Random Thoughts on CounterSide Origin update

So I don't follow news and updates on my games that often, so I was completely blindsided that this recent CounterSide update was gonna be reworking the entire game basically. Definitely spending a bit more time than usual tonight getting used to what's been moved, what's been changed, and what's been removed. I can certainly see why a lot of this has been controversial with the playerbase.

I actually do think there have been some decent changes tho, like:

LOVE that Dives no longer cost Info (I was broke when it came to Info recently) and that I can do Dives while still having World Missions being done at the same time. Also love getting to grind Dives again without having to wait for the next time I can reset them. Edit: OH AND I SOMEHOW FORGOT! But the new system of how they do the Dive squads- *chef kiss* I was also having a problem of my stronger squads getting burned out and failing the Dive because my weaker squads couldn't pull through, so the new system of a single squad just going until it dies before it cycles to the next squad is so far doing wonders for me. We'll see how I do once I get back to the higher coordinates.

LOVE a lot of the freebies they've been giving out for this update, and the special event giving the chance for free Awakened Units!? I'm already close to halfway for my first Awakened Unit testimonial and the time given for this event is REALLY generous for the pretty big rewards being offered. This is definitely a good time to login in for both new and old players just for collecting all the free stuff and promotional rewards.

I like that there's more space on the home screen to play around with when customizing. While I'll need to re-adjust on where I go to click certain stuff, it is nice that the UI isn't covering some of the characters and trophies I squeezed into my home screen (mainly those on the edges and the right half of the screen).

And I'm so far kinda neutral on how they changed the Dupe system and Limit Fusion system, as well as most of the UI changes. I might need a few more days of play before it gets to me or something. I'm mainly neutral rn since a lot of my units were already pretty upgraded before the update so for the time being Limit Fusion (and by extension Skill leveling) won't be so costly for me.

Oh but I do have a few issues still.

WHY would they think that getting rid of Unit EXP in battles was a good idea. That was how I was leveling most of my units at this point. Not just because of Salary Negotiation mats, but also leveling Units starts to get expensive with Coins! And I liked leveling most units that I'd never use via farming battles since I'd get free Quartz without having to invest mats (beyond the Eternium used for those battles obviously).

The current UI does mean that farming the daily limited battles gets a tad bit longer and more tedious, although that is countered a little if one uses the new "Favorite" feature to pin battles. However, the new UI also generally makes the organization of all the side stories and events messy. I like the timeline idea to illustrate when each story is taking place in connection to the Main Story, but it is annoying to scroll through and some of the branches start to get confusing and messed up.

I'm also a bit confused if Limited Time Event stories are still going to be a thing, and if so, where they are going to be located? I saw some previous LTE stories on the timeline UI, but I'm not sure if that means they've been added as permanent side stories as they are currently locked for me; and if so, if LTE stories going forward will be added to the timeline permanently after their run, or if LTE stories are being retired as a feature as a whole and they're adding all the past LTE stories as permanent content now because of that.

So in summary, pretty monumental update that, while having its downsides and areas of needing to get adjusted to, I don't necessarily think it'll be the doomsday others have been complaining about (although this is coming from someone who is currently not too big on PVP, wasn't too deep in Challenge mode or Shadow Palace when it was still around, and doesn't really understand stats, min-maxing, and the technical aspects of gameplay that much).

Playing House

Anon request. Shawn x reader. Prompt: “We’re best friends, we made out…we’re practically married.”

Word Count: ~2k

Notes: Another request that took me too long to write! Idk who you are, anon, but I hope you like it. I hope you all like it! 💗

Warnings: None. Pretty much all fluff. Hot make-out, leading to smut, but no actual smut. Sorry, lovies. Don't hate me.

~ * ~

You close the door behind you, making sure the lock engages, and set your clutch on the entryway console table, sighing deeply. Tarzan sprints toward you in greeting and looking for scratches. You oblige and ask, “Is Daddy still up?” He chuffs. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He shoots back off to Shawn’s room.

