#can you tell I’ve been Googling fun facts about ducks

[ladyddanger]

All I can think about is c!quackity having bird instincts. He really really really likes shiny things. C!smile gave him a small collection of random shiny things he found on the ground and every day he brought something new. C!quackity dose a slight head bob when he sees someone he likes a lot. (He did this at c!Wilbur a lot during the election. Wilbur still has no idea what it meant) c!quackity also eats gold. (Yes that’s somthing ducks actually do.)

#can you tell I’ve been Googling fun facts about ducks #i m just obsessed #duck hybrid #c!quackity #duck hybid q #tnt duo #c!slime and c!quackity

[therealjordan23]

So, a recent question people have been asking me is whether Scrooge deserves to be called dad.

Fuck no.

Scrooge McDuck doesn't deserve an ounce of title "dad", especially when he's competing against characters like Drake, and more importantly, Donald. These 2 characters have proved to be more of a dad than Scrooge will ever be.

In the beginning of the series, we see Donald already taking on more responsibility as a parent than Della and Scrooge combined. Donald actively believed that their adventuring days have come to an end, as there is a brand new adventure waiting for them, which are Huey, Dewey, and Louie. When he caught wind of Della’s desire to go up into space, while 3 boys were on the way, he told her not to.

Scrooge clearly didn't understand how severe the situation was, he didn't have that parental instinct. He played the, 'fun uncle' role, and it never went beyond that, even though he was the guardian of Donald and Della from a young age, along with HDL. This is what tempted him to build the rocket in the first place.

You can be someone's "biological parent", but it doesn't necessarily mean that you're their "parent". Personally speaking, my dad wasn't around when I was a kid, and I never considered him to be my parent, until he stepped up and actively took on that role. And even in the show, that's Della’s whole arc! In Season 2, Louie doesn't consider her to be his "mom", until she stepped up to become a proper parent. More on this later, though.

Scrooge didn't actively do anything to earn the title, "dad", he truly didn't. And that's the difference between him and Della, she actually put in the effort.

This is why Beakley has earned the title of a parent.

This is why Donald has earned the title of a parent.

This is why Della herself, (even though I have made it clear multiple times that she's not my favourite, sorry Delly) has earned the title of a parent.

This is why Drake has earned the title of a parent.

Frank himself has made it clear several times that Donald is considered to be Huey, Dewey, and Louie's dad, even though he's not their biological father, but that's the point. It's through Donald's actions that we see that, "Okay, he's a dad, he's earned it."

Donald sacrificed so much to become a parent: he sacrificed a lavish life at a mansion so he could get away from the man who effectively took away their mother, he gave up what would've been his prime time to get his life going: if Donald and Della are canonically 36 in the series, and Della has been gone for 10 years by the time the pilot aired, it would mean Donald was at least 26 years old when he took the boys. Please note that it was confirmed that Donald's been living in the manor since he was at least 12-13 (I'm basing this off of seeing him in Last Christmas, I could be wrong).

So we have a fresh 26 year old, who has left his place of comfort and financial stability since he was 12 or 13. He has given up the lifestyle he was used to. And as if that doesn't sound bad on its own, he had 3 kids to raise, because he believes that their mother is dead.

26 shouldn't be when you scramble to find a home, find a job, and on top of that, raise 3 kids! 26 should be a time where you're just starting to figure things out, slowly easing into ideas like marriage, a full time job, and then maybe having kids. (These aren't my personal beliefs, I literally Googled what 26 year olds should be doing, and this came up)

**obviously I don't speak for everyone, there are certain factors that affect these 'common beliefs' at what you should be doing at a certain age**

Anyway. I have barely listed what Donald has done for these boys who haven't even been born yet. Donald has done so much more at the age of 26, than Scrooge has done in his 153 years. So, I can say with full confidence, he has earned the title Dad.

And then there's Scrooge.

It's truly insulting: when you see what truly makes a parent a parent, compared with the 30 seconds of Webby calling Scrooge dad? It completely brushes aside Donald's efforts of being a parent.

He didn't earn it. He never did anything to earn that title. @moonstoneflowers, @l-thefriendlyghost, and @dellyduck said it best: the overprotectiveness we see once it's revealed that he was Webby's 'father'? It's disgusting that he acted like that after he knew that Webby was his 'daughter'. He didn't care about Huey, Dewey, and Louie, or Della and Donald. He only did that because he felt obligated to be Webby's 'dad'.

"When you look at someone through rose-coloured glasses, all the red flags just look like flags."

—Wanda Pierce to BoJack Horseman

This quote totally applies to Scrooge. I mean, his name is literally Scrooge, he's designed to be a generally unlikable character and person. We see traits and toxic behavior that we brushed aside until now: when the show has ended, and we're forced to analyze it.

A great example of this is in Timephoon, where we can actively see where Scrooge and Della finally show their true colours. It's at the end, where the family is reunited, and Louie gives his half-ass apology.

Scrooge is completely okay with the fact that Louie almost destroyed space.

"I'm sure you've learned… something."

—Scrooge McDuck to Louie Duck in Timephoon!

You are the adult in the situation sir. I'm not even counting Launchpad as an adult here, he is a literal manchild. And even though Beakley is just as much to be blamed here, she spent the episode convincing Della to be a little stricter and discipline her kids better. She knew where to cross the line, and the only reason that Beakley agreed to forgive Louie was because she assumed Della wasn't taking it seriously.

"No… not this time."

—Della Duck to Louie Duck in Timephoon

I’ve had my problems with this, but even I can confidentally tell you that this marked the moment where Della Duck earned the title of a parent, while Scrooge was clearly about to forgive Louie for a literal crime he committed, and was really about to let Louie go off scot free.

And I personally find that alarming. If us adults didn't catch these red flags the second we watched the show itself, what about the kids? You know, the actual demographic it's aimed towards?

Another issue that I'm happy @moonstoneflowers brought up was the fact that Frank said Webby had to "earn" her place in the family?

i-

She is a child, sir. She shouldn't have that mindset at the age of 10-12. A person who should have to earn their place in the family is an adult like Della. She went out for a joyride in space, but she actively regretted that decision, and immediately sought out to fix things with her family and kids. She changed for the better.

Scrooge? He makes things so that they revolve around him, and makes it so that he doesn't have to change for anyone. He makes things work in his favour.

The sad part that @dellyduck brought up is that Donald, and let's be real, 99% of his problems exist because of Scrooge, is the one who has to deal with them! He isn't a fucking mop! He isn't here to clean up your shit! This man is the only functional parent, and Scrooge uses that to his advantage by shoving all of his problems onto Donald.

He didn't deserve his ending, goddammit. Scrooge McDuck will never be considered a father. He can be biologically related to Webby, sure, but please don't strip away what truly makes a parent a parent, and apply it to someone who has never made an effort to change to become a proper guardian.

#ducktales #scrooge mcduck #webby vanderquack #timephoon #bentina beakley #della duck #donald duck #drake mallard #frank angones #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #the last adventure #spoilers? #it's been a good 3 weeks #i think we're good

[outlanderalien]

@fullheartedlyprovocative

Very good point! Many people who aren’t from the UK are probably not aware of the impending disaster that is Prime Minister Boris Johnson.

I keep describing him as a clown, incompetent and overall destructive to society as a whole, but i’ve failed to go into detail. And the reason is simple: There’s just far too much to cover in a concise and efficient way. It is very literally a massive rabbit hole that knows no end.

But i should probably collate some of his more memorable moments, so that everyone can get a rough idea about who he is exactly and why we’re all dead inside. 

Bojo is often described as clownish, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s harmless. He’s as Machiavellian as a politician can get, and he weaponises his clownish behaviour in order to cover up his corruption. He has this down to an Art. 

A recent example of his perception manipulation:

During the Brexit referendum, Boris was heavily campaigning for Leave, and he infamously commissioned a big red Bus with this message on it, claiming that the 350 million currently going to EU membership will be redirected to the UKs NHS (National Health Service), this was a massive deal and fueled the leave campaign. 

This was also a massive lie, and he was (rightly) hated for it.

The Bus Lie hung over Boris long after the referendum. When you’d type up Boris Johnson on Google, it would suggest the Bus scandal as an auto-complete search, bringing up countless articles on the lie that had clearly tarnished Boris’ reputation.

However, during the leadership campaign, Boris did something extraordinary. While being interviewed about his leadership bid, he was asked what he does for fun. This was his response:

Hilarious. Ridiculous. Blustering. Making it up as he went along. It quickly became an interview widely mocked across social media and news outlets. Why did he make himself sound like such an idiot? Why buses? This is why:

He is not only immune to being mocked, he has weaponised it to cover up his biggest controversies. Typing up “Boris Johnson Bus” now yields funny clips of him struggling to get through an interview talking about painting little buses. His Bus Scandal has almost been entirely pushed out of the picture.

That is only the tip of the Boris shaped iceberg. 

His clowning has gotten him national and international mockery. Who can forget that time Boris (while Mayor of London) got stuck on a zip-line because he was too heavy?

Or that time that he got overly competitive in a game of rugby against kids and tackled a child.

Or that time during a recent Leadership debate where he pulled out a literal Kipper and waved it about, declaring that “we will get our Kippers BACK when we leave the EU!”

What a silly man. How completely harmless he must be.

Well while the nation struggles to get these images out of their heads, collectively we have forgotten many of his greatest sins.

One sin still hangs above him... An ongoing scandal that has endangered the life of Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe. 

In 2017 Nazanin had travelled to Iran from the UK to visit her parents, when she was detained by authorities under suspicion of coming to Iran in order to train journalists. In 2017 when Boris was Foreign Secretary and during Nazanins trial, Boris made this statement to the news:

“When I look at what Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe was doing, she was simply teaching people journalism, as I understand it,”

This was considered damning evidence that was used against Nazanin. She is still imprisoned today. Her husband in the UK has been tirelessly campaigning for her release, going on a joint hunger-strike with her. Boris refuses to take any responsibility for his comments or apologise for what he has caused.

This isn’t the first or last time Boris has been reckless with his words.

Very recently, Sir Kim Darroch (the UKs (now former) ambassador to the US) suffered a memo leak, in which unflattering remarks regarding Donald Trumps presidency surfaced. The leak was unfortunate, but the comments made were not unprofessional and entirely expected from a foreign diplomat. But Trump wasn’t happy and applied pressure to the UK government to fire Darroch for doing his job. The entire UK government united behind Darroch and supported him...... well... almost the entire government. During a live debate, the final two leadership candidates were asked about the Darroch situation, and whether Darroch would remain in his job if they become PM. Boris refused to comment and avoided the question as usual. However since Boris was the favourite to win, Darroch realised he had no hope, so he resigned. Boris was cited as the main reason and was widely criticised. 

Before Boris was a politician, he was a journalist. And in recent years, a very unsavoury recording surfaced from his time as a Journalist in 1990...A phone recording between him and Darius Guppy, where the two conspired to have a reporter physically hurt. (Somehow this is the only youtube video available on this...)

Boris has also been known to have absolutely no filter and speaks before he thinks. Such comments are a result of this.

He had referred to black people as “Piccaninnies” with “watermelon smiles”

In 2018 he had referred to Muslim women wearing burkas as looking like “letter-boxes”

At a conference on Libya in 2017 he claimed that the country could become a thriving luxury resort once they “cleared the dead bodies away”

In 2013 he claimed that Malyasian women went to University because they “have to find men to marry”

In 2006 he claimed that Barack Obama had an “ancestral dislike of the British empire – of which Churchill had been such a fervent defender”

All of this... and we haven’t even covered his politics yet.

This is the big reason why he’s becoming PM and it’s simple. He’s lying to everyone.

He’s promising everything to everyone. He’s promised a soft brexit to some, a hard brexit to others. But he refuses to explain how he would achieve either. He’s only now clearly settling on the side of a hard-brexit, or what’s considered a No-Deal brexit (walking away from the EU without striking a trade deal), but he has no answers for any questions posed to him. 

His debating strategy, and interview strategy is to make people laugh until they forget what they asked him.

When asked "Is austerity a dead duck at this point?” he ended up rambling about ducks for a solid minute and making the audience giggle before giving a very vague and nothing answer

When debating with leadership rival Jeremy Hunt, he won over the audiences heart by interrupting Hunt with immature jokes.

After declaring that he knows exactly what he’s doing in regards to a No-Deal brexit, he tells everyone that he will follow “Paragraph 5B” of a document that will supposedly solve the Brexit crisis. He repeats “Paragraph 5B” constantly, giving the impression that he’s a man of detail and knows the entire document like the back of his hand. When asked if he knew what was in Paragraph 5C, he simply states “no” and tries to play it off like it’s funny. Without a studio audience to laugh at him, he was simply left in the silence of an astounded interviewer. This is one of the many reasons why he had avoided as many interviews as possible during his leadership campaign.

The fact is, no one knows what he really stands for, no one knows what he’ll really do. He’s a wild-card, or more appropriately, the Joker card. He seems crazy enough and chaotic enough to go through with No-Deal that people are voting for him. But so many people are going to be disappointed. This is a man who says he’s always wanted to be Prime Minister ever since he was 15. He wants power for the sake of power. And for some reason, the Tory party are handing him that power.

There’s so much more to go into, but this is a good initial crash-course into Bojo, the literal clown.

#Boris Johnson #uk politics #brexit #uk #politics

[artificialqueens]

Carousel (Taywhora) - Plegdoctor

A/N: Right, so fun fact about me, the first drag race fic I ever wrote was actually an Aquaria/Cracker one. It was going to be a high school au but I never ended up finishing it. I recently found it and reread it and found this one scene where they all go to the fair together. So this is a rewrite of a fic that never was! I've obviously had to change some bits to fit the UK2 girls but a lot of it is word for word what I wrote in that little notebook years ago. So yeah, enjoy!

--

Aurora shivered and wrapped her leather jacket tighter around herself. The cool air of the early winter night fluttered through her hair, threading the blonde strands into a tangle. Lights flashed around her, so bright that she could still see them when she closed her eyes.

Although it was cold, she was comfortable. Content. She could hear the music blaring from various rides and stands, the screams of children and the laughter of teens, the chattering of adults. The air was full of food, candyfloss sugar and savoury smells of greasy burgers and hotdogs that would leave her with a stomach ache for two days.

Best of all, the air was electric. There was an energy like no other fizzing across the atmosphere as she looked at her friends with a smile.

Lawrence had dragged Ellie onto the dodgems, despite desperate protestations from the taller girl. And then of course Lawrence had to challenge Tia to a duel of sorts on the damned things, so Tia had persuaded Veronica to go with her and prove the Scot wrong. She could see them now, Ellie’s blonde hair all over Lawrence’s shoulder as she squealed and cuddled into her.

She was going to miss this.

“Look at those two. Bloody disgusting.”

She didn’t even jump as the voice appeared beside her, the smooth Welsh accent already giving it’s owner away. She held her hand out expectantly, pleased when a bag of candyfloss was placed in it.

“They’re so lovesick. It’s cute. Talking of lovesick, where are Bim and Asttina?”

Tayce sighed. “I think they’re still googling whether candyfloss is vegan or not. I told Bims it was because it’s just sugar but they weren’t convinced.”

Aurora held back a giggle and shivered again. Tayce frowned slightly.

“You cold?”

“A little. I’ll be alright when we get moving again.”

“Right. Who’s winning this duel anyway?”

Aurora snorted. “Fuck knows babe, I’m pretty sure Tia and Lawrence have both committed various war crimes while Ellie and Veronica are just trying to stay alive.”

“Well I’ll warm you up while we wait.” Tayce said, slinging an arm around Aurora’s shoulders and pulling her in close. Aurora sighed and snuggled into her friend, her heartrate increasing with the close proximity. She could feel the soft material of Tayce’s coat, count her steady heartbeat, smell the mixture of her expensive floral perfume and the cheap sugar on her breath.

Aurora could’ve stayed there forever, getting drunk on Tayce’s touch.

“We might wanna go back on guys, we shouldn’t interrupt this sexual tension.” Her peace was cut short by a thick Scottish accent.

She sighed. Tayce simply laughed. “Wind your neck in Lozza, let’s not pretend you didn’t take Ellie on that ride just so she’d be pressed up against you.” She called out playfully, her grip not leaving Aurora’s shoulders.

“Get to fuck Tayce, as if I would lower my standards.” She replied, Ellie giving a little cry of indignation from where she was hanging off her arm.

“That’s not what you told me last night, hen.” She teased, the girls erupting into screams of laughter.

They stumbled through the fair together, arms linked as they all shouted along to the tacky music being played. Bimini and Asttina joined them eventually, Asttina carrying Bimini on her back to “give them the experience of being tall.” Eventually they came to a stop in front of the carousel where Ellie gave a gasp of delight and immediately begged them all to go on it.

They dug through their pockets for the £1 needed, handing it to the bored looking man. Ellie immediately found a pure white horse with a pink saddle and clambered onto it, pulling Lawrence up behind her. Bimini and Asttina chose a blue and grey one, while Veronica and Tia predictably end up on a horse with a green saddle.

Aurora circled the horses a few times, scrutinising them.

“It’s not a house you’re looking for Rory, just get on a horse.” Ellie yelled from where she was, Lawrence’s arms around her middle as her head rested on her fluffy pink jacket.

“Here, this one is good.” Tayce said from atop a black and gold one. She reached out a hand to Aurora who took it. She wrapped her arms around her, her head fitting perfectly in the crevice of her shoulder.

“You’re comfy.” She murmured into Tayce’s neck.

“Girls! Picture!” Tia called behind her, holding up her phone as they all smiled at the camera. Aurora’s eyes flicked to the side to see Tayce sticking her tongue out and threw her head back in laughter.

“Did you get my whole outfit in there, Tia?”

“Els, babe, I don’t know how I couldn’t, I’m surprised Lawrence managed to hold onto you.”

“Think you’ll find I’m very good at holding onto her.” Lawrence’s voice was muffled by the fur of Ellie’s jacket. Aurora giggled at Asttina’s fake retch.

“Hold on tight you hound.” Aurora obeyed Tayce’s whispered command immediately, lacing her fingers together over Tayce’s stomach as the music started and the ride started moving.

She wished the ride would never end, savouring the cries of joy from Tayce like they were her favourite sweet. A pang of jealously struck through her heart when she saw Tia in front of them, leaning down to drop a kiss on Veronica’s head that was resting on her chest. Briefly she caught eye contact with Tayce and ripped her eyes away, loosening her grip as a blush spread under her foundation.

“Why’ve you let go Rory? We can’t have you falling off and dying.” Tayce adjusted her hands to once again be tightly looped on her waist. Aurora momentarily stopped breathing.

They remained that way until the ride stopped and they all clambered down from their respective horses. Bimini was back on Asttina’s back while Tia tried to convince Veronica that she was strong enough to carry her like that. Veronica vehemently rejected the idea as Aurora laughed at her friends, her hand entwined with Tayce’s.

People have always told Aurora how brave she is. Brave to wear clashing patterns (yet still make them work), brave to be the first in her friendship group in year five to get the bus alone, brave to be able to talk to anyone. But she doesn’t believe them. If Aurora were as brave as people have told her she is, she would be able to tell Tayce about how she feels.

She has spent many nights curled up in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest as she imagines letting the words spill from her mouth and into Tayce’s heart. The scenarios all have different outcomes. Sometimes Tayce laughed. Harshly, cruelly, softly, disbelievingly. Sometimes she swept Aurora into her arms and dipped her down low, her long fingers curled into Aurora’s blonde hair as she desperately pressed their lips together. Sometimes she gently let Aurora down, promising that they could still be friends.

That one always hurt the worst.

Who would want to be just friends with the girl that they’ve been in love with for two years?

The question spins her head for the rest of the night, until they’ve moved on from the rides and the food and are hanging around the games.

“Maybe someone will win a goldfish.” She suggested idly, wrapped up with Bimini in Tia’s massive puffer jacket. Bimini shook their head from beside her.

“No one gets fish at fairs babe, that’s like an American thing innit.”

“Well how would I know, do I look American?”

“We’ve been coming here since year seven, you would’ve thought you’d learn by now.”

Aurora huffed, her breath coming out as a harsh mist. “I can live in hope that one day I’ll go home with a new pet that my mum can’t say no to.”

“Bold of you to assume you’d win a goldfish; you can barely hook a duck.” Tia called goadingly to her. Aurora rose immediately to the bait.

“I can so hook a duck! Come on slags, we’re going to the hook-a-duck!” Her battle cry rose into the air as she strode in the general direction of the stall, Bimini hopping to keep up.

It emerges that Tia is, unfortunately, right. Aurora is shit at hook-a-duck.

“How can you be bad at hooking a duck? They’re literally right in front of you.” Ellie wondered out loud, leaning on Lawrence as they watched three of their friends hanging over the wooden slats as they poked sticks at floating rubber ducks. Lawrence let out a bark of laughter, and Veronica on her other side spluttered.

“It’s not as easy as it fucking looks!” Aurora threw back, stretching her arm until her shoulder almost popped from its socket.

She pulled back, dejected, and turned around to admit defeat. “Alright Tia, you win this time.”

“You’re great at many things Aurora, but hand eye coordination is not one of them.” Tia replied calmly as Aurora rolled her eyes.

“It’s alright Rory. Look I won this for you.” Tayce pressed a doll into her hands as Aurora spun it in her hands, looking at it with interest. It had blonde hair like hers, done up in a bun the way she wore it all through year eight. It’s dress was green, leaf shaped, with matching wings in the back.

“Tinkerbell?”

“Yep. She reminds me of you.”

“Aww.’ Aurora flushed pink with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment at Tayce’s words. ‘Why, because I’m just as gorgeous as her?” She suggested, batting her eyelashes jokingly and curling herself around Tayce’s arm. Tayce looked down at her, a glint in her eye.

“Not exactly.”

“Well why then?”

Tayce’s laugh sent the butterflies in Aurora’s stomach insane. “Because she needs attention or she dies.”

“Oh piss off.” She giggled, nudging the taller girl with her hip as the rest of their friends laughed into the open night sky.

She stayed at Tayce’s side, the doll tucked into her bag.

The meandered further around the fair, stopping every now and then for any ride or games that struck their fancy. Their pockets grew lighter as pound coins disappeared, exchanged for screams of laughter and memories that will forever remind them of being young and free.

“You’ll have to tell her eventually.” Ellie said while they’re waiting for the others on the Helter Skelter, arms laden with coats. Aurora shook her head obstinately, her hair swishing down her back.

“Never.”

“You said you’d tell her when I told Loz! And look how happy we are together. Come on hen, you’ve got to take a chance.” Ellie whacked her with Bimini’s leopard print jacket as though to make a point and Aurora batted it away with a long-suffering sigh.

“We’re not like you and Lawrence, Els.”

“You could be though.”

She fixed her friend with a pointed glare, the effect rather ruined with the amount that she has to look up due to Ellie’s (frankly insane) height.

Ellie relented, looking away with a slight furrow in her brow. “Just do it tonight. Get her alone or something.”

Aurora snorted at the assumption that the pair would ever be alone at the fairground.

But, surely enough, the girls began to peel off one by one. More like two by two, it’s Noah’s bloody Ark over here Aurora thought, ignoring Asttina’s weird look when she snorted quietly to herself.

Tia and Veronica said goodbye first, walking off in the direction of Tia’s house with their arms slung around each other. Asttina and Bim were next, both shooting sly glances at Aurora that made her retreat into her jacket as she waved them off. Lawrence seemed ready to stay the entire night, until Ellie began loudly yawning, poking her girlfriend sharply in the ribs with her elbow. Eventually Lawrence got the point Ellie was trying to make (a point that Aurora will murder her for later) and the two sloped off, whispering and giggling. Aurora turned to Tayce with a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Do you want to stay for a bit?” She ventured. Tayce nodded. She linked her arm with Aurora’s, the simple gesture flooding her brain with serotonin.

They circled the fair, tired yet bright eyes looking out for anything they had missed. It seemed ridiculous to Aurora to expect that there was anything new. The fair hadn’t changed since they first went in Year Seven, eight nervous eleven- and twelve-year-olds with pounds in their pockets begged from their mums. Aurora could still remember everything from that night, fresh in her mind as if it had been yesterday.

She remembered the skirt she wore, black and way too short for her age. She remembered the music playing and the way it filled the air with a joy that she had never felt in her life before. She remembered Ellie getting scared at the top of the Helter Skelter and refusing to go down it without Lawrence holding her hand. She remembered the way Bimini had their hair, long crimped locks that frizzed up for at least the next week.

But, perhaps most importantly, she remembered Tayce. What she was wearing, how her hair looked, the brand of eyeliner that was haphazardly pencilled in her waterline. Her generosity in buying the whole group chips and burgers (aside from Bimini, of course, who only had chips). The way her breath curled into the cold air as she yelled encouragements to a trembling Ellie. That moment where she grabbed Aurora’s hand and Aurora felt something small yet inexplicable tug in her chest.

Sometimes she wished they could go back to those days of innocence. Of clumsy flirting and messy mascara. Before everyone coupled up like it was an episode of Love Island.

Before she realised she had a crush on her best friend.

“There’s nothing new here.”

Tayce’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at her friend who had a glint of disappointment in her eyes. She snorted and squeezed her arm.

“What did you expect? This place never changes.”

Tayce grinned, the trace of sadness gone from her eyes. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I like about this place sometimes. It’s reliable.”

Aurora shook her head in mock despair. Tayce began walking purposefully, dragging Aurora behind her.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to go on the carousel again!”

“Oh my God my friend is a literal child. Did you have a good day at primary school?” She teased. Tayce screamed and whacked her.

“You bitch! I know that this is your favourite too, Rory, you can’t hide from me!”

It doesn’t take nearly as long to find a horse this time, and soon they’re in a familiar position, Aurora’s chin on Tayce’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna miss this place, Tayce.” She whispered. Her wavering voice betrayed her emotions. Tayce gently ran her thumb over her knuckles.

“Me too.’ She paused, turning her head around as if to take in everything she could. ‘Do you remember when we first came here?”

“Course I do. And we all went on the carousel and you laughed at me because I got my foot stuck and tripped as I was getting off.”

She clung on tighter as Tayce screeched. “Oh, I had almost forgotten about that! See, those are the kind of memories we’re going to take away.”

“What if we didn’t take them away?”

“Are you suggesting we stay here forever?”

“…maybe?”

“Aurora, you’ve been trying to get out of here for the past four years!”

“I know, it’s just,’ She sighed, her nostalgia coming out in a swirl of haze. ‘This is where we all consolidated our friendship.”

“We’ll come back for the fair.”

“Maybe for the first year. But then we’ll all get busy with life and degrees until it gets to the point where we look at old pictures and can’t even remember what year it was.”

“Nah, Bim’s shit hair dying skills have improved over the years, use their hair to judge the year.”

“Tayce-“

“I know, I know.”

They slipped into a brief silence, the background music still loud in their ears as they strained to memorise the notes.

Aurora wasn’t feeling brave.

But, even with her heart heavy from the feeling that this was the end of something, she found that she was happy.

Aurora spent hours looking in her Nan’s battered thesaurus, trying to find better words for ‘happy’ after her English teacher told her she needed a more varied vocabulary. But sometimes there was no other word to describe it. She was just simply happy when she was with Tayce.

“I’m going to miss you the most.” The words slipped out of her lips.

Tayce stiffened for a moment. Then she spoke.

“I’ll miss you the most too. Not just… as a friend. Even though you are my friend, it’s just,’ She twisted to look at her friend and laughed. ‘Don’t make me say this.”

“No, go on! I want to hear what you’re going to say!” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“I like you Rory. Not just as a friend. As more than a friend. And I wish I told you earlier so we could have more time together.”

Her heart stopped beating altogether as she let the new information seep into her brain.

Tayce liked her.

Tayce liked her as much as she liked her.

She pushed herself forwards slightly. Her arms still entwined around the other girl’s waist, her chest pressed against her back. Slowly, shyly, and in the least Aurora way known to man, she gently kissed Tayce’s smooth cheek.

“I like you too.’ She murmured into her ear. ‘More than friends. So much more than friends.”

“Oh my God.” Tayce said under her breath.

She twisted round until she was facing Aurora. Her long thin fingers found their way to Aurora’s face and then her hair as their lips met for the first time.

Aurora felt like all the electricity and magic of the fair was sucked from the air and contained entirely within her. She felt as if she might explode, every particle that made her up buzzing with joy as she clung to her best friend and kissed her like her life depended on it.

They pulled away when they felt the ride come to a stop. Aurora couldn’t breathe.

“Can we take a selfie?” Her cheeks are flushed as she speaks, embarrassed that this is the first thing to exit her mouth after finally admitting her love for Tayce after years of pining.

Tayce scrunched her nose. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I want to remember this forever. And never run the risk of forgetting.”

Tayce just laughed and kissed her again. And again. And again.

The next September, Aurora stands alone in a room. It’s technically hers, but it doesn’t feel like that yet. She slips on her headphones as she begins her task of decorating, hoping that when she’s done she won’t feel like she wants to cry anymore.

Just an hour later she slips her headphones off to do the last part in tranquil silence.

She’s methodical as she pins pictures to the board. Her family on one side, her friends on the other, with both of them mingling in the centre. She giggles as she tacks up the first group selfie they ever took, all squished on the ghost train that made Ellie scream bloody murder. She swears she can smell candyfloss and greasy burgers as she puts the rest of them up, revelling in the memories that flood her mind.

The group one from last year might be her favourite group one to date. Tia and Veronica at the front, smiling like they’ve won the life lottery as they curled together. Lawrence and Ellie cosily close, Lawrence playfully throwing a peace sign while Ellie stretched to make sure Tia got her whole outfit in. Bim and Asttina smirking, their eyes betraying the pure excitement that Aurora knows was within them.

Her and Tayce. Tayce’s pointed tongue stuck out cheekily that caused Aurora to throw her head back in the most genuine display of happiness ever captured on camera.

There was one final picture to put up. Although, it may have been a bit unnecessary. It was already her phone background, in a frame by her bed, and plastered all over her social media.

Slightly swollen lips, windswept hair, matching euphoric smiles.

Their first kiss, and the time that Aurora knew she would be in love with Tayce until the end of time.

It gets stuck right in the middle, pride of place.

Aurora takes a quick picture of the finished board. She sends it to the groupchat and flings herself onto her bed to read the rapid replies, her Tinkerbell doll cradled in the crook of her arm.

Basic <3: Omg!! That’s so cute, I love those pictures so much!

Loch Ness Bitch: are ya getting soppy already Rory, you’ve only been gone five minutes

Dirty D: Loz shut up it’s cute! All those memories <333

Sailor Vee: Ahh I can’t wait to go to the fair again this year. We’re defo all coming back, right?

Rude: Course we are Ronnie I wouldn’t miss it for the world

Vegan: Greasy chips on me, ladies x

Hound: I bloody hope so Bim, think you all still owe me from year 7

She’s happy. Aurora is happy as the groupchat descends into chaos, happy that they can still be like this while spread around the country. Her phone pings again.

Tayce: The carousel will always be there Rory. I’ll be waiting for you there x

She smiles as she taps out her reply.

Aurora: I love you so much <3

When she closes her eyes, Aurora can feel the cool winter air threading through her hair. She can smell the candyfloss sugar and savoury smells of greasy burgers and hotdogs that would leave her with a stomach ache for two days. She can hear the tacky tunes she loved to shout along too.

But best of all, she knows that in her heart, her love for Tayce is electric. It’s steady, reliable, and comforting.

Just like riding the carousel.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #uk2 #background other uk2 girls #lesbian au #high school au #plegdoctor #carousel

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (campfire songspell)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he?  - (part 3) camping and fun fun crush anxiety   (part 4)

Warnings: swearing, whole fish-eating, mention of blood, i’ve stopped proofreading shit

Word Count: 3678

a/n: don’t worry there’s no more haunted stuff after this. or missouri. Y/n doesn’t smoke she just feels the need to have a way to set fire to things on her person at all times. a pyromaniac, if you will. also they have been roommates this entire time i just forgot to mention it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Archie was not happy. He couldn’t believe that Douxie would just ditch him like this. It wasn’t like him. Watch the boat, Archie. We’ll be right back, Archie. That was seven hours ago. A rainstorm had come and gone even. He thought for sure that at least Y/n or Nari would have reminded the other two about his situation. But, no, here he was, soaked to the bone and still alone. In Missouri. In misery. As mad as he was though, he was equal parts worried. It wasn’t like Douxie to just forget about him. Something was wrong.

When he finally caught sight of the rest of the party returning to the ship, Arch breathed a sigh of relief. And then got ready to breath fire. Which he quickly put out, after seeing the looks on the kids’ faces once they got close enough. So something was wrong. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“Are you three alright? What happened?”

“Nothing we didn’t survive. Look, we got the tent.” Douxie held up the box to show Archie. He just flicked his tail in response. “It’s already dark, so we’ll tell you all about it while we set up camp. Alright, Arch?”

