Mikey takes the whole thing in stride. He is, in fact, absolutely thrilled and oscillates between gathering blackmail material and doing whatever Raph asks.

Donnie will admit he's having trouble making sense of it all. First, and he thinks he’s mentioned this, that was not supposed to happen. He can't figure out how a broken Kraang tech part without any detectable energy source could have caused something like this. Which naturally leads to the question of how he's meant to fix it. Raph has no idea what happened, either, so he's no help. Worse, he just might be the most confusing being Donnie has ever met. Take yesterday, for example.

He's not sure what time it is when he stumbles out of the lab for breakfast, so it might not technically be in the range of the day at which it is appropriate to call a meal breakfast. His brain is too full of viscous pink Kraang smoke to care. It must be some mealtime because everyone but Master Splinter is in the kitchen when he arrives. Leo is at the island supervising Raph and Mikey's mess-making by the stove.

Raph perks up, "Hey Donnie! I wanna tell you a question."

"Ask nicely, Raph," Leo reminds, hiding a smile behind the rim of his tea cup.

"Please, I wanna tell you a question." He barrels on, "How do you open your labrador?”

Open his what? Donnie stares at the space above Raph's head, trying to parse the question until a nudge from Leo resets his brain. "Say what?"

"Your labrador!" He flings his arms out, nearly knocking himself to the floor. Mikey catches the lip of his shell just in time.

“What Labrador? Raph, I don't have a—”

“Yeah, you do!” He's angry of a sudden. Of course, he is. But it's weird. It's not the first time Donnie's made him mad since the incident, but he's never gotten in anyone's face or stormed off with a huff. He just screeches until he gets whatever it is that he wants. It's Raph's anger, but it's not. “It’s how you get to the place you do all your smart stuff!"

Mikey swoops in, crouching to squeeze Raph gently, then translates, “He means the door to your lab, bro.”

“The door? Oh. Why would—?" Donnie sighs heavily, sinking into the stool next to Leo. “Raph, that’s the lab door,” he enunciates, “Not a Labrador. A Labrador is a dog breed."

Just like that, Raph's face unscrunches into something thoughtful. “So it’s not a labrador?”

Well, at least the exasperation is familiar. "I literally just said that. It’s a normal door.” Leo clicks at him warningly. Come on, what is he supposed to do here? Seriously, this feels surreal. Maybe this whole dialogue is a dream, and he's hunched over his desk right now. He straightens his shell to test for any worse-than-usual aching.

“Okay," Raph says. Then he turns around. Just like that. As if the entire conversation never happened. Never mind his original question or whatever he was trying to ask. He makes no sense, literally none at all.

But, you know what, fine. Donnie has to eat anyway so he can go back to the "place where he does all his smart stuff" or whatever. So he can figure out how to get his actual brother back, who at least makes sense most of the time.

Leo finishes his tea, returning Raph's enthusiastic wave goodbye, and then there are three. Mikey and Raph finally settle down to eat whatever noxious concoction they've whipped up as Donnie cleans his dishes. Freshly fed, his brain refills with extradimensional smoke and engineering.

"Well, that's boring!"

He fumbles with his mug at the sudden shout. A glance over his shoulder finds Raph, who had been eating quietly, now glaring at him.

“You should name that boring normal door Labrador so we can just call it that anyway," he says firmly.

He's not sure why he tries to ask, “Why would I—”

“Or or!" And it's like a switch again, anger suddenly dissipating. "We could name it something cooler! Like Thundoor from Crognard!”

“Thundarr,” He corrects. It's too late, Mikey's joins in.

“That’s awesome, little dude!" Mikey laughs buoyantly. "We should name all the furniture!”

“Yeah!”

And Donnie is so tired and so lost, and Raph is too much and too little of his brother at the same time it’s not even funny anymore. He doesn't think it ever was.

“Come one, Dee!" Mikey hoists Raph onto his shoulders, naturally content to ignore the messy kitchen. "Help Raphie and I name everything in the lair!”