After changing into your pajamas, washing your face, and brushing your teeth, you make your way to Shawn’s bedroom. He is leaning back against a mound of pillows, in only pajama pants and his wire-framed glasses, MacBook open on his lap, tousled curls falling in his eyes. You lean your shoulder against the doorframe, tender smile on your lips. You always breathe easier in his presence.

Shawn closes his laptop and turns to look at you, removing his glasses and reaching over to set them on the night table. “You’re home early. What, no fireworks?” He had tried not to think about you being on a date, it had made his stomach sour. But still, you’re his best friend and he wanted to be supportive. He taps the bed beside him.

“No fireworks.” He hands you his laptop and you set it on his dresser before crawling into his bed and snuggling into his side. “Not even a spark. It was just...weird.”

“What was? Your date or your date?” he chortles.

You gently thump his stomach. “He was attractive, charming, genuine, a perfect gentleman.”

“Well, then what was the problem?”

You sigh and sit up again, crisscrossing your legs, facing him. He does the same. Your knees are touching. “You.”

“Me??”

“You’re crimping my style,” you mutter.

He snorts. “I am not taking the blame for whatever was weird about your date.”

“I guess I’m just used to being around you, and out with you, where everything is comfortable and easy and fun. We’re best friends, we made out...we’re practically married. You know all my quirks and insecurities; I don’t have to hide those with you.”

He snickers. “How did we go from best friends who make out to practically married?”

“Made out. Once.”

“I’m not opposed to doing that again, you know.” He places his hands on the outsides of your thighs and starts to stroke your skin with the pads of his thumbs. “I like the way you kiss.”

“Do you even remember what it was like to kiss me?” you giggle.

“I remember,” he declares.

You raise an eyebrow, smirk on your lips. “You were pretty wasted, bub.”

“I’m pretty sure I liked it.”

“Mmhm. I don’t even know what possessed me to let you kiss me in the first place.”

“I’m irresistible,” he grins.

“That’s open to debate,” you snark.

“Ha ha,” he scowls. “So, let me try again. Sober this time.”

“No.” You drop your eyes. “It took me a week to even get past that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. “Never mind.”

“We’ll circle back to that.”

You wish that hadn’t slipped out. He absolutely would circle back to that; he wasn’t just going to let it go. You think, maybe subconsciously, you wanted to say it, that you actually meant to.

He taps beneath your chin, effectively drawing your eyes back to his. “Tell me how we’re practically married,” he chuckles.

“We live together and are constantly in each other’s space. Sometimes annoyingly so. I have meals ready for you when you get home from meetings or the studio. Truthfully, I do most of the cooking. And why do I do most of the cooking?”

“Because I can’t be trusted alone in the kitchen,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“But you clear the table and run the dishwasher, bub. You also carry heavy grocery bags, kill all the spiders, investigate odd noises, and try to fix things that get broken.”

“Hey!” he scoffs.

“Name one time we haven’t had to call maintenance or a repairman.”

He tries, nose scrunched, eyes showing the thoughts tumbling in his mind.

You simply laugh.

“I also take out the trash.”

“Yes, you do, sweetie.”

“And who takes Tarzan for walks on the coldest days of the year?” Tarzan’s head cocks and ears perk up from the foot of the bed. Shawn chuckles. “Sorry boy,” he says, placing a hand on his rump. “Settle.”

“He’s your dog.”

He puts his hand over his heart and gasps. “If we’re practically married, he’s our dog.”

“I take care of our dog when you’re on business trips. I keep the house nice for when my bub comes home from appearances, events, and tour.” His cheeks pink when you say, ‘my bub’. “I even keep track of your schedule,” you continue. “You’re lucky you have me as your faux-wife. No one else could keep you on task or generally put up with your shit or your moods.”

“You’re not being a very nice faux-wife right now,” he pouts.

“I’m about to not be very nice again,” you caution. “It’s your weekend to do laundry.”

He groans dramatically. “You know how much I hate doing laundry.”

“Offer me a trade then.”

“What chores are on your list that you still have yet to do?” he asks.