Archie rolled his eyes. He still thought this camping thing Douxie was pushing was an awful idea. But he’d let his wizard familiar make his own mistakes. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, or, well, more like nine centuries. Tough love. Young wizards cannot learn until they blow up potions in their faces. And this was going to be one of those times. He’d give it till sunrise. Midnight, even. He’d make a bet with himself, if they give up before sunrise, he’d treat himself to some fresh salmon. If they stubbornly don’t give up until after, a can of tuna.

After taking the boat a way into the wooded area they were hiding in, and answering all Archie’s questions, they picked a good place to settle for the night. Or at least Nari did. Douxie and Y/n were still iffy about it. it wasn’t exactly camping spot nirvana, but Nari really took a liking to the spot and its aura or whatever. Eh, she just kind of sniffed the air and told Douxie to stop. She liked the abundance of plant life here. Lots of roots sticking up from the ground, and little berry bushes. Which was going to make for bad ground to bed down on. But that’s alright, they’ll just cushion it with extra blankets. Extra blankets that they did not have. Or even regular blankets. They had no blankets. Fuzzbuckets.

It was going to be ten degrees out later tonight. Well, Douxie guessed they’d have to go back to that ‘huddle together like penguins’ plan. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, now that he’s thinking about it. Cuddling’s pretty nice. A flush spread across Douxie’s freckles. He’d get to embrace Y/n. Pretend like he couldn’t feel how soft her skin was. Pretend like he totally didn’t want to be holding her, but it was essential to their survival so he had to. Archie and Nari would be there too, snuggling with them, so he could pass it off as platonic. But would he want that. Wouldn’t it just hurt when they let go in the morning. After holding onto her for dear life all night, to just get up and act like nothing happened the next day. Would he recover from that? His blush deepened in color. No, they’ll just have to go make another trip to the store. A different store. Hopefully one that’s free of spirits this time.

But he didn’t need to spend time thinking about cuddling his crush. No, he had to set up camp. Y/n was already building the fire. She was half-way through, by the looks of it, and he was just standing here, staring into the tent instructions, blushing away and not comprehending a thing he had read. In fact, he couldn’t seem to read them now that he was focusing. Oh, look at that, they’ve been in Russian this entire time. His blush turned into an embarrassed one. Not only had he been staring off into space, he had been staring into something he couldn’t even pretend like he was reading. Lovely. He hoped no one noticed. Y/n had. Although, she had just assumed he could in fact read the Russian text and didn’t question it. Perks of being a mysterious immortal being. After barely skimming the instructions he could actually understand, Doux took the tent out of the box, to at least make it seem like he had definitely been reading this whole time and he did have the slightest idea of what he was doing.

Douxie checked back to the instructions, careful to make it look like he was just checking back over it, and not reading it for the first time. He added a head nod to make it convincing. Okay, so he needed to spread out the tent. He got down on his knees and rolled out the large bag of nylon in front of him. It took him a minute to get it to where there weren’t any folds and the shape looked right. As right as a saggy boneless tent could look. Alright, now for the poles. Douxie looked around him and found no poles. Where were the poles? Bleeding balroths, did he buy a tent without poles? Oh, no, it appears they were just still in the box. Ain’t that just the way.

Douxie got to work connecting the tent poles. Thankfully, they were connected by some sort of elastic and he didn’t have to figure out which went with which. He found the eyelets they were supposed to go in on the corners and slipped them in. it was a bit tricky, but he managed. He was glad to be able to have something to do with his hands to get his mind off Y/n. The universe did not let him avoid his thoughts for long, however, since now it was time to raise this bloody tent, which required two people, and Archie and Nari were nowhere to be seen. Of course. Y/n was glad to help him raise the tent. She was glad to hold it while he staked it to the ground. She was glad to do anything with Doux. He just felt guilty for asking.

Finally, their new home was up. For the night anyway. Curious, Y/n opened up the zipper door of the tent. It was small, but cozy nonetheless. She poked her head in to get a better look. Doux followed suit. She turned to him, to make some comment about it, but he didn’t hear a word she said. He was too focused on how her face was incredibly close to his face. Her lips, although in the middle of saying something to him, were right next to his. Could she notice he had been looking at her lips? He prayed she couldn’t notice him looking at her lips. She had. Y/n tilted her head in a gesture. She was asking him a question. Quick, response.

“HAAHAHha yes,,” Douxie panicked.

“Oh, ah, okay.” Y/n ducked back out of the tent. Oh Merlin, what did he just say to her.

***

Y/n spent a significant amount of time trying to light the fire, first with her shitty gas station cigarette lighter, then with some spark spells, when Archie came back and lit it with no problem. Damn dragons, always, breathing fire? He wasn’t around while she was struggling either so he couldn’t have helped her sooner. She was sure she had something to be irritated at him about though. He gets to sleep all day and he doesn’t have to pay bills or wear pants. Yeah, there it was. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air. It was fantastic. Y/n took a deep breath. The fire she had built wasn’t exactly a neat log cabin like she had been taught in girl scouts, but it’d work well enough to cook their dinner and keep them warm. Dinner, what were they even eating? Apparently, the answer to that question was trout that Arch caught in the river and some sort of root that Nari dug up. The roots were a bit strange, but Nari had insisted that they were delicious when roasted. Guess it was time to trust the veggie-lady and pray to the stars that they wouldn’t be spending this night poisoned.

The trout was great, although, whole. Y/n wasn’t sure how she felt about how it was looking at her while she ate it. Yeesh Archie, remove the heads? Don’t cats like to decapitate things? But it was a really good trout. Nice smoky flavor from the fire, seasoned with herbs that Nari picked. Douxie liked it, not seeming to mind the still intact head as much. He ate two. Y/n had no idea how he could fit two whole trout in his stomach but he did just that and ate some of Nari’s roasted tubers too. Speaking of which, they actually weren’t that bad. In fact, Y/n found herself eating quite a lot more of them than she expected. A quick google search revealed that they were something called a fairy spud. Y/n made a mental note to go look for some when she got home. If she got home. Maybe home would be different by the time they were safe from the Order. Maybe they’d make a new home. Of course, they’d have to since Douxie fucking burned down the apartment they shared along with their place of business. Her roommate could be a real dummy sometimes, but that was okay, it was entertaining. And cute. His recklessness was very cute. She’d even call it endearing.

The fire cracked loudly, scaring Y/n out of her revelry. Douxie had also jumped beside her. It was a very loud crack indeed. Archie looked smug. Y/n wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was pride for the trout that he had caught himself. Y/n wasn’t about to pretend to know what went on in an ancient cat-dragon’s head. And she had been taught not to meddle in the affairs of dragons, for she would be quite tasty baked into a blood pie.

She wasn’t sure what was hotter, the fire or her face. Y/n supposed that she was lucky for that fire, to blame on for her flushed cheeks. Douxie was not only sitting beside her, but right beside her. They were just sitting on the still-damp ground, there was plenty of space. He had said something about the smoke being too annoying over on the other side, but that didn’t mean he had to sit so close to her. Not that she didn’t want to be sitting right next to him. She’d focus on the fire, she loved fire. Just focus on the flickers and the popping and the smell. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him next to her. It was just, a little much right now. Too romantic. It was like Douxie and the fucking universe were conspiring to take her out. In both senses of the word. Stars, they were practically all alone out here, sitting by the fire, rubbing shoulders, and oh look at that, he’s got a guitar now.

Douxie had gotten a bit bored just staring into the fire, and desperately needed to distract himself from the fact that he just sat so close to Y/n. Why the hell would he do that. She had noticed, he just knew she had noticed. Time to salvage his pride. What better way to fix all those problems than with some good ol’ fashioned campfire songs? Luckily, he always had a great instrument with him now. Transfiguring his staff, he started to play. He’d stay away from the rock and roll for now since it was literally ten o’clock at night and they didn’t need any park rangers showing up. At first, he just played some classics with the volume turned down, then just practiced some riffs for a while, but once he noticed both Y/n and Nari get noticeably sleepy, he switched to a softer, sweeter melody. His fingers expertly plucked at the guitar strings, and also Y/n’s heartstrings in the process. It was such a beautiful lullaby he was playing. She wished she could hear him play it every night.

Nari was the first to head into the tent for the night. She curled up in one of the corners. Y/n would follow her, but Doux was still playing that lullaby, and she didn’t want to miss a note. It was like it was putting, well, a spell on her. She had a really hard time keeping her eyes open despite her will to keep listening to him, but Douxie picked up on it, stopping to her dismay.

“Come on, Love,” He scooped her up as if she were a child, “Let’s get you to bed,”

He carried her to the tent, but stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance. Fuzzbuckets, he forgot about the no-blanket problem. Archie was going to stay awake and keep the fire going through the night, so the cold was no longer a problem, but the ground was going to be hard and lumpy. Their backs were going to be incredibly sore in the morning. Great. He’d let Y/n use his chest as a pillow. No hidden motives here, it was just chivalry. Once they settled into a comfortable and totally not weird position, they began to enjoy a peaceful night sleep to the sounds of nature. Which lasted half an hour before the tent decided that was enough.

It kept shaking, as if someone or something was assaulting it. But whenever one of them got out to fend off the attacker, no one or thing was out there. And Archie was out there, watching it, and he reported nothing unusual. So, maybe the tent they bought from a haunted store was haunted. Who could have predicted that. Oh well, it’s not like it was that endangering, just annoying. They tried their best to ignore it.

But haunted tent did not like being ignored. That lovely woodsmoke smell shifted into, something strange, like, diet blood? The sickly smell of blood but lighter, gentler, and faint. As if the tent wanted to scare them but wasn’t really into it today. Again, not really that endangering as it was annoying so they elected to ignore that also. Nari didn’t seem to be on board with that decision however, and left to go lay by the fire with Archie. Douxie was acutely aware of the head resting on his chest. He was trying his best to control his heart rate and was failing. There was no way Y/n couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. Lady Fortune smiled upon Doux. The tent abruptly collapsed in on them.

***

So plan B was to find an inn for the night. After making sure the fire was out, they headed off into town on foot. It was eerily empty, nothing but the occasional car passing through town, but they were in middle-of-nowhere Missouri. The lack of nightlife at could be excused. It was two in the morning; most townies weren’t out partying. The traffic lights reflected off the pavement. It was odd seeing the lights run with nothing there at the intersection, like they were directing invisible traffic. As if there were ghost cars. Maybe they should just get out of this town actually. And they would have, if they weren’t so exhausted that they felt like zombies. Absolutely knackered.

There were exactly three inns in this dinky little town. One that was very fancy, in which they couldn’t even afford to stay in a broom closet at, one that was run-down and cheap, but full, and the last one, their only available option, which was somehow even more run-down and sketchy than the other. Just looking at the outside of it, it was pretty obviously haunted. Or it could be that the people who worked there were really committed to Halloween decoration and got an early start this year. Yeah. The man at the front desk wasn’t exactly a friendly character either. All in all a bit dodgy. Y/n was getting quite antsy, and not only from the creepy vibe. This was the last-resort inn, and with the other one full, there was a good chance that this one might not have the most ideal rooms available. And she had read enough cheesy fanfiction in her life to know exactly where this was headed.

Sure enough, the gentlemen at the front desk informed them that the only room they had left was in fact that famous room with only one bed. She’d snort if this wasn’t killing her inside. She quickly put up a poker face. Douxie balked at the information, but they were desperate, so he quietly accepted his fate and took the room key. Lady Fortune could be kind of a bitch actually. The journey down the hall was awkward as hell. Nari wasn’t sure what was going on, but she didn’t like the atmosphere. She looked up at Y/n and took her hand. Y/n smiled down at the forest child. Nari didn’t return the smile.

They entered the room and took it all in. The first noticeable thing was the smell. Not blood this time thankfully, but stale dust and mothballs. They could work with mothballs. Nari wasn’t visibly repulsed by mothballs. The carpet was sticky. It’d be best not to think about why. There was that cursed full size bed. The only bed left and it’s not even a queen. Douxie and Y/n weren’t even going to be able to have any distance between them. Douxie took a deep breath. There was a shabby little dresser with a tv from the 70’s perched upon it. You know the ones with the rounded screens, big dials, and bunny ear antennas? Y/n wasn’t even going to try turning that on. She got the feeling whatever was on the local channels was not something she’d want to see. She’d not even check the news station for the weather report. Whatever stories were newsworthy in this town was not something she wished to know about either. There was a small armchair in the corner. The floral fabric was torn, revealing that it had been reupholstered recently. Nari took a liking to it and curled up for the night. Archie joined her and got comfortable. Doux cursed under his breath. He had been counting on Archie staying in the bed with them, to make it less awkward.

Y/n was sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, dragging her fingers through her hair. Douxie put some protective wards around the door. He’d ward up the windows too, but there weren’t any. It added to the suffocating feeling in his chest. Y/n added some purification spells to keep out any less-physical surprise guests. Walking over to the chair, Doux took off his jacket and laid it over Nari and Arch. They looked cozy. He was glad someone would get a good rest out of this. He was sure Y/n would too. It was just him with this bloody problem. He’s the fool who caught feelings here. He must surely be mad. She finished combing out her hair and snuggled under the covers. Guess it’s time for him to get in too now. In the bed. Next to her. All domestic and such.

It only took but a few seconds before Y/n was out like a light. All that sleepiness and such. Despite being the sleep deprived one here, he was wide awake unlike her. The moment the receptionist had told him there was only one bed left, it was like he took a double shot of espresso. Nervous energy, straight into his veins. He normally wouldn’t sleep like this, stiff as a board on his back, but he wouldn’t dare move. They were so close. She still smelled like the fireside, a welcome change from the staleness of the air, yet still a reminder of just her close she was. It was so quiet in the room, all Douxie could hear was the faint blowing of the vent and the pounding of the drum in his own chest. And her breathing, Merlin, he could hear her breathing. It was so soft. He unconsciously synchronized his own breath to it. He wondered how she looked right now, all cozy and asleep. Surely, she looked adorable. Maybe her hair was in her face. Perhaps she was even drooling. He dared not look over to see.

Lady Fortune cackled. Y/n turned over in her sleep, and latched onto Douxie. Oh fuzzbuckets, bleeding balroths, by Merlin, Mordrax’s miracles, fuck. She wrapped her arms right around his chest and nuzzled into it. His face was fire engine red. Whatever chill left in the air was now gone. Her soft hair was tickling his face. She was obviously still asleep right now, and thought that she was cuddling a pillow, or stuffed animal, or, or whatever she cuddled. What was he supposed to do about this? What the hell was he supposed to do. Did he cuddle back? He wanted to cuddle back. He couldn’t cuddle back. He took a deep, calming breath. He should just try to get her off. After, several attempts however, he realized that wasn’t going to happen without waking her up. And he did not want to wake her. He accepted his fate once again tonight. He could feel both his willpower and consciousness fading. Might as well enjoy these last few moments while they lasted, too. It could quite possibly be the only time he’d ever get to fall asleep next to her. In her tender arms. Getting to not just listen to but also feel her breathe. Truly a bittersweet thing.

***

a/n 2: ha! here you go, not one but two glorious there’s only one bed moments. my rite of passage as a fanfic writer. stay tuned next time for oh my god they were roommates

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan #my writing #the never ending roadtrip

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: Terror of the Terra-Firmians!  (Lena Retrospective) (Commission by WeirdKev27): Launchpad Looses his Last Brain Cell and I Loose My Patience

Welcome back Weblena Warriors to the second part of my look at everyone’s favorite Emo Teen Shadow Lesbian Duck... and probably the only one but hey, semantics, Shadow Into Light, which was made possible by viewers like you, the ultra humanite and a commission from WeirdKev27. Picking up where we left off, we have our first episode that has a different intended order than airing order. 

As most of you probably remember, but some of you who joined later might not be aware of the broadcast order for the first half of season one is, in the academic sense, pretty fucked. It’s not Darkwing Duck’s entirely fucked by a web of badger spiders and a queen snake on top to make it some sort of train situation, but by just sorta airing whatever episodes they wanted to, Disney messed with the character balance so Huey got less focus, not that he got a ton of focus this season but still, as well as leaning into the episodes focusing more on the kids with less involvement from the adults which gave the wrong impression about the series. While it IS very focused on the triplets and webby, the show isn’t entirely about them, but as Frank has mentioned a few times, Disney Channel apparently has this WEIRD thing where they assume kids won’t like stories starring the adult characters. 

Yeah I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while. Mostly how it’s so dumb I could swear Pauly Shore was an exec at Disney Channel. And he might be I don’t know what he’s doing these days and i’d like to keep it that way. For starters, the Scooge comics, while barely published in the US these days, are still popular globally and have appealed to kids and adults for generations and are mostly focused on him, with the kids in a supporting role and Ducktales, you know the thing your directly remaking here, was also mostly about him with the triplets supporting, if a bit less than the comics. Most of the Disney Afternoon was about adult characters, with any kids in side roles in the main cast. And it comes off entirely hypocritical of them to say this when the MCU is easily marvel’s biggest cash cow at the moment, and marvel properties have appealed to both kids and adults, like the duck comics, for decades. And if it’s because the marvel cartoons weren’t doing well , I’ll let you in on a little secret: Those didn’t do well because they looked bland and from what I’ve seen of them felt kind of bland, though I haven’t seen enough to fully judge. Kids LIKE adult characters as much as kid characters, and also like teen characters despite not being teens. Focusing on either is valid and while I LIKED Disney’s youth starring shows I also want another X-Men cartoon before I turn 50, and I bet kids would like that too, with the last one only failing because you bailed on it because you were throwing a hissy fit over fox having the movie rights, and do not get me started on that. Point is this argument is horse shit and should stay in the stables. 

So yeah I do think this episode came too soon and it’s placement effected it at the time and as such it dosen’t have the best rep with the fandom aside from the Lena bits and that includes me. The fact it was very early in the series and the characterizations hadn’t yet sunk in really hurt this episode in places but is it really that bad? Join me under the cut to find out

We open at the movies! Which scrooge apparently hasn’t been too since the 1930′s or seen any on video despite Della existing and being really stubborn. 

A rant for another episode. But the kids just got out of a Mole Monster movie, along with Lena, Beakly and Launchpad. Their reactions are as follows: Lena, Webby and Dewey really enjoyed it, Huey found it unrealistic... says the boy whose uncle fought a dragon made of gold a month or two back but we’ll get to that, and Louie was bored and felt it didn’t have enough of the ultra violence, kids these days it’s not about the gore it’s about the tension. And Beakly.. is just pissed Lena tricked them into seeing this and said it was educational. And the more I think about it the more this sounds like BEAKLYS fault than Lena’s. BEAKLY is the one who likely bought the tickets, who saw it was likely an r or pg-13 and who as we’ve seen HAS A PHONE, and ulnike scrooge probably isn’t so stingy she wouldn’t spring for a smart phone, so she could’ve just googled it, or whatever bird related pun is in this version.. gandered it.. yeah let’s go with that, gandered it, and SEEEN it wasn’t appropriate or walked htem out of the theater and ate the cost if she was that bothered by it. Sitting through a Horror Movie you didn’t research, didn’t pull the kids out of and dind’t bother to even check the poster for or use basic common sense is YOUR fault. And this could’ve worked fine, had Lena talk the kids into begging for it or had launchpad take them and have Beakly find out after, having driven to pick them up as she didn’t trust launchpad to take them home. Instead it makes the former super spy look REALLY stupid and feels really out of character for a SPY to not to do research. And it wasn’t like they decided on this later, Bentina being a spy was part of the character’s backstory from day one and its made clear as early as episode 2 in both airing orders. This is just lazy writing to justify the episode and I expect better from this crew. 

But an argument errupts between Huey and Webby over the Terra-Firmians, a hidden race of rock people living in Duckburg’s discontinued sewer system, allegedlys. So Lena suggest simply going down which gets a disapproving look from Beakly, despite you know this being their bread and butter, and the fact that if she had a problem with Scrooge not being involved.. she could just call him. Exploring fabled rock people is something he’d be into. I mean there’s a low profit margin but it also costs him almost nothing to walk to the theater or have launchpad swing around and pick him up. Just gas which given how much he pays for jet fuel isn’t a big ask. But Beakly soon gets distracted by Launchpad whose convinced the film is real and is attacking the poster a grim sign of things to come as while Beakly annoyed me in this one on rewatch, especially after realizing the above... Launchpad annoyed me both times and for VERY good reason we’ll get into. This provides a distraction and allows the trio to escape. Cue titles. 

After the title sequence, our heroes head deeper underground, there’s too much panic in this town... I mean props to Donald for trying something new but he really needs to rethink his cologne choices. Sex Panther is just.. not a good smell on.. anyone. 

So our heroes journey through the depths of the subway system, and we find out part of why Huey’s so skeptical, as he finds anything that isn’t in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to not exist, though the cracks in this already show as he’s added anything that does. We’ll get back to this later but as you can tell the basic dynamic for 24 minutes is Webby being a wholehearted True Believer and Huey being a Skeptical Sally. And Lena is just sorta “Eh gives me an excuse for shenanigans” about it. We also get a peak into webby’s mind as we see her notes .. which really just come off as Terra-Firmian fanfiction involving a war of succession between two sides, the terra’s and the firmies, something based on previous media, and also some doodles of a fictional candy called webby-dings and herself as a superhero, both things I want to see. 

But yeah the first third of the episode is pretty simple, just them journeying, the occasional shift in the firmament, and it’s not bad, and there are a few great bits: Huey nerds out about rocks, and finds them way more interesting than a possible rock monster.

Which leads to the best gag of the episode as when Huey tries to pick up a big sample Webby, annoyed at his hyperfixation on the JWG, asks him to ask his book for help.. which he does by reading it and actually manages to pick the large rock up. This is halted though when Lena screams.. though she really just did it to draw them to an abandoned subway car full of glomgold posters for glomgold products because of course a failed subway project has his name plastered over it. You can’t spell glomgold without failure.. the failure is silent. Glomgold is not. 

The fun is interuptted though by a livid Beakly who had realized they were missing in an earlier scene, after telling the Manager that McDuck Industries would pay for the poster.. and then found out Launchpad also destroyed the toilets “They come up thorugh the sewers!”. Launchpad that’s CHUDS, Ninja Turtles and Rats who raised Ninja Turtles like their own sons, mole people dig or use old mineshafts. It’s basic mole science. Also Beakly really shouldn’t sweat it, I just assumed the city has had a runnig bill witht he company for “McDuck Family and Employee Related Accidents, Mayhem and Shenanigans”. I mean he’s had Gyro on his payroll for at least a decade and a half by the series start, Gyro has leveled whole sections of city in an afternoon more than most giant monsters. Of which several have destroyed Duckburg. It got better. 

Point is she’s livid about them sneaking off with Lena pointing out their some sort of adventure family and Beakly.. saying she won’t see them again, or at least implying it hard. I’ll put a pin in this, as the train buckles and a bit of seismic, or rock men, activity means their stuck. So they divide into teams: Beakly will go try and unhook the train car from the busted cars so they can ride out, Launchpad will go try and fix it, and we get this lovely exxchange as a result

Launchpad: Cool never crashed a train before Beakly: Can’t you try driving it without crashing it? Launchpad: Wha? 

His face in that scene is priceless. He takes Dewey along. More on that in a second. Webby, Huey and Louie are told to stay put with Beakly only bringing Lena along because she dosen’t trust her. So since we have three split plots for a second... let’s split up gang, starting with the most aggrivating, middling with what you all came here for and why this is part of the retrsopective, and ending with the plot that directly heads into the final part of the episode. 

Launchpad and Dewey: GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Okay starting with the most infamous plot and easily the worst part of this episode, probably the worst plot in any Ducktales 2017 episode. That’s not hyperbole it’s really that bad and really pissed people off, as fans of the original launchpad felt they made him overly stupid. This is where the airing order’s a problem as putting an episode with a subplot where one of your characters is obnoxiously dumb right up front means they assume this is his charcter and not just one poorly written chapter in a very dumb but very loveable characters life, likely because the writers hadn’t figured out how to properly scale his stupidity with comptience. 

So as a result we get a good 3-4 mintutes if not agonizingly more of Launchpad assuming something he saw in a fucking movie film was real. That.. that’s his actual plot. Need I remind you, he’s in his late 20′s early 30′s. He’s not much older than me. While other episodes have him as dim this one claims he CAN’T TELL FACT FROM FICTION. 

There are lines you have to keep with your characters to keep the audience from hating them. They crossed it about 80 times with this plot and make Launchpad into a gibbering dunderhead who can’t do anything right versus a regular dunderhead whose good at one or two things and loveable enough for us to like him and not care about his numerous safey violations and child endagerment charges. Thankfully this is the ONLY episode that gets this bad and they clearly learned from this, but it dosen’t make it any less of a tough sit. 

Dewey spends most of the subplot with a look on his face that just screams that he’s as done with this bullshit as we are, as Launchpad assumes he’s a mole person and brought along a pipe to presumibly bludgeon him, because wanting to cave his best friends skull in over stupidity is a GREAT look> Thankfuly he does not. And when the lights come back on Launchpad.. assumes he’s a monster because of bright light, GAH, and locks him out before they end up outside and the plto resolves itself by Dewey pointing out by Launchpad’s utterly baffling logic that he could be a mole monster, so Launchpad.. assumes he is. 

The subplot’s later buttoned up as he claims “I love being a mole monster”, again diffrent subteranian creature launchpad, she says he’s not and my suffering is thankfully at an end. This plot just sucks, it’s bad, overly stupid and dosen’t work with an adult character. Someone like say Ed from Ed, Edd N Eddy, or someone who belivies in weird conspiracy stuff like Dale Gribble or Stan Pines. with either of them this plot would’ve been fucking great. I could buy it from Dale and it just comes off as his normal paranoid weirdness. With Launchpad it comes off like he seriously needs help because the episode frames it as if he can’t tell ficton from reality, and his splotlight episode later would directly contridct this and make this episode even more aggrivating, as he’s a fan of Darkwing Duck, and KNOWS it’s acted out by an actor, so why wouldn’t he get this? It’s just....

It sucks, it sucks and I thankfully get to move on to a better subplot

Beakly and Lena: What You Are in the Dark

Beakly tells Lena she’ll never see Webby again after this.. then chastises her when she won’t help despite you know having just said she’s going to force their friendship apart, which Lena points out. She then gets mad at Lena making a sarcastic comment at her. Okay she’s lived with Louie for at least a week in airing order and a month or two in actual order. She has to be used to this by now. She’s insolent.. because you show her no respect, blame her for something that while sure she talked you into, you should’ve known better, and top it off by saying you want to keep her from the kids because they have bright futures and come from good familes and asks who rasied her and her face.. well.

Yeah wheras Launchpad and Huey, more on that in a second, were hurt by this being some of their earliest big roles, Bentina wasn’t.. until later when we found out just HOW bad Magica is to Lena and how much she dosen’t care about her other than as a tool to use. At this point we didn’t know just how much Lena was playing webby, how much she was only manipulating her, and even with her heroic act here we didn’t know if she only saw Webby as her way to break free. The next episode makes it clear she dosen’t and genuinely does care, 100%, so in hindsight it makes Bentina come off as ghoulsih for horribly asssuming about a girl she dosen’t know, and even if she did know about Magica wouldn’t know the full story, just like us, and then BERATING her after already saying she’s going to rip her away from Webby, which itself is PRETTY bad as she’s the only friend the girl has and sh’es doing so on... talking them into a horror movie, which as I outlined was more Bentina’s fault than Lena’s, and leading the kids into a dangerous place whicha gain, Lena pointed out is something she lets Scrooge do. And trust me i know that she actually knows Scrooge, and we later find out, as we’ll cover next month, that she isn’t ware HOW dangerous things are with Scrooge. It dosen’t change the fact she knows they do dangerous stuff to a point and that Lena may just be acting out. It also dosen’t change the fact she drove three children, yes including launchpad, down here with her instead of sending them home with Launchpad.. granted that option isn’t the safest but it’s safer than taking her with them thena cting like it’s ALL lena’s fault when three of the children, again including launchpad, are down there because of HER. Not Lena, HER. I’m harder on her because she’s older, wiser and was “raised properly” apparently. Though given the way she treats a random teen off the street she again knows nothing about and dind’t bother to ask... it begs the question. 

IT’s a good question. I could see the classism coming from being raised in 40′s and 50′s britain, judging by the timeline.. but even then she’s seen the world, and while her nature is supscious, the classit bullshit makes no sense after presumibly working with, and later spymastering for, various agents of various backgrounds. How has she not dropped this in decades. Scrooge very clearly dropped the racisim and homophobia of his time, so it still stands  on her for not dropping this. And Lena’s hurt shows under hte mask for the first time, that beneath the snark and secrecy.. is just an abused teenager with nowhere else to go and no way out being bullied by an older woman whose cutting off the only light at the end of the tunnel nto for good reason but out of classist, overprotective mallice.  My issues, which to be fair probably were intentional in the episode but sitll are a bit overblown, aside we do get an absoluttley tremendous moment later as a car falls on top of Beakly.. and Magica, speaking once more urges Lena to leave her, let her die and let their plans progress. And while that iself is.. dumb, what if someone finds her or her corpse later, especially since Scrooge would likely perosnally want to retrive the body to give her a proper burial as she’s his only friend at this point, or the rest of the family questoin the story?, it fits Magica’s lack of foresight we see throughout the season. But Lena... saves her. While she later gives an explination, and a valid one at that, it’s clear from her expressoin, her actoins and how she does it... that this is her. Part of it is defiance, as she glares at Magica before doing it, her own stubborn nature mixed with her hatred of her “aunt”, meaning Magica just made it all too easy for her to do this. But the real reason is clear: It’s the right thing to do. While pissing off her aunt and getting away with it is the cherry on top.. the real reason is that unlike Magica.. Lena is not a killer, not a monster, and not a heartless vacum ofa person. Even if she doesn’t like Beakly, for good reason.. she can’t, she WON’T leave her to die and leave Webby an orphan again. She loves Webby too much to do that to her and while she may deny it.. she’s too good a person to leave someone to die for something so petty. Even if she never sees webby again and the plans ruined. It’s better than the weight of knowing she let someone who wasn’t trying to harm her and whose actions, while terrible, were out of misguided protection of her granddaughter, die like this. She saves her. And as we’ll see it pays off.. but before that. 

Huey, Webby and Louie: Into the Unknown This plot’s a bit shorter, as Webby and Huey continue their argument, with Louie eventually making it clear, and not even hiding it when directly asked by Huey, that he’s playing both sides with a delighted expression on his face as the movie was boring but this, this is interesting. Which it is. But it’s interupted by dings on the roof and while Huey assumes i’ts just a regular rock, it moves while their not lookiung.. and soon red eyed, horrifying beasts look out at them and the kids flee back to the car. This dosen’t pan out as the car starts to shake and is clearly going to collapse.. and while Webby and Louie are prepared to flee, rock monsters or no, Huey, in an utterly heart shattering image.. stays in place, terrified of moving. 

This is where this plot goes from mildly aggrivating, as Huey’s Skeptic shenanigans can get on the nerves.. to BRILLIANT. See at the time this was more annoying because it was assumed the skepticsim would be a part of Huey’s character and we’d get more episodes of him being annoying only to be proven wrong, as he semeingly dosen’t learn his lesson at this point, looging the terrafrimians in the guide book. But on rewatch.. this plot is amazing.  For starters the plot subtly introduced the defening characteristic of Huey’s personality, one that’s become more prounounced in Season 3: His need for Order. He needs things to make sense: He solves stuff because he likes there to be order in the world and something he can understand, he can put in a box in his head. Like a lot of neurotypical people, myself included, he struggles horribly when the clearly defined boxes of his life and things he undestand have wrinkles or complexities he can’t get. I for instnace easily got it when I was introduced to the concept of trans people or being non binary.. they just make sense in hindsight: given how our brains are messya nd complicated it makes sense some people would be born in the wrong ones, and tht with all the science and medicine we have to correct that, should be allowed to transition if they so choose. It makes equal sense that some people just don’t have a gender or are gender fluid, being both or neither. Despite struggling with non binary prounouns due to force of habit.. I get the concept with no real difficulty. But when it comes to accepting I don’t have to apologize for everything and that everyone is not angry or that anger is natural and people sometimes get mad and you can’t and shouldnt’ fix it.. it’s something I STRUGGLE with even knowing it’s not right, because my brain is just wired that way. 

That’s how Huey’s struggle comes off here.. he reveals he’s willing to stay and die.. because he’s SO scared of the unknown, that the idea of dying from something he at least knows what it is versus something he dosen’t.., so paralizyed by his own brain he can’t figure out the obvious.. it takes Webby reaching out to him figuratively and literally, to show him that sometimes you have to face the unknown. The unknown is fucking terrifying.. but it can be good and it’s better than sitting there, scared and unable to move. You have to try, to grow and take that risk that things may not go well to really LIVE. 