Donnie tries to shake his head as Raph reaches for him. “Can you! Can you, please? Just for a little bit, please, Donnie, please?” Oh, now he recalls his manners.

"No, Raph." He bangs his mug onto the drying rack, ignoring Mikey's frown. "I don't have time for your nonsense questions and weird games. I'm trying to fix you."

It's not until he slams closed the lab door that the words trailing after his dramatic exit finally click. A puzzled sort of muttering from Raph: "Fix me? But I’m not broken."

So maybe he got a little too worked up, as tired as he was. But he's better now! He's eaten. He's slept five hours. He's determined to sit here until he cracks this thing.

And then someone bangs on the door.

He drops his head with a groan. How is he supposed to heroically solve all of their problems in these conditions? “Who is it, and what do you want," he shouts into the pages of his notebook.

"Once a second!"

One second, he mouths to himself. He listens to Raph struggle with the door for a lot of seconds and hopes he'll give up. He probably won't. Donnie better unlock it before he hurts himself. Or worse, starts screaming. Only because Leo would find some way to blame Donnie for it.

He shoves the door open, not at all irritated. Or vindicated either, when Raph falls on his shell and his sai skitter across the floor. Wait. “I thought Sensei took those out of your—Hey!”

Five-year-old Raph may not be much of a ninja but he is pretty slippery. He scrambles under Donnie's arm and launches into the rolling desk chair.

“Raphael." He glowers, summoning his inner Leo, "You are not allowed in the lab—”

“Without you,” he recites, spinning the chair so Donnie only catches glimpses of his cheeky smile. “But you’re here too! So it’s okay.”

It most definitely is not. Raph has no understanding of lab safety right now, so if Raph stays in here, then Donnie will have to keep an eye on him, and if Donnie has to watch Raph, then he can't focus on his work. He does not want Raph in here, and he says so.

“Donnie, I'll be so so so good. Please!” Oh, Mikey absolutely taught him how to do that with his eyes. Not cool, Mike.

“Raph," Donnie faux whines back. "I need to work. Go play with Leo or Mikey."

"Ugh," Raph flops onto his shell, letting his head and limbs hang. “But Sensei and Leo are medating, and Mikey’s with Red."

“Meditating," he corrects, "And I know you know her name is April.”

“Casey calls her Red.”

“Yeah, well, Casey’s a—” Raph looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. A promise on his face that anything Donnie says will be repeated. "It’s polite to call people by their name."

Raph hums, continuing to spin idly, “But I don't call you Donatello, I call you Donnie. And you call me Raph or sometimes Fai.”

Not a bad point. But what was that second thing? Fai? Oh. His brain retrieves fuzzy, forgotten memories. That's right. When they were both little, that had been his nickname for Raph. Just between the two of them. He can't remember when he stopped using it.

“Right," he says slowly. "But those are nicknames. They're a shorter version of your name.”

“Oh, okay.” Then Raph rolls out of the chair, clunking to the ground shell first, and wanders away to explore the lab.

Donnie retakes the seat, resigning himself to further interruptions. Part of his brain is devoted to thinking up better excuses in case this is one of those conversations Raph returns to without warning. The rest of his awareness is on Raph as he pokes and prods at books and equipment and even poor Timothy. It takes the better part of a half hour for him to realise he's still sitting at his desk not moving a muscle.

He growls, gripping his head. Raph is on him in an instant. "What's wrong? Can I help? Do you need a book? Do you want one of mine? I can get Leo! Or Sensei, or—"

"No," Donnie snaps.

He gapes as Raph's beak trembles and his eyes fill with tears. "You're crying. Why are you crying? Please stop crying." He slides to the floor next to Raph, "I'm sorry? It's just. I'm trying to focus! I need to fix you, but I don't—"

“I don’t want you to fix me!” He shouts, scrubbing his face and hiccupping. “I just want to play! Why won’t you play with me anymore?"