“Changing the sheets and making the beds-”

“I’ll do that!” he interrupts before you can add anything more.

“That’s not a fair trade because stripping the beds creates more laundry.” To be honest, you don’t mind doing laundry, you just get a giggle out of his moaning and grumbling on his laundry weeks. He always sulks and complains like a petulant child. It amuses you.

“Fine. What else?”

“Cleaning your bathroom.”

He smirks. “And why is my bathroom on your chore list?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Because I use it more than you do.”

“Mmhm.”

“I like your tub better,” you say, with a slight shrug.

“And who runs your baths for you?”

“You do.”

“Who never complains about your lotions and scrubs and creams all over every available surface of his bathroom?”

“You,” you acknowledge.

“Who goes to the store at odd hours to get you whatever you’re craving when you’re on your period?”

“You do,” you admit.

“Who packs your lunch for you every night so all you have to do is grab it and go in the morning?” By now it’s all rhetorical. “Who reminds you to eat and hydrate in the evenings or on weekends when you’re working towards a deadline? Who always gives you the bigger half, the last bite, or the better piece of anything we share? Who leaves little notes all over the house with words of affirmation on them?”

“Are you done?” you huff. He can see the little smile you’re trying not to let show. He truly is the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and he isn’t even your boyfriend.

“You’re lucky you have me,” he parrots back at you, immensely pleased with himself.

“If I agree, will you stop?” you grumble.

“Agree to what?” he teases.

“Shawn,” you whine.

“Agree that I’m the best faux-husband ever and you’re lucky to have me.”

“You’re a good faux-hubby,” you concede.

“Not just good.” A swift maneuver puts you on your back on the bed and he is suddenly hovering over you, smirking. “Come on, wife.”

You know if you don’t say what he wants to hear he’ll tickle you mercilessly. “Fine!” You attempt to push him off of you, laughing, but he’s strong and stubborn. “You’re the best faux-husband ever.”

“And?”

“And I’m lucky to have you.” You are. Shawn falls onto his back, pulling you on top of him across his chest. “You take good care of me,” you breathe.

He places a kiss on top of your head. “We take care of each other,” he says softly. He absentmindedly traces shapes against the strip of bare skin at the small of your back.

After a few silent moments, he asks, “Can we at least have a conversation about it?”

“About what?” you wonder quietly, content as you are. Shawn is always so warm and smells so good.

“Making out.”

You start to push out of his arms. “Can we not?”

“Circling back.”

“Let it go, bub,” you exhale, sitting up, turning your back on him.

You make a move to leave his bed but before you can, he encircles your wrist with his large hand. “What did you mean?”

You glance at his hand around your wrist. “Shawn...”

“You said it took you a week to get past it... Am I really to blame for how your date went?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you try to assure him, briefly meeting his eyes. He’s propped himself up on his side.

He gives your wrist a little tug. “Talk to me.”

Your eyes close. “He wasn’t you,” you whisper. “No one is ever you.”

“Babe,” he breathes, sitting up against the pillows again. You allow him to pull you back into bed. “Look at me.” You try, cheeks bright red from your admission. “Why do you think it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date of my own? My darling, no one is ever you.”

Your heart starts thumping wildly and finally you’re able to meet his eyes again.

“I want to remember what it was like to kiss you,” he murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. “We’re practically married, after all,” he smirks, breaking the awkward anticipation.

You snort and he laughs, which makes you laugh.

“What do you say? Come on, honey.” He pulls you closer to him. “Make out with me.” He continues to draw you nearer still, until you’re almost in his lap.

“It’s going to change everything,” you express, thoughtfully. Yet you move to straddle him, which you can tell he likes with the little growl at the back of his throat and shift of his hips. You drape your arms over his shoulders and wrap your hands around his neck.

He grips your hips and tugs you even closer. “Let it,” he hums.

He brushes his lips across yours. You gently capture his lower lip between yours. You kiss him, tentatively at first, reveling in how it feels to have his mouth fully under yours. Drunk and messy had been enough to make you lightheaded. This is something else entirely.