So he does.. and they reunite with the rest of the group.. and soon find the terrafirmains.. who as it turns out once we get some light on them... are actually just goofy looking,  brightly colored, each one matching one of the kids, kids themselves, and Huey reaches out and touches one, which by ET logic means their friends now, and the terrafirmians help them get out. And this lesson sticks. While sure Huey catalogues it and it seems it didn’t.. he’s never this skeptical again. This douchey skepticsim was only for one episode, his fear of the uknown replcaed with boundless curosity and from here on he’s CURIOUS about new stuff as long as it’s not trying to kill him. He loves taking in new experinces, maybe not to webby levels but he does actually try them and study them instead of just fearing them. 

Before we wrap things up, obviously we need to talk about the JWG not having entries on a lot of stuff. This would be corrected next season as it returns to being a big book of everything, but dosen’t completely contridct this as Timephoon! shows there’s stillcgaps.. which i’m fine with. While it knowing EVERYTHING was fine for the original series here, with things being slightly more groudned, it’d just be an obvious plothole if Huey didn’t use it every single time they ran into something and that’d get boring. Instead it’s simply that it dosen’t know everything, and really in the comics at times it didn’t and the triplets found out new things. It knew almost everything mind you, but having some gaps for dramatic tnesion is fine with me and Seasons 2 and 3 decided on that instead of just having it being a scouting manual which wa sfor the best. And even by later in the season hit has guides to getting a small buisness loan, so they already course corrected. 

So everything’s wrapped up and while Magica berates Lena for disobeying her.. Beakly interputps, thankfully not seeing magica and admits she was wrong and invites Lena for pancakes, even taking a crack about if their actually pancakes or english muffins with syrup, which sounds like my own living hell, in stride, having clearly grown. And Lena explains to Magica that this was the better approach: now she’s got the in theyw anted, and is above suspcison for now. Still not so much that an obvious act won’t be detected but enough that she dosen’t ahve to work actively around her anymore. Magica scoffs.. and while part of it is probably rage.. part of it is deep down both of them know she did it out of defiance.. and only Lena knows that she did it for the right reasons... she just dosen’t get why. She probably justifies it as playing the long game.. but deep down she knows something’s changing about her.. and she’s not sure if that’s a godo thing or not. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is as you can tell a mixed bag. It’s 2/3 of a good episode, with the Lena plot, my issues aside, being excellent and the Terra-Firmian plot likewise fun, even if Huey can get grating the payoff is worth it, and the jokes are really high quality. It’s just bogged down by that fucking launchpad plot that just crushed my soul in it’s palms every time it came back. I went on at length why i hated that one but boy oh boy was the hate of that subplot warranted and I stand by calling it the worst plot of the series. It is: it’s not funny, it makes no goddamn sense, and it drags down what’s otherwise a pretty solid epsiode.

Next Time on Lena: Jaws the shark, lurking in the dark, in the depths of the bin one day of a lark decides to get rowdy, get real violent takes a vacay out to Duckburg er.. Island.. also Scrooge faces his greatest Nemesis.. a PR Tour to clean up his image after an unfortunate giant Beanstalk Incident. Be there and be hip to be square. 

Next Time on This Blog: I Tackle a DCOM for the first time for another commissioned review as we take a look at racisim, specifically Apartheid and breaking indoctrination, with The Color of Friendship. See you next Rainbow. 

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #weblena #bentina beakly #launchpad mcquack #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #terror of the terra-firmians! #disney channel #disney xd #disney plus #disney #disney ducks #comissions

[sailorsunspot]

I found this reinako drabble i wrote 5 years ago while i was looking back through my old google docs, and i liked it so i finished it up! Not too much, just about 1600 words of fluff.

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

Rei pressed the doorbell to Minako’s house before fishing her phone out of her pocket and glancing over the glowing display. 7:10. She told Minako she would arrive around 7:25, but knowing the vivacious blonde’s precarious relationship with scheduling, she had opted to show up just a little bit earlier. Her disapproving scowl was usually enough to stir up some sense of urgency into the blonde - and if the stars were aligned, they would - somehow - be ready for when Haruka swung over to pick them up.

She wasn’t holding her breath.

After a few minutes had passed, she found herself depressing the doorbell yet again. Her impatience proved fruitful as she heard the faint strains of a voice through the construct that separated them.

“Just a minute!”

Rei’s arms crossed over her chest by their own accord, a scowl settling on her features. But the rustling on the other end of the door was growing louder, and before she could grow impatient enough to test the doorbell once more, the fine white surface swung open to reveal a grinning Minako.

It only took Minako half of a second to drop the grin in favor of unenthusiastic disbelief as blue eyes raked over Rei’s form.

“Uhm, what are you wearing?”

“...What? Clothes.”

Before she could protest further, lithe fingers had wrapped around her wrist, tugging her into the home.

---

The first thing one noticed when they walked into Minako’s room was how reflective it was. There was a mirror on every wall, providing every possible angle a girl could dream of inspecting. And, more specifically, there was a single spot near the middle of the room that allowed one the privilege of looking themselves over without strain.

And it was the exact spot Rei found herself corralled into occupying.

With a scowl and a subtle flush of her cheeks, Rei turned to glower at the blonde. “This is stupid. I look fine.”

Minako was appraising her critically, her hand cupping her chin in an almost academic manner. “Yes, you look like you’re about to give a presentation to the board of directors about the state of finances last quarter. We’re going to a party, Rei - not a corporate merger.” She was so flippant and confident with her dismissal that Rei couldn’t help but peek back to the mirror, half-convinced she had missed something while dressing this afternoon. But the longer she inspected herself, the more convinced she was in her own righteousness.

She wore a rich burgundy turtleneck that clung in a shapely manner to her skin and complimented her naturally pale complexion and raven hair. Her dark skinny jeans were similarly tight, especially when paired with the high heels that did wonders to her already impressively long legs. The silver belt that dangled loosely around her waist offered her an understated flair. She didn’t look prudish or professional - she looked refined. Mature. Elegant. Words that - of course - would mean absolutely nothing to Mina.

“You’re crazy. I look good.”

“Sure Jan.” Minako drawled out, already digging through her rather expansive walk-in closet. Articles of brightly colored clothing flew around as she inspected and vetted each individual item, without a care for the mess that was progressively growing in the previously semi-clean room. “No but really; I get that you’re not into men, but does that mean we all must suffer?”

“Does it look like I care about you suffer- wait, what?” There was abject shock written on Rei’s features as her brain caught up with what Minako had just said, the makings of a blush crowning on the Senshi of Flame’s cheeks.

This was not something Rei was used to - or even comfortable with - thinking about, nevermind discussing. When they were younger, she had been among the leaders of the pack when it came to chasing boys. Her beauty and type-A personality had worked as a shining beacon for the opposite sex, but she found the thrill not in their attention, but in the reflection of her friends who marveled at her master with men. She did not date often - once in a while, and only with those individuals deemed truly impressive and desirable. But every time, the experience was regretfully lacking, until she came to terms with the fact that she simply had no interest in men.

They were an entirely non-sexual, non-appealing entity to her. When they weren’t actively offending her sensibilities, she felt entirely apathetic to their existence, the same way she might feel towards a floor lamp in the corner of the room.

But whereas she had acknowledged and accepted this fact privately, she certainly didn’t make it known to her friends. For this exact reason.

Minako stopped emptying out her closet in favor of poking her head out to look and laugh at Rei. “Hello! Goddess of Love here! You haven’t gone out with anyone in like, three years Reiko-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“- and you don’t even bat an eye when we did that university tour with all those hunky college dudes. That track and field team, with their short short short short-”

“Minako.”

“- short shorts. Hey, it’s okay Rei! Different strokes for different folks, you know? Besides, more for me!” The blonde ducked back into the closet and Rei was left with nothing but the shuffling in the background to occupy her mind. She considered denying what Minako had professed - for she didn’t have to be a psychic to know that no good would come out of Minako knowing this - but what good would that do her in the long run? The blonde dolt rarely let something as trivial as reality get in the way of her fun, so why should she even bother?

The answer came to her as she strode out of the closet, carrying what looked to be a flimsy shirt of a shimmering violet, which she threw triumphantly in Rei’s direction. “Okay, lesbo, try this on!”

Rei didn’t even bother to try and catch it. She had vague suspicions that she had turned as red as her shirt, but she couldn’t tell if it was due to mortification or indignation “WHAT?”

“My sweet summer child, it’s okay! This is a safe place!” She slide up beside Rei, clasping her hands on Rei’s shoulders, an earnest expression on her face that was undercut by shining eyes. “If you’re worried about the coming out process, don’t be - trust me, we all know. I can have Haruka whip you up a handy pamphlet or something, she loves that kind of stuff.”

Rei scowled, wrenching herself from Minako’s grasp and turning so she could focus the full extent of her most formidable glare on her. “What makes you think I’m like her?”

Minako wasn’t at all phased, the smile etched on her features wide and mischievous. She was the very definition of smug, a fact which grated at Rei’s already frayed patience. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Reiko.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, who could really blame you. I’m like a ten. I know. Now, c’mon! We don’t have much time!” There was a distinctive whine in Minako’s voice as she ignored the tensed, irritated body language Rei was presenting in favor of moving to tug Rei’s sweater off of her. She had always been an unreasonably brave girl.

Rei reacted the only way she could; with ferocious resistance. “Oh my God, get off of me!” She twisted away, stepping back, only to realize that Mina was particularly determined. As the two struggled over the cotton pull-over the strains of the battle could be heard in the form of growling profanities and high-pitched giggling. They were caught up in their own dance, wildly flailing limbs somehow managing to arc in near-perfect synchronicity.

Until they didn’t.

---

The rich leather upholstery of Haruka’s latest sports car was cold against her skin. The top Minako had picked out for her barely covered her stomach, and left little to the imagination otherwise. Self-consciously, she tugged at the front of it, before deciding on crossing her arms over her chest and scowling out of the window.

“Oh, man. I can’t believe you wore that.”

As the red violently erupted on her cheeks, Rei turned her sharp gaze to Minako, fueled by the righteousness of her fury. Minako grinned back, somehow managing to look cheeky and insufferable even with the wicked black eye she was now sporting. As Rei looked over the swollen purpling that surrounded her left eye, she felt her anger drain from her body in favor of something slightly more amenable.

She let out a half-hearted harrumph, turning her eyes to the front of the vehicle. She did not move when she felt the soft, gentle touch to her thigh.

“You look really nice.”

Rei blushed right to her toes. And this time, even Rei couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto her face. After a moment, Rei allowed her arms to unravel, doing her best to ignore the steady beating of her heart as she rested her hand atop of the troublesome girl’s tentatively. Minako laced her fingers between Rei’s.

“But I bet you’d look even nicer with all those clothes taken off.”

“Don’t push it.”

#reinako #minako aino #rei hino #sailor mars #sailor venus #sailor moon #fanfiction #ren writes #im trying to get back into the habit of writing and maybe even posting what i write publically #so hopefull this'll encourage me to keep at it! #otp tho

[silverlightqueen]

Tia and Tamera... and Nicole

fratboy and best friend!namjoon x reader, university!au, comedy, fluff, angst (and making out, if that counts as something idk lol) ft. twice nayeon, got7 jackson & skz hyunjin

For btswriterscollective’s 1 year anniversary contest!

Summary: y/n decides to make a big fashion change and, all of a sudden, is the object of attraction of every male within a hundred metre radius of her. Namjoon, her best friend, isn’t too impressed about it.

Rating: 15 (mature themes, explicit discussion of sex, strong language)

Word Count: 9.9k+

Warnings: lots of sexism/misogyny, the typical she-has-a-makeover-and-suddenly-every-boy-wants-to-date-her-trope, lots of gross frat boys, strong language, explicit discussion of sex, alcohol and drug consumption, making out, Namjoon is trash and doesn’t know how to text. I think that’s it but lmk if you noticed that I missed something!

a/n: hey guys ! it’s silverlightqueen back with another university au lmao i’m sorry :( thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading, you’re the best and I love youuu !! I hope you guys enjoy this bc it was really fun to write !!

silverlightqueen masterlist

I got the divider off google (it has no relevance to the story but it kinda matches the colour scheme so we move lmao) so credit to whoever made it lol

joon: u up

y/n: don’t fuckboy text me

joon: so thats a yes

y/n: what do you want ?

joon: u free tmrw

y/n: it’s Monday tomorrow

joon: what about it

y/n: I got a lecture in the morning, but I’m free after 11

joon: ill pick u up nd take u 4 food

y/n: look at you, any excuse to drop in that you can drive now

joon: do u want food yes or no

y/n: what food ?

joon: mexican indian chinese whateva u want

y/n: yeah, sounds good

joon: rnt u gonna tell me what food u want

y/n: I’ll sleep on it

y/n: anyway go to bed, idiot, why are you even awake at 2.30 on a Sunday night ?

joon: y r u

y/n: questioning my existence

y/n: duh

y/n: now tell me why you are

joon: i just left jens lol

y/n: nvm forget I asked

joon: sure u dont want the deets

y/n: positive

y/n: goodnight you demon

joon: gn angel

‘Took you long enough,’ Namjoon exclaims as I open the front door of his car and climb into the passenger seat. ‘Wait, whoa. Hold on. What is this?’ Namjoon demands as I shut the door behind me, and I quickly turn to look at him. ‘What?’ I ask worriedly, and he shakes his hand in my general direction. ‘This. Your outfit. I’m confused,’ he says, and I relax, rolling my eyes, trying to ignore the way my cheeks are heating up and hoping he doesn’t notice it. ‘Why are you confused, Namjoon?’ I ask as though I’m speaking to a child, and he laughs, starting up the car.

‘I’m confused because I’ve never seen you wear anything other than clothes that are way too big for you,’ he says, and I make an indignant noise as he speeds down the road like the devil driver he is. ‘Don’t even deny it, you know it’s true. I started to wonder if you had something you were trying to hide. A growth on your stomach. A hunchback. A pregnancy. Or worse; no boobs!’ he says, gasping dramatically, and I hit his shoulder, holding back a laugh. ‘I wasn’t hiding anything,’ I say, and he glances over at me, eyeing my chest, before his tongue darts out to wet his lip. ‘You were. I always assumed you had small tits – a B cup, max – but obviously not. I can’t believe you hid them so well. They’ve gotta be at least a D,’ he says, and I roll my eyes, not bothering to disclose that I’m actually an E. He’d probably pop a boner. ‘And your legs,’ he says, and I look down at them self-consciously. ‘What about them?’ I ask, and he blinks before looking down at my freshly shaved limbs. ‘I’ve never seen them before. They’re nice. Smooth. And curved, with some fat on them. I’m glad you don’t have stick legs,’ he jokes, and I sigh. ‘Stop body-shaming,’ I say, and he lets out a little chuckle. ‘Am I not allowed to have preferences?’ he smirks, eyes on the road as he overtakes cars left, right and centre. ‘No,’ I reply, and he bursts out laughing.

‘So what’s with the new look? What prompted this reinvention? Because, I’m either still tripping from last night, or you’re actually wearing makeup too,’ he says, and I shift embarrassedly in the seat. ‘I just felt like it was time for a change. I wanted to experiment, try something new,’ I say, and he nods, face blank. ‘Okay. Now, do you wanna tell me the real reason?’ he asks, and I laugh, annoyed that he knows me so well. ‘I was getting changed in my room-’ ‘Okay, hang on, let me picture it,’ Namjoon says, and I hit him again, ignoring his chuckles. ‘So, I was getting changed, and Nayeon barged in and had a meltdown over… my body. She said that she was really annoyed with me for hiding my body so much, because if she had my body, she’d walk around naked. Or whatever. Something like that. I’d never really… looked at my body like that, but once she said it, I realised that maybe I could start branching out, fashion-wise. So she took me shopping, and this is the trial of new outfit number one,’ I say, and he listens intently, nodding in all the right places.

‘So how have people reacted today?’ he asks, and I get a little embarrassed thinking about it. ‘Some of the girls in my class started screaming when they saw me, and Taehyung asked if I was new here, and if he could get my number. Oh, and our lecturer asked me to stay behind to ask if I was okay, because I didn’t seem to be myself today,’ I explain, and Namjoon bursts out laughing. ‘You’re kidding.’ ‘Not at all.’ ‘Wow. All I’ll say is to ignore Taehyung. I think all that weed has caused permanent damage to his brain,’ he says, and I can’t help but agree, wondering how that boy can even breathe right anymore. ‘Well, anyway. Why did you used to cover up so much?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Are you just gonna keep quizzing me?’ I ask, and he nods instantly, grinning. ‘I’m intrigued, y/n. You have to understand that this is a lot for me to process. My best friend has transformed into someone else since I last saw her. My mind’s going into meltdown mode,’ he says dramatically, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘Drama queen.’ ‘I learn from the best. You. Now, anyway. Can you answer my question?’

‘I don’t know.’ ‘You don’t know if you can answer my question?’ ‘No, moron, I don’t know why I used to cover up so much,’ I say exasperatedly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I find that slightly hard to believe.’ ‘Fine. I wasn’t the most confident in my body. It’s hard, seeing all these super slim tiktok girls, petite and slight, and seeing them dress the way I wanted to. It’s like… I felt stupid wearing the same clothes they wear because they look so different to me. The way the media glorifies slim women… it’s hard for not-so-slim women like me. So I just hid my body in loose clothes for so long that it was what I was comfortable in,’ I explain, Namjoon still listening attentively. That’s one of the best things about him; he may be an idiot, but he always listens to what I have to say.

‘That’s… kinda sad, actually. Because – don’t get me wrong, your old look did suit you – but this new look? It’s great. You look really good, y/n, regardless of the fact that you’re not a super slim tiktok girl,’ he says matter-of-factly, and I smile shyly. ‘Thanks. So it’s a yes to the black and white check mini skirt and blazer set?’ I ask, and he nods instantly with a grin. ‘I can’t wait to see the rest of your outfits,’ he says, turning into the car park at the shopping centre. ‘There’s… quite a few to come. I’m a bit nervous about a couple of them,’ I say as he pulls into a parking space, and he gives me a greasy smirk. ‘I’m even more excited now,’ he says, and I swat at him, the boy chuckling as he ducks away from my hand. ‘I’ve just driven you to buy you food, and this is what I get in return?’ ‘Yes. You’re lucky I’m not beating the shit out of you.’ He sighs, checking his blond hair in the mirror before climbing out of the car, and I reach into the back and grab my bag before getting out too.

‘Oh, my God,’ he says, sounding shocked, and I instantly panic. ‘What?’ ‘What are those?’ he shouts, throwing his hands down to point at my feet, and everyone within a hundred metre radius turns to look at us. ‘Joon!’ I exclaim, embarrassed at him grabbing so much attention. ‘Sorry. But seriously? What are those?’ he asks, and I look down at my shoes. ‘They’re sock boots. What’s wrong with them?’ I ask, and he stares at them before taking a step back and looking me up and down. ‘Nothing. They look great. I’m just shocked to see you in shoes other than trainers. And is that a handbag I see instead of the usual backpacks?’ he teases, and I roll my eyes. We walk towards the entrance, and I struggle to keep up with him (I always struggle when walking next to him, but even more so in these boots). ‘Wait,’ I say, hooking my arm through his so I can slow him down, and he laughs. ‘Aww, struggling in your boots?’ he teases, and I huff. ‘Shut up,’ I pout, and he laughs again, looking at me with an affectionate gaze and an amused smile.

But the affection and amusement soon disappears. ‘y/n. You’re literally killing me here. Hurry up,’ he says impatiently. ‘Sorry, Joon. It’s my first time wearing heels though, cut me some slack. At least I haven’t fallen over,’ I say brightly, trying to put a positive spin on it, and he scowls. He’s been trying his best to walk slow but he’s now struggling not to walk at his normal pace – his legs are so much longer than mine. ‘Yet,’ he says venomously, and I gasp. ‘Was that a threat?’ I demand, feigning indignance, and he side-eyes me. ‘Maybe it was. I could stick my foot out right now and no one would ever know,’ he says in a wistful tone, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘I’ll step on your foot if you try it. Then who’ll be laughing when my boots ruin your Balenciagas?’ ‘Me, because you’ll be buying me new ones.’ ‘With what money? I ain’t got money like that.’ ‘Oh, but you got money for clothes?’ ‘I always got money for clothes.’ ‘Get a sugar daddy.’ ‘You are my sugar daddy.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘Who takes me out for food at least twice a week? And buys me things out of the blue?’ ‘Damn. I really am your sugar daddy. This isn’t a good deal for me at all. You’re getting the daddy, but I’m not getting any sugar.’ ‘I’m not sure that that means exactly what you intended it to mean.’ ‘You know what I meant. I want my sugar, bitch.’ ‘Jen can give you sugar instead.’ ‘Okay, but Jen isn’t getting the daddy. You are.’ ‘She was getting the daddy last night.’ ‘Did you really just refer to my dick as ‘the daddy’?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Never do that again.’

‘Where are we eating?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘Wang and Nayeon are waiting for us at Red Velvet,’ he says, and I gasp. ‘Yes! It’s been so long since we’ve been to Red Velvet!’ I exclaim, and he laughs amusedly. ‘I know. I was worried you might start getting withdrawal symptoms.’ ‘I thought we’d never go back. Does Seulgi still work there?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow, and he pulls a face. ‘Yep,’ he says, and I feel my eyes widen. ‘And we’re still gonna go?’ ‘Yes, because I’m a great person and make sacrifices for you even though all you do is abuse me and threaten to ruin my Balenciagas,’ he says, and I pout. ‘Sorry, Joonie,’ I say, putting on a baby voice as I give him puppy dog eyes, and he refuses to look at me, fighting a smile off his face. ‘Apology accepted. Now stop being the real-life version of that emoji.’ ‘Which one?’ ‘Don’t play dumb, you know exactly which one I mean.’

We round the corner to where Red Velvet is, tucked away from the rest of the shopping centre, and Nayeon and Jackson are sat in the window booth, watching a video on Nayeon’s phone together. When Namjoon and I enter, the little bell above the door rings, and both of them look up at us. Nayeon grins so wide I’m worried her face is going to split, and Jackson does a double take, eyes wider than an anime girl’s. ‘y/n?’ he exclaims, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the restaurant, and I shoot him a look, shushing him. ‘Oh, my God. What’s happened to you? Who’s this sexy thing?’ Jackson says as I slide into the booth opposite him and Nayeon, shuddering at the thought of my bare legs on the worn (and most likely, germ-carrying) leather of the seat as Namjoon slides in beside me. ‘Don’t refer to me as a ‘thing’, I’m not an object,’ I mutter, but my comment is ignored when Namjoon says, ‘literally my exact reaction.’ ‘No, it wasn’t. You did not call me sexy,’ I frown, and he blinks at me, looking surprised. ‘Did I not?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Well, I thought you would’ve gathered that I thought that anyway. Based on the way I had to pick my tongue up from the floor when I saw you,’ he says, Jackson and Nayeon laughing as I roll my eyes.

‘You look good. Really good, y/n. I didn’t know you had boobs,’ Jackson says, inspecting me, and I try not to squirm under his scrutinising gaze. ‘Neither did I! Until I walked in on her naked!’ Nayeon says, Jackson’s eyes nearly falling out of his head. ‘I was in my underwear,’ I say defensively, and Nayeon rolls her eyes. ‘Details. But, yeah, after I saw her hot bod, I told her to stop wearing Billie Eilish’s hand-me-downs.’ ‘And gave her your hand-me-downs instead?’ ‘Excuse me, these are brand new,’ I point out, and Nayeon nods. ‘Yeah. You should know me better. I could never pull off an outfit like that.’ ‘I could pull it off you,’ Jackson jokes, Namjoon fist-bumping him as they laugh, Nayeon and I exchanging an exasperated glance. ‘I could pull it off you too, y/n,’ Jackson says with a little quirk of his eyebrow, and I roll my eyes, willing myself not to blush. ‘Jackson! y/n’s our baby, and we’ve gotta protect her from fuckboys, so stop being one,’ Nayeon says with a slap to his shoulder. ‘There won’t be any… fuckboys,’ I say, and all three of them raise their eyebrows at me. ‘You’re delusional if you think that. Just wait ‘til a frat boy sees you,’ Jackson says, and I frown. ‘Okay. That sounds fake, but, okay,’ I say, just as Seulgi appears to take our order.

‘Hi, and welcome to Red Velvet. What can I get for you?’ she says in the most bored tone I’ve ever heard. She must really hate her job. Even more with this moron sat beside me in here. ‘Can I get the Ice Cream Cake freakshake please?’ Nayeon asks, Seulgi gracing her with a rare smile as she writes down her order. ‘Can I get the Power Up brownie with Red Flavour ice cream please? And just water?’ Jackson asks, also getting a smile. ‘Can I get the Cookie Jar freakshake? And she’ll have Mojito cheesecake with Blue Lemonade. Thanks,’ Namjoon says, ordering for me too, but, unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get a smile. ‘Will you all be paying together?’ ‘I’m paying for mine and his,’ Nayeon says, pointing at herself and Jackson (she lost a bet with him a couple weeks ago, and owes him a meal). ‘And I’m paying for mine and hers,’ Namjoon says, Seulgi fixing him with a dirty look. ‘So this is who you’ve moved on to now?’ she demands, Nayeon and Jackson wincing. ‘Sis, you can have him,’ I say, unable to resist, and Namjoon shoots me evils as Seulgi looks bewildered. ‘Pardon?’ ‘I’m good, luv. Enjoy,’ I say, but she’s still staring at me, her mouth suddenly falling open. ‘y/n?’ she asks, and I nod, slightly confused. ‘OMG, I didn’t even recognise you. Girl, you look so good! I didn’t know you had boobs!’ she exclaims, and I have to stop myself from facepalming. ‘Thanks, Seulgi,’ I force out between gritted teeth, embarrassed as hell, but she doesn’t seem to notice, grinning away obliviously. ‘No problem. I’ll just get your orders put through and then I’ll come back for payments,’ she says, visibly perkier (nothing like seeing one of your friends unrecognisable after a makeover to cure a bad mood – apparently), before disappearing.

‘That was awkward,’ Namjoon says nonchalantly, all three of us fixing him with hard stares. ‘It wouldn’t have been so awkward if you weren’t such a dick,’ I say blithely, and he gasps dramatically. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Don’t play innocent, dumbass. If you hadn’t had slept with Joy and Seulgi on the same day, we wouldn’t be in this situation. We’d actually have avoided a lot of situations if you weren’t such a dog,’ Nayeon says, brutally honest as ever. ‘Hey, I never made any kind of commitment to either of them!’ Namjoon defends himself, both Nayeon and I shaking our heads at him. ‘It’s common courtesy, douchebag,’ I reply, Namjoon sticking his tongue out at me. ‘I’d like to know what situations you’re referring to. I don’t get us into awkward situations,’ he says, all three of us giving him a ‘really?’ look.

‘Remember when we went out to that bar – what was it called again? Oh, yeah, Playing With Fire – and Jisoo threw that drink at you for blocking her on socials after you slept together?’ Jackson reminds us, Namjoon nodding slightly embarrassedly. ‘Oh, and when we went to Breakthrough, that club, and Sana got us kicked out by pretending we smuggled drugs in because you ghosted her after telling her you felt ‘something real’ for her?’ Nayeon brings up, all of us looking pointedly at Namjoon who nods sheepishly. ‘And that fight you got into with Daniel after you went ‘round telling people that Jihyo’s your sloppy seconds?’ I say, and he gasps indignantly. ‘I didn’t say that once!’ ‘Still. If you hadn’t had slept with her, that fake rumour wouldn’t have gone around,’ I say, and he pouts. ‘We could name several girls you’ve gotten us into awkward situations with. Chaeyoung, Hyejin, Wendy, Dahyun-’ ‘Okay, okay, damn. I get the picture,’ he says, the three of us exchanging looks.

‘Anyway, I need to go toilet. Come with me, y/n?’ Nayeon asks, and I nod. Namjoon sighs, reluctantly getting out of the booth to let me out. ‘Whoa, hold on,’ Jackson says, and I turn around to face him. ‘y/n… what you doing out here with all this ass?’ he asks, voice far too loud for my liking, and the few people in the restaurant turn to look at us disapprovingly. ‘Double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon!’ Namjoon exclaims, before they chorus, ‘Hella ass!’ They burst into laughter, and my face is on fire, everybody in the restaurant staring at us (or, more specifically, my ass). ‘y/n, you dumb thicc, sis,’ Jackson says, and I take a deep breath before saying, ‘I’m going to go to the toilet now.’ ‘Take some ass pics while you’re there!’

joon: hey sexc

y/n: hey, what’s up ?

joon: wang wants 2 know if u nd nayeon r up 4 wing wednesday @ KPN

y/n: what time ?

joon: weneva imma get there 6.30

y/n: are there gonna be any other girls there?

joon: idk prolly the boys gfs

joon: y u asking so many qs u dnt have 2 come if u dnt wanna

y/n: I just don’t wanna be one of the only girls at a frat house with loads of stupid frat boys

joon: ill protect u bby

joon: me nd wang got u

y/n: much appreciated

y/n: we’ll come, but I’ll text you when we get there and you need to meet us at the door

y/n: I’ll feel awkward just walking in

joon: ok but call dnt text

y/n: you never answer your phone

joon: ill take it off silent 4 u angel ;)

y/n: thank youuu

joon: ofc see u tmrw

y/n: see youuu, goodnight joonie

joon: gn stupid

‘Wrong number,’ he says when he answers the phone, and I roll my eyes. ‘We’re at the door, come get us,’ I say, and he lets out a loud sigh. ‘I’m gonna lose my seat,’ he complains, and I huff. ‘Joon, please come get us. Do you know what it’s like being a girl around dozens of frat boys? You need to look after us,’ I plead, and he sighs again. ‘Give me a minute,’ he replies before the line clicks off. ‘Is he coming?’ Nayeon asks, and I nod. ‘Good, because it’s freezing,’ she says, clutching at her bare arms. ‘That’s what you get for wearing a t-shirt,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘It’s not like you’re dressed warmly either,’ she says pointedly, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m not complaining about the cold.’ ‘Yeah, which I’m surprised about, because that top is thin as hell.’ ‘It’s not that thin.’ ‘Sis, I borrowed that top yesterday – it’s thin.’

I’m dressed in a black long-sleeve top tucked into a pair of greyish-whiteish joggers, with white trainers on my feet, a simple gold necklace around my neck with an initial pendant, a couple gold bracelets on my wrist and gold rings on my fingers. Nayeon’s in a pair of blue mom jeans and a black t-shirt, a cross body bag with both of our things inside it on her shoulder. Neither of us have bothered with full faces or pretty hairstyles – we’ve both got on basic makeup with our hair out and natural. It isn’t really that cold; it’s 8, and the air is starting to get crisp and cool, but the sun’s only just beginning to set, so there’s still a little warmth. Nayeon’s just a drama queen.

The door opens after a few seconds, Namjoon glowering at us, before he looks me up and down, his frown being replaced with a smirk. ‘Have I told you I love this new y/n? Like… this is a look,’ he says, and I grin at him, feeling a little more confident now. ‘I’m stood right here,’ Nayeon says with a half-hearted scowl, and Namjoon grins, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a side hug. ‘Nayeon, me complimenting you is like complimenting Mona Lisa. She already knew she was sexy as hell so what’s the point?’ he says easily, Nayeon preening as I roll my eyes. ‘You think Mona Lisa’s sexy?’ ‘Not as sexy as you.’ ‘Can we go inside? I’m cold,’ Nayeon says, not waiting for either of us to reply before she slips past Namjoon into the house. ‘Come on,’ Namjoon says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along behind him.

The second we step into the living room, the smell of strong cologne, alcohol and weed hits me and all eyes flit from Nayeon – who’s hugging Jinyoung and squealing – to me and Joon. Well, more me than Joon. ‘Woah. Who’s this? Surely not y/n,’ I hear Hoseok say, and I shoot him a dirty look, the boy grinning in return. ‘Shut it, stupid,’ I say, Namjoon continuing to walk towards the kitchen, dragging me along behind him. When we step into the kitchen, the smell of spicy wings hits me, and my eyes are instantly drawn to the takeout bags covering the countertop. But when I realise none of the bags are unopened, meaning frat boys have already been at them, it puts me off a little – I’d rather not eat food that might have been tampered with.

‘Look. My seat’s taken,’ Namjoon says pointedly, motioning to where Kai sits on a stool, beside Taemin and Seokwoo, the three of them laughing at whatever story Jaehyun’s telling them. ‘You’ll survive. What’s the point of having such long legs if you don’t stand on them?’ ‘There’s no logic in that. Go get my seat back,’ he says, and I side-eye him, wondering if he’s being serious or not. ‘How am I supposed to get your seat back?’ ‘Go flirt with him.’ ‘No! Him and Krystal have got a thing,’ I say, and Namjoon rolls his eyes. ‘That won’t stop him from flirting back,’ he says, and I glare at him. ‘I cannot stress this enough. Men are trash,’ I say before turning away from him, heading towards where there’s a couple dozen drink bottles and cups covering the countertop. I carefully pour myself a lemonade, making sure the cup’s clean and the bottle hasn’t been tampered with (I know Wing Wednesday is ‘for the boys’ so it’s unlikely it’s spiked, but it never hurts to take precautions).

