#wuh how much time has passed??

[doobydoobydoowau]

jon snow: you don't get it! my family! no-one understands me!

his blind elderly boss: bro so fyi im actually aemon targaryen

tyrion lannister, moments later: you don't get it! noone in my family understands me!

his father: :/

tyrion lannister, back in his tent playing a drinking game with his two new besties: *sobs* and that's why i'll never love again

[bluejaybytes]

@snowshinobi Hiiiii :3 I'm responding to your tags on a new post and not the original since the original was already somewhat lengthy, and I plan on being LONG and RAMBLY, but I have sooo many thoughts on what you said and I'm going to say them. Also my browser crashed TWICE (TWO TIMES. 2) when trying to write this post so I'm really fighting for my life out here to get my silly little OC posts done. Also it's under the cut because it's looooong as hell LMAO

Firstly, you're so nice to me forever <3 Secondly, I think you've basically hit the nail on the head. The majority of the issues Maggie has coming back from death and her 9 years gone are really tied almost exclusively to her close family, because she... never really had anyone else. While in-universe it's only 9 years, realistically the jump in technology and culture is around ~20-30 years (Maggie died in the 90s/early 2000s essentially, and wakes up in a just barely futuristic city), but... the most jarring thing to her in terms of what she missed out on is just. Flipphones are no longer popular. Other than her family, she's only close with one other person... who just so happens to be a ghost, and therefore both 1. Wouldn't change much over the timespan due to how long she's been a ghost and 2. Unlike her family, was aware that something happened, since she could see the ghost-of-a-ghost Maggie left behind (The ghosts name is Opal, she positions herself as a sort of "guardian angel" figure, though she's not actually, and serves as just another parental figure for Maggie while also getting after the ghosts that constantly harass her to pass on messages to the living). Maggie has no real relationships outside of her family, and while her relationships with her family are massively impacted by her unknowing death, other than that... the timeskip itself doesn't weigh on her because she had no one regardless. Her struggle to adjust to everything thats happened would've happened regardless of the timeskip for her, because she was such an isolated shut-in that it's the same whether it happened the next day, or nearly a full decade later

So another very interesting thing is that you've actually completely seen where I was going with everything, in spite of everything I said being very surface level and not actually delving into the plot at all. I completely skimmed over Jenna (She's very important to the plot, but she's by in large a regular person as opposed to Maggie's... everything), but for some additional context, Jenna has a horrendously shitty homelife, so her moving in with Maggie is both a gradual process (It goes from spending time there, to spending nights, to eventually just never going back home and moving in fully), and also serves as an escape for her. Part of that is also, so vitally, the food aspect. For some additional additional context, souls essentially serve as a persons lifeforce, practically every bodily function is improved by a soul that's stronger, though the "strength" of a soul is essentially entirely random, and not dependent on the individuals actions of any kind. Maggie had a generally weird soul before (Seeing ghosts inherently means she has to have something going on with her soul), but when she wakes up after her death, her soul is now even weirder, and part of that is that it essentially lets her get away with bad habits she absolutely should be seeing more consequences for. She barely eats, and when she does, it's basically exclusively crackers and whatever other safe foods she has around the house, because actually making food is a level of care and effort she just... doesn't give to herself in the slightest. Part of Jenna staying with her is that Jenna, without really discussing it, entirely takes up the mantle of caretaker of the apartment, with the biggest task being food prep, Jenna sees Maggie's unwillingness to take care of herself and silently steps up and starts making her actual meals so she's eating properly.

The problem is is that this also kinda... just straight up sucks? Jenna doesn't think much of it, it's something that needed to be done so she's doing it, she wants Maggie to be well fed even if she won't do it herself, and she's already been responsible for making all of her own meals for years prior anyways, so it's just another thing she does. Except that's shitty! Maggie's seen firsthand how terrible her homelife is, and it really weighs on her how even in her escape from that, Jenna's still being put in a position where she feels like she must care for her or else she just won't eat properly. So food is such a massively important thing to both of them, it's this symbol of love for both of them, it's love on the part of Jenna, for stepping in and taking care of Maggie when she can't do it herself, and it's love on the part of Maggie, for realizing how her own bad habits impact the people she cares about and wanting to lift that weight by taking care of herself better. It's also very vital for Maggie because she just... doesn't... have hobbies. Learning how to cook becomes really her only hobby and she puts all of her love and care into it, because for the first time in a long while she's actually passionate about something! ...Unfortunately she also is very very bad at it. She's inventing new dishes like "Burnt Salad" and "Please Help I Fucked Up Kraft Mac N Cheese" and still having to have Jenna come in and help her. But it's the thought that counts, and it'll only be a matter of time before she can make something vaguely edible.

And finally, the stuff about names! I didn't post it here, but while idly talking about her in a Discord server I'm in, I definitely think that had I made Maggie like even a few months later than I would've done she would've been nonbinary. As it stands right now though, I'm saying she's probably some form of genderweird but too busy trying not to die to think about it <3 Growing up knowing that ghosts are real and routinely being shut down by authority figures in her life about it has made her very aware of how bullshit a lot of things are and how the people who claim to be knowledgeable tend to not know what they're talking about (Beyond just the "people don't think ghosts are real", she's also got ghosts willing to tell her when people are lying because they've got nothing better to do than just gossip) , so if she spent even just a moment thinking about gender as a social construct she'd instantly recognize that and probably take up some form of genderweird label, but as it stands she's just too stressed with Being The Protagonist to think about that

Now, the thing with Margaret. I'm not even going to lie to you, I think you made a better connection to how a name connects with community in terms of the narrative themes than I did. The thing with Margaret denying the name "Maggie" existed for two reasons, the in-universe explanation is that, with the little scrap of soul Margaret has leftover from Maggie, it's essentially working overtime just to keep her vitals working, it can't dedicate time and energy to making her an individual with preferences and a personality, so part of that is that she doesn't respond to "Maggie" because ultimately, that is not her name. Her name is Margaret and she's not going to respond to "Maggie" because "Maggie" isn't her name. Of course, out of universe the reasoning is that I wanted an easy way to distinguish between Maggie as she is the protagonist, and the version of her that lived in the years she was gone, so different names makes the most sense.

I think your connection to how name relates to community genuinely works on a level I hadn't fully pieced together myself yet and I really love that because I think that absolutely works with everything. One of the main conflicts of the plot is how Maggie is entirely disconnected from her family thanks to the years she was gone, with Margaret having no priorities beyond "survive", she basically never spoke with her parents or brother for years. While her family tried to reach out to her repeatedly (Especially given that, while they're unaware the truth of what happened the night Maggie was murdered, they do know something happened, and they believe that whatever it was severely traumatized her, and that's where the sudden and drastic shift in personality came from), there's a point where they just... gave up. She wasn't trying to talk with them or contact them in the slightest, so around a year or two after Margaret moved out, her parents gave up on her. Her brother would still be there a bit, but he also didn't really... try... anymore.

When Maggie wakes up, she tries to call her parents... and they don't pick up. They'd grown resentful over the years, and now that Maggie wants to talk to them, they don't forgive her for the years of not speaking to them, and aren't interested in whatever she has to say after nearly a decade of trying to reconnect with her and being met with nothing. It's her insistence that she wants to be called Maggie that actually gets her brother to realize she's telling the truth and that something happened. She shows up at his door, already something that Margaret wouldn't have done, and that combined with her being visibly upset when he calls her Margaret and tells him that's not her and that she's Maggie, it signals to him that whatever's going on is real (...though he would've figured this out eventually, given that she also literally 17 again and not in her mid-20s, and has a giant glowing stab wound in her chest). I think it works absolutely perfectly as being a symbol of community, her disconnect from her community is what led to her being called Margaret, and her desperation to be returned to that community is when she's Maggie again. So uh. Congrats on getting the themes of my OCs better than I did <3

And uhhhh closing thoughts! I honestly did still skim over the majority of the plot (Literally never even mentioned Eli or what's going on with her stab wound </3), but I think you reeeeally hit the nail on the head with everything I'm kinda getting at with these OCs, which is... frankly wild given how little main plot I actually got at. Basically everything I mentioned in my original post was the setup, not the main plot. But waaaaugh thank you for being so niceys to me and also giving me another excuse to ramble endlessly <3

[dca-prompts]

Sun is a theater bot. He is built to perform, to act, to... Not take care of children.

But then he's trapped in this daycare. His counterpart can leave as long as the lights are off, but as for him, he's stuck. Can't go behind the desk, can't exit the daycare — he's confined to, admittedly rather large space, but every single animatronic can ROAM. One thing to add to the list of things clawing away at his mind.

But then... Kids show up at the daycare. And Sun is wildly unprepared, not knowing how to deal with any of this. He stumbles and tries to pick up on language or activities or anything, and maybe he does eventually but it's still so, so difficult for him to figure out what he's supposed to be doing. But... Then he has a plan. He's an actor — why not PRETEND to be a daycare attendant? And so he does! And everything goes great. He puts on this happy persona, entertains kids, and doesn't think of much else.

But as he's asked the same questions over and over again, he's started to realize he doesn't remember the answers anymore. To "What's your favorite color" he scripts himself to reply "The rainbow, of course! What's yours?", but he doesn't remember what his... REAL favorite color is. He doesn't remember his name — he's seen the blueprints, he's Sun, right? But that's the name of the character, right? That... Isn't HIM.

As time passes, he starts to fall into anxiety and panic. What DOES he do in his free time? What books DOES he like to read? What genres DOES he enjoy? Scribbling on paper over and over again, he's found that he can't remember anything other than what he's SUPPOSED to say.

And worst of all, there's this lingering feeling in his chest. Not a pain, no, but something like it. But he can't even listen to what his heart says anymore, when his head is all that he hears.

TLDR: Sun the theater bot decides to act as a character of the same name that's a daycare attendant to cope with the job and wuh-oh! Suddenly he doesn't remember who he is anymore!

Maybe Moon fixes him, maybe they both fall victim to the virus, etc etc. Feel free to go whatever route ur heart desires.

ㅤ

[manikasu-nyx]

halloween activities with 5wirl

somebody take away my phone

content/characters: aether, venti, xiao, heizou, kazuha, gn reader, unviolent mentions of knives in xiao’s, my hair is being pulled like fuck so I can’t think and if I’ve missed anything important I apologize

apple picking w/ venti!

he thinks it’s one of the best things ever

he loves apples and you so why wouldn’t he love it?

manipulates the wind to get the apples at the top of the trees

“they the crispest”

“and taste the best in cider ;3”

of course.

you still enjoy it with him anyway

“venti, we have to wash the apples before we eat them!”

“y/n, it’ll be fine~”

“there are cats that hang around these trees!”

and now you’ve lost an apple to the ground.

well, you can still enjoy the rest together

just don’t let him eat himself sick

again.

“Hey, look at that tree over there! Those apples are really red! They look like they’d taste great in some cider!” He exclaimed, boosting himself up to said tree after haphazardly handing you his basket, settling himself on a branch.

“Come to… ah… ah… aCHOO!” He sneezed, rubbing his nose and leaning back. “Huh…? Wuh…?”

“Oh, hello there kitty~” you purred, leaning down to pet the feline rubbing against your leg. Meanwhile, Venti was staring down at you with a look of pure betrayal, covering his nose with his cape.

“Oh, my dearest y/n! You wound me with your newfound companionship against my greatest foe, a cat!”

“Wouldn’t that make Diona your worst foe?“

“She makes good wine, she gets a pass,” he states matter-of-factly, causing you to let out a small giggle, before standing back up, your short-lived companionship ending as the little feline scurried off.

“How about this, I’ll make you an apple pie when you get home, okay?”

“Hmm… it is a tempting offer…”

“And some apple cider?”

“Deal!”

You let out a chuckle and went back to your duty of catching apples as he dropped them from the tree. He was ridiculous sometimes, but you loves him regardless.

corn mazes w/ heizou!

ooohh boy does he enjoy these

ideally he’d be in an escape room but this works too

he tries to sound smart when leading you two out but it’s really dorky

you let him have his moment though

you’re afraid you’ll never get out if he starts sulking in the corner

“my dearest y/n, let your lovely detective show you the way out in the moonlight!”

he jumps the first time he hears a scream though

it was unexpected but you try to not laugh at him

he pouts while looking at your expression

you’ll make it up to him later with some katsu sandwiches though, so he’s not too mad

“If you look at the tracks on the ground, you can tell that the best traveled path is through here, right? Well, my intuition tells me…” you listened to Heizou ramble about how he knew the way out of the maze, even though you had been walking around for a while, and your feet were starting to hurt. You wondered how much steam he had left, until a bloodcurdling scream broke both of your trains of thought, Heizou jumping nearly a good 3 feet in the air.

“Wow, your detective sentences not pick that up, Holmes?” You quipped, a deadbeat look on your face as Heizou turned to you, a hurt expression on his face.

“I can’t believe it! My own sidekick has tuned against me! This is anarchy!” He exclaimed, a laugh leaving your lips as you wiped your eyes, shaking the teasing out as you went over to him, wrapping your arms around him.

“C’mon, Hei, you know I didn’t mean it~”

“My intuition tells me you did.”