The tip of his tongue nudges the seam of your lips, encouraging them to part. Sparks of fire race and settle in stomach and inguen as tongues touch and explore and kisses turn deep and hungry. The mint of your mouths dissipates until all you can taste is each other.

You break apart only enough to breathe, hearts thudding, bodies buzzing, throbbing where you are pressed closest together.

“Yep. I knew I liked it,” he mumbles through a dopey grin against your lips.

You giggle. “No babe...” You inhale. “This is different,” you breathe on the exhale.

“We should’ve done this a long time ago,” he whispers.

Your lips touch again and you lose yourselves in one another until he hears the little moan you hadn’t meant to express.

“Yep,” he shudders, affected more than he ever imagined he could be from such a small sound. “We’re gonna have sex now.”

“Are we?” you hum, dragging fingernails lightly across his upper back.

“Mmhm.” He gives a sharp whistle and points to the bedroom door. The golden retriever jumps off the bed and leaves the room.

He pulls your camisole up, over your head, and off, tossing it aside. “You know, like married couples are prone to do...” His eyes fall on bare breasts he’d only imagined ever seeing. He cups one and lowers his mouth to its pink-tipped peak. He focuses his attention on your breasts until you’re whimpering.

“And then I’ll change the sheets and make the beds.” He flips you over and settles himself between your legs. You impatiently push his pajama bottoms down and he wriggles out of them, throwing them aside as well. “Maybe I’ll even clean my bathroom.”

You laugh throatily, which turns him up another notch. He eagerly slips your panties over your hips, down, and off, dropping them over the side of the bed. Hands on either side of you to support his weight, he lowers his lips to yours again.

Between licks and tugs, he murmurs against your mouth, “But you have to do the laundry.”

~ * ~

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @silverswallow @hiding-behind-a-flower @weedangel-x @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay (I wish my taglist was longer!)

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust​ @tbzzhoe​ @suzy-rainbow​ 

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before. 

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area. 

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him. 

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair. 

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?” 

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off. 

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit. 

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself. 

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror. 

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest. 

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror. 

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment. 

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet. 

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him. 

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes. 

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out. 

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut. 

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead. 

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on. 

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose. 

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under. 

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes. 

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly. 

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion. 

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves. 

“No, wait-” 

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor. 

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible. 

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation. 

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be. 

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up. 

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back. 

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward. 

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar. 

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing. 

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together. 

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed. 

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead. 

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you. 

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

Haunt me

Toji Fushiguro x reader (she/her)

Neighbor AU - angst

note: the bold passages are flashbacks + Megumi is an only child in this one lol

song inspo: How to dissapear - Lana Del Rey

Blue skies and big fields of green; the road had always stayed the same, y/n noticed as she left the bus. Once the young women made her way home, she took in all the familiar sights she hadn’t seen in years. She had missed walking through the familiar streets, despite disliking her home town when she was younger, since it didn’t have anything really interesting for teenagers around her age. There were no clubs, cool stores, really anything that was rebellious or at least didn’t look like it was owned by a 70-year-old man. Everything always stayed the same.

Y/n’s footsteps came to a halt, right before the door of her own home. Subconsciously turning her head to the side, she was suddenly aware of the presence that stood further away. The familiar figure leaned against the railing of his porch, back turned to her as he focused on something in his hands. Toji Fushiguro.

Had he stayed the same too?

For a moment, y/n had thought about greeting him but was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door infront of her.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock? Oh, come here-“ The older lady put her arms around her daughter lovingly and pulled them inside.

“I made a bunch of your favorites, but there are going to take a bit more time.” She pointed at the stove as both of them entered the kitchen.

“Where’s dad?”

Her mom rolled her eyes at the thought of her stubborn husband, they apparently had argued about the maintenance of their garden a couple of hours prior. Y/n chuckled at her mothers’ frustration, but went to look for her dad on her own, since her mom seemed too busy with cooking. After greeting him and exchanging a couple of words, the daughter convinced him to let her mow the lawn. “But you better not break it again like the first time!” The man teased playfully, earning an eyeroll from y/n as she ushered him inside.