‘y/n!’ I hear Mina exclaim, and I turn to see her stood there, smiling widely. ‘Mina!’ I squeal, pulling the girl into a hug. Mina’s one of Nayeon’s friends (they’re on the same course) but because Nayeon and I are inseparable, Nayeon’s friends are my friends too. Mina’s here because she’s dating Bambam, a KPN frat boy, and it makes me realise my privilege; Nayeon and I are only here because of our connections. If we weren’t best friends with Jackson and Namjoon, we’d have missed out on so many amazing memories. ‘How have you been? I haven’t seen you for ages!’ she says as we break apart, and I grin widely. ‘I’ve been good. Really good.’ ‘You look it. This style is, like, amazing! Is this new style permanent?’ she asks, and I smile shyly. ‘I think so. I actually… really like my new style,’ I say, and before Mina can speak, I hear Baekhyun say, ‘I like it too.’ Mina and I both turn to look at him, his stupid grin making me roll my eyes amusedly. ‘Hey, Baek,’ I say, the boy opening his arms for a hug, which I give (reluctantly). Baekhyun is Nayeon’s ex. They’re still friends – they’re actually on really good terms – but I’m still… cautious around him. He’s funny, and we get along, but I can never see him the same after hearing all the drama from Nayeon.

I clear myself a space on the countertop and boost myself up, sitting on the hard wood surface and Mina joins me, Baekhyun standing in front of us. ‘Have you had any wings?’ Baekhyun asks, and Mina and I exchange a glance, obviously thinking the same thing. ‘No, I’m… not really feeling wings,’ I say, Mina nodding in agreement, letting out little giggles behind her hand. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asks, and, to be honest, I’m starving. But I am not about to eat those… frat boy wings, and neither is Mina. ‘Yeah, I could eat.’ ‘Let’s order some pizza then,’ he grins, and I gasp. ‘Pizza? On Wings Wednesday? Isn’t that against frat laws?’ I tease, and he rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone. ‘What toppings do you have?’ ‘Just get margherita.’ ‘Shall I get two larges?’ ‘Yeah, Nayeon will want some too,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes again, an amused smile on his face. ‘I’m not ordering pizza for Nayeon – I’m ordering it for us.’ ‘I’ll transfer you the money.’ ‘y/n… it’s pizza. You don’t need to transfer me money for it.’ ‘Why not? I don’t mind paying.’ ‘Yeah, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I made you pay’ ‘You’re not a gentleman,’ I reply amusedly, and he clutches his heart, pretending to be hurt. ‘I am.’ ‘You’re not. And you’ve made me pay for food before. Remember the Chinese we ordered after the LSG party, and you made me answer the door, so I had to pay?’ I say, and he winces. ‘Well… the pizza makes up for it,’ he says, and I just raise an eyebrow, amused.

It’s so… wrong that he’s only willing to pay for food for me now that he finds me attractive, but I won’t complain aloud; it’s free food after all. And then it gets me thinking. Maybe I should… take advantage of the effect my new look’s having. I mean, frat boys aren’t the… smartest, are they? Namjoon may be an exception when it comes to his education, but his common sense? He has next to none, demonstrated by the stupid situations his whore behaviour has gotten us into. And the rest of them are even stupider than him. I’ve always been a master of manipulation, and it’ll be even easier now they think I’m hot.

It isn’t long until the pizzas arrive and the second Baekhyun leaves to collect them at the door, Mina turns to me with a grin. ‘Girl, if you don’t take advantage of all these boys thirsting over you, I swear, I’ll be so disappointed,’ she says, making me burst into laughter. ‘I was literally just thinking about doing it!’ I exclaim, both of us laughing. ‘No, but for real. You should, like, make the most of it while it lasts. Not to sound nasty, but you know it won’t be long until there’s another girl they’re all into. You should exploit this opportunity whilst you’re still the… object of the affections,’ she says, making me laugh. ‘Exploit this opportunity?’ I repeat, and she nods with a grin. ‘Their generosity will only go to a certain extent,’ I say, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘Wanna test that?’ she asks, a challenging glint in her eye, and I grin, nodding. ‘Go look in the fridge, and when you’re asked what you’re looking for, say… Vanilla Coke.’ ‘Vanilla Coke?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Okay.’

I head over to the drinks fridge (they keep their food in the mini fridge and their drinks in the big fridge – their priorities are so fucked up) and open the door. I scan the bottles, seeing mainly lemonade and coke with a couple alcoholic bottles, but no Vanilla Coke. ‘y/n!’ I hear from behind me, and I turn to see Donghyuck stood there, a big grin on his face. ‘Hyuck! Hey!’ I exclaim, throwing my arms around him. Donghyuck and I did extra credit classes together last year, and I’ve barely seen him since. ‘You look so different!’ he says, holding me away to inspect me, hands light on my shoulders, and I grin, bending one leg at the knee and striking a pose, making him laugh. ‘It’s weird to see you in clothes that fit,’ he teases, and I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t even. Everyone’s making such a big deal of it.’ ‘Yeah, because you look hot.’ ‘Whatever.’

I turn back to the fridge, and he comes to stand beside me. ‘Whatcha looking for?’ ‘Vanilla Coke. I’m, like craving it,’ I lie, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re lucky we’ve got lemonade and coke. KPN stick to basics,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t. Vanilla Coke is amazing.’ ‘Well, the corner shop down the road might have some. Shall we go get some?’ he suggests, and I’m shocked. Mina was right. He’s willing the leave Wings Wednesday with his frat brothers to go get Vanilla Coke from the shop with me. ‘You sure?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘It’s only a two-minute walk.’ ‘Okay. Let’s g-’ ‘y/n!’ I hear Mina call before materialising next to me. ‘Hey, Mina,’ I say, Donghyuck greeting the girl too. ‘Hey, Hyuck. I’m need to steal y/n. Emergency,’ she says, and my eyes widen. I’ve literally left her alone for a minute. What emergency does she have? ‘You okay?’ ‘Yeah, it’s just… I started. Do you have a pad?’ she whispers, loud enough for Donghyuck to hear, the boy wrinkling his nose in disgust, making me roll my eyes. Why boys are so grossed out about periods, I don’t know. It took two entire years of friendship with Namjoon to get him to buy me some pads. ‘Yeah, I do.’ ‘Will you come to the toilet with me?’ she asks, and I nod, apologising to Donghyuck before Mina drags me out of the kitchen, through the living room and upstairs.

‘Oh, shit! My pads are in Nayeon’s bag,’ I say when we reach the top of the stairs, and Mina lets out an annoyed noise. ‘I don’t actually need a pad, stupid! I was just getting you away from him,’ she whispers before pulling me into the bathroom. ‘What? Why?’ ‘Because now he’ll go get your Vanilla Coke from the shop and you won’t have to go with him,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Are you kidding? He’s not gonna go.’ ‘Yes, he will,’ she says, before letting out an exasperated sigh. ‘Remember when I stayed home for a few months, because I wasn’t well?’ she asks, and I nod – Nayeon was heartbroken that she didn’t have Mina to gossip with in her lectures. ‘When I came back, all the boys were fussing over me. Trust me; he will go and get that coke.’

We spend a couple minutes in the bathroom, reapplying our lipgloss and fixing our hair, before we head back downstairs, quickly grabbing two of the empty stools in the kitchen, Bambam sat next to Mina and Namjoon sat next to me, chatting with Minho about football strategy for their next match. ‘y/n!’ I hear Donghyuck’s voice after a few minutes, making me stop mid-conversation with Yugyeom about dessert on Monday at Red Velvet (it was so good, I can’t stop thinking about it – I might have to drag Namjoon back there this weekend). I turn to see him stood at the door, holding up a bottle of Vanilla Coke, and I have to stifle a laugh, pushing down guilt. ‘Oh, my God, thank you, Hyuck! You’re the best!’ I exclaim, giving the boy a hug before he disappears to find me a clean cup. ‘I was right,’ Mina says with a grin. ‘I feel bad.’ ‘Don’t. You didn’t make him get it.’ ‘Yeah, but I’m not even gonna drink it. I don’t like Vanilla Coke.’ ‘Well, it’s a good thing I do.’

joon: u got a lecture tmrw

y/n: it’s Friday tomorrow right ?

joon: um ye how do u not know

joon: r u still drunk from last night

y/n: I wasn’t drunk! I didn’t even touch any alcohol !

joon; then y were u letting johnny touch u up

y/n: I wasn’t! there was fluff on my boob and he took it off for me !

joon: ur so naive

joon: n e ways, do u have a lecture tmrw

y/n: yeah, 1-3

joon: wanna go 4 coffee after ill pick u up

y/n: sounds good

y/n: I’ll pay

joon: no

y/n: you paid for dessert !

joon: idc, ill pay 4 coffee

joon: u save ur money 4 clothes ;)

y/n: ew

joon: bitch do u want coffee or no

y/n: yes :)))

joon: ill b there @ 3, dnt b late like monday

y/n: okayyy see you at three joonie

joon: yep, night sexc

y/n: ew

joon: fine u can walk 2 starbucks

y/n: NO I’M SORRY

y/n: joon pls answer

y/n: stop leaving me on read !

y/n: fine, you can go to starbucks by yourself

joon: sorry

joon: y/n

joon: r u there

joon: bitch answer me

joon: ignore me if u wanna fuck

y/n: you’re such an idiot

joon: gn y/nie

y/n: night stupid, ilyyyy

joon: luv u 2 dummy

‘Hi, welcome to Starbucks! What can I get you?’ the barista asks, smiling widely. He’s handsome, with dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and sparkling brown eyes, and I can’t help but smile back. ‘Hi, can I get two large iced vanilla lattes please?’ I ask, the boy nodding as he clicks away at the register. My eyes flit to his little name tag. His name is Hyunjin. Cute. ‘What name shall I put on the cups?’ he asks, eyes sparkling when he looks back up at me, and I smile shyly when I say, ‘y/n.’ ‘Pretty name for a pretty girl,’ he replies, not giving me a moment to process the compliment before he says, ‘that’ll be £7.40. Cash or card?’ ‘Card,’ a voice behind me says, and I turn to see Jaemin stood there, smiling. ‘Can I add a large iced americano to that too?’ he says, holding up his card, and Hyunjin nods, tapping at the register. ‘Jaemin, don’t. I’ll pay,’ I say, though it’s Namjoon’s money in my hand, not my own. ‘It’s fine, y/n. I don’t mind,’ he says with a grin, and I smile back, touched.

Jaemin moves around me to pay for the three drinks, and I feel a little awkward, stood behind him, waiting. ‘How have you been, y/n?’ he asks once he’s paid, and I smile. ‘I’ve been really good, thanks. How about you?’ ‘Yeah, great. You look… different since the last time I saw you,’ he says with a little smirk, and I roll my eyes, an amused smile playing at my lips. ‘I’m assuming that was a compliment.’ ‘Of course. How could it be anything other than a compliment when the ‘different’ I’m talking about is this?’ he says with a flirty grin, motioning to my outfit (a pair of tight black cargo trousers and a long-sleeved black top, big black stomper boots on my feet and silver jewellery).

Jaemin flirts with me for a little while, but his americano is ready before mine and Joon’s lattes and he has a lecture at 3.30, so he leaves with the promise of continuing our conversation at the ASP party tomorrow, which I had no idea about. ‘y/n!’ Hyunjin calls and I go over to grab the lattes. I notice a caramel shortbread on a plate beside the cups, and I look up at him questioningly, the boy grinning back. ‘It’s on the house,’ he says, and I can’t help but let out a giggle, flattered. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No problem… y/n. I’m a student, at the university, and I heard your… friend talking about the party tomorrow. I’ll be there, and it’d be nice to see you,’ he says, smiling as he leans against the counter casually, my heart jumping. He’s hot, he’s confident and he’s sweet – I could definitely see myself getting to know him. ‘Yeah, it’d be nice to see you too,’ I reply shyly, breaking off our eye contact after a few seconds. ‘See you tomorrow then,’ he grins before turning to deal with the next customer.

I carefully take the lattes and the shortbread over to mine and Joon’s table in the corner, the boy instantly biting into the shortbread. ‘That is mine.’ ‘I paid for your coffee, so I can have a bite of your shortbread,’ he says, mouth full of food, and I scrunch my nose up in disgust, sitting down opposite him. ‘No, actually, you didn’t.  Jaemin did,’ I say, dropping Joon’s money on the table in front of him, and he frowns. ‘Who’s Jaemin? The cute barista you were just flirting with?’ he asks drily as he picks up one of the coffees, taking a sip. ‘No, his name’s Hyunjin. And I wasn’t flirting with him,’ I say, embarrassed, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Then what’s this?’ he asks, holding his cup out to me. I can’t hold back my smile when I see that Hyunjin’s written his number on the label with a smiley face beside it. ‘Exactly what I thought. Anyway… who’s Jaemin?’ ‘KPN Jaemin. He was behind me in the queue and he paid for our drinks. And then Hyunjin gave me the shortbread for free,’ I say, and Joon narrows his eyes at me.

‘I can’t believe you’re making these boys do all these things for you.’ ‘They’re doing it voluntarily – I’m not making them do anything!’ ‘So you didn’t make Donghyuck get your Vanilla Coke on Wednesday?’ ‘No, he choose to go get it!’ ‘Well, you’re putting Tia and Tamera to good use.’ ‘Tia and Tamera?’ I ask, confused, and he points at my chest. ‘Tia… and Tamera,’ he says, naming each boob, ‘don’t you listen to Doja Cat?’ ‘Not religiously – Say So’s the only song of hers on my Spotify.’ ‘Tasteless.’ ‘You’re tasteless for accusing me of using my boobs to manipulate boys,’ I hiss, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Did I lie?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘Okay, maybe I did. It’s not just Tia and Tamera. It’s Tia and Tamera and… Nicole!’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Nicole?’ ‘Use your brain.’ ‘Did you just name my ass Nicole?’ I ask incredulously, and he nods, seemingly proud of himself. ‘People look at it more than they look at your face, so I think it deserves naming,’ he says bitterly, and I gasp. ‘That was low. People look at my face. I’m not just my body. My face is pretty too,’ I say coldly, a little hurt, and he looks guilty. ‘Well, of course your face is pretty, I just-’ ‘You just what? Judged me, even though you’ve slept with more girls than I’ve ever been friends with? Just remember that there’s a lot you’ve done that I could judge you on, but I don’t, because we’re best friends.’

The air is tense after I finish speaking, and I feel sick. Joon and I have never argued. Our friendship has always been so laidback, so chill, so easy. I’ve never had any downs in my friendship with him because we get along so well. But I’m surprised at him being so judgmental, and so… douchey about me getting some male attention for the first time in… well, forever. ‘Sorry, y/n. I’m being a dick,’ he says softly, and I can see that he feels guilty. I decide it’s best to end our argument here, because this isn’t a nice feeling. ‘Whatever, it’s fine, Joon. Anyway… you didn’t tell me ASP are having a party tomorrow! Am I not invited?’ I tease, and he grins, the tension between us gone. ‘No, you’re not. I’m tired of you being so dependent on me.’ ‘Shut it. You’d be lost without me.’ ‘Whatever. I was supposed to tell you about it at KPN, but I barely got to speak to you. You were… popular that night,’ he says quietly, not meeting my eyes, and suddenly, I can feel the awkwardness making a reappearance. ‘Ah, well, I guess there’s no point asking you to take me to Red Velvet then,’ I say wistfully, trying to change the subject, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Ask Wang, he’ll take you.’ ‘No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna be bloated at the party. We can reschedule to Sunday – order some for a hangover cure. Can I sleep over?’ I ask, and he nods, smiling to himself. ‘You and Nayeon are always welcome. There’s enough bed space for the three of us.’ ‘You say that, and yet, you end up on the floor with us two in your bed every time.’ ‘I’ll climb in with you while you’re asleep.’ ‘Isn’t that illegal?’ ‘Shut up and eat your shortbread. Or do you not wanna be bloated?’ ‘Matter of fact, you’re right. These cargo trousers are already tight.’ ‘That’s because you’ve got a fat ass.’

y/n: hey, is this hyunjin ? from Starbucks ?

hyunjin: yeah, and is this y/n ? the pretty cargo trousers girl ?

y/n: the one and only ☺️

hyunjin: I was worried you wouldn’t reach out to me after I saw you go and sit with that boy

hyunjin: I felt terrible bc I didn’t even ask if you had a boyfriend

y/n: oh no, he isn’t my boyfriend

y/n: he’s my best friend, namjoon

hyunjin: as in kim namjoon ?

y/n: yep, you’ve probably heard of him lol

hyunjin: I have lmao he has quite a reputation

hyunjin: I didn’t recognise him

hyunjin: I just saw you go and sit with a handsome boy and I felt awful

y/n: well, you don’t have to feel bad

y/n: and he’s not that handsome lmao

y/n: he’s just… namjoon

hyunjin: well, I’ll have to thank him when I see him

hyunjin: if he hadn’t given you my number from his cup, I’d have felt like an idiot

y/n: it’s a good thing he pointed it out to me lol

hyunjin: yeah, I’m relieved

hyunjin: I know it’s forward of me and I hope you don’t think I’m out of line

hyunjin; but I just thought you were really cute and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity

hyunjin: especially after jaemin paid for your drinks and flirted with you

hyunjin: I know it sounds silly but I was debating whether or not it was worth competing with him

y/n: jaemin’s not really interested, he flirts with anything that has a pulse

y/n: but I’m glad you didn’t waste the opportunity

y/n: I thought you were cute too, and I love your hair

hyunjin: ah thank you! I was a little nervous about growing it out

y/n: it’s unique, and it really suits you

hyunjin: thanks y/n :)

hyunjin: it’s late so I’m gonna head to bed but I’m glad you texted me, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow !

y/n: okay, hyunjin, goodnight ! see you tomorrow :)

hyunjin: goodnight ! :)

joon: do u need a lift tmrw

y/n: no, jackson said he’s gonna pick us up

y/n: but thank you for offering anywayyy

joon: ok

joon: why did it take you 30 mins 2 reply its lit rally 2am, what else r u busy with

y/n: I was texting

joon: who

y/n: oh, just the, um, the girls groupchat, to talk about what we’re gonna wear tomorrow

joon: ok

y/n: I’m gonna go to bed, I’ll speak to you tomorrow

joon: aight gn dum dum

y/n: night joonie, sweet dreamsss

joon: ill dream of u in ur crop tops

y/n: pervert

joon: luv u ;)

y/n: love you more dumbass

‘y/n! y/n! y/n!’ ‘Oh, my God, Nayeon, you’re like a child! I’m mid-conversation!’ ‘I know, but this is important!’ she says, tugging on the strap of my top, her force nearly making me spill my drink down my outfit. I thought I’d dress simple, in just a black strappy lowcut crop top and a pair of ripped blue jeans, fluffy black slides on my feet and simple gold jewellery to accessorise. ‘Sorry, Dahyun,’ I sigh with a roll of my eyes, the girl grinning back. ‘It’s fine – go deal with your important business,’ she laughs, and Nayeon takes this as a signal to drag me into the kitchen, leaving Dahyun alone in the back garden. ‘What is it?’ I ask, and she grins. ‘I found your cute barista boy! Well, I think so, anyway. Not many boys have dirty blond ponytails.’ ‘Oh… okay.’ ‘Aren’t you excited?’ ‘I think you’re excited enough for both of us.’ ‘I’m serious, y/n! I saw him, and he’s really hot! You’ve been texting all day, and you said he’s really sweet. He could be your first boyfriend!’ ‘Nayeon, you’re getting ahead of yourself – I’ve literally known him for… 32 hours. And I don’t even know him, really. All I know is his name and that he works at Starbucks.’ ‘Well… this is your chance to get to know him. He’s with his friends in the living room – go,’ she says, not giving me a chance to reply before she pushes me through the open door.

He spots me instantly, calling my name, and I scan the room until my eyes meet his, smiles breaking across our faces as he waves me over. I head around the edges of the room, not wanting to get caught in the group of people dancing, until I reach him and his friends in the corner. ‘Hey, y/n! You look nice!’ he exclaims, smiling widely, and I feel butterflies; he really is so handsome. ‘Thanks, Hyunjin. You do, too,’ I say honestly, looking him up and down; his black jeans, loose blue and white striped shirt only buttoned halfway with a black t-shirt beneath are a chic and stylish contrast to the Starbucks apron he was wearing yesterday. Half of his hair is up in a ponytail with a few loose strands framing his face and his ears are adorned with earrings, sparkling in the low light. He introduces me to his friends, who all seem nice (I think I’ve seen a few of them before – I’m sure a couple of them are KPN frat brothers). As soon as the introductions are done, he asks if I’ll go with him to get a drink. He takes my hand gently – a shock running up my arm at the contact – and leads me into the kitchen, getting himself a bottle of Soju from the fridge. ‘Do you want one?’ he asks, and I scrunch up my nose – I find Soju absolutely disgusting. ‘Thanks, but I’ll stick to my vodka coke for now,’ I say, holding up my cup, the boy laughing as he nods, shutting the fridge after him.

We stand in one corner of the kitchen, chatting, and our conversation flows so easily. He’s an architecture and design major, but he does dance on the side too, with some of his friends. I ask him to tell me the basic things about him and I find out that he has a dog called Kkami, he loves autumn, he’s allergic to cat fur, his favourite food is sushi and his least favourite foods are onion, carrot and eggplant. Even though he’s so handsome (like intimidatingly handsome), he’s so modest, down-to-earth, and just so sweet. He’s like a breath of fresh air in comparison to the boys I spend time with on a daily basis (no shade to Jackson and Joon, but they’re nowhere near as gentlemanly as Hyunjin – he gets me two refills before I even realise that my cup is empty, and he gets me two slices of pizza as soon as it arrives because I mentioned I hadn’t eaten). I can already feel myself crushing on him; every time he compliments me, I get so flustered and all I can do is giggle – two weeks ago me would have hated now me.

After what could be hours (I’m having the time of my life chatting away to him), he asks me to dance with him, and I’m filled with an inexplicable fear. Actually, no. It’s explicable; I have never danced at a party before. Ever. ‘It’s okay… I won’t bite,’ he teases, and I take a deep breath, smiling as I nod. He takes my hand again, his touch so light and gentle, and instead of pulling me along behind him, he lets me go first, standing just a few inches behind me as we head into the living room. We mould into the group of our peers dancing, and I feel a little awkward at first, but I soon loosen up into the rhythm of the Rihanna and Bryson Tiller song pulsing out into the room. He’s really the perfect gentleman; he doesn’t lay a hand on me other than to move me out of the way when someone drunk stumbles past. It’s a nice change from the boys that don’t hesitate to just come up behind a girl and grab onto her waist, forcing himself onto her.

But after a while, I can feel the several vodka cokes starting to take effect, my mind a little hazy, and a tipsy y/n mixed with the RnB baselines floating out from the speakers isn’t a good combination. Hyunjin’s tan skin glows in the low light, his eyes sparkling, and he looks so fucking handsome, his plump lips stretching up into a flawless grin when I hook my arms around his neck loosely, moving closer. We dance a little more… intimately, our bodies pressed together after a few minutes, and his hands rest on my lower back, not venturing any lower, and his eyes stay on my face, even though my cleavage is right there. His gentlemanliness just makes him even sexier to me.

I look up at him, and notice that some of his hair in his face, and so I reach to brush it back behind his ear. His hair is so soft, the locks just gliding between my fingers, and I can’t help but run my fingers through the loose hair that he hasn’t pulled up into a ponytail, my nails gently scraping against the back of his neck. He shivers a little, his neck obviously sensitive, and it makes me look him in the eyes, practically getting lost in them. And before my brain can even register it, he leans towards me and my eyes flutter shut, his lips softly brushing against mine a few moments later. My first kiss.

He moves away, almost to check if I’m okay with it, and I just lean towards him, pressing our lips together again, making him let out a chuckle against my mouth. My mind numbs a little when he parts my lips with his, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and I really didn’t know that kissing was this good. His hands press into my back, holding me against him, and I grip onto his strong shoulders, his scent of lemony shampoo and expensive aftershave flooding my senses as our lips move against each other. ‘y/n, get a room!’ I hear Jin, one of Joon’s stupid friends, shout, followed by laughter, making me break away from Hyunjin, blinking as though I’ve just woken up, Hyunjin just smiling back at me. I turn to Jin, shooting him a dirty look and telling him to fuck off before turning back to Hyunjin. I feel braver than usual due to the alcohol and the fact that I’ve just kissed a boy I met yesterday in the middle of a frat party, and so I ask, ‘do you… want to get a room?’ ‘Um… what?’ he asks, blinking, and I feel the humiliation setting in already. ‘I mean, we don’t have to… but I thought you might want t-’ ‘Yes. I do want to.’

We’re both laughing drunkenly as we head up the stairs (it seems the several bottles of Soju he’s had have made him a little tipsy), our hands clasped together. ‘Whose room are we using?’ ‘Um, we can use Namjoon’s. I’m sure he won’t mind – he’ll be proud I’ve finally kissed a boy,’ I say, leading him into Joon’s room. The second we enter, he shuts the door, pushing me up against it and pressing our lips together again, his body against mine and our hands still intertwined against the door. I tangle my free hand into his soft locks, his free hand gently roaming up and down my side, and it’s bliss, the way he touches me. He’s such a good kisser – though it’s not like I have much experience anyway. ‘Did you say I’m your first kiss?’ he asks, lips moving against mine, and I let out a little noise of affirmation, the boy grinning. ‘Good,’ he murmurs, the word making my stomach turn with butterflies.

But it’s like I’m not allowed good things. There’s a loud hammering against the other side of the door, making both of us jump, and I manage to move out of the way just before it flies open, Namjoon storming in, anger all over his face. ‘y/n,’ he says, voice shaking, and I look at him in concern, wondering what’s happened. ‘Joon, are you okay?’ ‘No, I’m not,’ he says, teeth gritted, and it’s then that I realise; he’s angry at me. ‘Oh, did you… should I have asked you if I could use your room? I didn’t think you’d mind, I’m so-’ ‘God, you’re so fucking dense!’ he shouts, making me flinch, and Hyunjin looks between us before saying, ‘y/n, I’m gonna go, you guys speak in private. I’ll… be downstairs.’ I nod, too shocked to speak, and even more shocked at the way Namjoon stares daggers at Hyunjin as he slips past him.

‘What’s your problem? There’s no need to be such a dick to me, or to Hyunjin.’ ‘Oh, so you do know his name? I’m surprised, since you only met him yesterday.’ ‘Stop being so fucking judgy! You’re allowed to fuck anything with a vagina, but I kiss a boy I met yesterday and the world’s ending!’ ‘I’m not judgy, y/n, I’m jealous! Can’t you fucking tell?’ he practically screams, and the words don’t register with me for a moment. ‘Jealous?’ I echo, and he lets out a humourless laugh, sinking down onto his bed. ‘Yes, y/n, jealous. I’ve only been in love with you for two fucking years,’ he mutters, the words hitting me like a ton of bricks. He’s in love with me. My best friend is in love with me. ‘Joon, I-’ ‘You what, y/n?’ he asks angrily, and I’m filled with such rage, I want to slap him.

‘I didn’t know! If you’d told me, I’d understand why you’re so angry! But you didn’t, so stop fucking shouting at me, and being such a dick, and making me feel guilty when I shouldn’t!’ ‘There was no point telling you, because you don’t love me back!’ he shouts, and now I feel even more guilty. ‘I love you, Joon, but as my best frie-’ ‘And that’s why I didn’t tell you! I could deal before, when I was still getting to spend time with you every day, but now that you’re getting all this attention from all these boys, it’s so… difficult.’ ‘You still should have told me,’ I say quietly, and he scoffs. ‘There was no point! It doesn’t change anything! You still don’t like me!’ ‘No, I don’t, but you shouldn’t be angry at me about it.’ ‘I think I have a right to be angry!’ he shouts, and my eyes fill with tears. ‘Well, you don’t! Forgive me, Namjoon, but you’re not exactly a gentleman. Why would I fall for a boy that has a different girl in his bed every day, who plays girls like it’s his job, who’s misogynistic and vulgar and a dog? You don’t get to be such a dick to women and have your best friend fall in love with you, because it doesn’t work that way!’

‘Oh, and Hyunjin isn’t a dick?’ ‘No! He’s sweet, and he’s kind, an-’ ‘You’ve known him for one day, and you’re already rushing upstairs to lose your fucking virginity to him! I thought you’d care more about your first time!’ he shouts, still so judgmental, and I feel myself practically shaking with rage. How dare he behave the way he does and judge me, even though he’s supposedly in love with me? ‘Why do you care who I lose my virginity to?’ ‘Because I’m in love with you! Aren’t you fucking keeping up?’ ‘No, Namjoon, you’re not in love with me. If you were, you’d be happy that I’m happy. Instead you’re possessive and judgemental and douchey!’ We’re shouting at each other now, and anyone outside will be able to hear, but I don’t care. Let them hear how much of a dick he is. ‘I loved who you were, when-’ ‘When what? When boys didn’t talk to me? When you and Jackson were the only boys I spoke to at parties? When I was pure, untouched, innocent? Now, you’re annoyed, because I’m not who you thought I was. I don’t owe you anything, Namjoon, because you can’t expect me to have just known.’

‘Just go, y/n,’ he says, all of the anger in him disappearing, and he sounds so tired, looks so tired. And, as always, I feel guilty. ‘Joon-’ ‘No. Please, just go,’ he says, and when he looks up at me, my heart breaks. His eyes are full of tears, sadness, hurt, but the second they land on mine, they’re filled with love, too. Love that I can’t reciprocate because, he might be my best friend, but he is disgusting to girls. And I can’t love that. I can’t love him. ‘Okay. I’ll go,’ I whisper, turning away and leaving his room before I burst into tears.

#btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #bangtanidx #btspocnet #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #magicshopnet #bts #bts series #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts rm #RM #twice #got7 #stray kids

[florenceandthemachine]

@hearteyesforbuck asked:

I have been dying for a meet-cute au where Eddie takes Chris to the gym once a week and they box a little together before Eddie spars; usually Chris sits by the ring and reads but one day Eddie finds him laying on a bench, lifting an empty bar while this really cute blond guy spots him and gives him encouragement ....

guess who’s asks are still broken?

Tumblr keeps adding the “Read More” into the ask box, which breaks the entire post when I try to post it. Why is it happening? No idea, but if anyone knows how to fix it, please let me know, this is getting really old.

anyway, fun fact that I just learned about myself—if you want me to dedicate 100% of my brainpower to writing 4.5k of something in one sitting, you just throw in Christopher Diaz.

Eddie liked to think of himself as some kind of a “do it yourself” kind of dad.

Most of the time, that was a good thing.

Kitchen faucet broke? No worries, Eddie has some plumbers tape and three different YouTube videos telling him how to fix it.

Car wouldn’t start? Not a problem, Eddie bought the full repair manual offline and knows his way around a wrench.

Christopher needed forty gluten free, egg free, dairy free cupcakes for class tomorrow? Eddie was perfectly capable of... admitting when he was outmatched by a stand mixer and calling thirteen local bakeries to see if they delivered, because his car still wasn’t starting.

Point is, if there was a way he could work on something, Eddie would at least try it—and needless to say, that got a little complicated where Christopher was involved.

Eddie still wanted to do a lot of it on his own. Chris was his kid, and no one else's, and he didn’t even like being away from him while Chris was at school—he wasn’t sure if that was guilt stemming from leaving Chris as a kid, or guilt about introducing Shannon back into his life only to have her wind up dead, or guilt about... well, pick-a-thing, but he was pretty damn sensitive about what he perceived he could do to help his kid.

Which is why, when Chris’ physical therapist gave Eddie some suggestions about how Chris could work on strength training at home, Eddie dove completely into the deep end, head first, no floaties.

Working on Chris’ fine motor skills had been cake. Writing, drawing, arts and crafts, even playing video games, all helped improve Chris’ hand eye coordination (and if Eddie ran out of room on the fridge for Chris’ masterpieces and started framing them instead, well, that was his own business, no matter how nosy the busybodies at Michael’s got).

Working on his gross motor skills, though, that was another story. They could go on walks, sure, and they did every day. Eddie could hook up the trail-a-bike to his own once or twice a week so Chris could ride along with him, without worrying about his balance, but those were both leg heavy activities—and while it was great that Chris was building his core strength and leg strength, Eddie wasn’t about to just strap a wrist weight to Chris’ arms and call it a ‘well rounded workout’.

Short of more physical therapy, Eddie was at a loss as to what to do—so when Google Maps pushed him off the 101 to avoid a wreck on his way home from work and he got caught by a stop light right next to "Ricky’s Boxing Gym”, Eddie felt like his prayers had been answered.