“Raph, I," Donnie looks down at his hands, "I don’t have time,” he finishes lamely.

“Yes, you do! You’re just being mean!” He runs out of the lab. Probably to someone who actually understands him. Someone who tries. Donnie wonders if he’ll ever stop messing things up for Raph.

Because as far as they can tell, this version of Raph went to bed one day, and the family he found upon waking was suddenly different. Of course, Raph is frustrated and confused and probably a little scared. He's not just normal Raph in a smaller body. Donnie might've realised that sooner if he'd spent more time with him instead of causing one mess after the other and then hiding from it all in his lab.

Donnie doesn't remember when he was five, but he's heard Sensei's stories about their childhood. The ones about his younger self hanging on Raph's every word. That one embarrassing retelling of the biggest fight Donnie ever caused by announcing Raph was his favorite brother. His father's memories of them doing everything together, at least until Donnie really got into science. So he steps out of the lab and locks it behind him. His brother, this brother, needs to come first.

He must look contrite enough that Leo only grills him a little before he points to Raph's room. After a single breath of indecision, he sits, shell against the door.

“Hey, Fai?” he starts, tugging at his fingers, “I’m really sorry. I have been pretty mean lately, haven’t I?” It takes a few moments, but a little thud echoes on the other side of the door.

Relieved, he continues, “I’m not as good at this as I used to be. I might need your help. But I’m out of my lab right now, and we can play whatever you want.”

Donnie hits the floor before he realises the door has swung open. Little Raph is looking down at him, eyes still watery but excited. "Really? Anything? Even Space Heroes!"

And Donnie almost can't believe it's that easy. He smiles with Raph's infectious joy. “Space Heroes? Who are you, Leo?”

Raph collapses into him with a laugh that banishes the rest of his tears as Donnie reaches out, tickling him just like he's seen their big brother do. He's still giggling when Donnie staggers to his feet. “Think I could use some bedding to build us the Dauntless?”

Raph cheers. Launching into an explanation of his favorite episodes and characters as he directs them around the lair to collect supplies. If this isn't blackmail material, Donnie doesn't know what is. Raph will never be able to deny that he likes Space Heroes ever again. Once Donnie figures out how to reverse this Kraang-smoke-induced de-aging that is.

He does still have to. They need Raph as he should be: their teammate, their protector, their equal. But if he were here in those roles right now, Donnie knows he would have heard a thousand times over that he needs to sleep, to eat, to take a break for at least five minutes, Don, come on.

So he'll try. He'll take breaks to hang out with his favorite brother. He'll get a lot of experience building sheet spaceships and pillow forts. And by the end of it all, Donnie will realise his little brother really does just want to play and ask silly questions that probably don’t seem so silly to him. He'll decide this little version of Raph isn't a puzzle of confusing emotions. He's the same pieces he's always been, unfiltered and untethered from all the pain and fear of their older selves.

And so, even after Raph returns to 16, whenever the thought creeps up on Donnie that he's not doing enough, that he needs to fix it. He'll lock his lab behind him and say, "Hey, Fai! Wanna play something?"

[figachilles]

Wanted to share my fic on here too! Marinler fake dating.

So, as much as the thought of pretending to be dopily in love with Brad fills Beckett with a weird sickly feeling she can’t quite put her finger on, she has an obligation to put the effort in. Because Beckett’s a great friend. Because she never says no to a prank. And because Will – the Boimler who didn’t come back – definitely deserves it.

Mariner agrees to pose as Boimler's girlfriend at a Titan reunion party, in an effort to outshine Will after his big promotion. With ample practice, a lot of lying, and several glasses of champagne, what could possibly go wrong?

[rhainontheshelves]

Remember, Recover

Member: Bang Chan {Stray Kids} and afab!reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, light smut description

Word Count: 4238

A/N: This is the complete version of a fic I posted back in 2019! Rip It finally passed my writer's uncertainty test so out it goes. Happy reading!- Rhin

     “... How long are you going to stay on my lap?”