“Damn it-“

Muttering under her breath, the girl almost kicked the device infront of her in a fit of rage. The lawnmower had suddenly been stuck before she could really even start, and was now only a rattling mess.

“Fuck...” She sighed one more time, putting her hand lazily on her hip and the other over her eyes, shielding her from the sun.

“For a young lady, ya do seem to swear alot.”

Y/n whipped her head towards the strangers’ voice, almost gasping as she realized who the voice had belonged to. He was the husband of the new family that had moved next to their house a few weeks ago. Before that encounter she hadn’t seen him up close, but now his appearance immediately burned itself into her brain. He was handsome, not the kind of handsome that she had seen from popular boys in school or the hollywood actors on tv, but the attraction she had to him felt a thousand times better.

“I- uhm-“ The girl stuttered as she avoided his eyes, only to look back at the problem at hand.

“It’s broken.” She pointed at the lawnmower dumbfounded, smacking herself internally at the way she was behaving like a 7-year-old.

“Let’s see if I can help, shall we?” A confident smile appeared on the mans’ face, making the girl’s knees even weaker, before he approached the device. He had quickly figured out the problem and got rid of the piece that had been stuck inside the lawnmower, but continued talking to y/n casually, throwing in a joke or two.

“I’m Toji by the way, but I’m guessing your dad already told you about us.”

She watched as the dark haired man held his hand out to her. His politeness felt strange from the start, as if he was playing a character in a movie and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

“What was your name again?”

“Y/n.” The girl shakily took his hand, getting even more nervous at the roughness that was contrasting her own.

“I also wanted to ask ya something - my wife has been buggin’ me about it for days now. Are ya any good with kids?”

That day Toji had asked her if she could babysit his 5-year old son, since he had a job that required to be available at any moment and his wife had to take night shifts at the hospital. Y/n agreed to it without any question, since her dad had taken a liking to the family and she wanted to earn some money on the side. She had just graduated in that same year and wasn’t sure as to what her next step should be in life or what her future looked like really. But right now, the man walking away from her seemed like the best distraction from the dull routine she had been used to.

Shortly after y/n finished the rest of the lawn, her mom waved her inside to eat. The dinner had tasted better than ever, y/n thought as she greedily dug into her plate and asked her mom for more. The older lady only chuckled at her antics, appreciating the sentiment behind it though.

“I really wouldn’t have thought you’d go through with it, honestly.” Her father spoke with his usual sarcastic tone as he watched his daughter take another plate full of food.

“With college? Yeah, I guess I understand what you mean. I’ve always been the lazy type.”

Y/n knew her dad well enough not to argue with him about what he believed his daughter was like. He only knew what she had let him see, and three years ago that had been an 18-year-old girl that took a year off to stay at her parents home without any plans or direction. Only she herself knew that lazyness hadn’t been the real issue, it was her fear of growing up and failing. Before they could dig any deeper into the topic, the daughter decided to ask about the one thing that had been stuck in her mind since she had seen Toji on the porch.

“So, how are the Fushiguro’s doing?” She casually picked at the food on her plate.

“I thought I’ve told you on the phone already? About Toji’s wife and kid.” The mother looked at her child in disbelief until she saw the genuine confusion in her eyes and started explaining.

“His wife died almost a year ago. She became very sick all of a sudden and then it just happened so quickly. Toji hasn’t really been the same since.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock, she couldn’t comprehend the fact that something did change so drastically around here, and it hat happened to the family she had wished it upon the least.

“W-What about Megumi?”

Ms.L/n eyes locked with her husband’s, both of their heads hanging a bit lower now.

“Toji gave him away for adoption. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind to be handling a child on his own after an incident like that.” The daughter only nodded her head slowly at her dads’ words, as she remembered the big pouty cheeks on that little boys’ face three years ago and his mother that had the same big blue eyes.