Over the next few months, they had set up a pretty good routine. Eddie would bring Chris to the gym, they would hop into one of the many rings, and he and his son would get a half hour of quality time, three times a week. Eddie had his own set of boxing mitts, and Chris thought that spending a half hour trying to punch his dad’s hand was the most fun a kid could have after school. Chris would tire himself out and sit on the bench, drawing or reading for a while more, while Eddie would actually spar with one of the staff members, get his own workout in, and then they’d go home.

Nine times out of ten, they’d stop for ice cream or pizza, and completely undo any of the workout they had actually done, but Eddie thought that was a small price to pay for the whoop of joy Chris let out when he actually managed to hit Eddie’s glove dead center.

Eddie’s sparring partner of choice (well, after Chris) was Tommy Kinard. He was nice enough, and kept Eddie on his toes, giving him plenty of time to look over to Chris to make sure he was safe, and happy, and occupied, and (“Dad, I’m fine! Go punch someone!”) okay, maybe he was helicoptering a little bit. He hadn’t really thought it was a problem until Kinard went on paternity leave, leaving him in the capable, and brutal, hands of Boscoe.

Boscoe was a beast. He didn’t know her first name—didn’t know if she had a first name—but what she lacked in pleasantries she more than made up with strength. If Eddie was being honest, though, he kind of loved it; even after the first day they sparred together, when he wound up limping into the 118, proudly admitting to Hen that he had been beat up by a girl.

The thing was, Boscoe was intense, and while that was a good thing, it gave him less of a chance to helicopter over Chris.

Which, okay, maybe that was a good thing too. Whatever.

He knew the gym pretty well by that point, and knew the people who worked there, knew he could trust Chris with any of them—which is why when he looked up after dodging a jab from Boscoe, and saw Chris absent from his bench, he only panicked a little bit.

When he managed to take a wider look around the gym and saw a familiar pair of shoes laying down on a workout bench, the rest of him obscured by a bigger, bulkier body, that panic went from 0-60 real quick.

“Hey!”

He only barely managed to dodge a glancing blow from Boscoe as he ducked beneath the ropes, grabbing a towel to blot at his face as he hopped down. His voice was little more than a quick bark through the gym as he stepped around another group of machines, his frantic pace slowing a little as he got into earshot.

“... yeah, come on buddy, you can do it! Come on, give me one more rep! You got this little man!”

Fuck, had this stranger actually given Chris a set of weights?

His temper was white hot by the time he finally got around the front of the machine, opening his mouth to shout, to get a manager, to do something, but the words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

Because Chris was definitely on the bench, and he definitely had his hands on the bar—the bar that was completely devoid of weights, Eddie noticed, the same bar that had two much larger, stronger hands attached to them. Hands that were probably doing all the actual work of lifting the bar, because Chris was laying back, unable to speak, because he was giggling so hard.

The bar landed back on the rack with a dull thunk as Chris pulled his hands back, sticking them straight up in the air triumphantly as he sat up. The man behind the bar gave a big show of leaning against the frame of the bench dramatically, fanning himself, giving Eddie a full view of an employee shirt, name badge, and the gym logo stitched across the polo he was wearing.

Whelp, that was almost very embarrassing for him.

“Holy cow, that was such a good job! Man, you have got to be the strongest kid I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Dad, did you see me? Buck says I’m super strong!”

Eddie had to admit, he was a little thrown by whatever was happening here, but Chris was obviously having a good time, and he felt the white hot anger dissipate into something a little less angry and a little more embarrassed.

“That was some pretty impressive work, buddy! Have you been holding out on me?” Eddie dipped down and tossed a few playful jabs at Chris, selfish only because he wanted to prolong the joy his son was obviously feeling, but it was all worth it as he was handsomely rewarded when Chris started giggling again.

The man—Buck, Eddie gathered—laughed, drawing Eddie’s attention upward, and for a moment, his brain short circuited, because there was no way on earth a gym rat could be this... pretty.

Because damn. Buck was pretty.

Pretty enough that Eddie was easily distracted, waxing poetic (internally, thankfully) about beefy arms and a plush lip that he didn’t notice what was happening until Buck stuck a hand out, smiling, and Eddie could only guess what was going on. He reached out and took the hand, his own smile hitching as Buck’s face slipped into confusion.

“Uhh—”

“...I was asking if you wanted me to take your towel for you and get you a fresh one.”

Oh. Right. Towel.

Eddie’s face burned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder, handing it over, giving a too-tight laugh as he nodded his head. “Yes! If you could get me a new towel so I could strangle myself in embarrassment, that would be great.”

Well, at the very least, that got Buck to laugh again—death would be worth it if that was the last sound he heard. “Sorry I kind of stole your kid. He was wandering in between the machines, and it’s my first week off of the evening shift, so I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt—but then he started asking about all the weights and pulleys and stuff, you have a really smart kid!”

Total Gym Hottie (Buck, his mind corrected. If he was going to drool over someone the least he could do was use their name) was complimenting his kid now, and Eddie was so star struck he was actually proud to say he didn’t stumble when Buck nudged his shoulder, head jerking back to the ring he had abandoned.

"...anyway, I think strangulation is the least of your worries, if I know that look, Boscoe has an entirely different death planned for you if you don’t get back in the ring. Go on, I’ll help little man here wheel you out on a gurney when she’s done with you.”

Buck sounded way too positive about that, and it was all Eddie could do to groan and walk back to the ring, tail between his legs.

Sure enough, even after he had the next day off, he was still sore when he walked into the 118 for his next shift.

--

Buck became easily, seamlessly, a part of their routine, in a way that probably deserved a little more insight on Eddie’s part, but insight was for suckers. At least two days out of the week, their schedules aligned—Eddie and Chris still worked on their exercises, but now it included Buck giving a dramatic play by play on the sidelines, talking up Chris like an announcer, or just otherwise causing shenanigans.

It was worth it, easily, because while Chris was certainly never a negative kid, Eddie had never seen him in brighter spirits. And Buck... well, anyone that could find a way to help out his son in a way that Chris clearly enjoyed earned an instant gold star in Eddie’s book. The fact that he was easy on the eyes wasn’t a bad thing, either.

“Diaz, I swear to God—”

Eddie only barely ducked under Boscoe’s extended hand, forcibly rooting himself back in the moment, looking guiltily back to her instead of watching Buck and Chris.

“—can you pay attention for like three minutes so I can hit you without feeling bad about it?”

Eddie tried, he really did, but it was hard. A few weeks had gone by since their initial meeting, and Eddie had gone from “wow he’s pretty” to “full high school crush” in no time flat. It wasn’t his fault, though—because what sealed the deal wasn’t the moment Buck had switched to tank tops over polos, or how happy Eddie was to spend time staring at Buck’s magnificent ass (and it was really, really magnificent, let the record show), it was how he interacted with Chris that sent him over the edge.

Buck was good with Chris, but somehow that was the understatement of the year. He was kind, and he was bubbly, and he was just in sync in a way that Eddie wasn’t even sure he had reached, and Chris was his son. Buck was patient in a way that seemed effortless, easily slowing himself down or changing what he was doing when he noticed Chris struggling, wether it was in going over a math problem while Eddie got the crap beat out of him or just showing him how some of the different machines worked.

Hell, right now, Eddie had his hands securely around Chris’ hips as he lifted the other male to a chin-up bar, helping Chris count out the pull-up’s he was doing—and while all Eddie could hear was Chris’ laughter, all he could see were the thick cords of muscle attached to Buck’s arms, lifting Chris like he weighed nothing.

Eddie wondered, not for the first time, if Buck could lift him like that.

Like she was a horrible mind reading pervert, Boscoe smacked him with an open hand—not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough that he was going to ignore it.

“Diaz, this will be our last session together. Kinard is back next week—” Another punch, a quick jab that Eddie blocked with his forearms. “—so the least you could do is focus on me and not the apple of your eye over there.”

“Buck isn’t the apple of my—fuck—my eye, grow up.” Eddie huffed as he threw out a punch of his own, his hand knocked away violently, only barely dodging the sharp hook that Boscoe sent to him.

“God, I was talking about your kid, Diaz. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Oh.

Ignoring how red his face was, Eddie grumbled and threw another quick jab, though he missed completely as Boscoe stepped back, a grin on her face, and Eddie knew better than to trust that look. The last time he trusted that look, he had been talked into fighting bare-handed, and he still wasn’t sure his knuckles would ever really work again.

“You know, Kinard is supposed to take you back as a client, but I bet if you asked nice enough...”

Oh no.

“Hey, Buck!”

Oh no. Eddie looked up in horror as Buck easily lifted Christopher onto his shoulders—god, so much muscle—and jogged over, with the nerve to not even be out of breath when he smiled up to the pair in the ring. Eddie bit his tongue and leaned over to high five his kid, fully prepared to deal with whatever terrible thing was about to come his way.

“Kinard was supposed to take Diaz here back after he’s off leave next week, but I know he wanted to ease back into things after being away from the gym for a few months. You think you could spar with him in the interim?”

Oh, no, didn’t seem to cover it anymore. Eddie was having a hard enough time focusing on the task at hand when Buck was in the same building, he would be signing his own death certificate if he had to stare Buck in the face, and then try to hit said face. He hadn’t even seen Buck break a sweat before—he didn’t know if his little bisexual heart could take it.

He was somehow both relieved and regretful when Buck shook his head, looking plenty apologetic as he pulled Chris up and off of his shoulders, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he leaned up against the ropes. “Sorry, Eddie. I don’t really box, and besides, I think Chris and I are making real progress while you get your butt kicked. Show him the guns, Chris!” Buck said, and Chris immediately started some classic strong-man poses, Buck posing dramatically behind him, and Eddie felt his heart melt for two entirely different reasons.

Buck turned around mid pose as the door chime went off, giving Eddie ample time to count out the individual strands of muscle fiber in the moment before Buck relaxed, turning with a smile back to the gang in the ring. “Lena, that's my next client. Chris, Eddie, I’ll see you both next week, yeah?” He said with a grin before he fist bumped Chris and waved to Eddie, slipping back into Professional Buck mode. Eddie waved back, brows almost in his hairline as he looked back to Boscoe, who was scowling at him.

“So—”

“No, Diaz.”

“Wait, why not? Buck gets to call you Lena!”

“Beat me in the ring as often as Buck does and I’ll consider it.”

Eddie had his mouth open to retort when Chris cut him off, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head. “Can I call you Lena?”

She didn’t even hesitate a moment, nodding her head seriously. “You can absolutely call me Lena, squirt.”

Chris promptly stuck his tongue out at his dad, and Eddie reacted in sort, falling to the floor of the ring as he grabbed at his chest. “The nerve! Betrayed by my own child, my own flesh and blood!”

Chris looked thoroughly unimpressed, sitting back on the bench as he started to pack up his schoolwork. “Lena, can you tell my dad to stop being such a drama queen?”

It wasn’t until they were both in the car, that Eddie, thoroughly beaten down by his son, his trainer, and his own brain for providing a play by play of Buck that day while he was in the locker room shower stall, really thought about what Buck said.

He didn’t box. Which was strange enough in a boxing gym, but whatever, there were plenty of machines that Buck could be working on instead.

But them Boscoe (god, he couldn’t even call her Lena in his head, it felt like she would figure it out and beat him to death) basically admitted that Buck regularly whooped her behind the ropes

If Buck wasn’t boxing in a boxing gym, what the hell was he doing?

--

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Barely a week had passed before Eddie had received a call from Chim, all but begging Eddie to switch shifts so he could take the girl he had been seeing out on a proper date. The switch was a no brainer—Maddie seemed like a great girl, and as much shit as he gave Chim for... well, being Chim, he obviously wanted to see his teammate happy, especially when the only thing he would have to change was a gym day from a Monday to a Sunday.

If he had known that this would be the day that sealed his fate, he probably would have reconsidered the switch all together.

The gym was packed—which probably wasn’t surprising for a weekend day, but damn, Eddie had been glad he booked a ring with Kinard ahead of time. It was nice to see a familiar face in the gym anyway, one that wasn’t trying to beat the crap out of him in the ring, and once Kinard joined up with them, it was easy to shoot the shit. Eddie congratulated him on his step into fatherhood, ruffling Chris’ hair as he did—not that Chris noticed, busy scanning through the machines for a familiar blond head.

Not that Eddie could judge, when he was doing the same thing.

“Hey, I’m gonna toss my stuff in a locker. See you out here in a sec?”

“Yeah, sounds good! Buck and Boscoe are almost done in their ring, we have it next.”

Eddie was halfway to the locker room before what Kinard had said clicked in his brain, and he immediately did a 180, making a beeline to the rings set up on the far side of the gym, easily spotting the pair when he knew what to look for.

It was no wonder that neither he nor Chris had recognized Buck when they walked in—he was literally drenched in sweat, his usually fluffy blonde hair dark and slicked to his forehead, scowling around his mouth guard as he danced around Boscoe.

Boscoe, who Eddie had never seen so worked up. Damn, she really hadn’t even had to try during his matches. Wasn’t that a blow to the ego.

No, Buck definitely wasn’t a boxer, because this was a dance. Every move he made, he made with his entire body, his energy flowing through each form, moving easily and gracefully in a way that shouldn’t have been possible with such an incredible amount of force and flat out violence. He almost felt dazed as he followed Buck’s movements, but in the best possible way, his eyes snapping back and forth as he tried to trace where one hit ended and the next began.

“Wow.”

Eddie was glad that Chris said it, because he still couldn’t find the muscles needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. He didn’t know if Chris had followed him over to the ring or if his Buck-radar was just that good, but for the time being, Eddie was more than thankful for the minute distraction as he ruffled his kids hair again.

Boscue was moving more desperately as the match continued, launching into a series of quick jabs, but even Eddie could see where that was her downfall. Buck knocked her arm back with her last punch and sent a kick straight for her shoulder, but then he twisted his entire body off of the mat and his other leg was in the air too, and Eddie instinctively sucked in a breath as Buck locked her neck between his thighs. They both came crashing down to the mat, struggling impressively until Boscoe slapped Buck’s thigh twice, and then—

—and then Buck was all smiles again, beaming as he released her and took a knee on the ring, helping her back into a sitting position, spitting out his mouth guard with an excited moment of praise for her technique.

Eddie could not compute. This was his downfall. Eddie is dead, long live Eddie.

“Holy cow, Buck! That was amazing! You’re like... you’re like a ninja crime fighting super hero!”

Well, that was one way to put it.

Buck’s head whipped around at Chris’ excited outburst, lighting up when he spotted Eddie and Chris near the bench, eagerly scooting forward into a sitting position closer to the ropes.

“Thanks, little man! That was some mixed martial arts, it’s super fun. I’ve been teaching Lena for a few years, she’s getting pretty good!”

Buck’s grin slid into something a little more proud and pleased as he looked to Eddie, and Eddie felt every muscle in his body tighten as Buck’s gaze burned through him.

“What did you think of that leg lock, Eddie? Total knock out, right?”

Oh fuck, was Buck flirting with him now? That had to have been flirty, right? Come on, Brain, do something.

“... legs.”

“...my legs?”

“Buck, your... your legs.”

Buck’s smile looked a little more pinched as Eddie groaned, shaking his head. “Okay, I, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this or I will completely die. Can I take you out to dinner sometime? I know a great place off the strip, you’ll love it, my treat.”

The look on Buck’s face was skeptical, at best, but at least he wasn’t shutting him down, giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt (and giving him a moment to get his brain back online). “Because of my legs?”

“No. Well, okay, you have amazing legs. And arms, though, and like... a stupidly handsome face, and I would be blind not to notice those things—” shit, Eddie probably sounded like such a shallow asshole right now. “—but I’m asking because you’re really smart. And you’re kind, so kind to Chris too, and you’re patient, and... Buck, you’re really really sweet. And I would love to take you out for a dinner date the moment you can look past my apparent inability to form a single coherent thought.”

After a moment that felt much longer than the three seconds it was, Buck sighed and leaned past Eddie, looking critically to Chris. He slid down to his stomach, squinting as he dropped down to eye level with the boy. “What do you think, Chris? Should I give your dad a shot?”

Well, at the very least, Buck was asking the one person that Eddie knew he always had in his corner; and sure enough, Chris delivered. “I think so. Dad really likes you.”

That’s his boy.

“Last week he spent my whole entire physical therapy appointment telling Dr. Wilson how much help you gave me and how nice you were and how much he appreciated it. It got kinda annoying.”

...well damn, Eddie wasn’t expecting to be called out by his own kid like that, but if the suddenly soft look Buck was giving him was any indication, it might have been the necessary push to get him to understand how serious Eddie was.

Eddie tried to keep his excitement tamped down when Buck nodded, sitting back up. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Only because you managed to ask me out before I could ask you.”

Wait, Buck wanted to ask him out anyway?

“If you can land three hits on me in three minutes—should be easy after spending a weeks with Boscoe—then you can pick the time, the place, and I’ll even talk Lena in to letting you call her Lena. But if you don’t...” Buck reached through the ropes to help Eddie up, tossing him a wrap for his hands as he did. “... then I get to pick the time, the place, and you start training with me in MMA instead of going back to boring old boxing.”

Eddie blinked at him in abject horror as Buck dipped his voice low, seeing with terrible clarity exactly where Boscoe had learned her terrifying grin.

“That way you can see my leg choke up close and personal. Deal?”

The stakes were too high, and Eddie couldn’t say no.

He was screwed.

He was elated.

But fuck, he was screwed.

(Three minutes later, Buck asked if Eddie was free on Friday at seven, promised to pick somewhere nice, and gave him a searing kiss before he disappeared into the staff locker room. Eddie, on the other hand, needed a spatula to peel himself off of the floor of the ring.

He had never been so happy that he could barely move in his life.)

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buddiefic #911fic #flospeaks #hearteyesforbuck #meet cute #gymfic #gym au #buck isn't a firefighter #but Eddie still is #still pretty canon if you look hard enough #also I love Chris with all my heart #Eddie wants to be crushed between bucks thighs and honestly?.... #same #eddie takes buck down a year and a half later in his first successful leg choke and buck is so proud he proposes the next day #mutually assured devotion

[welllpthisishappening]

One Foot In (5/7)

The facts were these.

Killian Jones was dead. This much Emma knew, standing in the middle of the funeral parlor staring at him. What she didn’t know was why. Or how. Or what she would do when she touched him.

Because Emma Swan had a gift. Touch a dead thing once, bring it back to life. Touch it again, dead forever.

And the last thing Emma could do was bring Killian back to life, talk to him for the first time in years, only to watch him die all over again. Not when she’d spent the better part of those same years being in love with him.

—–

Rating: Teen, but eventually they’re going to kiss Word Count: 9K’ish this chapter, with feelings AN: Thank you to everyone who is clicking and reading and saying nice things about this story. It is very nice and I think you are awesome. We’re deviating a bit from the Pushing Daisies path here, so, uh...let’s get magical, huh?

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. Or! You can catch up from the start ||

@shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @nikkiemms, @teamhook, @dayo488​, @greymeetsblue​, @jennjenn615​, @heavenlyjoycastle​, @klynn-stormz​, @superchocovian​, @onepunintendid​, @jonesfandomfanatic​, @lfh1226-linda​ @thejollyroger-writer​

—–

Emma Swan is twenty-nine years, six months, twenty-four days and, approximately, nine hours and sixteen minutes old when she decides she may actually be going crazy. 

It would explain away a whole host of her problems. 

Ruby is flirting, genuinely and legitimately flirting, and Emma has a few sinking suspicions about the origins of the shirt Killian is wearing, but she’s also a little distracted by whatever the tips of Killian’s ears are doing because it seems he can dish the flirty banter out, but he absolutely, positively cannot witness it. 

Or however the saying is supposed to go. 

And he won’t stop staring at Emma. Like he knows something she doesn’t. 

It’s unnerving. 

“If you stare at me any harder, you’re going to turn me to stone,” Emma mumbles, letting her head drop back and that is a mistake. She can’t remember ever having a concussion, but the wall behind her feels impossibly hard. 

That may just be the situation. Ruby laughs again, leaning over the edge of Victor’s desk until the tips of her hair skim over papers and the not-so-good doctor looks incredibly overwhelmed. Emma understands the feeling. 

She bites her tongue to stop herself from making some kind of absolutely absurd noise because Killian’s eyes widen slightly at the scene in front of them and the longer she tries to remember the dream, the harder it’s becoming to separate reality from fiction and she can’t actually google psychiatric institutions. 

That would probably alert some kind of government agency. 

“If what we’ve been told is true, I’d imagine that’s entirely possible,” Killian says. He doesn’t take a step towards her, but Emma knows he wants to and she swears she can feel him next to her. 

Maybe there are psychiatric institutions listed in the yellow pages. 

She’s not even sure there are yellow pages anymore. The whole thing sounds incredibly antiquated, even in her head. 

Ruby makes a ridiculous noise when she knocks a pile of papers off Victor’s desk. His answering whatever makes Emma want to gag. 

“And,” Killian adds, ducking his head so Emma can’t avoid his gaze. “I know you’re thinking something, love. So let’s have at it. At least it’ll distract us from whatever is going on over there.” “This is normal.” “That doesn’t make it acceptable.”

She scoffs, digging the toe of her shoe into the tile underneath her. “What’s the matter, Jones? Not into public displays of affection?” “How does the man not realize what’s going on? It’s honestly almost too much, don’t you think?”

Emma shrugs and maybe it’s the wall that’s moving because it seems to be pushing even harder against the jut of her ponytail. She can barely remember anything about the dream now, just wisps of memories and moments and it was so, incredibly dark. 

She hasn’t been able to get the goosebumps off her arms since they got into her car. 

“Maybe,” Emma says. “But I don’t think he really cares. And, you know, it works. Gets us to the body and—”

She cuts herself off, wincing as soon as the word body falls out of her mouth. Killian tilts his head, the ends of his lips quirking up. 

“You’re doing another admirable job of avoiding my question. Seems to be a habit of yours.”

“Sweeping judgment,” Emma grumbles. She’s going to dislocate her toe if she presses her shoe any harder into the floor. 

Killian shakes his head. He’s bent his knees at some point which, if Ruby and Victor weren’t far too preoccupied flirting with, maybe, some purpose, would probably lead to both of them making fun, but it also makes Emma tug her lips back behind her teeth and breathe a bit sharply through her nose and it is not fair how good he is at this. 

Still. 

Maybe that was part of the dream. 

Something about understanding. 

She kind of remembers the woman’s face. Her eyes looked...not quite sad, but a little disappointed and a little wanting and that’s the feeling Emma hasn’t been able to shake, a tug in the pit of her stomach and a pull in the center of her soul and she’s never dreaded a trip to the morgue more. 

God, what a weird sentence. 

“Not sweeping,” Killian amends. “Accurate. And obvious. Do you think it’s possible?” Emma blinks. “Do I think what is possible?” “You’re not actually going to make me say it, are you?” “I think I may kind of need you to say it.”

It’s an admission Emma doesn’t need to make, but she feels as if she’s drifting between dream and reality and she swears she’s seen those people before. She knows she knows them, she just can’t figure out how. Or why they showed up in her subconscious. 

Emma’s eyes flit up when Killian doesn’t respond immediately and she’s not sure if she’s glad or frustrated that she does – because she can see the muscles in his throat move when he swallows, the clench of his jaw probably doing damage to several different parts of his mouth. His lips move again, like he isn’t sure if smiling is acceptable in an emotionally charged moment in the middle of a goddamn morgue, but it only takes half a second for him to decide and Emma is thankful for the wall behind her. 

“Do you think it’s possible that I was inadvertently working for some kind of magical darkness because that same magical darkness thinks I am…” “Magical?” Emma suggests, and Killian’s answering noise is strangled at best. “I have no idea. I’ve never...it’s not like I’ve met a lot of other people who can wake the dead and ask them who murdered them.” “Have you ever woken anyone who wasn’t murdered?”

Emma tenses. She knows she tenses. Killian knows she tenses. Ruby is in the middle of something absolutely ridiculous and she probably knows Emma tenses. 

She’s the world’s worst liar and even more terrible at trying to deflect the conversation, but it suddenly seems like she’s balancing on that tight rope again and her head shake makes her entire neck ache. 

“Nope,” she says, far too quickly to be anything except the blatantly obvious lie it is. 

Killian arches an eyebrow. “Nope?” “Nope. I...well, why would I do that? I’m not trying to play God.” “I’m not suggesting that.” “Then what are you suggesting, exactly?” He lets out a low, vaguely sardonic chuckle and Emma figures that’s fair. His hand twists behind him, tugging on hair and pressing the pads of his fingers against the skin just behind his ear. There’s a hint of color on his cheeks. 

That’s disconcerting too. 

Emma can barely hear him over the buzzing in between her ears. 

“I have no idea at all,” Killian admits softly. “But well...I don’t know. I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about or suggesting or even theorizing, but I’m at least ninety-six percent positive I can hear you, Swan. Or maybe feel you. God, shit, that sounds ridiculous.” “That doesn’t sound ridiculous.” “You’re being generous, love.”

Emma makes a contradictory noise, ignoring the fluttering of her pulse. “I’m not,” she promises. “I...you have no idea what you were trying to collect though? For this...darkness? Honestly, that almost sounds more ridiculous than you being able to feel me.” “That kind of sounds like a line.” “It might be.” Killian smiles, head falling forward when he exhales and Emma’s palms are never going to recover from the nails she keeps digging into her skin. “We are exponentially better at flirting than Lucas is.” “Don’t tell her that, she’ll get offended.”

Emma briefly wonders if magic is possible, based solely on the force of Killian’s expression when he looks at her. It’s not immediate, which almost makes it worse or, probably, better, but Emma’s clearly lost control of the English language, so she’s not going to be specific about which adjective she uses. 

He tilts his head up slowly, like he’s trying to savor the moment and she needs magic to be real and fix this because not reaching out and brushing her fingers over the curve of his jaw is growing more and more difficult. 

“What are you thinking about, Swan?” he asks, voice low but with a hint of something that sends a shiver down Emma’s spine and makes her dig her heels into her shoes and maybe they should have gone to prom together because they appear to be very good at dancing around the subject. At least Emma is. 

“Way too much to be even remotely healthy.” “Can you think so much that it would be a detriment to your health?” “You’re the one who’s read encyclopedias. I’m surprised you’re not a doctor at this point.” “Not a doctor,” Killian says, smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth. Ruby is taking her sweet time getting them to see this body. 

Emma does not want to see this body. 

“That wasn’t a contradiction to the encyclopedias,” Emma points out. “And I’m surprised you can’t feel my neurons like...short-circuiting or something at this point.” “You’re also not a robot, Swan.”

“Look who’s being generous now.” His eyes widen slightly before raking across her, drifting from her face to her arms and the bend of her elbows, tracing back across her hips and the bend in her right knee. Emma doesn’t mean to hold her breath, but she’s still on that metaphorical tight rope and she kind of feels like she’s being taken stock of. It’s not altogether unpleasant. 

Every single inch of her feels like it’s buzzing, a quiet energy under her skin and a hum of something that might actually be power or magic and Emma can’t remember the last time she went to the doctor. 

She assumes a doctor would be able to refer her to an appropriate psychiatric facility. 

Killian’s head shifts again, hair dangerously close to his brows, but she can still make out his eyes perfectly and--

“You’ve got to tell me what you’re thinking, Swan.” There’s a hint of a plea to his words and Emma realizes, rather suddenly, he’s been doing a very good job of taking this in stride, but it may be a bit of an act and a possible show of magic and she inhales quickly, like that will give her an extra boost of confidence. 

“I’ve never met anyone else like me,” she says. Her voice shakes. That’s disappointing. “Ever. There’s...it’s not like we have club meetings or matching lettermans jackets or anything like that. There is just me and what I can do and shouldn’t be able to do and—” “—Why don’t you think you should be able to do it?” “What?” “What makes you think it’s inherently wrong, Swan?” Killian asks. 

Emma gapes at him, stunned that he could think it was anything except that, but she knows Ruby also kind of thinks that and she’s incredibly good at self loathing. It’s probably the trail of bodies in her wake and the lingering sense that she’s forgetting something important about that dream. Killian’s expression doesn’t shift though, steady and certain and the confidence that’s practically pulsating in the air around him has an almost legitimate taste. 

Like berries or something. 

She’s honestly gone insane. 

“It’s…” Emma starts, waving her hands in the air when she can’t come up with the right words to prove what an absolutely, terrible, no good, very bad person she is. “It’s unnatural. This is—”

“—Magic?”

“That’s crazy.” “Swan, you touched me and I wasn’t dead anymore. I think that’s fairly good proof that there’s some kind of magical something happening here. And it doesn’t make it a bad thing.” “So long as no one knows about it.” “Explain that.” “I’ve been...Graham wasn’t wrong before, you know. I don’t really...talk to, well, anyone. I mean I talk to Ruby and some dead people and the people who buy my pies, but it’s not like I’ve got a thriving social life or anything. And I can’t.” “Why?” Killian presses, and there isn’t any anger there, just genuine curiosity and concern. Emma’s pulse is going to fly out of her body. 

At least there is an actual doctor nearby. 

“Because I left Storybrooke when I was a kid, alone and absolutely terrified and...I knew I could do this...whatever it is. Magic or a genetic mistake or—” “—You’re not a mistake, Swan.” “It’s nice that you think that.” “Emma,” Killian snaps, and she’s dimly aware of Ruby’s sound of frustration when they get loud enough to distract Victor from whatever part of the flirting plan she’s currently executing. He doesn’t take a step forward, there’s not enough room, but he rocks forward slightly and Emma’s breath hitches, stinging her nose and making her lungs burn and she’s totally unprepared for the look on his face. 

He’s determined and not, a strange combination that’s also a little soft and maybe Emma should start reading the dictionary so she can come up with better words in situations like this. 

Situations that end with conversations in her head. 

“I don’t think that,” Killian continues. “I know that. Unequivocally. You didn’t...whatever reason this happened to you, it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.” Emma shakes her head out of habit, pleasantly surprised and slightly charmed by the look of exasperation on Killian’s face. “I shouldn’t be able to do this,” she whispers. “It’s not right. It’s not safe. I mean...if you move the wrong way or—” “—That’s not going to happen.” “You can’t know that!” Ruby groans again, throwing them both a glare over her shoulder before redirecting her attention back to Victor. This is taking forever. 

Emma hopes that isn’t a sign. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me, Swan,” Killian says, another promise he can’t make, but one Emma also kind of needs and maybe covets and, if put under oath, she would swear his eyes get bluer when he looks at her. “But you’re deflecting quite a bit again, love. What are you worried about?” “Would you like an itemized list?” “I wouldn’t refuse it. You’ve been jaw-clenching since you answered the phone this morning.” Emma sighs, letting her tongue trace over her teeth. “When I was a kid, I was terrified of what would happen if someone could find out what I could do. That they’d...take me or use me and no matter how much you try and cover it up by flirting with me, we both know this is something I shouldn’t be able to do. It’s not normal.” “That doesn’t make it wrong.” “It doesn’t make it right either.” “You are impossibly stubborn.” “Yeah,” Emma mutters. “But that’s the point. I haven’t really...I’m very good at pushing away with both hands so no one will know what I can do.” “You can’t actually push me away, you know,” Killian says. It’s more out of place flirting. Emma’s pulse does not care. 

“That’s stupid.” “That’s what you’re capable of doing.” Emma groans, less frustration than...something else. “I’m kind of freaking out,” she admits, wholly unfair all things considered. Killian’s smile looks a hint sadder. “And I...well, Cora said the Darkness was looking for people like us, right?” 

“I’ve never undeaded the dead, Swan.” “I figured that’d be part of the reintroduction, honestly. Hey, Emma, long time no see, I also can touch people back to life.” He chuckles, fingers fluttering at his side like he’s trying to stop himself from touching her. “I wouldn’t have called you Emma,” Killian mutters. “Save that for special occasions and exercises in self confidence.”

“Do you think it’s possible?” 

“Your self confidence or the magic?”

“Throw a dart,” she quips. “But mostly the magic.” “Like I said, I have no idea. But I knew something was wrong as soon as the goons got on deck and there had to be some reason they wanted that water moved. I doubt the Darkness is all that concerned with proper hydration.”

“You’re absolutely hysterical.” “Got you to smile though,” Killian points out, waving a finger through the air and it’s dangerously close to her cheek. 

“Cora seemed very adamant.” “Well, we all know that Cora wouldn’t lie.”

She might laugh, but the sound feels like it rattles around her throat, scraping against the side and leaving behind marks that will linger for days or weeks or the rest of her goddamn life. Emma’s eyes fall shut, breathing only slightly erratic, which really is a step in the right direction.

“I used to have dreams,” she says, another sudden admission she hadn’t planned on making until the words are flying straight out of her. “When I was a kid and there were new houses and cold houses and I’d never been very good at sleeping, but it got worse and worse the older I got. I used to fall into these kinds of fits and they changed a lot, different locations and faces that weren’t ever really specific, but it always ended the same.” She opens her eyes, vision blurred slightly. She can still see the flecks of something in Killian’s eyes. It might be magic. 