     “However long it takes to finish this melody. Deal with it.” I said, plunking out a string of notes on the keyboard. Figuring out a concrete sheet of music was difficult when all I had was some sound clips Chan had come up with years ago. But, nevertheless, I managed to connect them and came up with a pretty good composition. I saved the file with a little “Yay!” and leaned back. 

     Chan groaned as my weight shifted further back on his legs. “Damn (Y/N), how many cheeseburgers did you eat today?”

     “Not as many as you. How many did you order, four?” I smirked.

     “It was only three, excuse me! And they were singles, you can’t blame me for cheating the system and getting three singles for less than a triple.”

     “Only because we’re broke and ordering off the dollar menu,” I said, twisting around to face him, “and two medium fries! Who are you, an unhealthy version of Gaston?”

     “Hey, don’t compare me to that jerk!” Chan tried hard to keep a straight offended face. “And I’m very healthy, thank you very much.”

     A couple moments of silence was enough to break my mask and burst out laughing. Chan’s face was too good not to. He chuckled along with me and stroked my hair as I leaned into his chest, trying to pull myself together. 

     “Wow, I’m tired,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “What time is it?”

     Chan glanced over to the computer. “Midnight on the dot.”

     “We have officially spent five hours in this dumb room.” I got up and grabbed a Pepsi from the minifridge. “Want one?”

     All Chan had to do was hold a hand out for me to toss one to him. Together, we unscrewed the lids and took huge swigs. We were in for a long night, so we needed all the energy we could get. 

     “Let’s take a break.” Chan said, rolling over to the couch and propping his feet up. “My brain is tired from trying to pull feelings and experiences from years ago up for lyrics.”

     I flopped on the couch, thinking of a way I could help out. To be honest, I hadn’t done anything of that nature since I graduated, and that was just about a year ago. The memory was pretty hazy (it was a black-out type of night), so that wouldn’t help out a lot.

     “(Y/N), do you trust me?” Chan asked out of the blue. 

     “What is that supposed to mean?”

     “Well, if this song is truly about sex, wouldn’t we need some moans in the background or something? The good ol’ bed creaks are getting a bit overused in this industry.”

     It took me a minute to process what Chan meant. “Wait… you want me to-”

     “No! Not if you don’t want to,” Chan’s cheeks turned red, “we can always pull audio from porn or something!”

     I looked at my best friend, sighed, and shook my head. “You’re lucky we need to get this track done by tomorrow afternoon,” I got up, turned off the lights, and went into the booth. 

     “Why did you-”

     “So I can still have some dignity by the end of the night,” I said into the microphone. “Can we just get a series and cut it into the song? It’s too tedious to do stuff at exact moments.”

     “That’s fine by me.” Chan affirmed. “Just say so when you’re done.”

     I awkwardly stood in the booth for a bit, trying to figure out the logistics of this. The microphone that was hooked up wasn’t omnidirectional, so getting into the right position for the audio to be captured was a big problem. Also the fact that Chan was here made me extremely nervous. I didn’t know why; we could usually talk for hours about this stuff. Maybe it was because it was for real instead of the usual imaginary scenarios. 

     Pulling up a chair, I sat down in it and carefully reached out toward the mic stand. I found the knob that adjusted the height and brought it down to its lowest position. Then, making myself as comfortable as I could be, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand down. 

     “Any time now, (Y/N).” Chan’s voice boomed. The sudden fracture in the silence scared me and made me lose my start. 

     “Damn it Chan, I was just getting warmed up,” I muttered. “Just starting to get focused.”

     “Oh, sorry.” His voice sounded tiny over the speaker system. 

     “You’re good, just don’t do that again, okay?”

     “Got it.” With that, the static of an open line cut off, leaving me back at square one. 