Since the very first time y/n had visited the Fushiguros’ house, the wife had always been extremely caring and sweet towards her, reassuring her that she’d be a great babysitter (and even mother someday, which always made her cringe a little). Eventhough she wanted to be grateful, she felt a tinge of jealousy, almost resentment towards her. The woman was beautiful in every way posssible and even stood up against her husband plenty of times, never doubting her confidence once - Y/n had been the complete opposite.

Especially confrontation was something she had always struggled with, even feeling bad when she overheard some of the fights that the Fushiguro’s had occasionally.

One night when y/n had been taking care of the little boy again, Toji came home earlier than expected, leaving her a bit taken back at the sudden appearance. Thankfully, Megumi had already been asleep at this point, making it easier for the parent to just arrive home without worrying about the whole putting him to bed routine. He had walked straight pass her, only muttering a short “Hey” before grabbing a beer and sitting down on the couch. The girl recalled the fight before the couple both headed off to work but didn’t expect to have to deal with his mood already.

What was she supposed to say to a man twice her age that was visibly pissed, sitting on the couch that she was supposed to sleep on tonight. She could only stare at the back of his head helplessly, wondering if she should just change into her normal clothes again and leave.

“Are ya gonna stand there all day?”

Y/n’s eyes snapped back to the man, as he streched one of his arms over the back of the couch.

“No, I just thought-“ Stopping herself from ending the sentence, she thought about actually engaging in conversation with him. The girl didn’t have the chance nor the guts to talk to him completely alone yet, since he always kept his ‘nice neighbor facade’ up around other people. Stepping closer to the couch, she could feel herself getting more tense. She knew Toji wasn’t going to give her much attention, since he hadn’t ever given her any signs of actually liking her in any way, but somehow the girl couldn’t overlook the weird tension. Once y/n settled down a bit further away from him, she noticed his eyes had been glued to her since she’d walked over.

“Wasn’t too hard now was it?”

He muttered with a slight smirk, before taking a swig of his drink. Y/n let out a nervous chuckle before leaning back more comfortably.

Just stay cool.

“So, I heard you’ve graduated not too long ago, congratulations.” It was more of a statement than a question but she still answered nonetheless.

“Yeah it’s crazy, actually- I also turned 19 a week ago too. Everything is going by so fast now.” She cringed at herself once she heard the deeple chuckle from the man beside her.

Why would you tell him that? Your age of all things?

“Well, why are ya still stuck here then? Ya should be out there in the world, not in this shithole.” Toji had his eyes back on the bottle as he tapped his finger on the dark colored glass.

“Or is a boyfriend of yours keeping ya here?” Glancing to the side teasingly, he leaned in a bit closer, making the girl’s heartbeat race even more.

“No! I’m j-just...” Y/n shook her head, staring at him with big eyes until she mumbled out

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Raising his eyebrows, he really began acknowledging her presence. The way she acted more shy around him and always seemed to be shaking a bit, making her look like a scared little puppy. Then he noticed her clothes, or rather lack there of. “What? Don’t tell me a pretty girl like you didn’t get chased by the guys at ya school.”

Does he really think I’m pretty?

Y/n almost held her breath once he lowered his eyes down her figure, remembering now that she was only wearing a top, without a bra, and shorts to sleep in, because summer had just started and the temperatures felt like hell at night.

“Not really, I guess I just wasn’t anyone’s type.”

The girl let out a nervous chuckle yet again, her body feeling like it was overheating and her brain was about to explode at any moment. It only worsened once the dark haired man loosened his arm on the couch and bend it towards her face, his hand slowly pulling a piece of hair behind her ears. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity; She couldn’t get enough of this feeling.

“Too bad.”

Y/n waited for something more, anything to explain what he had meant, but got startled by the sudden ringing in her pocket.

“A-ah uhm, sorry-“

She quickly picked up the phone, only to be bombarded by questions from her father. Eventually she ended the call and turned back to Toji, who still hadn’t looked away from her.

“I have to go. My dad he- he thought that I wasn’t going to babysit tonight and now he’s kind of mad, so...”