Emma still wants it to be magic. 

If only to prove she isn’t as alone as she’s always felt. 

“How did it end?” Killian asks, another rock forward that she should object to. She doesn’t. 

“Badly.” She doesn’t say anything else, knows she doesn’t really have to when Killian’s tongue flashes between his lips. He’s not close enough for Emma to actually feel his exhale. Her brain doesn’t care. It latches on to the want and the need and the taste of blood lingers in the back of her mouth when she chews on her tongue again. 

“Is that what happened last night?” Emma nearly bites her tongue in half. “What?” “Is that what happened last night?” Killian repeats. “A dream that ended badly?” “How do you know that?” “That’s not an answer, Swan.”

She huffs out a breath of oxygen her lungs could desperately use, running a ragged hand over her face. “I can’t really remember,” Emma mumbles. “It wasn’t the same as those ones. It was...it was dark and I was alone for awhile, but then I wasn’t. There were people there. A man and a woman and they said…” She grits her teeth, trying to remember details that are fading as quickly as she can try and hold onto them. “They said it was going to be worth it.” “What was going to be worth it?” “Your guess is as good as mine.” Killian laughs again, low and almost unsurprised because of course there’s another mystery. “Figures. You weren’t by yourself though.” Emma considers that for a moment – trying to remember the feeling of the dream and the faces that were almost familiar in a way that made it seem as if they’d been there since the very beginning. Her smile feels almost natural. “No, I wasn’t.” 

She shakes her arms, doing her best to get rid of the sudden surplus of excess energy that appears to be lingering in the tips of her fingers. “And I don’t think Cora would lie either,” Emma adds, avoiding Killian’s gaze. 

It doesn’t matter. She can feel his eyes widen and she wrings her hands together just to prove that she hasn’t, in fact, turned to stone. 

“Emma.” “Oh, c’mon.” He rolls his eyes when she does, finally, meet his eyes. It’s a bit of normal in the crazy and Emma’s thankful for it, even when they’re discussing something another human has already referred to as the Darkness. 

“They called him master,” Killian says. “That’s...he must have been looking for something.” “Something magical.” “But the water is gone. I saw it crash before, well…before everything went to shit.” “That’s a nice way of putting it,” Emma mumbles, drawing more laughter and another smile and that’s comforting too. She lets her head drop back again, pulse almost evening out and breathing coming almost normally – until Killian runs his hand through his hair and rocks back on his feet and—

“You know, I used to wonder about you,” he says, rushing over the words as if they’re somehow embarrassing. “Not, well, not in a stalkery, all the time kind of way. But in a you were gone and eventually I realized you weren’t coming back and I wondered what you looked like sometimes kind of way.” “What I looked like?”

“Yeah, in retrospect that sounds a little stalkery too, doesn’t it?” Emma twists a strand of hair around her finger, chewing lightly on her lower lip. “Sounds a little flirty, honestly.” “Ah, that’s bitter.” “How’d it play out for you?” Killian hums in confusion, a furrow to his brows that is equal parts attractive and a little overwhelming, as if one look can alter the entire state of gravity around Emma. She presses her palms flat against the wall, not really much better than digging her nails into her skin because whatever this wall is made out of is kind of gritty and horrible, but Killian’s ears have gone scarlet and the tip of his tongue is pressed into the corner of his mouth. “Play out,” Emma repeats. “As far as looks go.” He might genuinely growl at her. 

Whatever the sound is, it lingers in the air around them until Emma is certain it’s crackling with electricity and want and a slew of other adjectives that make her heart race and the possible magic she’s definitely in possession of soar.  

Killian’s eyes darken, crowding into her space and pressing his hand above her head. “That’s a loaded question. And I’m a little disappointed it’s not more obvious.” “Maybe I’m just trying to get some more confirmation.” She can see his shoulders shift, a twist of skin and muscles and a t-shirt that’s half a size too small. They really are incredibly good at flirting with each other. 

Emma licks her lips before she considers the repercussions of it, whatever noise that rumbles in the back of Killian’s throat making her feel as if she’s floating and a little drunk and both of those things would be a better explanation than magic. 

It’s definitely magic. 

She doesn’t know how she knows, but she knows and she wants to ignore the idea of the Darkness for the rest of her life. 

“Better,” Killian says, low and gruff and Emma swears the word slinks into her bloodstream. It wraps around her heart and several other internal organs that would probably sound disgusting if she were to ever say any of this out loud, drifting down her limbs and taking up residence at major pulse points, a steady rhythm that helps ground her when the buzzing in her brain roars to life. 

Emma doesn’t scoff, it’s more of an exhale, but still a little disbelieving and a little needy and—

“Yeah, you too,” she breathes. 

And, honestly, in a conversation about magic and death and dreams that end with Emma serving as the subject of several vaguely horrible science experiments, telling a guy she’s definitely started referring to as her boyfriend in her head that she’s attracted to him shouldn’t be so surprising. But Killian’s face hasn’t appeared to get that memo.

His eyebrows jump into his hairline, a muscle in his temple fluttering at a rate that can’t be medically accurate. He doesn’t move his right hand, but his lips press together tightly and Emma’s eyes dart towards his left arm when he tries to twist it behind his back. 

His eyelashes are impossibly long, fluttering when he closes his eyes and his shoulders move again, as if he’s trying to readjust the weight that’s landed there. 

“Hey,” Emma says, reaching out against her better judgment to tug on the front of his shirt. “That’s...do you want to talk about it?” “No.” “Killian.” “What is there to talk about, Swan? It was there when I left home and it was there when I got on the boat and it’s very clearly not here now, so somewhere between living and dying and living again, someone decided I didn’t need to have my left hand anymore.” “I think you want to talk about it.” He glares, but she’s almost confident in her ability to read him too and if they’re going to share magic, or whatever, Emma figures it’s part of her biological right. “The most stubborn person alive, you know that?” “No,” Emma argues. “You’re alive too. That, at least, makes us even.”

“God, it’s not fair that you can still do that.” “Yeah, tell me about it.” Killian grins, less...everything except something Emma can’t possibly begin to think about in a morgue. “Cora said she didn’t think they’d take it,” he whispers. “As in there’s a reason they did take it. And I’m pretty positive the they in this scenario are the goons.” “Seems to be a trend.” “Yeah, it does. A frustrating one that I can’t wrap my head around. Have you ever heard of a fairy tale where the villains steal someone’s hand?” “Fairy tale,” Emma echoes skeptically, and Killian’s teeth dig into his lip. She’s slightly optimistic that it’s so he won’t be tempted to kiss her. 

“Are you not my knight in shining armor, Swan?”

“That’s almost laying it on too thick, don’t you think?” Killian mutters a quick disagreement, bringing his left arm back to his side. “I think it’s some very twisted trick of the universe that I’d spent more time than appropriate during my teenage years wondering if your hair was still able to reflect sunlight only to die before finding you again and then, upon not being dead, being unable to touch you as much as I very desperately want to.” “Desperately?” Emma’s voice cracks on the word, and she knows she should stop repeating everything he says, but she’s having a difficult time breathing and she assumes he won’t fault her lack of sentence structure. Ruby’s laugh has taken on a decidedly victorious tone, Victor grumbling something that sounds like the tell-tale signs of acquiesce. 

They’re running out of time. 

“Desperately,” Killian repeats. “And, as if that weren’t enough, if we do somehow figure out a way to magic ourselves out of this mess, figure out who killed me, fight off some mythical Darkness and make sure you get to REM sleep every night, I still won’t be able to hold onto you with both of my hands.”

Emma doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until all the oxygen rushes out of her lungs in one great, big enormous huff. She’s not crying, so that feels like a victory, but Killian’s suddenly the one who can’t hold her gaze and that doesn’t compute at all. 

She shuffles her weight between her feet, trying to put some incredibly undesirable space between them so she can hold her hand out expectantly. 

“Is that code?” “We didn’t come up with the code yet,” Emma points out, and it’s enough to work a slightly tremulous smile out of him. She’ll take her victories where she can get them at this point. “And I know there are gloves in your back pocket. Hand ‘em over.” “Swan, what…” “Don’t argue with me, Jones. A pirate is supposed to share his booty with his crew or something, right? I have no idea how pirate rules work.” “I don’t think pirates had many rules, love, that’s why they were pirates.” “You are grasping at straws and distracting me from my point. Gloves, now and now.” He makes a disbelieving noise, but doesn’t argue anymore, yanking the gloves out of his pocket and dropping them in her upturned palm. It takes some finangling on Emma’s part to make sure she doesn’t inadvertently elbow him in the ribs or something more catastrophic, but she keeps her grunting to a minimum as she tugs the fabric over her fingers. And it’s obvious he realizes what she’s about to do before she does it. 

His eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack and he might mumble her name, a quiet Emma that sounds half like a plea and half like another wholly impossible promise, but none of that is quite as gravity-altering as whatever happens to every single inch of Killian’s face as soon as she wraps her glove-covered finger around the end of his left arm. 

Emma doesn’t say anything – isn’t entirely certain she’s capable of it and, really, she’d rather not embarrass herself by saying something idiotic, like telling him she may honestly be in love with him again or still or whatever – so she just lets her fingers drift over skin she’s not actually touching, tracing over scars that are far cleaner than she expected them to be. 

That gives her pause, but she refuses to linger on it when she knows they’re already on borrowed time. The clack of Ruby’s heels is getting closer. 

And Killian, for his part, looks a little stunned. His eyes don’t ever leave Emma, bouncing from her fingers back to her face and drifting towards her mouth and maybe they should start carrying saran wrap with them at all times. 

That seems a little weird. 

“Emma,” he whispers, and when they get out of this, when there are no more dead bodies and no more threats and she’s told him the absolute truth about absolutely everything, she’s going to kiss every single inch of skin she can find. She’s going to linger on these few inches, an emotional brand that feels as heavy-handed as any of the decidedly sentimental thoughts she’s considered in the last few days, but she’s going to do it anyway, until he believes it’s ok and worth it and—

“Did you say you wondered if my hair could reflect sunlight?” Emma asks. 

Whatever noise he makes will probably play on loop in Emma’s memories for the rest of her life and very likely into several different afterlifes. It warms her from the inside out, another rush of power and a hint of guilt she’s been ignoring because she’s definitely keeping big, important facts from him and Killian is already nodding. 

“I did when I was a kid. Especially in the summer. We’d be outside all the time and, God, I swore it was, like, phosphorescent or something.” “That’s a very big word for a nine year old.” “I didn’t come up with that one until I was ten.” “Ah, well, that’s ok.” He nods, half a wink and it’s not very good, but it’s still stupidly charming. “Like it was it’s own power source,” Killian adds, half to himself as his fingers drift through the air just above Emma’s head. “It never made any sense.” “Yeah, join the club.” “I think I probably could have remembered every single strand when I was a kid. And, fuck, I know I’m not helping my stalking case, but—” “—No, no,” Emma interrupts, far too quickly. “That’s...I mean, it’s kind of ok.” “Good news for me. But it was like it was imprinted in my brain, even after you left. Years and summers and how ridiculous it was trying to race myself down that stupid hill.” “You went back to the hill?” “My uncles thought it was a coping mechanism, and it was at first, but then it was so I wouldn’t forget too. I wanted to hate you for a while, Swan. That you left and never came back and—” “—Not all of that was my fault.” “I know it wasn’t, love, but tell that to a decidedly friendless, leather jacket sporting fourteen year old and you’ll find I wasn’t very rational at that point. I wanted to hate you, more than I’d wanted just about anything at that point.” “Did you?” “No,” Killian answers immediately. “I kept going back to the hill and the memories always seemed to slam into me and I couldn't hate you if I tried. So I stopped. I remembered everything and every time I went back there I always seemed to remember the exact way the sun reflected off your hair.” She opens her mouth. Only to close it again. And does that four more times. Killian’s smile turns a little nervous, but that may be because Emma hasn’t let go of his arm. 

She’s got no intention of letting go of his arm. 

Or him. 

God. 

“That’s decidedly romantic for an angst-ridden teenager,” she says, which is really the last thing she expects to say, but is also kind of par for the course and Killian grabs one of her hands so he can press a kiss to the bend in her knuckles. 

“Yeah, it is.” Ruby groans, the scrape of Victor’s chair sounding impossibly loud when he gets up, muttering an excuse about taking an early lunch lingering behind him. 

“Are you guys done?” Ruby asks. She’s already tapping her heel. “Because we are on a very tight schedule here.” “The guy isn’t going anywhere,” Killian reasons. 

“Yeah, about that guy. I’ve got some facts.” Emma blinks, and lets Killian lace his fingers through hers. “What kind of facts?” “These kind of facts,” Ruby says, brandishing a questionably large file in front of her. “The kind that show that Charles Thatch has spent the better part of the last ten years in and out of several different prisons in a variety of states. He never seems to have much in the way of employment history, but he’s certainly got the means to bounce around the country quite a bit.” “Meaning?” “Meaning, our Mr. Thatch, who, incidentally, was found in the woods on the edge of the Storybrooke city line—” “—Town line.” “I’m going to kill you.” “Let’s avoid that, please,” Emma mumbles, trying to pull her arm out of Killian’s grasp so she can dramatically cross them over her chest. He tightens his hold. 

Ruby scowls. “Yeah, that was kind of shitty, right?” “Just a little. Go back to lording facts so you feel like you’re in control of the situation.”

Ruby flips her off that time. “Mr. Teach bounced around everywhere. Doing odds and ends and things that don’t make any sense at all, but, and this is the most important part, in the last two months he applied for, and received, an expedited passport.” “Meaning?” “Oh I get it,” Killian mumbles, and Emma isn’t sure if he means to squeeze her hand that hard. It’s almost worse if he doesn’t. 

“Honestly were you a PI in another life?” Ruby demands. “Or a cop? Getting upstaged like this is not fun for me at all. 

“As far as I know only one life. If we start dealing with regenerations or something too, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle that.” “Regner-whats?” “Like Doctor Who,” Emma supplies. “His brother was a giant nerd.”

The casual mention of Liam catches her by surprise, eyes widening to a size that Ruby absolutely notices and Killian’s brows pull low in confusion. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it too, Swan. You were the one who wanted to build a TARDIS that one time.” “Yeah, well, it didn’t work did it?” “We didn’t know about the magic yet.” “Can we focus, please?” Ruby shouts, jumping for emphasis and they are being kind of unfair to her. “Because as Jones said, but didn’t actually explain, the passport thing is important. It means that Mr. Teach was able to leave the country with relative ease in the last two months, which could potentially include a little jaunt into the Atlantic ocean and—” “—Oh shit,” Emma mumbles. 

“Exactly. So, shall we touch him and ask him if he’s got TSA pre-screening?” “I don’t think they let felons do that,” Killian shrugs, ignoring whatever strangled noise Ruby makes and his hand doesn’t leave Emma’s when he directs her towards the nearest door. 

She’s never really enjoyed trips to the morgue. 

She assumes no one really does, except possibly Victor, but he’s a little weird and she understands that trips to the morgue are necessary. It’s the lighting though. It’s far too bright and everything smells like bleach and somehow stale at the same time, as if death is just permeating the air molecules. 

Emma takes a deep breath and immediately regrets it, shuddering despite her best efforts to control her limbs. 

“Hey,” Killian mutters. “It’s going to be fine, Swan. No matter what happens.” She doesn’t respond, but her eyes dart towards Ruby’s and there’s a warning there that Emma doesn't entirely appreciate. “How’d he die?” 

“Who?” 

“Mr. Teach. If they found him in the woods, there must have been a medical examiner there, right? Some kind of report.” Ruby makes a face – a stop sign in human form, but the question is already there and—“Just touch him and ask him how he killed Jones and who he was working for, Em.” “Wow, that was kind of blunt, Lucas,” Killian says. His gaze keeps moving back towards Emma though and she’s going to chew through her cheek by the time the day is over. 

She really wishes it were tomorrow. 

The Doctor never had to deal with this shit. That’s fundamentally untrue, but it makes her feel better to compare her problems to those of a fictional character who, eventually, was forced to blow up his entire planet. 

Emma just hopes she won’t have to do that too. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” she mumbles, tugging the glove off her right hand with her teeth when Killian continues to let go. She drops her phone onto the edge of the table. 

Charles Teach is old, that much is obvious. He’s got wrinkles around his eyes and a decidedly disheveled look to him that kind of screams no good, very bad villain. They’ve already removed his clothes, a mass of skin that’s marred with scars and jagged lines and a life that practically reaches out and smacks Emma across the face. 

And part of her knows that none of those marks are what killed him. 

The other part of her is screaming. Loudly. In her head. 

“Is that him, Jones?” Ruby asks, and Killian hums. 

“Yup. You’d think the Darkness would get better looking lackeys. He looks like he's been dead for a very long time, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, that’s weird. Seriously, am I going to have to offer you a job?” “It’s probably better than me testing the market when I’m fairly certain I don’t have a social security number anymore.”

“Oh, yeah, it’d be weird explaining that at an interview probably.”

“Plus, look at all the fun we’re having. I think I’m starting to grow on you, Lucas. I knew it was only a matter of time.” Ruby gags. “Don’t press your luck.”

Killian chuckles again, a flash of a smile that does not belong near a guy who definitely does not look like he’s only been dead for a few hours. There’s a pallor to his skin that doesn’t make sense, gray and drawn and everything looks far too calm. 

A guy with a track record as long as Charles Teach should not have died a peaceful death. 

It is the single worst observation Emma has ever made. 

“Swan,” Killian prompts when Emma continues to stare at the man on the table in front of them. “Emma, love, you’ve actually got to—” “—Yeah, yeah, I know,” she interrupts sharply. Ruby clicks her tongue. 

She doesn’t think much about where she touches, swatting her hand against Teach’s and he doesn’t jerk up the way most bodies do. Emma hates that she thinks of them as bodies. He opens his eyes slowly, taking in his surroundings as he lifts his head off the table. 

There’s a piece of hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Who the hell are you?” Teach asks, directing the question to, presumably, Emma. Her hand is still hanging very close to his. “And what the hell are you doing here, Jones? Didn’t I already kill you once?” “Yeah, I believe I was there for that,” Killian says flippantly. “Why’d you do that incidentally?” “Should have asked a few more questions before you met your untimely demise, my boy.” “Not your boy and honestly who says demise? That’s…” “Not important,” Ruby hisses. “Why’d you kill him? And what was the water for?” Thatcher narrows his eyes, but he almost looks impressed and Emma isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. “The water was for my master. I’m sure Jones told you that already.” “And that master,” Emma says, finding a bit of courage she didn’t expect and she’s not sure if it’s entirely because it feels like there’s sparks in between her fingers. The same fingers twisted up with Killian’s. “That’s the Darkness, right?” “You know far more than you’re giving yourself credit for.” “What the hell was the water for then? And why did he want Killian?” “It wasn’t Jones specifically,” Teach argues. “It was what he could do. It all timed up rather perfectly until he decided to be infuriatingly noble about it.” “Did that make negative sense to anyone else?” Ruby asks, glancing around the room as if there are more than the four of them there. 

Emma shrugs. “The magic, then? That’s...that’s a real thing?” “Can’t you feel it?” Teach asks. “It’s practically got its own frequency. Granted, part of that is how worried he is about you right now, but it’s there regardless. It’s rolling off you in waves.” “What does that have to do with the water?” She hates that she shouts the question, hates that she’s lost her last few strings of apparent sanity and control, but Killian squeezes her fingers again and tugs her hand up towards his lips and that can’t possibly be the right course of action. 

Emma couldn't care less. 

“My master,” Teach says. “He’s been looking for something, for a very long time, to bring back someone. And nothing has worked. It’s been...well, he’s been very disappointed. But we’d heard of something in those waters, a magical source of rejuvenation—”

“—Like the fountain of youth?” Killian asks. 

“Obviously not. The lad is dead already, keeping him young wouldn't do much of anything. The legend of this water said it could revive things that had been...not living. My master believed it would work, but he needed another magical being to transport it for him.” Ruby scoffs. “And that was Jones?”

“Obviously.” “Why wouldn’t the Darkness do it himself?” Emma presses, and Teach  gets that same impressed look on his face. It sends a chill down her spine. “Cut out the magical middle man as it were.” “It was dangerous. And my master doesn’t need to involve himself in matters like this. Not when it wasn’t guaranteed and he’s looking for…”

Teach trails off, expression shifting again to something far closer to terror than Emma is entirely ready for. She glances at Ruby – who immediately holds her hands up in confusion. 

“Fat lot of help you are,” Emma grumbles. “Alright, so the Darkness is looking for something to revive someone, but there’s more to it, isn’t there? What...what else could there be?”

“You don’t know?” “Obviously not and you are running out of time.” “I’d answer her,” Killian adds, a wholly unnecessary and slightly gallant move that leaves Ruby with her tongue hanging out of her mouth and Emma blushing just a bit. Teach’s mouth twists, understanding settling on his face.  

Emma hopes there isn’t actually ice sitting at the base of her spine. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Teach says. “I’m assuming I’m already dead given my surroundings and I’d imagine I won’t be going back to that funeral home any time soon. So it’s really up to you. Jones wouldn’t help my master, so he had to die. It’s as simple as that.” “But you took my hand,” Killian growls. Teach’s laugh bounces off the walls and echoes around them, seemingly growing louder and more threatening and— “That’s part of the mystery my boy. Trust me, my master’s getting plenty of use out of it. He’s gone back to the start. He’ll figure you all out sooner or later. There’s no way around it.” “The start? And, wait, wait, did you say you were in the funeral home? What the hell were you doing there?” “Making sure you made it into the ground. Unfortunately I didn’t stick around long enough to guarantee that, but I can’t be entirely faulted when the whole world went pear shaped and—” “—Did you die in the funeral home? When?” “Are you dense?” Teach sneers, sitting up now and Emma keeps glancing at her phone. “Of course I was in the funeral home. I was there when you were there. How you got out and I didn’t is a question for the ages of course, but—”

He doesn’t finish. Emma doesn’t let him finish. She swings her hand out, skin against skin and Teach falls back on the table with a thump that sounds far too loud. 

Ruby curses under her breath. 

“Well,” she whispers. “At least we know how that ended. And you know...justice is kind of served. So points to us.” “I don’t think that’s how it works,” Emma argues. She squeezes her eyes closed, as if that will change the scene in front of her or stop Killian’s gaze from boring into the side of her head and she could play this moment out eight-hundred thousand times and she’d still never be prepared for the next few words out of his mouth. 

“What is going on?” Killian asks, low and a hint desperate. His thumb starts tapping against the back of Emma’s wrist, directly on top of her pulse point. She figures that’s what does her in. 

She doesn’t open her eyes. 

It’s a cowardly move. 

Emma feels like a coward. 

“There’s another rule to all of this,” she whispers. “Me, I mean. And what I can do. That...well, that I didn’t tell you yet.” Killian’s arm falls back to his side. Ruby curses again. “What kind of rule?” he asks. 

“Remember you wanted to know why it’s a minute? It’s uh...it’s because the universe needs to stay balanced or something and if a not-dead-anymore person stays alive longer than a minute then—” “—Someone else has to die,” Killian says. 

Emma’s eyes snap open. “How’d you know that?” “Context clues.” “That’s impressive.” “Yeah, it’s something isn’t it? So Teach died because you didn’t kill me. Did you know that was going to happen?” Emma nods – quick and jerky and painful, but that may just be the echo of Ruby’s heel in a room filled with a bunch of dead people. “Did you know who it would be?” “No, it’s not…” “Right. Right. Just a trick of fate and happy coincidence.” Emma isn’t sure what to do with that tone of voice. It’s not angry and she knows he’s not, not really. The man on the table in front of them killed Killian, cut off his hand for reasons they still can’t figure out and apparently serves some mythical being with the worst villain name in the history of several universes, but he’s looking at her like he’s never seen her before and it’s not the exciting, slightly overwhelming gaze it’s been in the last few days. 

It’s like he can’t quite come to terms with her. It’s like he’s wondering if maybe she is, in fact, wrong. Emma bites her cheek again. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she says, not sure why she’s still talking. Ruby is going to sprain her tongue. “This,” Emma waves her hand towards Teach. “That wasn’t part of the plan. And I mean—” “—He did kill you,” Ruby adds, grinning when Emma flashes an appreciative glance in her direction. “So, you know, if we’re keeping tally marks in the Emma saving your ass column...”

Killian doesn’t move immediately, doesn’t even blink, but his eyes drift back towards Emma and she tries not to breathe too much. It feels like he’s taking stock of her again and she desperately wants to live up to expectations. 

She’s still not telling him everything. 

“That’s true,” Killian says eventually. “Thank you, Swan.” Emma wishes she could nod like a normal person. Her lungs are going to rise up in protest of her. “But,” he adds, and Ruby might try to actually cast a spell on him. “There’s one part I don’t entirely understand. Teach said he was in the funeral home, but they found him by the line. And now...going back to the start. The Darkness, I mean, was going back to the start. Where do we go? It’s not like we know who this thing is.” “I still don’t think it’s an alien,” Emma mumbles. It’s a piss-poor attempt at a joke and control and Ruby rolls her eyes so hard it must hurt. 

She throws both her hands in the air when she, apparently, comes to some sort of conclusion. “Oh, fuck, fucking fuck!” “Eloquent.” “Shut up, Em. You have your car?” “Do you want me to shut up or…” “Oh my God. We have to go. We have to go now. Jones, would your uncles be in your house, right now?” “Yes,” Killian says slowly, drifting back into Emma’s space. She doesn’t think he realizes he’s doing it. “They don’t...oh fuck.”

“Can someone tell me what is happening?” Emma yells. 

“The start. He’d go back to try and find whatever he was looking for. Whatever Thatch thinks he needed my hand for.” “And that would probably be a little jarring for your shut-in uncles, yes?” Ruby asks, already moving towards the door and brushing by a clearly confused Victor. 

Emma suddenly understands. 

She needs to expand her curse vocabulary. 

Because the Darkness is on his way to Storybrooke. 

Emma doesn’t actually count how long it takes them to get to Killian’s house, but she isn’t sure she’s ever driven that fast and she’s going to get at least half a dozen tickets for running all those red lights. 

Killian’s out of the car before she’s really stopped it, running up steps with long strides and ignoring both Emma and Ruby’s cries to wait two seconds, Jesus. That last part is mostly Ruby. 

The house itself is exactly the way Emma remembers. 

The shutters are still that same shade of blue Liam picked when they were kids – an afternoon that felt like torture at the time, but quickly dissolved into paint-stained clothes and color-streaked cheeks. There aren’t any chairs on the porch anymore, the curtains drawn closed on the huge bay window in the front of the house and Emma can see the fabric fluttering slightly, as if something or someone is standing just inside them. 

“Killian,” she calls again, but he’s already bounding up the steps. He jumps over the third one. It creaks. And he doesn’t bother closing the door behind him, the screen slamming against the side of the house and Emma’s out of breath by the time she catches up to him. 

There’s no one inside. 

At least it doesn’t look like there’s anyone inside. 

Everything feels as if it’s been paused, a stillness that’s unnerving and incorrect in a house like this where Emma only knew laughter and smiles and blanket forts with incredibly detailed engineering. She lets her eyes flit around the room, taking in the differences. There are more frames on the wall now, Killian at a variety of ages with a variety of hair styles and two men Emma only has vague memories of. 

There are pillows everywhere, decorative lamps that are just treading the line between classy and ostentatious, blankets draped over both couches. 

She reaches her hand out before she thinks about, probably something to do with magnets or those words she’s been ignoring for the better part of the day and it doesn’t really matter because Killian moves his hand behind him to grab at her too and that’s when everything suddenly and completely goes to shit. 

It’s as if an explosion goes off, a darkness so deep Emma briefly wonders if it’s possible for the villain of this story to toy with the sun. 

She blinks, gripping Killian’s fingers like a lifeline and one of them must mutter we’re going to be ok, but Emma genuinely has no idea who it is. She’s far too busy shrinking back from the laughter that’s suddenly surrounding them, jarring and victorious and just a little unhinged. 

The darkness ebbs slightly, bright enough that Emma can make out the shadow in front of her. 

And, for half a moment, that’s all it is – a shadow and smoke over the water, but then the laughter grows and the magic in her veins sings, doing its best to battle back. It doesn’t work. Particularly when the shadow turns corporal and the smile on the Darkness’ face is like nothing Emma has ever seen. 

“We’re ok, love,” Killian whispers. “It’s ok.” She must shake her head – can feel her hair shift against her neck, but the words get caught in her throat and the Darkness hasn’t stopped staring at her. 

Emma barely notices the other men who have appeared there, faces that match the ones in the frames and one of them curses when he sees Killian standing there. “No,” he mutters. “No, no, that’s going too far. Kill us. It’d be better than this.”

The Darkness laughs again. 

It makes his whole body shake, head thrown back and Emma suddenly notices there’s a slight glimmer to his skin, like he’s glowing and it may be the single worst thing she’s ever seen. 

Until he snaps his head back, eyes meeting hers and she will eventually wish she didn’t whimper. In the moment, though, she can’t seem to do anything else. She holds her breath and tries to melt into the floor, but she can’t do that either and she can’t turn into Killian’s side and every single promise he makes falls on deaf ears. 

“I thought he’d bring you,” the Darkness says, the same triumphant look that was in his smile working its way into his voice. “You’re rather predictable, but the good ones always are.” “What do you want?” Killian asks. Nemo, Emma thinks it’s Nemo, curses again, doing his best to fight against the rope tying him to the chair he’s sitting on. 

The Darkness waves a finger through the air. “You already know that, dearie. There’s no point in rehashing. I know you spoke to Teach.” “How?” “Please, I know everything. That’s how I know this is going to work. Because the good ones are always easy to get an edge on and,” he lets out a low whistle, taking a step closer to them as Killian tries to push Emma behind him, “she’s practically bursting with it. But first we need to clear the air a little bit.”

“Meaning?” Emma gasps, the realization striking her like lightning or something equally metaphorical and terrible and she kind of wishes it weren’t metaphorical because then she wouldn’t have to do this. It feels a bit like blowing up her planet. 

Or at least the sun she’s started orbiting around. 

She’s not even sure that makes sense. 

She really has no idea how anything scientific works. 

The Darkness bobs on the balls of his feet – an absurd sentence and an absurd visual, particularly when his skin has gotten even brighter, like he’s growing more powerful the longer Emma plays coward. He lets out another laugh. 

Shakespeare might be the one who curses that time. 

“Oh, this is going to be delightful,” the Darkness says, a wistful sigh that makes Emma wonder how long he’s waited for this. “I don’t need you anymore. Well, no that’s not true, I’ll take you, but I’d rather have her and—” “—You’re not getting Emma,” Killian growls. “I’m not...not again.” “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, dearie. I should have known from the very start it wasn’t you. You were just...a leech, a latch on, a sponge.” “What?” “Of the magical variety.” “I don’t…” “Oh, I know you don’t,” the Darkness continues. “But magic leaves a mark. It lingers where it matters and Cora should have realized. That was foolish of me. To believe she’d be able to differentiate and, well, I do admit it’s close, but…” “Make some goddamn sense!” “Oh my God, Killian,” Nemo sighs. 

Killian doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t let go of Emma’s hand. And Emma is only slightly confused. She’s mostly doing her best not to cry. 

The Darkness stares at her again. “But you my dear,” he says, a longing in the words that makes her whole body ache. “You are something entirely new. I’ve been looking for you for a very long time. The only problem is I need you to be free of those pesky secrets that have been crippling your magic. The Savior can’t have that.” Emma blinks. “The what?” “We’ll get to that. First thing’s first though. The truth, Ms. Swan. About what happened in this house all those years ago and how you’ve spent your entire life running from it. Then the fun will begin.”

She tastes blood in her mouth, vision blurring with tears she can’t bring herself to cry because it is her fault and it’s always been her fault and she should have told him from the start. 

She’s wrong. 

From the very start. “Swan, what is he…” Killian starts, but his eyes widen when the Darkness moves back towards Shakespeare, a knife at his throat and a predatory glint in his stare. 

“Go ahead, Savior,” the Darkness sneers. “Or we’ll start killing. I’m not nearly as upset about it as you are.” Killian spins on the spot – ignoring the villain and the knife pressed to his uncle’s neck and Emma’s breath hitches when his glove-covered hand brushes her cheek, catching a tear on the fabric. The whole thing is very cyclical. 

She hates it. 

“Like the goddamn sun,” he mumbles, and it doesn’t make sense. It makes a negative amount of sense, but Emma exhales like it’s the single most important sentence ever uttered and—

“I’m the reason Liam is dead.”

Killian’s hand falls away from her.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #one foot in #late today because i was watching hockey #and writing hockey fic #it's the playoffs so it's time for me to hoard more fic

[melodious-madrigals]

big spoon, little spoon 

Prompt fill for @wondertrevnet‘s Lockout Bingo. 