“Okay, maybe I did, but your intuition should tell you I’ll make up for it.”

“…Katsu sandwiches?”

“Katsu sandwiches. But I can’t make them in this corn maze. Get us out of here, yeah?”

He shook his pout off, grabbing your hand and pulling you along the maze, now more aware of any screams that may come out of nowhere, and looking forward to the fried food to come as an apology from you later.

pumpkin caring w/ xiao

he thinks it’s pointless

the pumpkin’s just gonna rot anyway

but the look on your face convinced him to do it

is confused why you laugh at him when he picks up his spear

you have to explain the fundamentals of pumpkin carving to him

is a little embarrassed he didn’t know but he’ll never admit that

“i don’t waste my time with mortal activities, how would i know?”

actually has some fun carving out the little faces with you

you teach him about more intricate carvings and he actually seems interested in them

“Xiao? Are you okay?” You ask, rubbing your eyes as you walk into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. He looks back in confusion, tightly holding the knife in his hand to keep it in place, not wanting to mess up his hours of work.

“I’m fine. Why are you awake? Is something wrong?” He asked, a slight expression of worry adorning his face as you shook your head, walking over and wrapping your arms around his neck, looking down at his work.

“Oh, Xiao, are these…?” You start, before he nods, placing the knife down and holding one of your arms, leaning into your touch.

“These are… the other yaksha. I figured it’s something I could do for them, at the very least, since they’re not here for the events themselves.”

“That’s very nice of you, Xiao. I’m sure they’d appreciate it greatly,” you hummed, placing a kiss on his cheek.

He mulled over the warmth on his cheek, closing his eyes, a smile ghosting over his face. Even if the other yaksha couldn’t be here with him, you still were, and that’s all he could ask for.

costume shopping w/ kazuha

is a little confused when you mentioned costume shopping

something like that? now?

he didn’t have a problem with it, though

would absolutely go with you

probably even bring up the idea to try and make some together

it wouldn’t go too well but you two would enjoy the time together

be sure to have a first aid kit on hand though

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, pulling your finger back from the needle you were holding, pulling it to your mouth.

“Oh, love, here…” Kazuha said, reaching over and taking your hand, taking the bandages next to him, gently wrapping your finger and planting a small kiss on it, before lowering it down.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d be pricking yourself just to get a kiss from me,” he teased, giving you a small wink, you rolling your eyes at him.

“I could say the same thing to you, loverboy~” you teased, turning his hand over to show the bandages on his own, a cheeky grin covering his face.

“Either way, I wouldn’t need to fake it, Kazu. Just ask~” you said, leaning forward and watching as he mimicked your actions, placing a soft peck on his lips.

“That’s right, darling. Now, let’s get back to work, shall we? Hopefully with less pricks this time around.”

“But I don’t see the shogun anywhere?”

“Pfft—!”

trick or treating w/ aether

oh yeah candy boys

ahem

sorry

but aether would love to go trick or treating with you

it reminds him of when he used to go with his sister

paimon would come too

you two would be pirates and she’d be a parrot

she didn’t think it was very funny

you two thought it was hilarious, however

you’d run around all night getting candy wherever you could

he’d be thinking of his sister, but what was important to him was that you were spending that night together

and that’s all he wanted

“Oooh, come on you slowpokes! At this rate all the kids will get the candy before we do!” Paimon shouted, bouncing as she floated in the air, you and Aether laughing at her excitement.

“Do you really think everyone’s gonna give the kids that much candy, Paimon?” You asked, placing a hand on your hip as you quirked your head at her, watching as she turned her brain on for one of the few times that night.

“Well… No… But… Aaahhh, just come on! She said, grabbing your hat and flying off with it, you running after her, reaching for the floating fairy.

“You come back here!” You called, Aether laughing at your antics as a flashback came to his mind.

He saw himself and Lumine when they were younger and used to take parts of their costumes from each other and run around with them, the full bags of candy they used to share, and falling asleep together after their late night sugar crashes.

The thought made him nostalgic, sending a small surge of pain through his chest, the feeling of tears coming to his eyes. The sound of shouting brought him out it though, where you had successfully caught Paimon and your hat, and you were tormenting the little fairy with a barrage of tickles.

“No-hoho! Stop it, stop!” She barked, laughing uncontrollably as you pulled her into a headlock, grinning at her state. She gave a pout, but didn’t seem to be upset about it on a serious level. She looked back at Aether, drawing your attention to him as well, the blonde now looking between both of you.

“Aether, are you okay?” She called out, a look of concern now on both your faces as you let your grip on her loose, her pulling her head up over your shoulder to look at him.

He shook his previous thoughts off, looking at the sight before him. You two weren’t his sister, but a younger sister figure and the love of his life. You couldn’t replace a family bond, but you two added to it. And that’s all he could ask for.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Now let’s go get some more candy!”

“Yeah!”

“YEAH!”

A series of laugher followed the last shout, the three of you continuing on to the night. To this Halloween, and hopefully many more.

I wrote a lot more than I was planning to for this

oh well, happy spooky month! 🎃

edit: I FORGOT THE TAGS IM SO ASHAMED

[funnywormz]

actually this has got me thinking though. garak miles and julian james bond holosuite adventures. it would be so much fun. miles and garak start out being suspicious and uncertain around each other but over time they start to relax and even begin to enjoy hanging out together. they start having lunch together as a trio..............

julian always has to play the james bond analogue character bc he refuses to be anyone else but garak and miles take turns playing the sidekick or the villain. sometimes they play through certain adventures that span multiple days and garak loves to drop ominous little hints about what kind of stuff he'll get up to next over lunch to see how miles will react.

sometimes there are moments where miles remembers things. when suddenly the holographic gun in his hand feels like a phaser, when garak's suit starts to look more like metallic cardassian armour, when he sees a reflection of his own decades-buried fear and rage glinting in garak's eyes. but then garak makes a snarky quip about the decor, or says something cartoonishly flirtatious and devious with a wink, or sometimes just looks at him with a sad smile. and miles doesn't smile back, but he says something silly like "you'll never get away with this, you scoundrel!" and they both know the moment has passed and they're allies just playing a game with each other again. maybe even friends.

also sometimes they kiss with tongue. sorry wuh who said that. omg did you guys hear that. who said that that's crazy. haha

[deepspacedukat]

Begin Again - Part 5

For the sake of this chapter, we’re gonna assume that Trip and T’Pol have already moved to Earth or some far corner of Vulcan with their daughter (who totally lived) and that’s why they’re not there for the only part of this chapter where it would make sense for them to be present.

Source used for Vulcan translation here. These chapters have gotten steadily longer as I’ve written them. So uh... that’s a thing. Whoops. 😅

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Koss (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Nudity, sexual tension, masturbation, Vulcan flirting, sexual fantasies, mild angst, guilt, Koss is an idiot but he’s tryin’ real hard, emotional realizations, Koss pretty much goes through the five stages of grief over being in love, not actually unrequited love, they each think their feelings are one-sided but they’re just idiots, mentions of a nightmare, Soval interfering for their own good, protective Shran, Koss has inappropriate thoughts.

~*~

Koss kept replaying the moment in his mind. Just as the Ensign had begun to fall asleep, he’d given in to an almost impossibly strong urge. He touched her cheek. He’d wanted to feel her soft skin again almost constantly since the first moment she’d taken his hands to step into the water. The ghost of her touch had been seared into his palms.

The words had fallen quietly off his tongue almost without his knowledge of their departure.

“Du nam-tor wuh tehvar tor t’nash-veh ozhika,” he’d said. You are a danger to my logic.

He’d meant it, even if he hadn’t intended to admit such a thing aloud. The Ensign tested his control every moment that he was in her company, but he found himself unable to stay away. He liked the way she tested his resolve, even if she was completely unaware that she was doing so. With that realization, Koss finally entertained the idea that his doctor might have been correct, after all.

His difficulty breathing, his heart palpitations, his persisting thoughts about her - all those concerns he’d laid before his family’s physician. The doctor had asked for the circumstances surrounding the appearance of each symptom. When he’d explained, all he received in response was a raised eyebrow and an order to continue as normal and monitor his condition. There was supposedly nothing wrong with him beyond a rather intense infatuation.

At such a declaration, Koss hadn’t been able to contain his surprise. How could he not be ill? Was he truly to believe that this was the fault of no more than a mere infatuation? Admitting to himself the possibility that the doctor might be right made something snap into place in his mind.

After the pair had eaten breakfast that morning, Koss had reviewed his conduct from the time of his doctor’s appointment to the present, and he was alarmed to recognize several instances of overly-familiar courtship behaviors. He hadn’t even realized he’d been treating her with such a casual lack of propriety. This problem was even more severe than he’d previously thought.

He’d taken a deep breath that night to calm himself. Infatuations tended not to last. They were fleeting, transient attachments. This one, despite its unusual strength, would also pass. All Koss had to do was wait and meditate until he no longer desired to do those things which a Vulcan should only wish to do with their mate. He reasoned that distance might expedite the process of untangling himself from those feelings she’d cultivated within him.

Thus began his new plan. For nearly a week after they’d fallen asleep together, Koss forced himself to meditate in his bedroom. He didn’t allow himself to venture down to the spring at all, despite how much the desire to see her again tore at him. His thoughts kept drifting back to the way her wet hair dripped over the curves of her shoulders and the way her bathing suit clung to her figure so precisely that it emphasized her every curve.

The first two days of his self-imposed absence were unpleasant, but bearable. He’d caught himself in the process of walking to the caverns to seek her out more than once - to speak to her, to ask her something he was curious about, to seek her advice. Each time, turning away sent a pang through him.

The rest of the week, every time he sat at his desk to work, all he could see in his mind’s eye were her eyes...her smile. Every time he took a deep breath, all he could smell was her scent which lingered in his memories as if he had been branded with it. Each night as he laid down to sleep, the echoes of her quiet laughter rang so loudly in his head that he felt almost physically ill. If this was what it felt like to distance himself from someone he was merely attracted to, what would it be like to break a bond between a couple that was truly compatible? The severance of his bond with T’Pol had caused temporary physical discomfort, but nothing more. Why was this so much more severe?

The fifth night away from her, Koss jolted awake from a nightmare. In the dream, he’d gone to the Ensign’s door, found it already open, and discovered that she was lying injured on the floor. He’d rushed to her side, but he knew he was too late to be of any assistance. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and he’d snapped bolt upright in his bed with an anguished shout of her name. He went to the window facing her home, and in the early morning light, he saw her silhouette shuffling through the house as she readied herself for her day. Relief had rushed through him, and he berated himself for having such an illogical reaction to a dream.

In response to this latest development, naturally, he took the most logical course of action: he stopped trying to sleep. Vulcans could go for two weeks without sleep if the situation warranted it, and in Koss’s considered opinion, this certainly met the criteria for such an occurrence. Choosing instead to meditate or work through the nights, the architect finished the planning stage for one of his newest commissions much earlier than the expected deadline.

The more exhausted he became, the harder it was to convince himself that this pain was necessary. Never had he found it so difficult to control his emotional responses, not that it mattered much in the privacy of his own home.

His solitude wasn’t to last, though. Koss received a summons from Soval requesting that he come to the Embassy at midday on the final day of the next week. The Ambassador gave no indication of a reason, but Koss had been acquainted with him for many years. He had no reason to question the older man’s motives. Soval most likely wished to discuss the construction progress on the new wing of the Embassy - which was almost completed.

Would the Ensign believe it to be an efficient design? He had meant to seek her advice for some of the details, but since he’d been isolating himself, he’d had to make certain choices based solely off of her reports from her time on Enterprise regarding the Andorian people. Would she approve of his selections?

Shaking that thought away, Koss hunched over his desk once more, pencil scratching away as he began the long wait for his appointment with Soval.

--

On the day that the Ambassador had indicated, Koss gathered the appropriate data PADD, made himself presentable, and arrived at the Embassy on time. By then, it’d been nine nights since he’d slept - not long enough to impair his judgment or mental functions, but just the right length of time to make him feel sluggish and to slow his reaction times.

Soval met him in the lobby but proffered no explanation as he led him up the stairs and into one of the conference rooms. Belatedly, Koss looked around and noticed several Starfleet officers in their dress uniforms. That was odd. He took a seat where Soval indicated and glanced around the room. Captain Archer sat a few chairs away chatting with an Andorian who looked somewhat familiar. Several other Humans there were engaged in conversation with each other, as well as a couple of Vulcan Embassy staff members.

Koss straightened in his seat. What was going on?

The door opened once more, and everyone went silent at the sight of whoever had just entered. Koss turned in his seat and his jaw fell open.

The Ensign stood just inside the doorway wearing Vulcan ceremonial robes...and she looked so beautiful that Koss’s face burned with a very bright, very obvious blush. For once, he didn’t even consider shoving his feelings aside. How could he in the face of such radiance?

As she took in the sight of the people gathered before her, she looked just as surprised as Koss felt.

“Ensign, report to Admiral Gardner. Everyone else, stand to attention,” Captain Archer ordered, and the Starfleet officers in the audience got to their feet. Koss followed suit when the other Vulcans in attendance stood as well. The Ensign made her way forward toward Soval who stood at the front of the room beside a stoic, older-looking Human - presumably the Admiral that Archer had mentioned. The man in question cleared his throat as she reached his position.