     I sat there for a bit, trying to bring up a picture in my head that I could jack off to. Nothing in particular was coming to mind, except feeling something hard as I sat on Chan’s lap just a couple minutes ago. I zoned in on that feeling, and started to find something I could associate it with… and then my brain betrayed me. 

     “Hey Chan… do you remember that party we went to a couple years back? You needed to blow off some steam from being cooped up with the guys too long and I needed some relief from college?”

     Static started buzzing again. “Yeah, I remember that. It was a fun night.”

     “I don’t know any other way to say this, but… I can’t get this image of you out of my head… I think we did something that night.”

     “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did. We were pretty drunk.”

     “No, you don’t understand. All I can remember after the sixth shot of whiskey is undoing someone’s belt while they marked me up. Their shirt was red, like that one button-up you have that I like so much.”

     “Oh… that… yeah, that was me.”

     “You remember?” Honestly, I was shocked. I was certain that Chan got even drunker than I did.

     “Yeah, every second. I wasn’t as drunk as you then.”

     “Well, tell me about it then, since I obviously don’t remember.”

     “Um, okay.” There was some hesitation there. I knew Chan well enough to know that this was important to him for some reason; he would have told me about it sooner if it wasn’t.

     “Hey, it’s okay Chan.” I soothed him. “It won’t mess up our friendship.”

     “Are you sure?” his voice was shaky. 

     “I’m absolutely positive.”

     “Well, it started when you pulled me away from the dance floor. Apparently I was grinding on some girl you didn’t like. I could tell you were getting faded, so I didn’t take it too seriously. As you were ranting about it, you started to say peculiar things. Like, “you have no right to look that fine” and “if you had another button undone and your sleeves already rolled up when you picked me up we would have never left the house”, things like that. Obviously I had turned you on and drunk (Y/N) gets really bold and horny. I don’t really remember what you said next, but I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you.”

     I was starting to remember, recalling the atmosphere and how Chan looked that night. That was one of the top times where I just wanted to hop on his dick and ride the night away. I wasn’t proud of it, but it happened. 

     “You backed me up against a wall and started unbuttoning my shirt. I realized where we were going at that point and quickly picked you up and headed towards the nearest room so we could have some privacy. Luckily it was a bedroom and the door was able to be locked. You started working on my belt and I gave you two hickeys on your shoulder. Once that belt was gone, you started undressing and I lost it. Lust just burned through me and you seemed pleased that you brought it on.”

     Chan was slightly caught off guard as whimpers came through the other end of the mic. (Y/N) must be remembering and getting off on that. He couldn’t deny that his mind was roaming back to then as well. 

     “Chan, don’t stop talking. I want to remember everything.” (Y/N) whined.

     Chan could feel the lust creeping up again. It made him cocky; it made him want to hear what (Y/N) had to offer. “Everything?”

     “Everything.”

     “I picked you up and threw you on the bed, trapping you under my body. You pulled me down for another kiss, but I was already there. As we made out, my hands traveled around, We pulled apart for air and I swear you looked like an angel, all out on display for me. You begged for me to do something, anything… so I got on my knees and pulled you forward until I could devour you properly.”

     Chan described the rest of the encounter in graphic detail, and that was more than enough to help me out. By the end of it, I had cummed twice and moaned up a storm. I was confident that I had recorded good material. 

     “Alright, that’s a wrap.” I stated as I buttoned up my jeans. 

     Chan didn’t answer. 

     “Chan?” I called as I exited the room. 

     He wasn’t at the soundboard. The door was wide open though. 

     “Chris?” I called again, sticking my head out of the door.

     No one was there to hear me. 

     Concerned, I picked my phone off of the coffee table and there was a notification for a text - from Chan. 