The man nodded understandingly until a smirk appeared on his face, as if he had just read her thoughts for a moment.

“I guess ya can’t keep me company then, huh?”

Y/n only shook her head, almost sighing in frustration. Tonight had already felt like a dream, but a way too short one.

Cleaning the dishes had always been a task assigned to y/n since she could remember, but hoped that she could’ve escape tonight. Sadly not though - making her the last one to go to bed. She dragged her feet up the stairs that led to her old bedroom but stopped before falling into the soft pillows. Instinctively the woman looked out her window, only to catch a glimpse of the one across from hers. Before the Fushiguro’s had moved in, it had always bugged her that the neighbors view directly faced her room. Her mom had always warned her daughter to close the curtains as much as possible and change in the bathroom instead, but like most teenagers often do - she didn’t listen, or just wasn’t planning on walking back to the bathroom for every time she had to change her clothes. But y/n did remembered the first time she had changed infront of the window on purpose.

With only a towel draped around her body, the girl quickly peaked at the neighbors house as she stood with her back to the wall. She had panicked at first, seeing the husband leaning against the window frame, a cigarette hanging on the side of his lips. Y/n didn’t know if he had seen her walk in with the towel but she was intrigued by his sight, the way he had just casually leaned forward, as the thick smoke escaped his lips. Without thinking any further she stepped away from the wall and infront of the window, her back turned towards the dark haired man on the other side.

Was he going to notice? Would he even want to see her like this?

Dropping the towel and slowly putting on the underwear that was layed out on her bed, she kept imagining what he might’ve looked like in that moment. Thousands of pictures would pop up in her head until she couldn’t help but want to see for herself. Her head moved on it’s own, as she turned it to the side, only to see that the figure was gone.

Y/n blinked a couple of times, utterly confused on how to feel, should she have wanted this? This was exactly the opposite of thing’s a girl of her age should feel excited about, but she couldn’t deny that the tiny bit inside of her that wanted him to watch, wanted to be desired by him - had been disappointed.

Y/n tossed and turned, never seeming to find any rest from her constant thinking. She couldn’t’ help but feel bad about disappearing from the small town, even though there had never been any reason for her to stay in the first place - there hadn’t been any jobs that would have been interesting to her, no new people to connect to. The deep heavy weighing feeling inside of her told her the opposite though, probably resulting in a restless and never ending night of overthinking.

I have to see him. Sitting up, her buzzing head turned to the side, she considered going with the idea that had popped into her head momentarily.

Y/n let out a huff, putting on the robe that had been draped over the chair in the corner of the room (and took the keys with her, of course) and made her way downstairs carefully, each step creaking slightly under her shaking feet. Fleeting moments of feeling like a teenager again went through her mind; even though she had rarely snuck out of the house back then, the young woman had only wished that those years would’ve been that exciting. Shrugging at the thought, she finally stood infront of the door of her home, opening it slowly. As her hands pushed the wooden surface back, she slipped through and looked to the side, towards the house she hadn’t stepped foot in in 3 years. Suddenly the pace of her heart quickened, not only by the thought of seeing the older man again, but by the figure that was leaving the house at that moment. Y/n squinted until she recognized that it hadn’t been Toji leaving the house. The long black hair immediately made her perk up and lean back, she didn’t want to be noticed by the guy - even though he might’ve been easier to approach than the man sitting in that very house next door.

It had been in the middle of the day that Mrs.Fushiguro called the young woman. Y/n had the spare time of course and agreed to come over, happy to see the little boy and maybe even catch a second to talk with Toji again. She hadn’t seen him often after that night and couldn’t quite place yet what the dark haired man thought of her now. How was she supposed to behave around him? Groaning in frustration the girl began walking towards the house, but as the door opened, the student began slowing down. An unknown man, visibly younger than the parents that lived in the house, suddenly locked eyes with her. Y/n imagined him to be around around his mid-tenties, which made her curious - Toji didn’t ever seem to invite any guests over, so why would he choose to be around a guy that young?

The stranger smiled politely, which she only returned while approaching the porch he had been standing on.