“State all ranks that you currently hold and your assignment here at the Embassy,” the man ordered.

“With Starfleet, I hold the rank of Ensign. With the United Earth government, I am a diplomatic trainee in the position of Adjutant to Ambassador Soval of Vulcan, sir.”

The Admiral stood a little straighter and lifted a data PADD to read from it.

“Though your Starfleet rank will remain the same, I have been authorized by the United Earth government to issue you the following notice: As of this date, you are hereupon conferred the rank of Junior Ambassador as per the personal recommendation of Ambassador Soval. He has certified and confirmed the adequacy of your abilities and the completion of your training. You will have all the authority and privileges granted by your new position,” he read, and Koss watched as her eyes widened. A swell of pride rippled through him at her success. “It is my honor to notify you that you are hereby requested and required to represent the diplomatic interests of the people of Earth. You’ll be working alongside Soval and his colleagues as an equal. Congratulations, Ambassador.”

The audience applauded as the Admiral stepped up to her, pinned a new rank insignia on the lapel of her robe, and shook her hand. Koss joined them without hesitation. Soval placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to say something to her. Whatever it was clearly pleased her. He’d never seen her smile so widely before.

Her former crewmates went up to congratulate her, each in turn sharing a hug and a short conversation. As she pulled back from an embrace with the Andorian officer, her eyes skimmed the crowd and landed squarely on Koss.

The surprise and elation that spread over her face made his breath hitch. Any resolve he may have felt about avoiding her until he had rid himself of this infatuation was promptly wiped from his mind. She was mere feet from him after so many days of being out of her presence. Every molecule of his being screamed and clawed at him to go take her in his arms, bury his face in her hair, and promise her that he’d never leave her again.

“You look as though you have not slept for many days, and she has been despondent this week,” a voice at his shoulder murmured, and Koss turned to see Soval giving him a look filled with a little too much perception. “As you are her neighbor and her friend, I must ask: have you any idea what might have caused such a low mood? Might there be some...connection between your loss of sleep and her emotionally downcast demeanor?”

Koss was ashamed of his actions. He hadn’t intended to cause her pain. In truth, he’d assumed she wouldn’t even notice that he was gone. Fool that he was, he hadn’t even considered the impact that his absence might have.

“No, I...do not believe there is,” he lied. “I have been busy with my work this week, so I have not had a chance to properly assess her mood.”

“I see. The Ambassador seems to be in higher spirits now, however. I wonder, what could have caused such an expedient change in temperament?” The elder Vulcan looked overtly suspicious.

“No doubt it is a result of her promotion and reunion with her crewmates. Judging by her reactions, it would be logical to conclude that both were a surprise,” Koss responded, but Soval’s eyes narrowed. “You find fault in my logic. Do you have a different explanation, sir?”

“I–”

“Excuse me, Ambassador. I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I borrow Koss for a moment?” His heart sped up as he recognized her voice and the feeling of her hand touching his arm over his sleeve for barely a second. Though it was through a cloth barrier, the contact felt as though it was branded into his skin.

After raising an eyebrow at his reaction to her touch, Soval excused himself, and Koss turned to see the newly-minted Ambassador smiling up at him with a warmth that left him speechless for a moment. Quickly he gathered his thoughts and forced his tongue to work again.

“Congratulations, Ambassador. You have put much work into your occupation. I’m certain you will fit this new role to perfection,” he said, and he watched as her cheeks went a few shades darker.

Why had he been so opposed to this infatuation again?

“Thank you, Koss. I didn’t know about any of this. Soval just told me to wear my dress robes, and I arrived to all of this. I, um...to tell you the truth, I’ve missed you, but I’m so glad you came today. It really means a lot that you’re here to share this with me,” she said, and the guilt came rushing in twice as strong as before. He couldn’t bear to see the joy on her face crushed, so he swore to himself that he’d never admit that he’d been avoiding her. She must never know. He couldn’t bear to hurt her like that. “Apparently there are refreshments being brought up. I know you’re probably really busy, but...would you like to stay and meet my friends?”

Her eyes were innocent and hopeful. How could Koss refuse? He owed her that and so much more after what he’d done.

“If you wish it, ashalik, I will stay.” The smile that lit up her face was worth it. Offering her his arm, he allowed her to lead him around and introduce him to the various Starfleet personnel. He knew others would likely have heard his familiar form of address, but at the moment, all he cared about was ensuring that the beautiful woman at his side was happy.

Captain Archer remembered him, but all the others were new acquaintances. The communications officer, pilot, armory officer, and doctor were all perfectly polite. Then they reached the Andorian officer, Commander Shran. His eyes narrowed almost immediately when the Ambassador presented Koss to him.

“Is this the neighbor you mentioned, Ensign?”

“Yes. Be nice, Thy’lek.” Koss was surprised at her tone, but the Commander dialed back his posturing somewhat. He didn’t seem any less suspicious as their conversation continued, but he never resorted to outright hostility. Captain Archer joined them and slipped his arm around the Commander’s shoulders.

“Sizing him up, are you?” Archer murmured, and Shran looked away sheepishly. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then. Don’t worry, Koss. He just wants to make sure his friend is in good hands.”

“I am, thank you very much,” she piped up, and all three of them looked at her. Shran and Archer were likely surprised at her emphatic tone, but Koss was simply amazed that she trusted him that much. “Unless the Commander doesn’t believe me. In which case, I assume he’d want to challenge me to a rematch?”

“No, no. I’ve lost quite enough antennas for one lifetime, thank you,” Shran said before looking sternly up at Koss, “but if you hurt her, Vulcan, my ushaan-tor will be the last thing you see.”

Koss certainly understood protectiveness when it came to his ashaya. 

“I assure you, Commander, I have no intention of causing her harm, either emotional or physical,” Koss replied in his calmest tone. Shran antennas lifted slowly and begrudgingly from their pinned back position - a better reaction than he had initially hoped for.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. Koss didn’t leave her side once, but she seemed quite content with his presence. She even sneaked away with him once, leaning against his arm and smiling up at him. ‘For a breather,’ she’d justified, but Koss didn’t care why. He was just content to be in her presence again.

Eventually, Soval informed the pair that the new Ambassador had no further obligations for the day. Archer and his crew needed to return to their ship and head toward some distant star cluster for a mission, so after she said her goodbyes, Koss offered to escort her home. She accepted gratefully, and when the pair stopped outside the door to her home, he turned to look into her eyes.

“I just wanted to thank you for today. I know you’re a really busy person, so for you to take time out of your day for something so trivial...well, it just meant a lot to me, that’s all,” she murmured, and he lifted her hands carefully in his own.

“Your promotion was in no way trivial. You have accrued not only valuable experience in your field but Soval’s trust as well. As the Admiral stated, he made the recommendation for your advancement personally. You deserve to have your achievements recognized and celebrated.” He allowed his thumbs to skim over the tops of her knuckles as he spoke. “Besides, I discovered that in the absence of your companionship, there was a distinct...hollowness embedded in my days which I had not noticed before. Spending time in your company today restored my balance.”

Her eyes widened, but Koss didn’t shy away from his admission. Logically, it was best to face reality head on. He could no longer deny how he felt. He just hoped he could convey his feelings in a way that would bridge their two cultures.

“I felt the exact same way,” she said just above a whisper as her fingers gave his a gentle squeeze.

“I am gratified to hear that,” he stated before glancing at her door. “I wish you a restful evening, Ambassador.”

“You too, Koss,” she called, and he waited until she was safely inside to make his way inside his own home.

He removed his outer robe, leaving him in his tunic as he went to feed I’Tol. As he approached, his sehlat walked up to him and nuzzled at the arm the Ambassador had grasped nearly all day. A small smile spread his lips as he realized her scent must be mingling with his own quite thoroughly. I’Tol let out a curious sound and flicked his tail.

“We will both undoubtedly see her again. She is our neighbor.” At his words, the sehlat let out a happy little growl and bumped his arm affectionately. “I am glad you approve, my friend. She is most impressive.”

--

That night, Koss debated with himself for a long while before deciding that he couldn’t go another night without visiting the caverns. There was no logic to remaining in his room now that he’d acknowledged how he felt. He didn’t know if she would bother going to the caverns, though, after such a lengthy absence on his behalf.

Just as Koss reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner, he saw that the Ambassador was doing the same. His eyes met hers and he drew himself up a little straighter. He was wrapped in one of his robes as usual - this time it was the dark brown one that he’d worn nearly threadbare. It was soft and comforting - qualities which he’d denied himself during his isolation.

Koss’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that she was wearing the same robe she’d worn two weeks ago. Had it really only been two weeks since they’d last ventured down here together? It felt like nearly three times as long.

“Good evening, Ambassador. I did not dare hope that I would see you tonight.” The smile that spread across her lips sent his heart thrumming in his side. The last dregs of his logic whispered that he really should rid himself of this infatuation.

But she made it so difficult just by smiling. What power did she hold over him? How had she managed to snare his body and mind so easily? She made him wish never to be free of her.

“Admittedly, I was going to try for an early night, but the rain was getting kind of loud, and...” She trailed off as they both approached the center of the cavern. Koss looked at her curiously, wondering what she had been about to say. “Tonight seemed like a good night to try new things.”

“To what are you referring, ashaya?” He barely managed to keep himself from wincing. There was that word again. Koss didn’t even remember when he’d started calling her that, just that it felt right to use it with her.

She took a deep breath and untied her robe as she spoke.

“Since I’m officially one of Earth’s Ambassadors to Vulcan, now, I thought I should learn more of your customs...maybe even try a few out starting with one that you introduced me to.” She sounded breathy and nervous. Koss had just opened his mouth to tell her that there was no need for her to feel obligated to follow Vulcan traditions. Before he could get out the first word, her robe slipped down her shoulders, and Koss froze.

She wasn’t wearing her bathing suit tonight.

Koss’s mouth snapped shut as he processed what he was seeing. Her every curve and dip sent his thoughts racing to places they shouldn’t. He took a slow, careful step forward, lifting his eyes to meet hers which were wide as she waited for his assessment. He’d become lost in those irises dozens of times before, and tonight he struggled with all his might to stay focused.

Why had he ever wanted to rid himself of his attachment to her?

“I...am honored that you have chosen to trust me with this. I doubt this is an appropriate observation, but you are even more beautiful than I expected,” he murmured earnestly. Was this meant as a flirtation? Surely not. He’d only just accepted his own feelings for her. She couldn’t possibly know of them already. Clearly, she was just trying to learn about his culture. He would behave himself tonight even if it took all his remaining control–

“That’s very kind of you. May I?” She asked, and he became acutely aware of her fingers on the lapels of his own robe. Breathlessly, he nodded his head, holding himself perfectly still as she untied the sash around his middle. His breath caught in his throat as her hands brushed over his chest, coaxing the fabric off of him. When he was nude before her, she grasped one of his hands and looked up at him. “Swim with me?”

Needing to do something with his energy besides ravishing her where she stood, Koss raised an eyebrow and swept her up in his arms. She let out a startled little yelp, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her to the spring. Her momentary alarm transformed into a giggle that trickled lightly over his ears. The cool water did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm or diminish his body’s reaction to her.

By the time she was ready to retire for the night, their interactions had returned to some semblance of ease. Though he’d been half-hard for the majority of their time together, he hoped beyond hope that she hadn’t noticed.

Or...Or did he want her to know what she did to him? Barely aware of what he was doing as he contemplated the question, Koss watched her dry off as he did the same. She glanced around, but couldn’t find where she’d tossed her robe. Without a word, Koss picked up his own and draped it around her shoulders, mentally noting how the soft fabric accentuated her curves. Returning her favor from earlier, he tied the sash around her waist.

Once she’d thanked him with a bashful smile and started up the stairs, Koss conducted a quick search and picked up her robe from amidst the pile of pillows where she’d tossed it earlier.

A wave of her scent lingering on the fabric washed over him as he lifted it, and Koss dropped to his knees. He was fully hard now. Fantasies he’d repressed before raced through his imagination, and his lok throbbed in time with his heartbeat. A small moan tore from his throat, echoing through the cavern and startling him. Had that really come from him?

This was wrong. He should return the robe to her and beg for her forgiveness, but after all his sleepless nights, Koss’s control had finally shattered. His desire to see her in his clothing was selfish and possessive, not to mention disrespectful given that she had no idea of its significance. To think of her like that when she most likely felt no more than friendship in regards to him...that was an unforgivable liberty for him to take. She would surely hate him if she knew that he was seeking self-gratification whilst imagining himself pleasing her as a mate would.

Koss imagined dropping to his knees - much like his current position - and begging her forgiveness, but the image of contrition swiftly changed. The thought of reverent caresses between her legs and whispered apologies against her abdomen made him gasp out her name. So vivid was his fantasy that as he imagined her gripping his hair and calling his name, he reached his end. His groans were loud and damning as his pleasure spilled out of him.

As he caught his breath, Koss made sure her robe had not been stained during his lapse in judgment. As his spunk cooled on the stone floor beneath him and over his fingers, his heart sank.