     Went out to grab some food. I’ll be back soon

     I ended up spending the rest of the night in the studio- without Chan. I cut the audio and put it into the backtrack as best I could. I told myself that he would come back and rearrange it the way he wanted it to be, but around 4:30 AM I started to doubt that. I recorded my parts that were marked on the lyric sheet, but soon I was so exhausted that my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. The smell I left behind made me so nauseous that I sprayed what seemed like half a can of air freshener all around the studio before crashing on the couch. 

     “... (Y/N)! (Y/N), wake up!” A voice called as they shook my shoulder. 

     “Huh?” My eyes finally registered the light and I put my arm over them. “What time is it?”

     “It is currently 9:30. Where’d Chan go?”

     With that comment, my eyes flew open and I got a good look at who awakened me. It was Jisung, another one of the Stray Kids members I had gotten close with. If Jisung was here… then Chan never came back.

     “He left.” I said bluntly as I sat up and rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes. 

     “What?” 

     “He left. He went to get food and never came back.”

     “Shit.” Jisung breathed. He whipped out his phone and called someone, presumably another member. “Hey Changbin, did Chan ever come back last night? No? Well, (Y/N) doesn’t know where he is either. Yep- yeah. I will. See ya.” With that, he hung up and ran his fingers through his hair. 

     “He’ll turn up.” I tried to comfort him. “At least you all don’t have anywhere to be today.”

     “I guess.” Jisung sounded really bummed and concerned. “He never does this, not without contacting one of us first.”

     I let Jisung think for a minute before standing up and stretching. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run home and shower and change. Being in here for 11 hours isn’t too good on the hygiene.”

     “When will you get back?”

     “About 30, 45 minutes? Somewhere around there.”

     “Good, because I still need to think about whether I should help you finish this track or not. Judging by those lyrics…” he nodded toward the sheet of paper and grinned, “I don’t think I should be.”

     I turned a dark shade of red before darting out the door. I was too embarrassed about last night to stay in the studio one second longer. God forbid I was there when Jisung listened to what I had so far. I mean, I trusted him, but having him hear bare audio of me moaning was pushing the bar a little bit more than a lot. When effects and vocals and the other layers of the backing was put on over it, I wouldn’t have a problem with people listening, but in the raw form it was in now, it was too intimate.

     As I walked back to my apartment, I mulled over why Chan had left. I wanted to believe that it was for some normal reason, like he was feeling too uncomfortable to stay or he actually went to grab food, but something had distracted him. Maybe he was sleeping at the dorms and nobody had noticed yet, or he was back at my place sleeping. Maybe it was nothing to worry about and he would be back and fixing all of my mistakes when I got back to the studio. But, deep in my heart, I knew it was way more complicated than that. 

     The project was put on hold indefinitely until Chan could be found. I looked everywhere with the rest of Stray Kids, checking his most frequented places and even calling one of his relatives that lived in the area. Any place I recalled him liking, I went and searched every nook and cranny.  

     “Yeah, no luck on my end either,” I told Minho on the phone. “He’s dropped off the face of the planet.”

     “Damn! He couldn’t have gone far.” Minho growled. 

     “We should probably stop looking for him.” Jeongin’s voice came through. “It’s Chan. He’s not stupid. He’ll be back before we know it.” 

     I sighed, not wanting to admit that the youngest was right. “I’m still worried about him.”

     “Worrying won’t do us any good at this point. I agree with Jeongin.”

     “Okay. Make sure the others know. I’ll give you any updates if I have any.” With that, I was left alone with my thoughts.

     I wandered around the part of town I had ended up in. Ever since my brain had fully woken up, I had been replaying last night over and over, trying to pick out the point where Chan had dropped out. The frustrating part was, I had absolutely no clue. I had gotten so lost in myself that I had blocked Chan out. Now that we couldn’t find him, I felt extremely guilty. I found a bench to sit on and wait through the wave of fresh emotions. How could I have been so insensitive to his feelings about the situation? I should have sensed them sooner. 

     A cold drop of liquid on the back of my neck brought me into reality again. I watched the pavement turn darker as it started to sprinkle. Watching the rain... wait. 