Fandom: Wonder Woman  Pairing: Diana/Steve Prompt: Fluff  Word Count: 3351 Rating: T? (Some really obliquely referenced sexism, I guess.) Summary:  5 times Diana and Steve were disgustingly cute and very happy (+0 times that they weren't because this is fluff). Literally just fluff, Steve & Diana loving each other a lot. Idk what else to tell you. This is part ii of lost love (sweeter when it’s finally found), and you can read the first chapter here. 

Find this fic below the cut or on AO3. 

***

Notes: Takes place a year or two after Hades deposits Steve in Diana's living room. I'd planned a vaguely angstier fic for my next release, but then I had such a shitty 72 hours that I did not want anyone to feel anything but fluffy, so I rearranged the line-up. please enjoy 3k words of wondertrev being happy and loving each other very much.

***

i.

Even in the modern age, Diana remains partial to keeping track of things the old fashioned way. She has a Google calendar like every professional, of course, but all her meetings are also written neatly in a little diary she keeps; her personal life and JL extracurriculars are also neatly coded and transcribed in their own colors in the planner. She writes grocery lists and to-do lists on spare bits of paper, and takes meeting notes in a leatherbound notebook, unless specifically required to be working on an electronic document. She finds there's something satisfying about seeing the ink in front of her.

Yesterday, for example, she jotted a quick to-do list on a sheet of notepaper, and then tacked it to the fridge, so she'd remember to do items three (water succulents on the kitchen and bathroom window sills) and five (check cream level after Steve finishes his coffee) before she leaves in the morning.

She glances over the other eleven items, mentally ticking off what can be completed today while she's running errands on her way to work, and her eyes land on the last line.

There, scrawled in curling letters under her own tight font, is an addition that certainly wasn't there last night: 14. Kiss your husband.

She smiles. That one she'll have no problem checking off.

Steve's out on the terrace, still sipping his coffee, halfway through a crossword puzzle. She swoops in without warning, dropping a quick kiss to his lips, and then another to the top of his head, before whipping out her list and checking off number fourteen.

"Wait, come back," says Steve, setting down the paper.

"I don't know; I'm having a very productive morning and I've already checked it off," Diana teases. "I might have to move on to other things."

"No fair," he pouts.

"The post office is open already," she continues blithely, brandishing the to-do list. "I should probably go there directly."

In a flash, Steve has leaned forward and snatched the list right out of her hands.

"Steve!" she cries, and lunges for it, but by the time their little scuffle is over and it's back in her hands, 15. Let your husband kiss you is scrawled messily along the bottom.

"Well," she says, smirking despite herself, "if the list says so, I can't argue."

"I'm glad you've seen sense," says Steve, leaning in with a gleam in his eye.

She doesn't manage to tick anything else off before work—ends up rushing not to be late, in fact—but she's always felt it's important to be thorough when completing tasks.

***

ii.

It's rainy and gross, the weather just cold enough that it's unpleasant, but not so cold that the rain has turned into snow or sleet. Unfortunately, it's a Thursday.

When Diana's alarm goes off, she groans, and sticks her head under a pillow, and then pulls the duvet over them both.

"Play hooky with me," Steve says sleepily from next to her.  

"I cannot just skip work."

"And how many sick days do you have accrued?" asks Steve, who knows perfectly well that the number is high, because Diana doesn't get sick the way mortals do.

Diana mumbles something from under the pillow.

"What was that?"

"...a lot," she says, grudgingly. "But that would be lying; I'm not sick."

"Mental health days are a thing now," reasons Steve. "And how many projects are due today?"

"You know perfectly well there's nothing big until next Wednesday."

Steve burrows under the duvet, so that they're face to face and hidden from the outside world.

"Are we going to do anything productive?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Yes, I suppose that does sound nice."

"Excellent! I lie for a living. I'll telephone both our jobs."

Steve gets up, and Diana rolls into the warm spot he left behind. She can hear the soft murmur of his voice though the wall, and five minutes later he's slipping back into bed, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"All set."

She snuggles into him, and they fall back to sleep to the patter of the rain.

*

When Diana wakes up the second time, it's raining harder still, but there's the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Steve's sitting up, still in pajamas, reading.

She must've been more tired than she thought, because it's rare that Steve wakes up first.

Diana blinks back the sleep in her eyes and takes a moment to appreciate the picture Steve paints, with his tousled hair and reading glasses. He looks soft and sleepy and perfect, and suddenly she's extremely glad he convinced her to take the day off.  

Steve glances over at her, and looks mildly surprised to find she's awake.

He bookmarks his page with care, and then leans over and grabs a steaming mug that was outside her line of vision, offering it to her.

"I did not even hear you get up to make coffee."

"You clearly needed the sleep," Steve says.

"Maybe." Diana sighs, "I suppose I should not lay in bed all day."

"Then I've got just the thing."  He offers her a hand, and she lets him lead her out of the bedroom.

In their living room, instead of the normal furniture configuration, there's a glowing mass of sheets. It seems that Steve has taken it upon himself to make a blanket fort, and has decorated it with a string of lights he must have found at the back of the closet. She really can't believe she slept through this.

"You have been looking at Pinterest again, haven't you?"

"No comment."

"It's lovely."

"There's nothing inside, yet. I thought we could do that bit together."

It's perfect, so she says so.

They pull some cushions off the couch and drag their duvet in too, and all of a sudden, the blanket fort is complete and they have a wonderful little rainy-day nest.

"Breakfast in blanket fort?"

She bites her lip and nods. "But in a minute," she adds, catching his hand in hers before he can move away, and for a moment, they lay on their backs, enjoying the flickering lights.

***

iii.

Diana walks into a massacre.

"What happened here?" Deep red stains cover half the visible surfaces.

Steve looks up, guiltily.

"I spilled cold water on one of the hot jars, and it exploded."

"So just to confirm, none of it is your blood?"

"It's one hundred percent cherry preserves."

Diana breathes a sigh of relief. "That is far easier to fix," she says, slipping her arms around his waist from the back and swooping in to kiss his cheek.

Steve spins in her arms to face her. "It was a rookie mistake. With the amount of jam I've made in my lives, it should never have happened."

Diana sweeps a bit of the exploded cherry preserve off of his cheek with her thumb, and then ducks out of his hold to taste it.

"It is excellent."

Steve grins affably, and rinses both his hands and the rag he's holding. "Good, there are a dozen more jars of it cooling in the dining room."

"Only a dozen?" asks Diana in genuine surprise, because Steve has been known to go a little overboard when it comes to making jams.

"Plus a dozen each of raspberry and blueberry preserves."

"Ahh," she says, nodding. That makes a great deal more sense.

"I already cleaned up the glass, and was going to wipe everything down and start on the peaches. Care to join me?"

Diana knows next to nothing about canning and preserving and jellying, but she missed it last year when the Justice League called her out of town unexpectedly. There's no way she's missing it again this year.

"Tell me where to start," she says, smiling.

"With clothes you don't mind getting dirty, for one. As I've clearly demonstrated," Steve jokes, gesturing at his aproned (and sticky) body.  

Diana glances down at her several-hundred euro suit, and then makes for the bedroom. "I'll only be a moment."

"I've got nothing but time!" Steve calls after her, jovially.

When she comes back out—now dressed in an ancient t-shirt that she's stolen back from Steve (after he stole it from her last year) and jeans so soft they're practically threadbare—she pauses in the doorframe, watching Steve. He's mostly mopped up the cherry preserves, and he's humming as he towels up the bit that somehow managed to get on the backsplash.

He's probably been at this for hours, and despite the mishap, he's still in an excellent mood. It makes her smile softly.

He catches her eye just as he hits the chorus of the soft '80s song he's singing, and he pulls her behind the island and spins her around. She laughs and plays along, and they rock back and forth a few times, Diana joining him on the last chorus as he hands her an apron.

"If you want to start pitting the peaches, I'll finish cleaning the pot."

They chat about their days as they work (Diana gets a play-by-play of the events leading up to the exploding jar, and Steve gets a run-down on the passive-aggressive email war she's having with the British Museum), and eventually Steve comes over to help her pit and cut the fruit.

Once everything has been dumped into the large copper jam pot, they turn up the radio and dance around the kitchen to old music, stirring intermittently until the peach compote has simmered down and thickened enough that it's time to jar and let it set.

"That was fun," Diana says, as they finish the washing up. Their dining room table has been completely overtaken by jams and preserves cooling in quaint-looking Mason jars, but it's worth it.

"I'm hoping to make elderberry jam still this year, and apple jelly in the late autumn, if you'd like to join me," Steve says, a dish-towel flung over his shoulder. (It's very cute.)

"It's a date," Diana declares, and she sees his eyes flick to her lips.

A second later, their lips meet, slow and languid, and Diana sighs into the kiss. Steve's lips taste vaguely sweet, a little like the peach jam they'd swiped samples of while they worked, and hers probably do too.

If Steve's lucky, he might be able to steal the t-shirt back yet this evening.

***

iv.

There's tittering outside her office, which—if Diana had been paying attention—would've tipped her off twenty minutes ago to the fact that Steve is here. Her interns are a bit of a gossipy bunch this year, and they've all taken a shine to Steve. (Apparently he's the most interesting thing to happen to the office, and the presence of the seemingly straight-laced Mme. Prince's charming significant other is always cause for news in a way little else is.)

As it happens, she's in the middle of updating the care manuals for several artifacts that are about to be going on loan, and misses all the signs until there's a distinctive tap on her door, and Steve lets himself in.

She's always pleased to see him, and doubly so since he's been away for the past ten days on a mission with ARGUS.

"Hello, my love," she says, and leans forward over the desk to give him a quick kiss, before returning to her paper.

A moment later, she looks up, doing a spectacular double take. "You are home early!" exclaims Diana, moving out from behind her desk to give him a proper hug and another kiss.

Steve laughs, and kisses her a third time, on the nose.

"We were in and out without any loose ends to take care of. It went as smoothly as could be expected."

"I'm glad you're home."

"Me too. Care to celebrate with a quick dinner?"

Diana sighs. "I would love to, but these need to be sent out early tomorrow morning."

"Oh, come on. You need to eat at some point. Besides," says Steve. "I've still got the time dilator we found on mission if you need to get the reports done later."

"Steve," she scolds, although there's very little heat to it. "You are not considering used banned tech just for a little extra time with me tonight."

"To have dinner with you at a reasonable hour? I absolutely am." He looks at her imploringly. "We'll just slip out to the little Thai place you love and be back in an hour or two."

Diana has known she was going to give in from the moment he suggested it, but she still scrunches her face a little. "Oh, all right." Steve's victorious smile is actually adorable, and they pass a lovely couple of hours catching up on the last few days.

They get back to her office around 21h00, and instead of leaving, Steve pulls out his laptop.

"You don't have to," Diana protests. "It's late."

Steve just shrugs. "I need to work on my mission report anyways."

Diana acquiesces, simply because she's not-so-secretly pleased to have the company.

(They only have to use the time dilator once.)

Later, after Diana has everything squared away, they decide to walk home, despite the distance and the hour.

They amble along the Seine, arm in arm. The soft light of Paris never gets old, especially the way the hazy reflections ripple in the river. For all the madness of the afternoon, it's been a good day. Diana leans her head on Steve's shoulder, and they stroll on.

***

v.

Midway through her diatribe, Diana flops down in front of him, and leans against his legs, seeking comfort in her frustration. Steve's hands immediately find her hair, and he gently starts rubbing circles into her scalp as she continues the impassioned rant that began a while ago in the kitchen, "—and it is infuriating, because it is not my department, you understand? The only recourse is to file an official complaint, but that could take ages and ages and until then, they are using an outdated method that could potentially cause lasting damage to the artifacts!"

Steve hums sympathetically when Diana pauses to take a sip (well, a swig) of wine, and he splits a bit of her hair to start braiding as she adds, "These are pieces of cultural history, Steve. They should be treated with the utmost respect so that they last for generations to come to tell our history, and instead Michel is going to keep using a compound that will eventually compromise the integrity of the color!"

Steve knows there's a lot of complicated inter-departmental politics and squabbles that mean there's no good way to address the problem.

"—and the way he treats Sophie!" Diana huffs, a clear indication that they're back to Michel—a frequent source of frustration—but on a personal note this time.

"Hair tie," interjects Steve, and without missing a beat, she flicks one off her wrist and hands it to him so he can finish off the braid neatly.  

"It is disgusting, and she does not wish to file a complaint, which I understand is her choice, but it still makes me cringe. I wish he would try it on me, because I would break his—"

Diana's phone pings, cutting her off, and she sags against Steve.  

"You know you can keep going," Steve says, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice, because the content of the rant isn't funny, but the situation is. Several weeks ago, they'd decided to try cutting back on work talk in an effort to keep a healthier work-/home-life balance, and almost invariably, one of them blows through the artificially-imposed time limit. (For reference, Diana holds more blow-throughs, but it was him yesterday, and the day before.) "You don't actually have to stop just because the timer went off."

"It was my idea," Diana says ruefully, running her hand down the tight French braid, subconsciously checking it, "and I still maintain it is a good plan, I am just—"

"Very passionate about things you perceive to be injustices, big or small, yeah, I know," Steve grins. This isn't anything new.

Diana twists around to face him, and rolls her eyes at his expression. "You love me for it."

"Yeah, I do," says Steve, still smiling.

Diana sighs. "The conversation will still be here tomorrow, and I will probably still be annoyed. There is little use in continuing now."

"Unless you want to rant," Steve points out. "That's valid."

"I do, but it will not actually make me feel better. It is not cathartic if it just makes me angrier," says Diana. "Best to step away."

"Want me to set up a bath?"

"No, just come cuddle with me in bed."

"I'll never say no to that."

"Yes, but you have to be the big spoon this time," Diana says.

"I still won't say no, even if little spoon is by far the superior of the two."

Her ensuing laugh rings through the apartment, and her hand skims along the plait again.

"Almost as good as Selene's," she muses, and Steve takes it as the compliment that it is: Selene is an Amazon friend known for the intricacy and skill of her braiding techniques.

*

"Okay, one good thing about today?" prompts Steve, once they're curled up in bed. They've begun making it a habit to practice gratefulness each evening before bed. Steve read about it in a mindfulness book, and when he'd mentioned it offhandedly, Diana had immediately been on board. "Other than the fact that it's over," he adds, seeing the look on Diana's face.

"You," says Diana, reflexively.

"You say that every night," laughs Steve.

"It does not stop being true."  

"I think it's supposed to be something different, each time. To accumulate things you're grateful for."

Diana grumbles, but does pause to come up with something else. "The magnolia trees I pass on my walk to work," she says, finally. "They are in bloom right now, and they brighten my day."

If Steve could answer you, or even say the little smile on Diana's face as she speaks, without sounding like a hypocrite, he would. "I found a little patisserie up by the Bastille that has these lovely little raspberry pastries."

"Mmmm," says Diana, smiling. "You do love raspberries." Then, after a pause, in a softer voice: "The fact that I get to take little things for granted, now, and pretend I do not have to specify the little things for which I am grateful. I know I am not supposed to say you, but I am grateful that you are holding me now."

They talk drowsily for a bit, but soon succumb to sleep.

*

Here's the thing.

It's Steve's personal policy to never lie to Diana. That's, like, a pretty basic relationship foundation thing, and it's not something he's ever had trouble with.

But there's one white lie that he doesn't suspect he'll ever come clean about: despite what he tells Diana, he doesn't actually think being little spoon is better than being big spoon.

He likes to hold her, likes getting to nose at her neck and loop his arm around her waist. (Big spoon is also less prone to overheating, which does happen sometimes.)

But Steve also knows that Diana sleeps better as big spoon, that being able to physically hold on to him in her sleep is comforting, a balm after years of night terrors and bad dreams and waking up to empty sheets. It's a small price to pay, in the end, knowing that him being the little spoon makes her happy.

It's a secret he'll take with him to the grave.

*

Steve wakes up in the dead of night, the shadows still long over the bed, the ambient light from Paris's streetlamps a soft glow along the bottom of the windows. It's the foggy sort of waking that means it'll be easy to slip back under, a mere footnote in the night. Just before he drifts off again, he notices that he's now the little spoon. He sighs contentedly, smiles, and falls back asleep.

#wondertrev #wondertrevbingo2020 #wondertrev fanfic #wondertrev fic #diana x steve #steve x diana #fluff #pure fluff #steve just loves diana so much #just quarantine things #lenci writes

[kirayun]

The Journey Of Destiny (Eng Version) - S1E00: Prologue

(This is the version translated with Google Translate of my fic in Italian. And just an attempt to see if posting in dual language can work. Let me know if for those who read in English it is understandable or is it better if I leave it alone, do not worry about tell me.)

AO3 Link

Summary: "Billions of dollars of equipment at your disposal, and I beat you with a laptop that I won in a bet?"

In a similar universe, but at the same time different, the meeting in advance of two destined souls changes the unfolding of events forever. 

The cell phone alarm woke her from sleep, her eyes opened in the darkness of the van and one arm reached out to light the lamp so as to illuminate the tiny space on wheels where the girl lived.

For Skye a new day had begun, a day she would normally use to take a step closer to her goal, her constant pursuit, research that was now hampered by the empty space between her electronic equipment where she normally kept her computer. Just yesterday the laptop had abandoned her forever, deciding to die beyond repair.

After a last look and a sigh, Skye got up to begin her usual morning routine.

.

Skye came out of the diner's employees' bathroom next to the alley where she used to park the van, she had an agreement with the elderly owner couple that allowed Skye to use it to freshen up in exchange for her help in advertising the place on the internet and social media.

She nodded to the clerk behind the counter, a short red-haired young girl under twenty, although she couldn't see him because she was busy with the coffee machine

"Hey Grace"

The waitress, Grace, looked around and smiled at the sight of who had called her

"Skye hello, the usual?"

"Sure, you know how I like it," she said ambiguously and adding a wink, knowing it would provoke a reaction in the younger girl.

Grace's reaction was as expected: flush in her cheeks and she stumbled backwards slightly bumping a jug of coffee that nearly fell off the shelf behind her. "Skye!"

A small laugh went out from the hacker. "You know I only make fun of you."  

A nod from the redhead confirmed his statement. "Sure, sure, but in the meantime you almost made me break a jug ... again!" She made the point by waving the object that had nearly been destroyed in front of her.

After another little laugh from Skye, things resumed normally. She hadn't lied that his behavior was just to tease her, in fact, despite her bisexuality and her penchant for pretty, innocent-looking girls, the younger redhead was almost like a younger sister to her. Ever since she started going to the diner, the two had empathized with their similar family background, not knowing where you really come from and who your parents were.

The only difference was that as much as Grace accepted the life she now had and moved on with it, Skye couldn't do the same and was determined to find the answers she sought.

If only his computer had not dumped

.

Jemma Simmons walked along the sidewalk with her laptop bag over her shoulder and her cell phone to her ear.

"Mom I told you, I'm just waiting for Fitz and me to be assigned to the new job, Agent Weaver assured me it will be high profile but it still takes some time before it's ready."

As she continued to advance the girl noticed a small diner, an ideal place where she could stop and try to solve the problem that had arisen the night before.

"Look, I have to leave you…," she listened for a moment. "Yes, I love you too, and tell me ..." But she was interrupted by a man in a hurry who bumped into her and who continued to advance without even looking back.

After glancing disapprovingly at the direction where the man had gone, she put the phone back to her ear hearing her mother's voice asking if she was still on the line. "Yes, sorry ... yes, everything is fine ... yes I'll call you soon ...," and after a last goodbye the call ended and she walked into the diner.

.

Jemma had sat at a small table against one of the windows and was trying to solve something on the laptop while she was sipping the tea she had ordered earlier. She was thinking of having something to eat, but she wanted to fix this first.

The counter was behind her but she could hear the red-haired waitress, Grace if she remembered her nameplate correctly, jokingly arguing with another girl named Skye. Out of curiosity she was about to turn her head to see the scene when a large error message appears on the computer.

“No, no! Don't do this to me… ”But nothing, as she typed in several commands, the machine didn't respond.

All this attracted the attention of Skye who seeing the laptop and the girl from the back decided to get up from the counter and approach her table. "Any problems with the computer?" She asked and waited for the other girl to notice her.

When Jemma looked up at the new voice, she and Skye met eyes for the first time and for a moment everything seemed to stop. Both girls momentarily forgot what they were doing there or even who they were, too busy examining who they were in front of and the particular and invisible energy that a single glance had created between them. It didn't feel like a look from two strangers, it was as if they had always known each other and were just re-meeting after a very long time. Neither of the girls, however, had processed all this in their mind, it was more an unconscious feeling hidden inside them.    

After a few seconds, Jemma's brain finally processed the question. "What? ..." she was the first to recover from that strange feeling that was soon forgotten by both of them and that brought them back to the present. "... Oh yeah, and since last night he's been giving me trouble and today he seems to be totally crazy opening a bunch of random stuff at once and not responding to any commands I give him which is really weird because he's new and just for I use it for work but I didn't even have time to do anything about it because it immediately created problems, by now I have resigned myself to the fact that it must have some manufacturing defect and that I will have to change it. " She said it all at once and so quickly with even a few hand gestures that Skye couldn't help but find the lovely thing, that accent then…

Skye glanced at the screen as she ducked a little toward it. "Trust me, I know something about computers ditching you, mine just melted a few days ago ... but yours doesn't seem hopeless ...," she raised her posture and pointed to where the other girl was sitting. "I can? I'm Skye anyway. " Taking advantage of the moment also to introduce yourself.

Jemma understood the meaning of the question, nodded affirmatively and moved over the bench, letting Skye sit next to her. After all, what did it cost to let this girl give it a try? She knew that SHIELD would pay her another without a problem, part of her benefits as a scientist was the ability to have various equipment put on the expense account. And if while observing yet another failure to save him she was stirred inside by the close presence of this girl ... well Jemma certainly wouldn't have objected. "Jemma, and I don't think you're going to get anything out of him." By now she had already given up anyway.

Skye turned her head to Jemma looking into her eyes again. “So little confidence in my abilities ?,” she said using a slightly softer voice but not over the top.

"I don't know you, I can't know what your abilities are." Jemma replied with a smirk and a little playful voice, without even realizing the subtle flirtation the two had started.

"Yet you did not hesitate to immediately assume that I would fail." Skye said in the same tone as the other girl.

"I wasn't underestimating your possible computer skills, I'm just stating the facts based on the evidence I've been subjected to in the last fourteen hours." Jemma was trying to use logic in this "discussion". It was no longer about the computer, but who would have the last word on the other first.

Skye, sensing a slight hint of defiance in Jemma's argument, decided she definitely needed to impress the girl while at the same time keeping her hacker ego high. She brought her face a little closer to her. "Do you bet I can fix it?" His tone was doubtless defiant now.

Jemma didn't pull back and fold her arms as if to affirm it. “Let's do this, you said yours broke a few days ago right? If by a miracle you manage to make it work properly you can keep it, as I said so much it's new and I haven't put anything personal on it yet. "

Skye raised an eyebrow at this. "What if I don't succeed?"

"Then you buy me breakfast." Jemma answered without hesitation. At least she could get a meal with Skye and the morning wouldn't be ruined by the laptop disaster.

"This sounds like a win either way to me." Again the flirtation had made its appearance and to increase it all she even gave a wink.

Taken aback by the sudden audacity, Jemma looked down and blushed. The two remained in their positions for a few seconds, until Skye stopped looking at her and focused again on the laptop.

So for the next few minutes the young hacker did her magic and the biochemist watched her sipping her tea. For Jemma there was something special about this girl she had just met, she didn't know why, but she felt that today something had changed. She did not know what, in what quantity and how this would affect her from now on, she only knew that the meeting with Skye had shifted the axis of her life in an unpredictable way and she was curious what this would bring. The logical part of her brain, which was the one she usually used, said that it was a bit of an exaggeration to think so of a person with whom she had just exchanged a few words and who was now trying to solve her laptop, a laptop that moreover she had promised as part of the bet. But this time Jemma couldn't listen to that logical part of her, too busy with these new sensations. Nor was the "girl" part the problem since she never hid her bisexuality from anyone.

"Done! Like New!"

Skye's sudden voice roused Jemma from her thoughts, and once she understood what she had said, she moved the laptop towards her and stared at the screen. And indeed the computer now seemed to be back in place, the desktop in front of her was normal, and after a few tests, she could confirm that the device was responding to every command she gave it. "How did you do that?!" Jemma was not ignorant on the subject, you don't get two doctorates at a very young age without using computers, let alone having attended the Academy of Science and Technology at SHIELD, and yes perhaps this would have been more subject for the Academy of Communications, but she could say she could manage a little and recognize when a case was lost. But Skye had managed to solve everything in a few minutes.

"Secrets of the trade." These words and a small shrug were Skye's only response, along with a satisfied smirk that wouldn't leave his lips.

Jemma smiled along with her, and after looking at the laptop one last time, she closed it and lifted it with one hand to give it to Skye "Well, so now this is yours"

"Wait, were you serious ?!" Honestly, when Jemma told Skye the stakes, she didn't think she would actually have her laptop if she fixed it. Who does it with a stranger ?!

"Absolutely, a bet is a bet, and then my job will pay me a new one without any problems, it's part of my benefits." Jemma said with conviction.

"But won't they want the old one to check?" It couldn't be that simple.

“I will say that it ended up under a car and that there were only so many pieces left to throw away. Quiet I'm a pretty respected girl in my work area, I'm not usually the "Bad Girl Shenanigans" type. " The advantage of being a girl who usually never breaks the rules is doing what is expected of her, but spending time with Skye kept making her question a lot of things. Jemma handed the laptop to the girl once more, hoping that she would finally take her winnings.

Skye eventually gave up and accepted it, not believing her luck: she had met a beautiful girl and won a new laptop that only needed a quick reprogramming, or at least quick as far as her personal computer skills are concerned.

Once again the two girls were staring at each other, trying to figure out what they should be saying now, but then Jemma glanced at the diner's wall clock and revived all at once. “I didn't realize it was so late! My best friend is waiting for me! " She was due to meet with Fitz very soon. She stood up and quickly gathered her things, minus the laptop of course, "can you ..." she waved her hand to the fact that being seated next to her could not leave the table.

Skye, who had been immobilized by this sudden turn of events, realized the request. "Uh, sure ..." she got up to let her pass, still wondering how it was all ending so quickly.

Once clear of the table and leaving the money for the waitress, Jemma looked at Skye. "Sorry but I really have to go, my friend will kill me if I'm late, we have this dendrotoxin project and soon we'll be called back to our work ...," she quickly realized that the other girl looked confused about that. who had just said, "... sorry, forget it, big words from a scientist." The smile Skye gave in return made her smile too. "So I'm going ..." And after a last hesitation, she headed for the exit of the diner.

Skye finally recovered and ran to join Jemma who was now on the sidewalk outside the diner looking for a Taxi. "Jemma wait ... and what about that breakfast?" She asked trying on one last note of flirtation.

As the Taxi arrived, the biochemist turned to her. “You won the bet, didn't you? You'll have to settle for the laptop and wait for the next time. ”The big smile on Jemma's face confirmed it all.

"Look, I'm counting on it!" Today it seemed that neither of the girls ever stopped smiling at each other.

Jemma nodded and after having a final look at the other girl got into the Taxì, leaving a few seconds later.

Skye stood there staring until the car was out of sight, then returned to the diner. Only once inside did she realize something… they hadn't exchanged phone numbers! She immediately ran to the table with her new laptop hoping Jemma was lying when she said she hadn't put anything personal in it yet, but unfortunately for her after a few minutes she realized that in fact there was really no information that would allow her to track it down. Skye didn't even know her last name! This was an absolute disaster for her, far worse than how she had felt when she woke up without a computer to work on.

Grace, seeing her agitation, approached her. "Are you all right Skye?" Asked the young waitress.

Skye shook her head and looked up at her friend "I feel like I just missed the chance of a lifetime ..."

Grace, who had been watching Skye and the English girl interact the whole time, immediately understood what she meant. "Well you know ... if it is meant to be I'm sure that in some you will be able to meet her again, who knows, life always has a way to surprise you, you'll see," also adding an encouraging smile.

As the redhead got back to work, Skye stared out of the diner window reflecting on her words and the entire encounter with Jemma. Even though she didn't have the same confidence as Grace, just looking at how long she still looked for where she came from and who her parents were, she had the feeling that something really special had happened today and maybe this wouldn't be the only time. she would see Jemma.

But for now she no longer had time for these thoughts, or rather, she had other people to look for. And thanks to her new laptop, she could get back to work to attract the attention of a certain secret organization…

The End... or not?

What do you think? Should I continue? Is the translated version understandable and legible or should I leave it alone and limit myself to those in Italian? Don't worry to be honest, I prefer to know right away if it works or not.

#skimmons #bioquake #Daisy Johnson #jemma simmons #agents of shield

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 32

Catch up on AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

The train was pretty crowded with people commuting into the city. I can't imagine spending three hours going back and forth to work every day. But right now, I thought an hour and a half with headphones sounded ideal. Processing didn't feel like the right word. I usually think of processing as something you do to deal with a negative or incorporate some insight you just had. Emma certainly wasn't a negative. But I guess process is the right word. A lot had happened in the last four days.

About fifteen minutes out of town my text alert went off. Emma sent me a picture of her in her classroom in front of a bunch of words. I doubt her pointing at baby, boy, and blue was accidental. I sent back the first thought that came to my mind, "Damn."

Next thing I knew I was at my station. I had not processed shit. I'd sat staring at her picture while my music played. Maybe that was processing?

I ducked into a shop to buy a bottle of water before hitting the gym. I was the last to arrive. I was going to get shit for this.

"Mr. Stan, glad you could join us."

Len looked at Don," Leave him alone. He slept in."

"I've been up since five-thirty, but thanks for the support." I dropped my bag close to the wall, "Got a train back from Beacon at seven."

Jackson crinkled up his face, "What's in Beacon?"

"Parents moved there. I was helping them unpack."

I must have smiled or something because Brad jumped on me, "I don't think that’s all you were doing."

I could feel my cheeks turning red. I joined them stretching out. "I did meet a woman"

There was a chorus of, "Oh yeah", from the four other men.

"Don't be like that," I admonished. "I haven't had a real date in forever."

George laughed, "We know. You'd given up."

I laughed too. I'd forgotten about that conversation. It had been George's twentieth anniversary and I'd commented I'd given up getting a date, forget about getting married. "I guess I was too hasty with giving up."

Len put his hands behind his head and thrust his hips, "If you're rusty and need some tips just let me know."

I covered my eyes with my hands, "Thanks, but I’m doing fine."

Hours later I walked into my apartment. Fuck, was I tired. Hadn't gotten much sleep the last couple of days. I smiled thinking about why. Checking out the picture on my phone again, I headed upstairs to shower. I wanted her face. I asked for a closer picture, put my phone on the charger, and hit the shower. Still wet, I fell face down on my bed and was out, not waking up until my manager called. We were going to have dinner tonight. I hung up and I saw I had a text. I closed my eyes and said, “Please."

The look on Emma's face in the picture was sweet with a touch of sexy. Her smile showed off her single dimple, but the slight quirk of her lip was like she had a secret. If I kept thinking about that I was going to get hard.

I was surprised when she responded to my text. It was a short conversation. I like how she'd brought up skipping past the when is it ok to call or text part. I suck at that shit. I think everyone does except assholes who like games. I don't have the time or inclination to figure out if I’ve waited long enough to contact someone. What happens is I'm waiting for the appropriate time, something happens, and I’m outside the window. Which, oddly enough, is exactly what happened with me trying to kiss Emma.

While I say I suck at this shit, I don't suck at all of it. Honestly, I'm a good date. I'm attentive and can be romantic. I like romance. I like how Emma and I started. The touching and talking were refreshing. It was like time stopped. There was nothing but she and I getting to know each other. I know that's not completely true. There were bumps and anxious moments, but that's part of it, part of life. I like how I felt as we maneuvered the bumps. I didn't feel alone. Feeling anxious feels alone. It feels like stuck in your head and you don't want to let the thoughts turn into words because it makes it real. If you don't say it out loud it’s not real. Good and bad with that. If it's not real, it's not real, but if you don't say it out loud no one can help. That’s a double-edged sword too. People think they're helping when they flood you with reasons you shouldn't feel how you do. If only anxiety disappeared with logic. Some people understand, some even know how to help. Then some people use it against you. I’ve known all three types. Even fell in love with the worst type.

The point of all that is to say Emma made it better. Without a pause she did the thing, said the thing, to make it better. By itself, not such a big deal, but when you combine it with everything else. She's smart, beautiful, fun, articulate, kind, sexy, and she makes me feel good. I feel like I've hit some kind of fucking jackpot.