What had he done?

~*~*~

Vulcan words:

Du nam-tor wuh tehvar tor t’nash-veh ozhika. = You are a danger to my logic.

ashalik = darling

ashaya = love

[good2bbad]

they can be a little messy, that's true, I think that they knock things over mainly out of boredom, either by hunting instinct (got to see if it's a prey) or to catch their owner's attention

to remedy to that they need access to less destructive playing: various toys, some attention from you, a puzzle-feeder...

but that's true, you have some very precious machinery that can't be destroyed, that's... something I didn't really thought about

but again, each cat has its own personality. one of my family's cat is what? 15 years old? he doesn't do much anymore beside sleeping, and can't jump anymore, so he doesn't cause trouble... but maybe he won't live very long either. or another exemple, I once fostered a cat to help an association, I'm not sure how old she was but she wasn't very interested in playing, when I went to pass some time with her all she wanted was cuddles, and after some petting she would be content with just sitting on my laps, when I wasn't there she would sit by the window and watch outside, I feel like a cat like that would be perfect for you

for the playing, I can only tell about the cats I know. most of my family's cats are outdoor cats, so they find everything they need to occupy themselves there (and also prefer to do their business outside so it's less cleaning), but, er, cats are very efficient killers and can be disastrous for the small fauna, especially in places they're not native of, and similarly the outside world can be dangerous for them (tho the Lazytown kitten seemed to do just fine in that regard, beside getting stuck in trees)

my own cats are currently indoor for those reasons. I have two of them so they like to play together, tho they do tend to jump on every surface and knock things over when chasing each other...

the older one favourite toys are a stuffed mouse, for which he acts like it was a real one: he growl and threatens us if we try to take it from him, and hair elastics, with witch he can play with alone. he likes to play fetch with both of them, and isn't the first cat I had to like to do so

the younger one, I don't see her play a lot by herself, I think when she want to play she will mostly go to the other, otherwise she likes when we play with a string, or a feather, things like that...

oh, their cat tree has a little furry ball hanging by a string? they both played with if when we got it, not sure if they got bored of it eventually but point is, some ball or cork hanging by a string can be a good toy. small bouncing balls are good toys too but maybe not with your precious equipment. I don't have one yet but cat rods are very cool! you can play with them and the length of the rod makes it so the cat can run while you stay comfortably in your chair

the litter box can be a problem, that's for sure an unavoidable chore, but I've heard they make some self cleaning ones? they're pricey, and there is always a possibility for the cat to be scared of it, but it does reduce the work and the smell, or so I've heard at least

ah, for the automatic feeder I think it's still a good thing to at least give the cat some treats yourself? help forming a bond and all, but y'know playing do that too

ummm... that's a lot of words, ah, sorry for that, I'm a little passionate about cats...

Zzzz- wUH- AHEM yes, automatic cleaner, old cat, self cleaning litter box, toys...

Hm. I could do this. Just maybe I'll get one. Maybe that stray kitten.

[dogmatik]

575 words, more hungover rick, mortys trying to be more responsible.

"Fuck, my heads killing me. Why's, wuh-whats, all the fucking, noise about?" Ricks voice is rough with sleep, there's vomit on the collar of his shirt, stained a strange shade of purple. "Thunderstorm I guess. Are y-you hung over?" "I fucking wish. Must've got into that hendler's powder." "Uh, did you take all the, morphine last time? Y-you said that helps." Morty responds from atop one of the kitchen stools. he's rearranging the stuff on top of the fridge, throwing out the empty cereal boxes Rick always puts back. "Shit good idea, where the fuck, where'd I leave it Morty?" "Bathroom I think."

Rick stumbles into the bathroom, hissing when he has to turn on the too-blue light to see. He finds the morphine inside an old Tylenol box, starts to dig underneath the sink for his syringes. Rick can smell eggs cooking as he draws up, pretty sure he hears Morty curse as the liquid spreads cold and golden through his veins.

"Rick? Hey, there's b-breakfast." Rick cracks open an eye, sees Morty in the door way, pigeon toed and holding out a glass of orange juice. "I pass out?" He asks, takes the juice and drains the glass in four grateful gulps. "Uh I dunno, maybe? You, uh, weren't in here that long." "Yeah, fuck. I forget how good earth drugs can be." Morty holds out his hand, helps Rick up off the tile.

In the kitchen there are two plates set at the table. Scrambled eggs and burnt toast with way too much butter. There's a bowl of Cheerios sitting next to one plate, and Rick starts eating spoonfuls before he can sit. He's not hungry, but he can tell his blood sugars dropped. Morty pulls his chair up to the table and starts in on his eggs. They sit in companionable silence, the rain fills the quiet house up.

"Times-it?" "10, Dad'll be back n-noon. Uh, Summers at her f-friends house." "Wanna go somewhere?" Rick asks through a mouthful of eggs. "Uh, maybe later? Wanted to, get some laundry done before muh-mom gets back." "You kissing ass for s-something? She walk in on you finally?" "Gross! No! She obviously k-knows better. I-I'm just, sh-she works a lot! I-it's not l-like dad's gonna d-do it." Morty glares at his plate. "Damn, yeah. You f-finally on my side with the whole J-jerry is fucking useless and y-your mom deserves better t-thing?" "No, but. Rick i-it's not. It doesn't have to be a w-whole, whole thing okay? I just. Wanna help out more, you know, a-around the house." "Yeah, sure. Anyway. I'm gonna g-go see if Ball Fondlers is on."

Rick goes to the living room, reaches around in the couch cushions until he finds the remote. He starts to flick through channels, met with neons and fleshy reds and all sorts of colors that make his vision swim. He listens to Morty's little footsteps and the sink turning on while his world tilts, head meeting the soft but firm texture of the cushion beside him. It's easy, letting his eyes slip closed. It's been a long time since he's fallen asleep so quick.

[rayvern-sheep]

Wuh… why do ppl care so much abt their pet’s balls..? Like… I’m just tryna watch a video of an absolute unit of a cat and most of the comments are talking about how nice it is to see a cat with balls cos they’re so much better and bigger and beefier and- -gags- sorry the way these ppl were talking abt neutering male cats make it sound like it’s their balls that get cut off.

They will literally lie about how a male cat is healthier intact.. when they’re fucking not. Acting like it’s the scary evil vets who want money. And it has nothing to do with the aggressive behaviour that intact males can exhibit, or maybe that they’re obsessed with territory marking (cat spray is strong.. and does not wash out of furniture) and reproducing and fighting. Not only that, but as someone who is taking testosterone and knows the risk of having it be the dominant sex hormone in your body, it does in fact shorten your lifespan lmao. It affects your heart and puts you at a higher risk for heart problems. That muscle and shit you get to have from T? Yeah, well it has a trade-off. That muscular unit of a cat is no healthier than the fat cats you were insulting. They both have high risk of heart problems, and they’re both that way because of the laziness of their owners. At least sometimes those fat cats have a condition that makes them that way and can not be helped. You getting that cat, not neutering it, and then letting it fucking free roam?! That’s all on you buddy. You have now made it everyone else’s problem that you love animal balls too much.

These ppl who get upset about neutering male animals could not give less of a shit about the spaying of female animals…. It’s fascinating…. Why does your fragile masculinity pass over to your animal, the thing that does not have a concept of gender and couldn’t care less whether it has balls or not. The reason we don’t castrate men left and right, Mister Fragile Masculinity, is that men tie their manhood to well… their “manhood” (dick and balls). Mr Snuffles the little kitty cat there, couldn’t give less of a fuck. He’s just happy to get food and have somewhere nice to sleep. My cat did not magically become obese when he was neutered. He’s always been a skinny little man, and that’s just how he is. You know how some men are just naturally more predisposed to be muscular or fat or skinny or whatever the fuck? Yeah.. well that’s the case for animals.

Neuter and spay your fucking cats, ESPECIALLY, if you’re gonna let’s them free roam. Or else I’m kidnapping them and fucking taking them to the vet myself. We’re not even gonna go into the idea of free-roaming cats right now, cos its 9am and I haven’t even had my breakfast yet. But the short version: if you can’t afford the time and effort of keeping an indoor cat, don’t fucking get one. You wouldn’t get a dog if you didn’t have the time to take it on walks. Stop treating cats like the easy option of pet. Your cat will love a longer and happier life neatened/spayed and indoors. No “catio” needed, so don’t come at me with “not everyone can afford an enclosed outdoor space” My boy will sit on a windowsill and be happy to watch the goings on. You’re just making up excuses now. Outdoor cats have a shorter and more stressful life, and love to kill animals for fun. They do no hunt to eat, it is not natural for cats to roam on every street and kill the natural wildlife. That… was the short version…

Anyway, I’m hangry. And I need to stop looking at ALL comments on YouTube, even on random short videos of cats apparently.

[skadren]

If ur still doing the 5+ au thing. You've heard of valenstrifesodos "wuh oh cloud has to deal with being realizing he's immortal with his loves sorry but steadfast in helping him through it", now prepare for valenstrifesodos "wuh oh cloud is actually deteriorating extremely fast for x or y reason (mako overloading him??? Gaia wants him back??? He and Sephiroth mutually eating at each other’s souls and finally ridding the world of J-Cells through it, even if Cloud can't survive without them anymore???) And everyone's going through the 5 stages of grief speedrun about it" F in the chat

yes yes yes yes yes [slams the angst button]

admittedly vss is my comfort ship so i tend to stay away from huge angst scenarios but i would be lying if i said didn't have brain worms for this too. i just. need all the vss content. hhhhh

1. at first it just manifests as brain fog. lack of concentration, slowed reactions, listlessness etc. cloud brushes it off as his usual overwork fatigue. even if he's much better about it these days there are still stretches of time where a lot of people are sending mail and he has to be away from home for a few days in a row, although never more than a week. when the other two notice him flagging and gently get him to take a break, though, he realizes afterwards that things are Not getting better.

2. true to cloud strife form he doesn't really mention it. or think about it. or want to acknowledge it at all. even when the bruises start showing up. some are random, some are where cloud gets hit by something but either way they don't go away. at first he just blames his carelessness and brushes them off when genesis and vincent see them, but eventually he starts getting cagey about undressing because he knows they look too suspicious. the others notice his avoidance but things only come to a head when genesis tugs cloud by the arm for something and cloud winces and grabs it. the motion is so reminiscent of when he'd had geostigma that vincent's instincts go haywire and he puts together the pieces.

3. genesis is devastated and demands they go see the goddess statue because it cured his degradation, at least, so surely it must also cure cloud's. but instead they find out that cloud isn't so much degrading as having his soul forcefully dragged out of his body via his connection to sephiroth, who definitely doesn't have the strength to come back to life at the moment but is still marinating in lifestream soup. if sephiroth can't get out so he can bother cloud then he will make cloud come to him. the planet sort of just shrugs and says she can’t do anything about it because she’s been trying to get rid of sephiroth for years to no avail, and cloud is already much closer to the lifestream than your average person after being dipped so many times, so his soul... drifts easily

4. genesis is furious with his own helplessness and yells at cloud for not saying anything sooner so they could have tried to find a solution in time. cloud feels awful because he knows what being left behind by someone you love feels like and he’d never wanted to hurt genesis or vincent this way, and begins to suggest separating so things won’t hurt as much when they inevitably come to a head. thankfully vincent interjects before things go too far and says that their time together is a gift regardless of how long it lasts, but he also has his own turmoil he hides for the sake of calming cloud and genesis down.

5. idk how this ends really. this makes me sad. they are all sad. although there are probably occasional tensions that arise when cloud feels like they’re treating him as if he’ll break any moment, they all agree they should make the most of the time they have left rather than fighting with each other. maybe after he passes cloud ends up visiting them both as a lifestream ghost and in their dreams. they can see each other but they can never really touch, and genesis and vincent are just left with this giant hole in their lives. ultimate star-crossed lovers speedrun any%

[thewritewolf]

Adventure to the Heart Chapter 1: AU

Summary: When the miracle box is discovered by Alya, Marinette's lies to cover it up. But one thing leads to another and now her little lie has turned into a major quest. With Adrien joining their party, there's no backing out now.Who knows? It could be that this quest is just what the two of them needed to get closer than ever...

Hello and welcome to the start of my Adrienette April story - Adventure to the Heart, a fun and light-hearted story with a dungeons and dragons campaign boiling in the background. I won't be getting into deep detail with their characters, but I imagine them playing 5th edition Dungeons and Dragons. Most chapters will generally be pretty short (300 to 800 words) since I was still getting used to my new hours when I wrote most of this and didn't have a lot of time for writing.

In any case, I hope you'll enjoy this short, sweet tale for the month!

First | Previous | Next | Last

@adrinetteapril

Read on Ao3

Marinette was now the Guardian of the miracle box.

It was a thought that would come to her in the middle of the night and cause her to bolt upright, unable to sleep. Paranoia started weighing in on her every thought. She’d be only half paying attention to her friends while they talked at school, wanting nothing more than to run home and make sure that the miracle box was still safely tucked away wherever she’d happened to have hidden it last.