     I was reminded of a very obscure memory. Chan and I had only known each other for a couple months. We had to meet up to finish a group project for school, and if I remembered right, we had met up in the park behind me. We were a paragraph out from finishing when it started to rain just like this. In a rush to protect our work, Chan pulled me to the cafe across the street. Had he? I couldn’t clearly recall. 

     Shielding my face from the rain, I wandered across the street, looking for a cafe. The other businesses looked so dry and inviting, but I couldn’t stop until I found what I was looking for. 

     Finally, I found a cafe a few blocks over from where I thought it was. By this point I was absolutely soaked, but I didn’t care. The thought of finally finding Chan was giving me a small adrenaline rush. 

     A little tinkling bell greeted me as I walked into the warm cafe. The smell of fresh pastries and coffee made my stomach growl. I had been so preoccupied with the search that I hadn’t eaten all day. 

      “Hello!” A kind voice called from the counter. 

      “Hello!” I responded. Walking up, I started scanning the menu. Now that we had called the search off, it wouldn’t hurt to take a break, right?

     “It’s certainly coming down out there, isn’t it?” the barista asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. 

     “Yes, ma’am. I must be a sight for sore eyes.”

     “You do look a little frazzled. Not the worst I’ve seen these past couple of days, though.”

     “Oh, really?”

     “Yeah. A guy came in late last night totally drunk. My manager took pity on him and got him a hotel room.”

     My breath hitched. “Did he happen to have curly brown hair? A little taller than me, muscular?”

     The barista raised an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

     “I’m looking for him, actually. If you could tell me which hotel he’s at, I would really appreciate it.”

     “Lemme call my manager real quick.” the barista disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of minutes, then returned with a piece of paper. “Here’s the address and room number. The room’s paid for, so don’t worry about that.” 

     I took the paper from her. “Thank you so much! We’ve been worried about him.”

     “I’m glad someone cares. He was rambling on about letting someone important down. It was really sad.”

     That really concerned me. I had never known Chan to be a talkative or a sad drunk, nevermind the fact that he was drunk in the first place. Whatever he was battling, he really wanted to get away from it. “I would like to order some food and coffee to go. I imagine he’ll be hungry, and to be honest I am as well.”

     The barista’s eyes lit up. “Sure! What would you like?”

     Twenty five minutes later, I approached a local hotel with warm soup and coffee. The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still hung in the sky. It struck me just how late it had become; my phone informed me that it was nearing a quarter past five. The sun would go down soon. 

     The desk attendant looked up at me expectantly as I entered. “Hi, I’m here to visit the person in room 24?” 

     “Okay. You can go on up.” they went back to writing in the notebook they had.

     The layout of this small hotel was confusing, but eventually I found my way up to the second floor and found room 24. I cautiously knocked on the door, listening for any kind of response from the other side. Hearing nothing, I knocked again and said, “I brought some food for you.”

     A faint voice called back, “The door’s unlocked.”

     I sighed in relief, thankful that my best friend was alive and talking. Hauling the food into one arm for a moment, I turned the knob and poked my head into the room.

     It was a cozy little suite. One queen-sized bed, with the typical white duvet. An armchair in vaguely matching upholstery was placed near the window, alongside a circular coffee table. A door suggested either an attached bathroom or a closet. However, the main feature of the room was in bed, looking very sleepy and surprised to see me at his door. 

     “Hey Chris. I have soup and coffee, if you have the stomach for it. I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve eaten…” I entered and placed the food on the coffee table. 

     The man’s expression was hard to read. There was confusion, like he was wondering how I found him, but there was also apprehension and guilt. The way he curled into himself as I sat next to him on the bed didn’t escape my attention. “Me and the boys looked all day for you. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

     Chan fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact.

     “Listen… I’m sorry about last night. It was selfish of me. I understand if we just don’t talk about it again.” 