There is an assumption that being famous is a sex buffet. Yes and no. Do you get offered anything you want and a few things you don't? Yes. I got talked into going with several of the Marvel guys to Vegas. I'd heard the stories. There were places one could have no strings sex and little to no risk of anyone talking. I'm not talking about brothels. I mean clubs frequented by locals who knew how to keep secrets. More than one of the guys had "usuals". There is money involved, but it's for discretion, not sex. Yeah, I know. I don't see the difference either. I went, but wound up out of my mind drunk with the faithfully married men. Wasn’t for me. Honestly, I got laid much more in college and the early years. Because once people knew who I was and the offers started I never knew if they wanted me, a story, a name crossed off their "to do" list, a photo op, or were a gold digger. Not that I had any money back then. When you’re shooting somewhere you're not running around fucking locals because you’re busy. And tired. I get up about two hours before call time, so I'm a human being before I get to set. What I'm saying is it's complicated and not easy. A buffet would be easy.

I'm more of a serial monogamist. I like relationships. I like being part of a couple. There are dry spells. There are dates with sex. And there are dry spells. Most recently there's been a friend with benefits. She picked today to call. After the texts with Emma, but before dinner with my manager. We haven't seen each other in, I don't remember exactly, three or four months. It's been a while. Dry spell. Thankfully, this arrangement was not complicated so when I told her I was seeing someone she was happy for me.

The dinner meeting with my manager, Emily, went well. I stayed focused despite the little part of my brain that stayed acutely aware of the time. Volleyball practice was over at nine. Theoretically. It’s a bar league and timing might be loose. She has work in the morning. Probably won't be too late. I should probably stop thinking. If she can't talk she won't answer. Just like all day today when we texted when we could. You know, like functional adults.

Sebastian ~ You home?

Emma ~ Yep

I hit call and waited to hear her voice. "No, no, no."

Click.

Not what I was expecting. I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it like it was a foreign object. FaceTime popped up. Oh, okay. I answered and her face filled my screen, "Hey."

Emma smiled, "I'd much rather see you than only hear you."

"This is better." Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was without makeup. She looked like the day we met. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." She laid her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders, "Why'd you think I wanted FaceTime?"

I pulled my eyebrows down and pursed my lips, "So I could tell you I think you're beautiful?"

Emma shook her head with a grin, "Because I wanted to see your handsome face."

"Thank you." I inclined my head slightly. "How was practice?"

"Brutal." She laughed. "Sand absolutely everywhere. I miss gym floors and shoes. A lot of drills and some three on three."

"Keep going." I liked listening to her talk. She went into more detail while I listened and watched her facial expressions. She was animated with small movements that brought her words to life. I was especially aware of the quirk of her mouth. I was missing her hands and how they talked as much as her words.

"And how was your morning at the gym?"

I raised a hand, palm up, "Didn't you see my Instagram post?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." I had posted a picture of the group with me lying face down. "You looked tired."

"It was a heavy weight day." I entertained her with some of the day’s antics. The comradery made it less exhausting. We worked hard and we laughed often. "I took a nap before dinner with Emily."

"How'd that go?"

"Good." I nodded. "We've worked together for over twenty years now. I start filming in Rome end of July."

"That will be warm."

"Yeah, it will be. June will be the longest I've been home for a long time."

"Lucky for me."

"When's school out?" I was making plans. Pretty global and unstructured, but plan.

"We have through next week to finish up with work. Then it's fun and games. Celebrations of art and music to show off the projects we've worked on but haven’t sent home. Then there’s a day of outside athletic stuff. Relays, three-legged races, carrying eggs, tug of war. All sorts of things to celebrate sending our fifth graders away and the others flying up a grade.  All three weeks away. School ends on Wednesday. Closing ceremony for staff Thursday. Then Friday I am going home to Alpharetta for a few days. then back to do some curriculum work."

"I thought it was summers off." I was a little disappointed. I, like many, assumed teachers were really off during the summer. This wasn’t working with my as yet unmade plans.

"Depends on what’s going on. The last winter we had so many kids out with flu and an ice storm closed school. We decided we wanted to have options like video lessons on YouTube or Google Classroom. Right before school started, we got our curriculum cleaned up. Figuring out what are the necessary things we need to make sure we teach. Then over the school year we've been recording lessons.  After faculty meetings, we’ve spent time organizing them. This summer we just have to finalize and work with IT do develop the web site."

"Wow, sounds like a huge undertaking."

"It has been, but it will be so helpful if a student is out for them to be able to see the lesson that goes along with their makeup work."

"Are all the grades doing this?"

"Eventually. First and third did this year. We’ll help them to learn from our mistakes."

I got an idea, "Does that mean I can watch videos of you teaching?"

She laughed, "If I enroll you in my class. You'd want to watch that?"

"Maybe. I mean you like watching me do my job."

"Ah, Sebastian. Leveraging a movie to be able to see me teach.”

"I'm not going to promise I'll be in class every day. Never was. But I'd like to see what you do? Someday you'll go on set with me and see how boring most of it is." What did I just say? I’m not shooting anything for almost two months. How very optimistic of me.

"Well, there's an offer I can't refuse."

Good answer. "I've got a photo shoot in a couple of weeks. I think it’s the same week you're going home."

"Ooo, where are you going?" Her face lit up with excitement.

"Toronto. It's promo stuff for the film festival."

"I feel like I should know what you have showing there."

I wanted to reach out and wipe away the annoyed curve of her lips. There was no way she could know unless she was poking around the internet. I liked that she wasn't. "I'll catch you up. It’s a love triangle kind of thing. I'm the bad choice." I told her about filming, how much was improv, and the basic plot. She asked questions to clarify and I enjoyed explaining. I never felt like I was being interviewed. Emma wanted to learn about me.

With the conversation, I'd lost track of time. Again. When I glanced at the clock it was much later than I'd thought. I ran my fingers through my hair, "It's like our first date all over again. Talking for hours."

She smiled, "Its a theme for us. I hate to, but I need to go to bed."

"Believe it or not I’d planned on watching the time, so we could both get some sleep. I, at least, took to a nap." We shared a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"OK. Good night, Sebastian."

"Night, Emma" She disappeared from my screen and I wasn't very happy. I wanted to keep talking, to keep seeing her expressions. Her green eyes weren't as vibrant on FaceTime, but my memory could fill in the details.

Wednesday was text free and my phone rang at three-thirty. "The children were horrible today."

The exasperated look on her face made me smile, "Could it be their teacher was extra tired today?"

She huffed out a breath, "It’s possible.” Her lips turned to a smile, "Wouldn't change a thing."

"What do horrible children do?"

"Tommy used his folders as frisbees. Annabelle and Brooklyn gave each other tattoos during recess with Sharpies. No one could sit still for lessons or story time. And finally, Marta threw up all over the table and we had to evacuate the room until the custodian got it cleaned up. Room smelled like vomit and Glade the rest of the day."

I had been cringing since the tattoos. "Sorry about the definitely bad day."

Emma nodded, "What did you do today?"

Not much. "Um, long run this morning. Lighter weights today. More core and flexibility. Picked up some Thai food on the way home. Took a shower. Then I started reading a book on female spy units. You called. Now, I’m mostly trying to figure out a way to climb through the internet so I can kiss you. We've still got some catching up to do.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

[nihilnovisubsole]

Honeeeeey, I just finished A Curious Case of Miracles, talk to me about Sabrael, that woman owns my whole fucking soul. I need an episodic spin of her busting balls through Heaven's cases (and being all buddy buddy with Aziraphale). Do you have details about her that you you had to leave out? Is there more Behind-The-Scenes stuff about her?? I need mooore

anon, i am so sorry. you opened the floodgates. i’ll put most of this under a cut because, well, oof. enjoy the brain purge!

in terms of sabrael’s visual design, i wanted her to look like the kind of woman a powerful businessman would seek out as a trophy girlfriend. impressive, but intimidating. tall. untouchable. graceful, but not warm. fashion choices that are a little too haute for the rest of us. i liked the precedent the show gave me with the angels’ suit designs, and i especially liked the color symbolism, so i gave her a limited palette. aziraphale wears a nice spectrum of white, brown, beige, cream, gold, and pale blue. sabrael wears white and gold. that’s it. she doesn’t allow herself anything else. but i also wanted to give her inklings of being different, so i decided to play with the costume team equating wings and lapels. i’ve mentioned the lapel thing before: sabrael’s huge, fluffy collar is overcompensating on a cosmic scale. she wants you to think she’s the most committed angel around. she doesn’t want you to entertain the idea that she may have questioned the great plan.

she also has a thing about swans, which, i have to admit, i didn’t go into with any meaning in mind. google tells me there are no particularly significant passages in the bible about swans or anything. i just knew that people think of swans as being beautiful, but mean, so i went for it.

the biggest thing i left out of the fic for lack of room is the backstory of sabrael’s relationship with gabriel. gabriel and sabrael are meant to be a foil to crowley and aziraphale. if you go with the fan theory that crowley fell for aziraphale as soon as he found out he’d given away the flaming sword, sabrael has probably admired gabriel about as long. they’ve both had to keep their relationships secret. nobody else has seen the yawning span of history the way they have, which is why aziraphale tells sabrael that crowley “understands.” sixty centuries is a long, lonely time to be around. you’ll only get real comfort from someone who knows what that’s like.

but where aziraphale and crowley have that sweet, earnest affection we love, gabriel and sabrael are a sleazy cocktail of office politics and lust. they’re both archangels, so gabriel is sabrael’s equal, but like, not really. nobody’s gabriel’s equal. he’s the golden boy with the nuclear codes. as funny as it is to treat him like don draper’s incompetent evil twin, he knows what he’s doing, and that makes him extremely dangerous. he’s just so used to the power that he’s become casual about it. of course everything he does is right! otherwise, he wouldn’t be him.

i’m not sure whether sabrael admired him too much to see his red flags, or she brushed them off and convinced herself he was better than that. either way, she fell in love with the gabriel we see in manuscripts and cathedrals - a gold and marble idol that’s nothing like who he really is.

then something happened on their trip to egypt in 1929 that made sabrael realize he wasn’t the angel she looked up to. on the one hand, once gabriel had been knocked off his pedestal, it made him accessible. she finally got what she’d been hoping for. but it also made him a broken shadow of the colleague she’d had in her head. and once he figured out that sabrael had grown soft on humankind and questioned the great plan, it came with a sour aftertaste of blackmail. i think gabriel had been sizing her up as a conquest for a while, and was thoroughly pleased with himself for bagging an angel of her rank. if he has any depth of feeling for her beyond that, i don’t know. maybe he doesn’t, either. it’s not like he’s, uh, self-aware.

earth is where aziraphale and crowley feel safe and at home. earth for gabriel and sabrael is a love hotel. he takes her there for off-the-clock indiscretions, and they both stroll back in on monday morning with their hair combed and their shirts starched. the fact that he knows she questioned the highest company policy hangs heavier and heavier over them the longer they go on. gabriel keeps expecting sabrael to get over the phase and step back in line, but she never does. the end result is a sticky maze of lies of omission and lurid honesty: they’re upfront about what they want from the physical side of relationship, but the minute sabrael can undermine him and help aziraphale, she does.

so on the outside, sabrael has everything she wants. she’s got her handsome, powerful boyfriend. she’s good at her job. her forbidden feelings about the great plan are - as far as she knows - safe. earth itself is safe! thanks to crowley, aziraphale, and the rest, the thing she feared most didn’t come to pass. but she’s not happy. she sees in crowley and aziraphale what she wants from gabriel and isn’t getting, and that hurts. so for probably the first time ever, she goes with her gut. she does the right thing instead of what will keep her professionally secure. she makes a friend and discovers forgiveness, and kindness with no strings attached, and the kind of warmth that heaven should be all about.

i think i’ve already confessed this to someone in an ao3 comment, so: i got about 4,500 words into a one-shot exploring this stuff. and then i set it aside, because i didn’t want to cast a pall over the loving, lighthearted tone i was going for with ‘a curious case of miracles.’ it’s not that there isn’t plenty of dark good omens fic, and i might think about it, and there’s a place for “hot and dysfunctional,” but… i don’t know. it doesn’t feel like it’s in the spirit of either canon or the first story. in the meantime, i assure you that crowley is off somewhere making fun of her to aziraphale over a drink or a plate of duck.

#good omens #good omens for ts #anon #asks #long post

[ericsonclan]

Meeting Clementine

Summary: Kenny convinces Lee to give adoption a chance and brings Clementine to meet him for the first time.

Read on A03:

“So, how are you and Duck doing?” Lee asked as he handed his friend Kenny a beer.

Kenny let out a long sigh, taking a swig of the drink before answering. “It’s been some fucking year. Katjaa’s been out of the hospital two weeks now, but it’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer than that for her to really bounce back,”

“She’s a fighter,” Lee took a sip from his own beer, looking round the bar. “She beat cancer; she can make it through the recovery,”

“I sure hope so. We almost lost her back there, Lee. Raising Duck on my own…” Kenny shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine it,” He glanced over at Lee, then looked down at the table. “I heard about you and Claudia. Sorry I couldn’t be there when all of that went down,”

Lee shook his head. “There was nothing that could’ve been done anyway. Claudia’s moved out… and I’m stuck in that big house we’d planned to start a family in. It’s a weird feeling, being in such a huge place all alone,”

Kenny looked like he was about to say something, but then a voice crackled over the microphone. “Alright folks, it’s time for Mueller’s weekly Trivia Night to begin!” Nick, the host, shielded his eyes from the lights as he looked out into the crowd. “Hey, I see we have some familiar faces back after a long time! Lee, Kenny, good to have you back!” There was a round of applause from those in the bar who also recognized them. The pair raised their beers appreciatively. Six years of attending Trivia Night at Mueller’s and they’d never missed a week of it until this last year from hell. With Katjaa in the hospital and Lee’s marriage collapsing around him, it just hadn’t seemed like a priority. Now that they were back though, it felt like life was finally returning to normal in some small way.

“Alright, first question,” the mic crackled again. “Independence Day was first established as a holiday by Congress in what year?”

Lee’s hand came down hard on the buzzer. “1870!”

“That is… correct!” Nick rang the little triangle that dangled from the mic stand while his partner Luke manned the whiteboard that tracked the points.

Lee pumped his fist in satisfaction. Civil War history was his forte, but anything within American history was a good bet for him. He had history and literature covered while Kenny had the sciences down pat.

“Liver!” Kenny called out in response to the question “what is the largest internal organ of the human body”. Another ding from the triangle, another correct answer.

Lee shook his head in good-natured disbelief, taking another drink from his beer. He’d asked Kenny back when they’d met how he remembered so much random knowledge and Kenny had shrugged it off, saying his brain was like some sort of sea sponge, soggy and absorbing everything round it. Now they were back in the proverbial ring and he was still as sharp as ever, hand poised beside the buzzer, ready to strike as soon as the next question was given.

Things progressed smoothly throughout the rest of the night. They didn’t end up sweeping Trivia Night as they had for several weeks in the past, but they’d accrued a respectable score, keeping things close between them and their main competitors while everyone else lagged behind. Now it was dark out though, time to pack things up and head home.

“Lee,” Kenny started, “Before you leave, there’s something I was meaning to talk about with you tonight. Should’ve brought it up earlier, but there just didn’t seem to be a good time,” Lee raised an eyebrow. “Go on. I’m listening,”

Kenny fidgeted nervously with his trucker cap. “I know that before things went south with you and Claudia, the two of you were considering adoption. I was wondering if that’s something you’d still be interested in,” He raised his hands up. “Now of course, if this ain’t a good time for you, you can tell me to fuck right off. But there’s this one girl I’ve been trying to find a good home for for years now, and I think you two might be a good fit. She’s not a bad kid or nothing, it’s just that life seems to like kicking her when she’s down. Figured you could relate,” Kenny had been the one Lee and Claudia had approached with thoughts of adoption back when things were going well. Given his job as a social worker, they knew he could help them through the intricacies of the adoption process. However, they’d been looking into getting a baby. Lee wasn’t sure if he could handle that on his own.

“How old is she?”

“Just turned fifteen,”

Now raising a teenager was another problem in itself. Lee saw that Kenny had noticed the indecision in his eyes.

“I know, I know, it’s not an easy age to start with. Hell, Duck’s the same age right now and some days I think he’s worse than when he was a toddler. But this girl’s special. Kat and I were seriously considering adopting her ourselves before we got news of the cancer. I just want her to have somewhere safe to grow up at least till she ages out of the system. But it doesn’t have to be you if you don’t want it,”

Lee pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What’s this girl’s name?”

“Clementine,”

---

It was about a week later when Lee found himself in his kitchen, anxiously looking out the window as he waited for Kenny to arrive with Clementine. He had decided to give this a shot. He trusted Kenny’s judgment enough for this girl to deserve that at the very least. Lee still wasn’t sure if he was cut out to be a teenager’s dad, but if Clementine was as special as Kenny seemed to believe, then just maybe this could work.

He set down his coffee mug as he saw Kenny’s truck pulling into the driveway. Stepping out to his front porch, he gave an awkward wave before walking forward to greet them. Kenny hopped out of the truck, giving Lee a quick hug and patting him firmly on the back.

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,”

Kenny nodded, motioning to the young girl who’d just stepped out of the car. “Lee, this is Clementine. Clementine, Lee. I’m gonna head out for a few hours, give you two some time to get to know each other, then I’ll be back to pick Clementine up. You good, kiddo?”

The girl nodded noncommittally, looking around the outside of the house with a sort of jaded boredom.

Lee cleared his throat awkwardly, extending an arm to the house. “Wanna come in? I just make a fresh pot of coffee,”

Clementine nodded, following without a word. The kitchen was immediately to the left of the entryway. As Clementine took a seat, Lee searched for another mug. “Sorry there’s not much décor around the house. My wife and I had just moved here back when we were planning to start a family, but, well, things happened and now it’s just me in this big ol’ place without a clue about interior design,” Way to go, Lee. Telling this kid about your history as a sad divorcee is a great way to kick things off.

Clementine simply nodded politely, taking the cup of coffee that was offered her. Lee had a fleeing panicked thought as he wondered whether it was appropriate to give coffee to children. Then he remembered Starbucks was a thing. Shit, Lee, you’ve gotta calm down. She’ll smell your fear. Lee took a long sip of his coffee, watching Clementine. She seemed like a normal enough kid, though a bit closed off. On her head she wore a baseball hat emblazoned with a blue D. He wondered what it stood for. “You a baseball fan?”

“My dad was. He gave me the cap,”

Now that he looked more closely, Lee could see how worn out the thing was. Dirt and dust were caked over every inch of it, and maybe even a flew splatters of blood. The embroidery on the D was starting to come loose in one corner, causing the tip of the letter to curl out from the hat. The cap must mean a lot to her. “You know, Morgantown High has a pretty good baseball team from what I hear. The coach there used to be in the major leagues,”

“That’s cool,” She didn’t sound impressed.

Lee cleared his throat. “Have you had anything to eat yet? I should have run out and grabbed some sandwiches for us,”

“I had a granola bar,”

“Now that’s no sort of proper breakfast!” Lee walked over toward his fridge, searching for what he had handy that was healthy and fresh. It was pretty bare, just the basic like eggs, milk… Now wait a minute. Lee walked over to the pantry, rooting around in it for a minute before finding what he was looking for. He popped his head out of the pantry door to look at Clementine. “Any chance you’d be interested in making some pancakes with me? We’ve got eggs, bacon, O.J… we could make it a full on breakfast feast,”

Clementine’s eyes widened a bit at the offer. She looked pleased though. “Sure, that sounds fun,”

“Alrighty then! You get out the ingredients, and I’ll find us some bowls and pans,” With that they set off on their missions, Clementine assembling the milk, eggs and pancake mix while Lee banged around in the pots and pans drawer before finding something fitting. He wasn’t sure where any of the old cookbooks were (if Claudia had even left any), so they Googled a recipe and got started from there. As Clementine stirred the mix together, inspiration struck Lee. “You know what? Now that I think of it, I’m sure I have some bananas stored away somewhere. Do you like those in pancakes?”

Clementine nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Do you have any.. chocolate maybe?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Lee reached up onto the top pantry shelf. “It’s a bit musty, but that’ll cook off, right? Worth a shot,”

Clementine chuckled, taking a cup measure and ladling the first pancake onto the frying pan.

Lee cautiously plopped a few pieces of chocolate on top of the bubbling mass, watching it with curiosity. “Let’s see what else we can find that’d go well with pancakes, shall we?”

In the end, they found the bananas, a stray container of blueberries, some stale walnuts that Lee threw in with his own banana pancakes, and a few raspberries. Lee was worried there wasn’t any syrup, but Clementine took the initiative, bravely scouring the depths of his pantry until she found it. She plated the pancakes while Lee finished frying up the bacon. They sat down together once everything was ready, their mouths watering.

Lee watched in contentment as Clementine attacked her stack of pancakes. Damn, this girl could eat. It made him wonder if her last foster home had been feeding her enough. The sleeves of her shirt were pushed up to avoid getting syrup on them. He noticed a nasty looking scar sticking out by her left sleeve, but decided it was best not to ask about it. She also had a scar indenting her forehead, small yet noticeable. This girl looked like she’d been through hell and back. He could see why Kenny wanted to protect her.

“Do you… want to hear a little bit about me?” Lee offered. “I’m not super interesting. I work at WVU as a history professor, specializing in American history and the Civil War,”

“I like history,” Clementine responded through a mouth full of pancakes.

“Well, alright then!” Lee felt the history geek in him getting excited at the prospect of a new student to take under his wing. He started going through some of his favorite historical events: the Battle of Fort Sumter, Antietam, the Emancipation Proclamation and Juneteenth… Clementine listened with what appeared to be genuine interest, munching happily on her pancakes and providing surprisingly insightful questions from time to time. Lee found himself losing track of the time. He was genuinely surprised when he heard Kenny’s truck pull up in the driveway.

“So soon?” Lee’s face fell. He saw Clementine’s do the same, looking down at the table. Lee leaned forward conspiratorially. “Maybe if I invite him in for a cup of coffee, we can get a few more minutes. How does that sound?”

Clementine nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, let’s do it,”

Lee stepped out to meet Kenny as he made his way up the steps of the front porch. “Back so soon?”

“Soon? It’s been almost two and a half hours,” A smile crossed Kenny’s face. “I see the two of you hit it off then?”

“She’s a good kid. I can see why you’re fond of her. That foster home that she’s at right now, are they feeding her right?”

“Clem’s actually between foster homes right now. Her bag’s in the back of my truck,”

“You mean…”

“If you’d like, we can sign the paperwork for you to foster her starting today,”

Lee felt a rush of excitement run through his veins. “Alright, let’s do it,”

He and Kenny stepped inside, walking into the kitchen just as Clementine was finishing the last of her pancakes.

“Hi, Clementine. Have a good time?” Kenny asked.

Clementine nodded, but looked down as she got up. “Is it time to go?”

“Actually, Lee here was wondering if you’d be interested in staying. What do ya think, Clem? Would you like to stay here?”

Clementine’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Seriously?”

Lee nodded, a warm smile on his face. “You’re welcome for as long as you want to stay. There’s a guest room just down the hall. It’s nothing fancy, but feel free to move anything around in there however you like so you feel at home,”

Clementine seemed genuinely touched at his words. She looked away, clearly unsure how to react to such good news.

Kenny chuckled, tossing her the keys. “Go ahead and grab your stuff. I’ll get Lee started on the paperwork,”

Clementine caught them, bounding out the door before either of them could say anything else.

“Well,” Kenny placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder, “You’re a dad now. Or a surrogate dad at least. I wish you the best of luck,”

“Thanks,” Lee looked out the window, watching Clementine as she hurriedly grabbed her stuff. “I think it’s gonna be a really good thing. For the both of us,”

“I couldn’t agree more,”

#fanfic #twdg lee #twdg clementine #adoption #twdg

[mellz117]

Hello all and welcome to part 4 of my playthrough of KH2 on the PS2. If you haven't seen the previous entries please go do that.

[ _1_ ] [ _2_ ] [ _3_ ]

To recap: The Wonders of Twilight Town are boring as hell. We spoke to Namine again, Roxas finally realizes his life this week is a lie and starts to remember his life in the Organization. DiZ is racist against Nobodies but we already knew that. Roxas and Axel fight, I wanted to cry. Roxas meets Sora in his sleeping pod before disappearing, I wanted to cry.

And the adventure continues

I wanna know how Sora wakes up in the real world when Roxas merges with him in the virtual one. How in CoM does Sora go to sleep in Castle Oblivion, the whole-ass chamber and then some get transferred to Twilight Town, Roxas meets him in a virtual version of the mansion, and Sora wakes up in the real mansion in KH2? Nomura please explain this series. Is Final Fantasy ever this convoluted?

Donald and Goofy call out to Sora and we're once again reminded this is a Disney game. I don’t know why but the fact that Disney owns the original Kingdom Hearts characters bothers me. It means, unless DISNEY gives the OK, Sora will never be in Smash Bros. and that makes me sad.

I don't know much about comas but after a year of total inactivity, wouldn't your muscles atrophy like, A BUNCH? At least is wasn’t 7... OR VENTUS WITH A WHOLE DECADE WTF?

Again WHY COULDN'T JIMINY JUST KEEP EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN CHAIN OF MEMORIES WRITTEN DOWN IN HIS JOURNAL INSTEAD OF A CRYPTIC MEMO TO THANK NAMINE?

The trinity trio wanders out of the mansion, loot some chests, and find their way to the back alleys of town.

Hayner is rude RIGHT outta the gate, wow. Ok I remember that Pence actually met Roxas in Days, and so to me he seems to recognize Sora through his memories of Roxas despite the two sharing like, one visual similarly: blue eyes. But KH3 to my understanding reveals that the virtual versions of characters affect the real version so I dunno!! WHAT IS THIS SERIES?

"Have you finished the summer homework yet?" Olette asks Sora and his two ANIMAL COMPANIONS as if seeing two anthropomorphic animals is fucking normal in a town comprised entirely of humans and exactly one moogle.

Sora doesn't have any homework. For over a year he's been away from home and his mom couldn't make him go to school. I wonder how she's doing? Does she miss her son? Kingdom Hearts and parents don't gel.

I like how.. When Pence describes this cloaked figure who was looking for the trinity trio, as having big, round ears, they have to think about who it could possibly be. They’re not too bright.

Why is “sofa” capitalized? Also they weren't even sitting on it, neither of them were!

HAYNER IS A RUDE BOY! He tells us so ask Seifer about the town, as we are new. Bruh, if you’re this rude to us I’m sure how much worse Seifer and his posse are.

Seifer is immediately confrontational. “You here to pick a fight with us?” and Sora’s all like “No, we’re new here.” and DONALD FUCKING DUCK! INSULTS SEIFER AND NOW EVERYONE’S READY TO THROW DOWN! THANKS TO THIS DUMB FUCK DUCK!

But thank Christ big chungus appears out of nowhere and stops the children and two adult furries from causing a scene.

This dude is WAY too into the Struggle tournament. Seifer has an unwanted faaaaan! Bro, go away, you’re creeping on a teenager.

I wanna fight Seifer.

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I'm not working on this like I should be. I'm going on vacation soon and since we're all in quarantine I can't really do anything fun so this is the opportune time to catch up.

Moving on! We make our way to the train station and oh no, we're ambushed by Dusks! Because of COURSE we are. Who could've seen THAT coming? /s

I- I like how, even after hearing his voice, and seeing his fucking mousey silhouette, the gang STILL might not be sure this is their stupid rat king. One brain cell between the three of them, I swear, and Goofy is the primary carrier, and it only sometimes works.

Why do we need to purchase tickets to travel on a magical train embarking to an ethereal plane of existence? I guess it's the principal of it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO HUG THIS BOY. LOOK, HE'S CRYING!

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Pence is so cute. I didn't care much for him when I was younger but he's such a cutie. 

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I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO HUG THIS BOY. LOOK, HE'S SAD!

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It's fat cat Pete. For like ever, I had no idea he was a cat. Wonder what Maleficent saw in him to ally with him.

The trinity trio laughing about killing (or at least taking part in killing) Maleficent. "She's toast!" this sure is early 2000's dialogue...

Heartless everywhere! "You mean the worlds aren't at peace after all" well, no sweetie. It takes time for things to recover from horrible events. *looks at current state of the real world*

So like, I had no idea Yen Sid was a Keyblade warrior??? I had read about that in his Wiki page when I googled if any Keyblade warriors were left handed. (Ven might be, but more likely ambidextrous) But I guess being Mickey's teacher would imply his Keyblade wielder roots but whatever, I didn't pay attention when I was a teenager.

Yen Sid's decor is baffling. What are these bookshelves? What are these BOOKS? They're huge!

Good on Yen Sid for using singular “they” pronouns in 2005.

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On to our change of wardrobe. Without a doubt Sora's best look in the whole series, in my humble opinion. Lookit my handsome boy. 

And Sora learns about drive forms, blah, blah, blah, powerful forms, gotta sacrifice something like in Duel Monsters, in this case an ally.

Yen Sid is so boring.

All seriousness and tension is just broken as soon as Goofy’s name is uttered, at least Sora and Donald have normal names wtf.

It’s interesting how like, 15 years later, Union X explains how Maleficent was able to return after her defeat. Something about, as long as someone from your original time remembers you and you have a physical object to represent you you’re able to basically some back from the dead. Right? Am I right on that? I haven’t played it but I’m hanging by a thread on this loop.

Sora’s hard work down the drain...

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Hollow Bastion! And of course there’s trouble. Heartless, Nobodies, and Yuffie, oh my!

A problem sequels have to work around is when the protagonist needs to relearn their abilities. KH does a well and good job with this one. In CoM, it’s a different battle style, in KH2 Sora’s been asleep for a hear prior.

Also, Merlin “leant” Sora some magic spells? How does that work? Like, once you learn it you can’t just... give that knowledge back...?

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How old is Leon? He has no right being this pretty.

Another ambush by Nobodies. Give it a rest, would ya? Battle ensues, Leon deals the final blow against an enemy, and as the camera usually does, zooms in on the victor and we get a nice slow-mo crotch shot of Leon. Thanks, game... Then, Xemnas’s very sexy, very manly voice echoes across town and the organization appears before our protagonists. I’m weak.

Demyx’s laugh, dude. I love it. Sora is ready to throw hands with anyone in his way. Honey, you’re barely out of a magic coma and this dude is like, two whole feet taller than you. Not to mention very fit.

I’m done thirsting over Xemnas...

After a few taunting words, the new villains depart, Donald attempts to give chase somehow? Where you gonna go? They disappeared behind dark corridors. It seems Goofy is still holding onto that shared brain cell.

The Bastard

I like the majority of the Organization. Xigbar is definitely one of my favorites based on this next scene alone. He’s so snarky and full of shit. I love it. He’s great. He was definitely a stoner at some point.

I’m confused though. “He used to give me that same exact look!” the Wiki says Xigbar’s talking about Ven but I always thought he was referring to Roxas? Did Braig and Ven have a history? That’s implied in Days (which released before BbS) IDK dude. I’m surprised I’ve gone this long without spoiling myself too much on BbS. Like, a few story beats here and there but a lot of it isn’t gonna be known until I play it.

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The dialogue for KH2 was so different from the first game. It dates itself so much in comparison.

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Xiggy stands like this for 7 whole seconds parting with a condescending “Be a good boy now!” before disappearing. I love this fucker.

Leon, who’s been sitting on the sidelines this whole time, joins Sora and the others after the real threat is gone. We chitchat for a little bit and say our goodbyes. It’s time to leave this place and move on to one of two available worlds.

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At the Beast's Castle. After fighting a hoard of Shadows, the least intimidating enemy in the series (although the demon tower in kh3 is quite frightening nlg), the Beast himself makes his appearance, takes out the Heartless that suddenly stop multiplying upon his arrival, disgracefully shoves his supposed friends aside, and takes his precious rose to the west wing, which is where it SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. ADAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

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No joke one of the funniest actual gags in the whole series is:

*Donald Duck manhandling Cogsworth*

Cut to Sora saying "I'm glad you're OK." to Lumiere

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OK the minigame where you gotta light the magic torches, why do we have to make sure Cogsworth  has enough strength to keep the lever down when we have two perfectly capable companions that can hold it down instead? I remember this sequence being a lot more annoying when I was a teen.

Xaldin's voice makes me feel things. Ahhh he sounds so tired lol. He peaces out and we fight the Beast. I remember getting him to calm down being harder.

"Xaldin used my anger to control me!" Says Beast. He angers very easily so this must have been a cinch. Xaldin's been obsessed with him since Days so I would imagine this intel would come in handy.

More fodder to fight and on to the boss. Phase one is just an angrier version of the Darkball Heartless. Phase two is just skinny Ganon. I like its design though.

“Belle, I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself, being all rude and overall kind of a jackass to you and my servants” Except that’s kinda how you’ve always been lmao. Just because you couldn’t choose not to be an ass here doesn’t change that this IS in character. Still gotta work on that a bit.

“You don’t have to apologize” No, no he still does.

They all reconcile and the Trinity Trio departs until Xaldin shows up again to wreak more havoc.

Time to move on to the next world.

#mellz plays kh2 #Kingdom Hearts series #Kingdom Hearts 2 #square enix #disney #PlayStation 2