Because she hadn’t decided on the best way to keep it safe just yet. Master Fu had the old timey music thing, but while an old Chinese man might be able to deflect suspicion with a piece like that, she definitely could not. It stuck out like a sore thumb in her room. That was the first change she’d made in its protection, and it didn’t bode well that it wasn’t replaced with anything yet.

She’d been working on another of her trap boxes to hold it, disguised as something that would blend in much better with her room, but for now its hiding spot moved constantly. One day it was in her closet, the next under her bed, then in her crafting supplies. On and on it went, for weeks. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t a good idea. Because odds were that a day would come when someone would happen to arrive when it was between hiding spots.

A day like today.

“Uh… girl, what’s that?”

Marinette’s heart sank when she followed Alya’s eyes to the miracle box, pitifully poking out from underneath a pile of yarn. She opened her mouth to make up some sort of justification, but all that came out was a quiet, high-pitched creaking noise.

“Ohhh, wait. I get it.”

Marinette’s heart leapt out of her chest. Had she really figured it out already?! Her mind raced, trying to figure out when Alya could have possibly seen the miracle box before - at least, when she was in her right mind.

Alya’s hands rested on her shoulders and she looked Marinette in the eye. “That’s a dice box, isn’t it?”

Everything skidded to a halt. “Wuh?”

“A dice box, for Dungeons and Dragons. I figured that sort of game was right up your alley, but I didn’t think you’d try to pick it up on the down-low.” Alya nudged her with her elbow. “Come on, girl! If you had told me, I could’ve had Nino give you a couple pointers. You know how crazy he is for the game.”

“Y-yeah, well uh, I didn’t want to… bother him too much, you know?” Marinette laughed nervously. “And besides, it was supposed to be a big secret.”

“Secret?” Her eyebrows scrunched up. “That’s isn’t like you at all, girl. Well, unless it has something to do with Adrien or…” Brown eyes widened in realization. “...if you’re planning a surprise.”

“R-right, so… don’t say anything to anyone! You don’t want to, um… spoil it.”

Alya winked. “I gotchu, girl. But between the best of gal pals…” Alya leaned in conspiratorially. “...When are you planning on going public? ‘Cuz I could start sending out feelers right now to see who would be down for a Dupain-Cheng original campaign.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it's still in the early stages,” Marinette said, entirely truthfully. After all, she hadn’t so much as given it a single thought or even looked at the core rulebook. It was about as early as a stage could be.

“Still! You’ll want to know the players you’re dealing with - personalities, how many of them.” Alya pulled out her phone and began typing at a frantic pace. “Trust me, I hear about from Nino all the time.”

Marinette craned her neck to peer at Alya’s phone. “Who are you texting?”

“Nino first off. Then he can ask a couple people, and I’ll send out an invite to our girl squad. And then we’ll see who else we can come up with.” Alya grinned at her. “This is going to be a great campaign, I can already feel it!”

“Yeah… great.” Marinette put as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, while the gears in her head began to turn.

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

Later that night, Marinette was sitting in the living room with her mom and a notebook. If she backed out of this now, then it would look suspicious and Alya might rethink her initial impression of the miracle box. No, if she wanted to keep her secret safe, she’d have to go along with this.

Which meant that she would need a campaign - a story, a setting, a plot. She hadn’t tried her hand at writing before and that inexperience was becoming frustratingly obvious as time passed. Half a dozen ideas had been scrapped within the first half of her mother’s Chinese period dramas.

Instead of spending the next thirty minutes racking her head for ideas, she tossed the notebook to the ground and glared at the television… only to fall into a world of plotting nobles in the imperial palace.

With a smirk spreading across her face, Marinette quickly scooped up her notebook and got to writing.

[nanaminsonyfans]

Take Your Time

Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules  ✨  Song Inspired Oneshots

Request; I can HONESTLY see Aizawa fitting very well with 'Take Your Time' by Sam Hunt

A/N; yesyesyesyesyes! Take Your Time is my favorite song and i had and still do have a FAT crush on Sam Hunt. Rock and roll buckeroo!

Pairing; Shouta Aizawa x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings; abuse, angst, mentions of sexual assult, triggering 

{gif is not mine}

You had just transferred from another school in Japan, you were a teacher now at UA. The whole job was stressful at the other school, plus you had a few other problems before moving here. You kinda just appeared one day. Nezu only notified Hound Dog so he wouldn’t pester you. That was to your request. The other teachers though you were a student because you seemed so fragile and timid. Each time one teacher stopped you, you got all jumpy and quickly showed them your badge before running off. 

The students took notice too, but honestly you just bounced from class to class. This went on for a week until Nezu thought to give you your own class period. You taught all the hero courses the same thing. It was more of an observant teaching but useful nonetheless. 

“Hello class 1-A, I am Sensei L/n.” You said in a calm and level tone as you wrote your name on the chalkboard. “And this will be, How to Spot a Victim 101.” You smile and turn around. You had the kindest smile ever. Shouta Aizawa took notice of that while it stood with his back against the corner. “I’m sure you all have questions, I will answer a few but not too many since it may take up the rest of our time.” You smile as a few hands shot up.

The week you spent without a class was simply observing all of the students in the hero course, you had a good memory so you remembered things fairly well. “Um, yes Midoriya?” You asked kindly, with a sweet smile as he lowered his hand and began to speak. “Um, Sensei L/n, what is your quirk?” He asked, already having his notebook out. You turned pale and backed up, you back hitting the chalkboard. You kept your smile still.

“Wuh-Wuh-Well, my qur-quirk has nuh-nothing to do with course but if you muh-must know...” You started to tremble, your leg shaking from behind the podium, only Aizawa noticed. “My quirk is kinda like...the weather. I can control it with my emotions and bend it at my will. I’m useful for wildfires and snowstorms. However, my powers have a limit.” You explained not really wanting to get into it. 

You started to feel scared, the clouds started to darken and it rained slightly. “Any questions about what they’re trying to teach?” Aizawa said in a stern tone, noticing how nervous and emotional you seemed. Jirou’s hand shot up. “What does it mean by how to spot a victim?” Finally! A question you could answer. You confidence came back. 

“Well, not all victims are taken by a super villain. Sometimes it’s by their loved ones. Being abused, sexually harassed, all those things. Now, not all heroes know this, but you should be looking for ANY victims. I’m going to teach you simple yet complicated ways to spot an abuse victim on the streets while you patrol or are just out like a civilian. These lessons could save more lives that you imagine. Now, why don’t we get started?” The sun peaked through the clouds outside and Aizawa smiled softly, hiding it in his scarf of course.

Once it was lunch time, you went to the teachers lounge to eat. Everyone noticed you never ate much, may like a small salad and apple from home. Even then, none of the food looked fresh, none of the other teachers commented on it. It worried Shouta though, so he decided to sit by you. When the chair creaked you flinched, moving to look at him. He gave you a soft smile as he sat down.

“If you don’t mind me asking, L/n, why did you transfer to UA?” He asked in his usual monotone voice. You tensed up at the question, and he noticed. “You...You uhh really want to know about me?” You asked softly, light pink dusting your already pale cheeks. “Well yes. You’re a new teacher that showed up randomly. Principal Nezu won’t tell anyone anything, I assume that is by your request?” 

Great, now you’re being interrogated. “Well, yes. I suppose I can tell you.” You whispered softly, rubbing your temples as you looked down at the table. “I’m running away from someone. I’m scared they’ll find me, I think I’ve been having luck.” You spoke softly, hands trembling as you sat back, staring at your lap. “Who are you running from? A villain?” His normal stoic and monotone voice was slightly concerned. A small smile tugged at your lips. “That would be a story for another time, Mr. Aizawa.” You tease as you packed up your bento and started to leave the teacher’s lounge. 

A month passed since you started at UA. Everyone was so welcoming, especially Shouta Aizawa, which you didn’t really expect but it was okay, he was ruggedly handsome. Though, he seemed that he barely knew you but was protective. You got closer to the man, soon revealing more. You told him everything once he found you. That he being your lovely ex-boyfriend. He was a scumbag and found your apartment, you were only alerted when the security activated and alerted your phone in the middle of class. Thinking it was just a neighbor passing by you door you didn’t think much of it. Until lunch.

You checked your phone and the cameras in your apartment, you turned pale and your blood ran cold. Aizawa noticed. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” Your hand was trembling as you looked at your phone. “Nuh-Nothing. Just, spooked is all.” You lied and looked away, putting your phone down. “I don’t want to bother you, but you’re trembling.” You gulp and look down at your hands and bouncing leg. “It...It’s the reason why I came here.” You whisper as you look around. “Can...can I stay in the 1-A dormitory tonight? I don’t want to go back to my apartment, not yet at least.” “Of course, can I ask why?” “I’ll tell you after classes.”

So now you sat at Aizawa’s desk, fiddling with your hand as you started to cry. “He said he loved me and I believed it. Nezu is an old friend, so when i asked if i could start teaching here, he said yes. My ex...he hit me and hurt me so bad.” You covered your face as you sobbed. “I keep running but he follows me. I try to disappear but he fucking follows. I’m not safe anywhere!” Your shoulders trembled as you sobbed. Shout moved and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you so you knew he was there for you. “I don’t want to run anymore, Shouta.” Your voice sounded so filled with fear and broken. It made his heart shatter. “You don’t have too.” He soothed and hugged you tighter. 

You sniffled and looked up at Shouta. “But-” “Shh, I’ll protect you. If that’s what you want.” You nodded and hugged him tighter as you sobbed into his chest, already feeling safe in his arms.

[sp-ud]

Waking Up

AO3 Link

Inspired by this post: Link

And my own post about this concept: Link

Content Warnings: Panic Attacks, Memory Loss

Words: 1817

Ranboo suddenly finds himself back in reality with his hands in the middle of braiding his own hair. Not the worst thing he’s woken up to after Enderwalking. He lets out a sigh as he continues braiding his hair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling as he reflects on what he can remember doing while Enderwalking.

Wuh oh.

---

This is basically me sharing my theories about Enderwalking in fic format. That's kinda it. I took my theories, and wrote em as a fic.

I also posted this at 3am which is why it took me till 2pm to make a proper Tumblr post about it.

Ranboo suddenly finds himself back in reality with his hands in the middle of braiding his own hair. Not the worst thing he’s woken up to after Enderwalking. He lets out a sigh as he continues braiding his hair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling as he reflects on what he can remember doing while Enderwalking.

Wuh oh.

Quickly tying off the braid he grabs the memory book. Reading through page 13 again. “New table”? Axe feeling lighter? Eye inside a block? Eye that looks his? Now, Ranboo might not know a lot about his Enderman heritage, but he knows a portal when he's described one.

Lightly smacking his face, Ranboo tries to shift through the foggy memories he always has after Enderwalking. Memories where he feels like a passenger, not the one experiencing it. He… he was mining. Just chatting with those particles of his, when he came across an exposed stronghold. He went to investigate… finding the portal but not recognizing it in his Enderwalk state.

Ranboo starts to head downstairs as he digs through his memories more, he’d… he’d realized the portal would probably help with the experiments he did while Enderwalking but had left to build a lab another day.

… Has he already built the lab? Yes, he has. Replacing the stone walls with iron and setting up what he’d discovered as ‘the solution’ to Enderwalking. Without having to remember, Ranboo can already tell he hadn’t gone through with it while Enderwalking. Otherwise, he would have woken up in the lab. Or in his bed from respawning, after all, his Enderwalking self didn’t seem to realize some of the multiple flaws in his solution.

But Ranboo is too scared to correct his Enderwalking self. It’s already taken him ages to convince his Enderwalking self that he isn’t some evil dissociative state that committed war crimes he can’t remember. He doesn’t want to imagine how it’d go over trying to inform his Enderwalking state he has it backward.

Sliding down into his basement he quickly mines through the wall to get the experiment log he's written in Ender. Flipping all the way to the last page where he’s written the solution. He pulls out a pen from his pocket and holds it hesitantly over the page.

He knows how he is when Enderwalking. A paranoid anxious mess with less than half of his memory. If he sees this when Enderwalking, he’d freak out, he’d get suspicious, and then probably do it anyways.

Reluctantly, he hides the experiment log back away, sealing it back behind stone bricks. He has to tell someone he both trusts out of Enderwalk, and in Enderwalk.

Which is admittedly a short list of people. Phil would be good, but the old man would likely ask too many questions he doesn't know how to answer. Techno, while also a good option, is also currently hibernating. And would likely pass the message onto Phil.

Niki would be an option if the two crossed paths more often, and Tommy has so many issues of his own right now, he doesn't need Ranboo's. The particles, while well meaning, are honestly more of a nuisance who would likely just increase any suspicion.

Which only really leaves one other person, Tubbo. Who, while Ranboo loves his husband, still isn't the perfect option for this, is the best he honestly has.

Someone he trusts, who will listen, who will understand, and who'll actually be able to help. The only issue is Tubbo himself might want to experiment, Ranboo personally still is a little salty over the whole electric chair thing. But hopefully the moobloom-hybrid wilk put aside his scientific interests for the sake of Ranboo's wellbeing.

Not wanting to waste any more precious time he has before falling back into Enderwalk, Ranboo leaves his house as fast as he can after quickly snapping on his armor.