     Chan’s silence was making me increasingly anxious. Normally, I would have thrown myself at him by now, begging for forgiveness or even a glance in my direction. But this was serious. The possibility of this ruining our friendship was suffocating me to the point of mirroring Chan’s attitude. “If you want me to leave, I can. This must have been emotional for you, I don’t want to make it worse.”

     At that, Chan reached his hand out, placing it in the space between us. LIke he didn’t want me to leave. Like he was telling me to stay. 

     I placed my hand over his, slowly curling my fingers until I was holding his hand. I didn’t dare ask any questions; he needed to work through this for himself. He would talk when he was ready. To distract myself, I looked out the window and watched the sunset through the buildings. 

     Chan buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the remnants of tears on his cheeks and smell the day-old beer on his breath. My free hand slowly came up to run through his unkempt, curly locks in attempts to comfort him. If all he needed was to sit here for the rest of eternity, I would surely do it. 

     “I got hammered after.” Chan said low and rough and soft, like he hadn’t spoken for days and cried instead. 

     “...after?”

     “After we fucked at the party. I don’t know why it suddenly crashed over me, but I couldn’t deal with the fact that I felt like I betrayed and used you. I remember downing three of the highest concentrated beers they had in a row before passing out on the couch.”

     That explained why Chan was so much more hungover than I was. It also explained why he had distanced himself from me- then and now. In the days afterward, I had felt so confused and angry at myself because Chan avoided me at all costs. He wouldn’t answer my texts, he wouldn’t even look at me whenever we bumped into each other. I had to call Changbin to find out an inkling of the reason and proceeded to send a huge apology letter to Chan. Of course, Chan being Chan, he said “No, I should be the one apologizing.” and went back to being my best friend. Now, I realized that I made Chan go through that all over again and I felt extremely guilty. 

     “Chan, I’m so sorry for doing that to you. I was drunk and stupid and-”

     “You were just voicing something you had kept for a long time.” Chan’s soft voice brought my excitement down again. “I used you to satisfy my own needs.”

     “No!” I shook my head vigorously. “No, that’s not it. I know you, Chan. If there wasn’t a desire there, you would have carried me out of there and dropped me at home. There’s something else. Chan, do you- do you like me?”

     There. I had said it. The one question that had been on both of our minds pretty much since the time we met. There were green flags everywhere, and we were forcing ourselves to be oblivious to them out of fear. Our friends would constantly point them out, but we were scared that we would lose each other if we asked. That line we so clearly drew, and I just crossed it. 

     His answer was so quiet, I almost missed it. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

    “Good, because I like you too.”

     The relief that washed over Chan’s face was so freeing. He looked me in the eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever, and his eyes were shining brighter than the moon. Even as I leaned in to kiss him, a huge burden was lifted off my shoulders. 

     His lips were a bit chapped, but that was fine with me. Each kiss held a gentleness and a purpose that overrode any uncomfortable feelings. Chan latched his strong arms around me, pulling me closer to him. I smiled and brought my hand up to guide our motions in order to adjust to the closer proximity, but he grabbed my hand and brought it back down, intertwining our fingers. 

     When we stopped to catch our breaths, I was grinning from ear to ear, glad that this conflict was finally over. Glad that we could be happy again. 

Epilogue

     “Are you ever going to finish this, hyung? Didn’t you make a deal with the company over it?” Jisung picked up a piece of paper from off of the table where Chan had dumped out his lyrics portfolio. Half of them weren’t finished, but that was the best place to start when it was time to start working on a new album. 

     Chan furrowed his eyebrows. “Finish what?” 

     “The song you were pulling an all-nighter to make with (Y/N) a couple months ago.”     Realization dawned on Chan, making him sink into his chair. They never finished the fucking song. 

     “I gotta say, you were on some shit when you started writing this-”

     Chan snatched the paper out of the rapper’s hand. “It’s none of your business,” he muttered, turning back to his laptop to hide his embarrassment.