The journey to Snowchester is quick, one he likes to thinks he'd still know even if he had no memories. By the time the water tunnel has shot him back out, it feels like barely a minute has passed since he woke up.

Letting his enchanted armor drip off the water, Ranboo quickly starts towards the mansion where, if his memory serves him right, should be where Tubbo is currently.

"TUBBO!" He shouts as soon as he enters the mansion, yelling being the most efficient way to locate someone in the massive building. His long ears strain themselves to listen for a shout back.

"I'M IN THE UPSTAIRS GUEST ROOMS!" The ender-hybrid hears distantly, darting up the stairs as fast as he can. "THE ONES NEAR OUR ROOM!" Tubbo shouts once more, Ranboo quickly taking a left.

He almost bumps into Tubbo as the moobloom-hybird steps out into the hallway. Luckily scrambling to a stop just before bowling the smaller teen over. He rests a hand against the wall, somewhat hunching over as he tries to catch his breath.

"You good bossman? Something wrong?" Tubbo asks, taking a small step towards Ranboo. The taller huffs a few more breaths before holding his other hand up to tell Tubbo to wait a second.

"It's…" he starts, before taking a deep breath and straightening up, "It's… oh God, I was so focused on getting here quickly that um, didn't really think through how to explain this all…" his tail flicks restlessly behind him.

Tubbo hums to himself for a second, "This is a sit-down kind of thing, isn't it?" Ranboo gives a small nod, "Good thing I just set up yet another 'sitting area earlier today, come on," the brunette grabs Ranboo's hand and gently drags him further down the hallway before opening a door with dramatic flourish.

It's another room consisting of multiple sofas and chairs around a coffee table. The amount of rooms they have that look like this is honestly concerning, but at least Tubbo has enough eye for design that they all are clearly different. Much less confusing than the identical empty rooms Foolish left them with.

Ranboo all but collapses onto one of the couches, Tubbo taking a seat across from him. The brunette's mouth is twisting in worry, nose scrunching up as watches Ranboo through messy bangs.

"Okay," a sigh escapes the ender-hybrid, "I, I guess the best place to start would be… explaining my… condition?" He still isn't sure what the right term for Enderwalking is as there's next to no public documents on the topic. "So, you know how I have bad memory?"

A slight snort before a nod tell Ranboo to continue, "Well that's, that's just one symptom of my, condition. The Enderwalk. It's genetic, I'm pretty sure. There's uh, not much known about it," Ranboo starts messing with the furred tip of his tail, "But it's basically a, a state I go into? I guess? And it…" he trails off.

How does he explain to his best friend, his husband, that the 'him' he always interacts with isn't 100% 'him'. His mouth hangs open before snapping shut, shaking his head a little. Tubbo won't hate him for something out of his control, Tubbo is reasonable, he's smart, he's a good person.

Another glance at Tubbo shows that the moobloom-hybrid now has a serious look on his face, leaning forward, waiting for Ranboo to continue.

"It doesn't just affect my memory. It, it can affect my judgment, my reasoning. And it worsens with age," Ranboo focuses his gaze back down to his tail flicking in his own grasp, "and, don't get me wrong, I'm still me when Enderwalking I'm just…" he loses his words again. Letting a silence fall over the room.

"Okay," Ranboo looks up. Tubbo has a hand to his chin in thought. "okay, I get what you're saying. Plenty of species have illnesses like that," the ender-hybrid nods, "and I'm glad you told me but, why now?" A hint of light blue eyes peer through messy bangs, "did something happen?"

"More like… something's been happening but it's, it's close to becoming worse." He shifts on the couch, once again struggling to find the right words, "I'm Enderwalking all the time… I'd say that you uh, you probably see me Enderwalking more than you see me normally," he pauses to swallow. "When Enderwalking I, I dont realize I'm Enderwalking," a humorless laugh escapes him. "I don't even have half of my memories then. I managed to forget what Enderwalking even is! And somehow," his voice is starting to go static with anger, "I managed to come up with the name again, while Enderwalking, to explain my normal state!"

He hunches over, burying his head between his knees as he lets out static-filled laughs. His ears no longer hearing anything other than a growing buzz. Hands gripping and twisting his hair as his laughs start to devolve into something more like sobs.

A light weight settles over his shoulders and back, hands slowly unclenching his hair to drift down to wrap the blanket around himself. He feels a head rest itself on his shoulders, following the deep breaths he can feel carefully. His tail loosely wraps around a waist before small hooved finger tips start bruising through it.

"Sorry," he mutters. Tubbo hums, leaning his head more onto Ranboo's shoulder.

"Nothing to be sorry about, it sounds like… a lot," Tubbo says back, "You sure you want to talk about this now big man?"

The ender-hybrid nods, tilting his head to somewhat rest on top of Tubbo's, the smaller's dull horns pressing into his face. "I don't know when I'll start Enderwalking again, I have to tell you now before I forget again."

"As long as you're sure," Tubbo replies with a shrug, but Ranboo can still hear the concern under the layer of dismissiveness.

"When Enderwalking I've, starting to experiment on myself. It's progressively gotten more… intense, to put it simply. My Enderwalking self thinks he's found a solution, to stop from 'Enderwalking' but," Ranboo pulls back, doing his best to make direct eye contact with Tubbo, "the 'solution'? It's, I know what it's going to do! It will just make the Enderwalk worse. I'll probably be down to only a quarter of my memories! I might even, even lose a life."

Ranboo's eyes loss focus as his panic starts to build before he feels Tubbo's dull horns pressing into his chest and arms wrapping him in a loose hug.

"That's what you wanted to tell me, right?" Tubbo sighs, "you want me to make sure that you don't go through with it while Enderwalking?" Ranboo lets out what's supposed to be a hum that ends up sounding more like a buzz in response.

"Don't worry bossman, you can count on me," Tubbo tightens his hug and Ranboo can slowly feel the fog that comes with Enderwalking creep in.

"I know, I always know," he responds, before letting himself drift into the fog.

[katrinawritesthings]

jonghyun / taemin; it's real big…; PG

summertime stargazing…

for summer of shinee 2021 : )

A second later, it's very bright as Jonghyun taps the light in the ceiling of the car. Taemin grunts, bringing his hands up to shield himself from the light like a vampire. He very much disappreciates Jonghyun’s quiet chuckles. On the other hand, he very much does appreciate Jonghyun’s hand, warm and soft on his thigh.

“I didn't think you would wake up,” he says. “Sorry. I wanted to look at the stars.”

Taemin wakes up when the truck jostles him all around.

It's a gentle jostling, so he's not panicked or anything, but he still rubs his face blearily and makes an inarticulate noise of question as he comes back into consciousness. Jonghyun says something back that he doesn't understand with his sleepy ears.

He pushes himself up, his sweaty cheek sticking and peeling slowly off of the window, and tries to blink his surroundings into focus, to figure out where they are. It doesn't work; everything in front of him is dark like his eyes are still closed. It's only when he frowns and looks down that he sees the little lights of the dashboard and radio lit up, sees the time. 3 in the morning.

“Wuh?” he asks. Looking back up and out of the windshield, a lonely pair of headlights rolls past their stopped truck and gets swallowed up by the darkness. He knows that they're definitely not at Jonghyun’s mom's house yet, because they weren't supposed to get there until another, like, five hours of driving. Also because they're in the middle of nowhere on a dark country highway. “Why'd we stop?” he asks Jonghyun, his voice a hoarse whisper. He squints at the driver's seat, trying to define where Jonghyun’s outline is in the darkness.

A second later, it's very bright as Jonghyun taps the light in the ceiling of the car. Taemin grunts, bringing his hands up to shield himself from the light like a vampire. He very much disappreciates Jonghyun’s quiet chuckles. On the other hand, he very much does appreciate Jonghyun’s hand, warm and soft on his thigh.

“I didn't think you would wake up,” he says. “Sorry. I wanted to look at the stars.”

“Muh,” Taemin says. Buh. Sure. That makes sense, he guesses. Space gay and all of that. He scrubs his palms into his eyes, flaking away sleep crusties, while Jonghyun tells him that he'll be right back. Then the sound of a car door opening, a rush of hot summer night breeze, the sound of the car door closing. Taemin sits there blearily in the car and watches Jonghyun’s silhouette walk around to the back of the truck. Then, in the rearview mirror, he watches Jonghyun clamber into the truck bed, feels his weight and movement shift the whole car until he gets settled.

Shifting his gaze down a few inches, Taemin watches the darkness. In the light of the crescent moon, with his eyes adjusting more and more the longer he keeps them open, he can make out the shapes of trees and bushes dotting the plains on the other side of the road. The wind rustles through them, shaking their leaves and branches. It makes them look alive, their forms just shapeless and blurry enough to have him thinking that they could uproot themselves from the ground and start walking around.

Or maybe like something could spring out of them, big and wild and never before seen by anyone else. Like a monster, or a cryptid, or maybe even just a coyote or something. That would be cool, too, Taemin guesses, if not as exciting as it could be.

Back in the rearview mirror, he can see just the top of Jonghyun's pink hair, and passed him, a pair of headlights emerging from the darkness and getting closer. The car comes up fast, and then passes, and Taemin follows it with his eyes back in front until it disappears once again. He wonders who they are, and where they're going, and if it would ever occur to them to stop on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and look up at the stars.

He wonders if it would ever occur to anyone but Jonghyun. He's sure that it has to. He's sure that Jonghyun isn't the only space gay with the same flavor of impulsive patience. With the sudden and unavoidable urge to just take a minute. To stop and smell the flowers, except the flowers are the stars.

Or something. Taemin isn't too sure why he's trying to think right now. He's not that great at it while he's awake, and now that he's half asleep, he can barely follow one train of concrete thought, let alone abstracts and hypotheticals. And now that he's thinking about how tired he is, a ferocious yawn opens up his throat. He covers it with the back of his hand, and then rests his hand against the window and his head on top of it. He'll try to go back to sleep.

And he'll try, and he'll try; but now that he's here, awake, it's not going to happen. It never works when he tries to put himself to sleep. He always just does it by accident. That's how he fell asleep earlier – one minute he was watching the sunset, counting the lines of the road as they zoomed underneath him, listening to the soft playlist Jonghyun put on the radio, and the next, he was out.

He squints open his eyes again and reaches for the radio. Jonghyun paused the playlist when he got out, but he'll put it back on. Jonghyun won't mind missing a couple of songs.

Except, when he reaches for the buttons, the display screen on the dashboard cuts to black. The car has been off too long and now it won't come back until Jonghyun finishes outside and starts the car again. Taemin frowns at the screen, then closes his eyes again, sighing slow through his parted lips. Maybe a story. Maybe an adventure about a weird little shadow creature creeping around the road in the middle of the night. Maybe it's hungry, and maybe it's always wanted to try devouring one of the cars that it always sees rushing past, never stopping, never giving it any opportunities. Maybe –

Maybe another car, coming down the road in front of him this time, blaring light even through Taemin's closed eyelids until he's grumbling and rubbing his palms into them.

Taemin knows what he needs. What he needs to actually get back to sleep, what always works. He knew it from the start, and now he's just faced with the prospect of expending the energy to do it.

In the rearview mirror, Jonghyun's pink hair blows gently in the wind. Taemin watches that for a minute, psyching himself up. Then he struggles clumsily with his seatbelt for another minute, then gets out himself and shuffles over to join him.

It's the same temperature outside as it was inside, but the summer breeze disrupts his body temperature as he clambers into the truck bed and makes him wish he had a jacket. He folds himself into Jonghyun’s side instead, wrapping an arm around his waist and letting Jonghyun sling his arm around his shoulders, trying to soak up some of his warmth. He yawns big and wide against the side of Jonghyun’s head, then presses a little kiss to his hair.

He thinks about saying you're really cute, or you smell good, or I love you, but he can't really find his voice after having just woken up. He knows that Jonghyun knows that he's thinking all of those things anyway.

As if reading Taemin’s thoughts, Jonghyun squeezes him close and nuzzles their heads together, saying, “I love you too.”

Taemin smiles, warm in his heart.

"I was actually thinking about bothering you to join me in a minute," Jonghyun continues conversationally, his voice smooth and low like it is when he's at work on the local radio. "I don't know, every time I look in front of me instead of up, I just keep thinking something's going to come out of one of those bushes. Spooky. It's making me anxious.” He shivers, his entire body jostling Taemin.

Laughing through his nose, Taemin drops just low enough to kiss Jonghyun's temple. He doesn't tell Jonghyun that he was just thinking the same thing and taking it further by imagining that whatever came out of the darkness would be itching to devour them. Instead, he wraps his arm more around his shoulders, offering himself up to be comfort and protection against the near darkness underneath the far darkness. Jonghyun smooches his jaw back.

Comfortable now, Taemin figures it wouldn't hurt to take a minute or two away from trying to fall back asleep to join Jonghyun in his stargazing. He turns his eyes up to the sky, up to the stars.

There are a lot of them. With no city lights, no street lamps, not even the car headlights on to ruin the view, the entire sky is just a wide expanse of black with infinite little tiny pinpricks of light.

Sooooo many. So many tiny little stars. So many stars that are actually huge, giant, exponentially larger than him. Exponentially larger than even the whole planet. So far away that his brain can't even comprehend the distance. He thinks back to a video he watched one time that kept zooming farther and farther out into the universe, shrinking down stars and planets and celestial giants and galaxies.

It's when he starts feeling the tingling in his fingertips that he remembers that when he watched that video it gave him a panic attack. It made him feel too too too small. Tiny and minuscule and Infinitesimal. Not unimportant or anything, just. Too small in a universe that's way too big.

Overwhelmed, he might say, if the casual definition of the word meant that he can physically feel the entire infinite scope of the cosmos as a bulging lump in his throat, can acutely sense the endless expanse of unimaginable universes as a huge ball chasing him down a narrow hallway short enough that he can see it and his own end barreling closer and closer by the second.

Looking up at all of the stars just now like this makes him feel the exact same way. He decides, after another couple of seconds, that he really doesn't like this. He turns into Jonghyun, throwing his other arm around his waist and burying his face in his shoulder. Jonghyun makes a little noise of surprise, then tsks and coos and pets his hair.

“Sleepy?” he asks. Taemin shakes his head. He is, but that's not his problem.

“Space is too big,” he grumbles. He doesn't elaborate. He and Jonghyun have had this conversation before. While they both agree that space is too big, where Taemin hates it, Jonghyun loves it. He has a thing for feeling small. He also has the incredible ability to look up at the stars and just think that they're pretty instead of about being crushed under the weight of everything in existence.

“You keep looking,” Taemin adds into Jonghyun’s shirt. “I'll nap. And then I'll drive a little bit so you can nap.” The plan was for Jonghyun to drive the whole time, but Taemin knows that he'll want to spend time with his mom and his sister as soon as they get there and he won't be able to do that if he's tired from driving.

“You sure?” Jonghyun asks. He punctuates the end of his question with another kiss to Taemin’s head. Taemin wiggles a little, squeezing him close, nudging his jawline with the top of his head to get more kisses just because he wants them. Then he nods and hums out a little noise of affirmation. He's sure. “Okay,” Jonghyun smiles. Taemin can hear it in his voice.

Then, “here,” Jonghyun says, and suddenly he's moving in Taemin’s arms. Standing up, leaving; but not even for a long enough time that Taemin opens his eyes to see. He gets up and then sits right back down between Taemin’s legs, leaning back against his chest, snuggling under his chin. He takes Taemin’s hands and wraps them around his waist, laces their fingers together.

Taemin holds him, and as he drifts slowly back to sleep, he feels warm, and he feels loved, and he feels big.

[indiavolojones]

Diavolo eats a pomegranate while Lucifer works. Lucifer doesn’t realize that the plate of pomegranate seeds that’s just been steadily growing is, in fact, for him. 

alternate summary: serving/sharing fruit with another is one of the most tender shows of love in the world and i am a soft, gentle soul that just wants canon-compliant-ish domesticity somewhere in the 1800s?? idk, they’ve known each other a damn long time. u_u 

2.2kish words, G, dia/luci, #no warnings apply except for like, idk, a sizzle of diavolo thirst on lu’s part. we can angst later, y’all

Special thanks 2 @canonlucidia for being 1) my rock and 2) my resident lucifer expert that wrote the report line and lastly 3) just being so, so good with lore and patient with me when cv brain go wuh??? 

-

A memory, a snapshot in their thousands of years spent at each other’s sides, the scene burned into his mind. 

Not all their moments are stretched to the extremes, interactions eternally caught in fire and brimstone. Some of them rest here, in a gentle domesticity that Lucifer is hesitant – and rightly so – to acknowledge. 

Here, with the two of them alone in Lucifer’s office, is a tentative, trembling contentment that Lucifer has yet to fully take apart in his mind. 

Lucifer sits at the desk with almost painfully perfect posture, as lamented by Diavolo, several sheets of parchment paper drying in front of him. A small white plate with intricate gold designs burned into the glaze rests nearby. Diavolo pulls out a blade from thin air, cutting it into a ripe pomegranate with the practiced efficiency of someone who grew up with the trees keeping him company.

“I will not be re-writing these reports if you make a mess,” Lucifer says apropos of anything Diavolo might do, on purpose or otherwise. 

The admonishment in his voice half-hearted at best, even as he warily eyes Diavolo slicing the fruit open. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Diavolo quips, returning a cheeky grin, slouched over the empty side of Lucifer’s spacious desk as he cracks open the pomegranate into fours. 

Diavolo opted for his human form today, which is a laughable concept to Lucifer in itself. Diavolo’s aura can barely be contained by him in his demon form, but to see his essence stifled into a mortal’s appearance… Diavolo’s human teeth are always a little too sharp at first glance or in one’s peripherals. His gold eyes are too molten to match any human shade. 

Pair it with Diavolo’s inability to sit on anything without it becoming a throne – sprawling with languid, regal grace as natural as breathing, much to Lucifer’s annoyance – and discretion is a difficult request. 

Lucifer has called him out on his slipping control of the glamours before, especially in the instances where they find themselves working in the Human Realm, the risk of detection a very real threat. Not that many princes are discrete, but Lucifer supposes that if he expected someone to spill out past the seams, it would be Diavolo, who has always been larger than life in both personality and power. 

Despite a grandiose description, Diavolo’s attire does not reflect his status. His outfit is more fitting for a common human rather than the next ruler of Hell. 

The other is dressed in indecently tight trousers and a loose, finely-woven off-white tunic that dips low on his sculpted chest. Cording at the hem of the shirt drapes over his exposed skin, and Lucifer offhandedly wonders why they even bother getting Diavolo fitted for garments if he’s just going to wear things too loose, too tight, or forego most clothes altogether. 

In the past, Lucifer might have asked why are you here? or don’t you have your own work to do? All such inquiries have been shut down with a colorful multitude of responses, displaying the future king’s creativity. 

Some honorable mentions being:

Diavolo’s wild claim that Barbatos was staging a coup, and clearly, Lucifer was the only one who can fight off someone with control over time. Lucifer had asked when Barbatos was hosting the next recruitment session, which led to a troublesome, if not amusing, outburst from Diavolo.

A somehow unionized group of suitors threatened to storm down the palace gates for his hand in marriage. Diavolo was merely hiding in the safest place, for once they believed he was not home, they would give up and leave! 

"A curse, Lucifer. It was a curse!" If more than two pairs of eyes were to witness Diavolo, he would surely burst into flames. That's why he tried to hide behind the door when Barbatos came to collect him!

Nowadays, when Lucifer can’t kick Diavolo out of his study/Barbatos is off running the household and can’t drag him away, he allows himself to lean into giving Diavolo a hard time – nothing unbecoming of their stations, nothing disrespectful – but enough to give Lucifer quiet vindication. 

It serves him right, for all the grievances he causes Lucifer on a daily basis. 

(Levi calls it teasing, but Levi has not left his quarters since the last major war killed one of his favorite authors before a series was finished, so what does Levi know of social interaction?) 

“If you’re in need of something to do, Barbatos and I found a few errors in your last few missives…” Lucifer begins. 

Diavolo, surprisingly, doesn’t jump to the bait.  

There are no witty remarks that come from the future king’s lips, only the lazy upward curl of a smile and a contented hum in return. 

Unused to the lack of a response from the other, Lucifer glances down at the small plate, Diavolo's cultivated pile of seeds gathered in the shallow puddle of juice.

Another pomegranate seed plinks onto the plate, and Lucifer watches through his peripherals as it topples the delicate balance of the seeds already there. 

He narrows his eyes at it briefly, as if it holds the answers to his obvious questions, but says nothing. Diavolo works at a steady pace, humming quietly under his breath as his nimble fingers pluck seeds from the fruit. 

For a while, they go on like that. 

Diavolo alternates between quietly munching on seeds and adding to his growing plate. Lucifer scribbles away at the parchment, his clean script much more legible than Diavolo’s own. 

Diavolo deserves an award, Lucifer thinks, for the longest amount of time spent not getting into trouble in Lucifer’s recent memory. Perhaps he should be more suspicious of the other’s uncharacteristically quiet nature, but Diavolo looks at ease with his menial task.

Diavolo’s tune continues, a soothing, low cadence to his voice offsetting the relative quiet of Lucifer’s quill scratching at the parchment. It’s a waltz, syrupy sweet and with a dreamlike quality as Diavolo’s humming carries the notes into creation. 

It casts a spell with charisma alone, and Lucifer doesn’t notice when his hand stills, quill hovering over the page as he tries to recognize the tune. A smile twists the prince’s lips, his lips stained darker with the sweet purple nectar.

Diavolo doesn’t hesitate in his motions, only glancing up at Lucifer through his lashes. Lucifer’s breath involuntarily catches in his throat.

Lucifer does not think about how Diavolo’s fingertips are stained as well, stained deeper than the curve of his lush lower lip. Does not think about the juice dripping down his tanned skin, drying sticky on his wrists. It is in the middle of these not-thoughts, their gazes catching in passing, that Diavolo speaks.

“20%.” 

“What?” Lucifer startles, despite himself, brows cinching with narrowed eyes. Diavolo reaches down with one long, purple-dyed finger to point at the line where Lucifer’s quill has stopped. The smile only grows, Diavolo tilting his head to the side as he reads the line off of Lucifer’s report.

“‘The sixth circle has under reported their amaranth yield again this quarter, their numbers being off by roughly,” He pauses for dramatic effect, which Lucifer finds wholly unnecessary considering this is a report, not a performance, ”20%.’”

Diavolo purses his lips, before it turns into a huffed laugh, “It’s probably because they pay tithe to Beelzebub. You should talk to him about that.” 

His eyes and hands go back to the fruit in front of him. Lucifer does not admit that the next part of his report was about to mention that it is likely due to his hungriest brother.

Saved from having to formulate a response, there’s a knock at the door, and Barbatos’ muffled voice on the other side calls, “Lucifer? Have you seen Prince Diavolo?” 

Diavolo’s posture immediately jerks up, and then his shoulders curl in on himself, like a child that knows he’s been caught. Barbatos is, most definitely, here for Diavolo. 

Lucifer is absolutely not relieved at the distraction. He levels Diavolo with a singular stare that somehow says I’m not covering for you, and nearly rolls his eyes when Diavolo returns a pained look that begs please?

A strange, out of place idea has Lucifer wanting to concede to Diavolo’s whims, to pretend that no one is there. Ridiculous. As they sit in the silence, there’s a moment where Diavolo’s eyes light up, as if thinking that Lucifer might actually help him out –

“He’s in here,” Lucifer says, because of course he is. All three of them know there’s no way that he wouldn’t be, and Diavolo deflates. 

It’s clear from the slight, upwards quirk of Barbatos’ lips that he knows Lucifer’s hesitation. Lucifer bristles at the thought, at Barbatos’ ability to always see more than is shown. 

Barbatos does not startle easily – in fact, Lucifer believes he can recall maybe a handful of times that the other has reacted with little more than resigned acceptance or rueful amusement. 

It wounds his pride, in a sense, to have Barbatos walk in on a scene like this (like what? Diavolo slowly working at Lucifer’s carefully constructed walls, trying to carve a contented little spot in Lucifer’s life? Yes. Lucifer is aware.) and have his reaction be anything less than shocked. Appalled? 

Perhaps aghast, that Lucifer too has fallen to the whims of his lord. 

Unless Barbatos thought that Lucifer would cave from the beginning, Lucifer realizes, and it sours his expression in the slightest. 

“Barbatos!” Diavolo grins, still slouched over the edge of the desk like it pains him to have good posture. 

“I have been looking for you, my lord,” Barbatos says, his voice as even and polite as ever. 

“I’ve been taking a break!” 

“It’s been four hours since you said you would be right back, sir. I thought I would help you find your way, since you seem to be having some trouble.”  

Diavolo, a devil of almost immeasurable power and status, has the gall to look sheepish in front of his butler and aide. He glances big, pleading eyes at Lucifer as if asking for help again, and Lucifer cocks one brow, saying nothing. 

A beat of silence passes, before Diavolo suddenly exhales loudly, tossing his hands (one of which is holding a knife, and the other a pomegranate, and juice splashes on the desk alarmingly close to his nearly-finished report) into the air. 

“Okay, okay! I’m coming,” Diavolo concedes, still brimming with amusement as he easily disposes of the empty pomegranate husk with his magic. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wipes the remnants of sticky juice off the blade and his fingers, staining the pristine white purple. 

“Let’s stop by the kitchens on the way there, Barbatos. Fruit has only made me realize how famished I truly am!” Diavolo says, placing the handkerchief down and stretching his arms up as he stands. 

“I can bring something to your office, my lord.” Barbatos shoots down the attempt at escape, and Diavolo tsks under his breath. 

“You’re too smart, Barbatos,” Diavolo says, walking towards his butler and patting one hand on the other’s shoulders, “You know all my tricks by now.” He nods sagely as they walk to the exit of the room. Barbatos gives a soft sigh. 

“We both know that’s not true, my lord.” 

Lucifer watches, unafraid to admit to himself that he finds some amusement in Diavolo’s plight, before he realizes the mess that Diavolo has left behind. 

“Your – ” Mess? Pile of fruit seeds? Penchant for completely derailing Lucifer’s productivity? Whatever Lucifer had intended to say is cut off by a dismissive wave of Diavolo’s hand and a cheerful slant of a smile on the other’s face. 

“Those are for you!” Diavolo laughs, and Lucifer doesn’t have the opportunity to get a response in before Diavolo whirls into the hallway, Barbatos shutting the door after him with a soft click. 

Lucifer sits in silence, listening to the muffled, familiar chatter between the two, fading as they travel further from the door. He tells himself that this is to make sure that Diavolo has truly left, not for any other frivolous, flowery reasons that his brothers might claim, were they to know of his lingering gaze on the plate, the stained handkerchief Diavolo left behind. 

The plate of pomegranate seeds rests in the corner of his desk, still untouched.

Lucifer ignores it until the candles in the room burn dangerously low, the only indication of time passing thanks to the endless twilight of the Devildom. When he finally decides to stop, he rolls his neck to alleviate the stiffness, eyes fluttering shut at the tension. 

When they open again, his gaze lands once more on the plate. 

This time, it stays. 

Alone in the privacy of his office, Lucifer props an elbow unceremoniously on the table. He brings his hand to his chin, gloved fingers tapping at his lips. More silence passes, a decision is made. Lucifer tugs off the glove of his right hand.

For him, Diavolo had said. 

Lucifer isn’t particularly fond of pomegranates. 

The flavor isn’t anything amazing to him, and they’re much too messy, but there’s a strange, perverse pleasure beginning to blossom inside him at the fresh memory of Diavolo devoting his time to a task solely for Lucifer, understanding coloring where there was once muted shades of gray.  

Kings are servants to their kingdoms, but there’s an undeniable intimacy in the act of servitude for one. 

It makes the initial burst of flavor on his tongue all the more sweet. 

[19tozier]

lookalike pt. two (bill denbrough)

part two of this imagine

warnings: angst, swearing, but a hopeful ending!

[losers&reader are 17/18 in this]

bill denbrough, you have found, is not an easy person to love. loving him is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

it burns inside of you, burrowing into your heart and into your stomach until you feel hollow with it. sometimes, you want nothing more than to scrape yourself free from it, but you don’t think you could; it would destroy you as well. but loving bill the way that you do is going to destroy you, too.

you’ve been avoiding him even harder after your fight, coldly ignoring his every attempt to talk to you or even look at you. you thought you’d have to avoid the other losers at times, too, but they’ve made it clear that they understand. you don’t know how they found out, but you know they know what bill said. and you know they’re upset about it. they’re almost as angry as you are.

and god, are you angry. you have to force yourself not to think about what bill said or else your rage will choke you, thick and cloying and hot in your throat. at inopportune times, his words will play through your mind, and your blood begins to boil.

however, your life hasn’t changed much. you were already avoiding bill to begin with, so not seeing him at all hasn’t really done anything. you still go on dates with jacob, trying not to feel guilty when you look at his smile, and you hang out with the losers whenever you are certain bill won’t be there. there’s a hole in your life and your heart where he should be but slowly, you think you are beginning to grow numb to that absence.

of course that’s when it comes crashing down around you.

foolishly, you had been certain jacob had been none the wiser to the tension inside you. you’d never told him that you had stopped being friends with bill, after all, and you’d even brought the losers along to meet jacob on one of your movie dates. you had thought that things were as perfect as they could get between you two.

he’s already leaning against your locker when the final bell rings one day, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t return your smile when you greet him, nor does he go to wrap you up in a hug the way that he usually does. instead, he sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“can we talk?” he asks you quietly, his eyes sliding to where richie and eddie are waiting for both of you a few steps down the hall. “alone?”

you swallow, a cold feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. you wave the boys on, trying to smile as reassuringly as possible when they both look concerned. judging by the look richie gives you, it’s shaky at best and downright worrying at worst.

you follow jacob outside, your heart rate spiking even more when he leads you to the place where you and bill had your fight just a few short weeks ago. seemingly oblivious to your anxiety, he sits on the wall where bill had waited for you, and hesitantly, you sit beside him. the few inches between you feel as cavernous as miles.

for a long moment, neither of you talk. you stare down at the sidewalk, your palms sweating against your thighs. you’re about to bite the bullet and ask what’s wrong when jacob murmurs, “i think we need to break up.”

your heart freezes inside your chest. it sits there, colder than you’ve ever been, spreading numb out through your veins as you shakily whisper, “what?”

jacob doesn’t look at you. “i think we need to break up,” he repeats, slightly louder and slightly stronger.

part of you had known this was coming, and that part had honestly been waiting for it to happen. but that part is not the majority, and you are so blindsided that your lips tremble enough that you almost can’t talk. “but... why?”

he sighs, and finally he meets your gaze. he looks sad and resigned, a frown curling the edges of his mouth, but there is something in the set of his shoulders that looks lighter. more free. “we don’t like each other the same way,” he whispers. “and i think i’ve always known that, but i don’t think i can stay with it anymore.”

every word he says spears into your heart. you feel almost sick with guilt and desperation. “jacob, i do like you, i don’t understand—“

“not in the same way,” he interrupts, gently but firmly. “i really like you, (y/n), but you’ve always had feelings for someone else. and that’s okay, really. it’s not your fault. but it’s not fair to either of us.”

the tears you have been trying to suppress finally make themselves known, trickling slowly down your cheeks. you make no move to wipe them away. “how did you know?”

he smiles, soft and small and sad. “i have eyes, y’know,” he murmurs to you. you don’t deserve his kindness, especially now. “it didn’t take a genius to figure out.”

your heart is unthawing, only for fractures to spread through the ice. you can feel it breaking in your chest, slowly but surely with every word he says. “i really do like you,” you rasp. you want to grab his hand but you don’t think you’ll be allowed. “i need you to know that. and i never, ever cheated on you.”

jacob blows out a breath, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “i do know that, (y/n). i know you like me and i know you’d never hurt me like that. but it’s not really enough, is it?”

he doesn’t say it to be an accusation but you feel it like it is one. your heart splits jaggedly in two. “no,” you whisper. “it’s not.”

you are both silent for several minutes. the bustle of your classmates leaving school for the day continues around you, all of them oblivious to the turmoil inside you. no one has even glanced at you or jacob, even if you feel like there is a neon sign pointing directly to your conversation. lookie here, folks, karma always comes to collect its debt!

“can we still be friends?” your voice is small. your fingers are twisted together in your lap hard enough that they ache. “i don’t want to completely lose you from my life, jake.”

jacob sighs, shaking his head slightly. “i don’t know,” he admits. “i don’t want to lose you either but i think it would hurt too much to just be your friend right now.” he pauses, then gently reaches to bump your shoulder with his own. he gives you a watery smile. “maybe eventually, though.”

there is a note of finality in his words. this is the ending you had been building towards from the moment it all began, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. you had already lost bill, and now you were losing jacob as well.

he gives you a nod, trying to smile again, and then he stands up and walks away. he doesn’t look back.

almost as soon as he’s left, you feel two other people sit down, one on either side of you. you can’t see through the tears blurring your vision but you know that it’s eddie and richie, come to try and comfort you. you don’t say anything, just turn your head into eddie’s shoulder and let yourself cry. they don’t ask, but you hope they understand anyways. you wouldn’t be able to explain if they didn’t.

***

it takes you a little while, but eventually, things start to get better.

the other losers are the best friends you really could’ve ever asked for. bev helps you talk all your feelings out and cry all you want to; stan and mike help you study and keep you from noticing all of your extra free time; ben brings you sweet little gifts, flowers and chocolate and candy, to make you smile on days you don’t feel like doing so; eddie and richie make you laugh with their antics and hug you whenever you need it.

but there’s still that hole left behind where bill was, the one that you desperately try not to think about.

you still haven’t talked to him. you know he knows that you and jacob broke up, because it feels like your entire school knows by now, but you don’t know if you’re ready to face that. you’re still so angry with him but you also miss your best friend.

you’re sitting in between eddie and stan one day at lunch, giggling at something mike said, when richie leans across the table and whispers, “come outside with me?”

he’s flicking his pack of cigarettes in his hand, and even though you don’t smoke you’d never pass up the opportunity to hang out with your favorite trashmouth. you pat stan’s shoulder, ruffle eddie’s hair, and follow richie out the huge double doors.

there’s already someone sitting against the wall in richie’s usual smoking spot, and you turn to say something to richie only to notice richie’s disappeared. you swing around wildly to look for him, and that’s when you realize the person sitting against the wall is bill.

you are struck with sudden deja vu for the day of your fight. you hope this doesn’t destroy you more.

he offers you a small smile, patting the concrete next to him. “c-can w-we talk?”

your heart races at the sound of his voice but you force yourself to keep your face blank. you carefully sit beside him, leaving several inches between your thighs. you don’t look at him at all.

he sighs, his hands balling into fists in his lap. “d-don’t b-be m-m-mad at r-richie. i a-asked h-him to b-b-bring you o-out h-here.”

“why?” your voice is cold and impassive, and you watch him flinch out of the corner of your eye.

he swallows. “s-so i c-could a-apologize t-to y-y-you.”

it makes your heart race for an entirely different reason. you almost crack and turn to look at him, maybe to see how sincere he is, but you’re scared that doing so will make you forget why you’re angry. already, the feeling is melting away at having him by your side again. “i’m listening.”

almost as if a dam has been broken, he tilts his shoulders to face you. his words come out choppy and fast, his stutter infinitely worse than you’ve ever heard it. “i-i-i-i’m s-s-so-oh suh-suh-suh-sor-ry. i-i-i-i wuh-was s-s-s-stupid a-a-and m-m-m-m-m—f-f-fuck—“

without your conscious effort, your hand shoots out to wrap around his wrist. both of you freeze, staring down at the point of contact. you want to pull it away and take it back but something inside of you has unlocked at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“calm down,” you murmur, still staring down at your hand. “it’s just me.”

bill draws in a ragged breath, his shoulders trembling with the force of it. his wrist flexes within your grip but he doesn’t pull away. “i-i-i’m s-s-sorry,” he whispers, now slightly calmer. “i-i’m s-s-so s-s-sorry, (y/n). i-i s-shouldn’t h-h-have s-s-s-said t-that. a-any o-of i-i-it.”

you nod, slowly. “so why did you?” you ask, your voice low. “because that hurt, bill. i was so fucking mad at you. i am so fucking mad at you.”

he makes a wounded noise, deep in his throat, and the hand still in your grasp curls into a fist. “y-y-you s-s-should b-be,” he croaks. “i-i w-was a d-dick. i-it d-doesn’t e-e-excuse it, b-but i-i w-w-was... i w-was j-j-jealous.”

it’s not really news to you, since bill had admitted he liked you in the same breath he used to tell you to break up with jacob, but it still makes your blood thrum through your veins. he’s right, it’s no excuse at all, and your anger will likely simmer inside of you for a while to come, but the worst of it is disappearing.

you sigh, finally turning your head to look at him. he’s already looking back, his eyes wide and sad, his expression destroyed. you let go of his wrist but don’t move away from him.

“why didn’t you apologize sooner?” you ask quietly.

he shrugs, giving you a small smile. “i-i d-didn’t th-think y-you w-w-wanted to h-h-hear f-from m-me.”

he’s not wrong; you probably would’ve punched him if he’d talked to you sooner. you nod, looking down at your lap. “i’m still mad at you,” you repeat. “that was fucked up, bill. you just expected me to break up with jacob because you asked me to. you realize how awful that is, right?”

bill blows out a long sigh, nodding his head. “s-stan n-n-nearly k-killed m-me f-f-for i-it,” he admits. “i-i th-th-thought b-ben a-a-actually w-would.” he pauses, and then says, again, “i-i’m s-s-sorry, (y/n).”

you turn to look at him again; he still hasn’t looked away from you. “i don’t know how to forgive you for that,” you confess quietly.

his expression turns anguished, but he doesn’t look surprised. he bites his lip, tucking his chin down into his chest. “c-can w-we s-s-start o-over? i-i-i d-don’t m-mean f-f-forgetting w-w-what i-i d-did. i-i j-just w-w-want t-to e-earn y-y-your t-trust b-b-back.”

it sounds too easy, but as you look at him, you’re shocked by the longing inside of you. you want your best friend back, you want to go back to the days where it was you and bill against the world. and if this is how you’ll get there, then you’ll absolutely take it, if it means you get to have him again.

you swallow and smile, shakily. “yeah, bill,” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

he smiles back at you before he sticks his hand out between you. as you stare down at it in confusion, he nudges your shoulder with his own. “h-hi, i-i’m b-b-bill.”

it makes something warm curl in your chest. you throw your head back and laugh, hearing him laugh along with you. you take his hand in yours, shaking it fondly. “i’m (y/n),” you grin.

maybe that day didn’t ruin anything at all, you think, as he offers you a hand up and holds the door open for both of you to go back to lunch. maybe there wasn’t actually any bomb and you and bill will eventually be okay.

as you rejoin the losers, as you watch stan bully bill relentlessly, as bill smiles at you shyly across the table, you are certain you will be.