“Don’t tell me Toji has another kid he didn’t tell me about.”

Thrown off by the sudden comment, y/n’s eyes widened as she snapped her head back to the stranger. The mans’ soft laugh made her feel more at ease, ultimately making her laugh too.

“No, I’m just the babysitter slash next door neighbor.”

“I’m Geto Suguru, it’s nice to meet you.”

His smile was smug but sweet, she noted. Before Geto could leave, the girl spoke up once again, the curiosity getting the best of her.

“How do you know the family? Do you work for them too?”

The man turned, giving her his full attention.

“Oh, god no I’d never work for that idiot.” He chuckled yet again, shaking his head in the process. “I am a colleague of Toji. Sometimes I just come around, since he does have a charm that I can’t resist, you know.”

By the looks of it he had only made a joke, but to y/n, that only chuckled in response, the vibe had felt off.

“What do you do exactly? I’m not trying to pry or anything, but Mr.Fushiguro has never really told me about it, so...”

Geto quirked a brow, he had caught a slight glimpse of her in that moment that almost gave her intentions away - but he looked past it, she seemed too young to actually be interested in Toji’s personal life. “We work at a workshop not too far from here, repairing cars and all that. It’s probably not something worth mentioning to be honest.”

The girl infront of him didn’t believe a word. She didn’t have any evidence not to, but the way he talked had been so sugarcoated, that she couldn’t help but feel suspicious of him. “You’re probably right, I don’t know a thing about cars.”

Smiling innocently at the guy, she slowly began turning back to the entrance of the house.

“Well I’ll see you around then.”

Geto only held up a hand smoothly, smiling yet again - which only confirmed what y/n had been thinking this whole time. This man was too much of a flirt, a smooth talker to be around someone like Toji as a normal friend. It only raised the question as to why the father always seemed to avoided talking about his job, and what the hell it had to do with this Geto guy. Y/n shook her head lightly until she was met with the devil himself.

“Right on time as always, mh?”

Toji’s smirk only drew her eyes down his face, making her noticed the scar in the corner of his lips.

“Oh uh- yeah.”

Y/n nodded as he let her inside. She stepped in, thinking that maybe there was more to the man than she originally had thought, a side of him nobody knew about.

It took a long time before a shadow appeared at the foot of the door. To the young adult it had felt like hours until she could finally hear the lock being opened. The girl inside of her was screaming, begging to see him again - as to why she did feel that way still, she didn’t have an answer to. Then the door creaked open just a bit. Y/n could see him peak through for just a second, the dark bags under his eyes were alarming, but to be expected. He must’ve been through alot, things she wouldn’t be able to grasp at her age.

A sigh escaped Fushiguro’s lips as he leaned away from the door, only letting a crack of light fall through, contrasting the dark of the night. Suddenly the door swung open, the brightness of the light illuminating her completely now, as she squinted her eyes to adjust to it. Toji had his back turned to her, trudging towards the living room without a word. She watched as his body disappeared into the room and followed slowly after, unsure of what’s to come.

As y/n stepped in, closing the door after her, she began taking a peak at the rooms that she passed by. They had all been in the same conditions as the day she left, which made her wonder how much of that was really Toji’s doing - he had never been the one to clean the house or cook. It was always one of the things his wife had complained about the most, y/n remembered the bickering everytime the woman left for work. Mrs.Fushiguro had been right about the way her husband had never participated in doing his part, but the girl couldn’t deny that back then she would’ve done anything to be a housewife if that meant she could call the man she had been infatuated with - hers. Y/n often joked about it to her friends at school, but deep down she knew there was an inexplicable feeling she couldn’t get rid of as soon as he left her sight.

The young woman almost gasped once she stood in the doorway of the living room, it contrasting to the rest of the home so much that she almost wanted to laugh. Beer cans were scattered across the floor, half eaten food laying around on the table and in between the rest of all the mess, was Toji, his head hanging low.

Y/n had expected some sort of comment from the dark haired man that was now sitting on the same old couch that she had imprinted into her memories - but he hadn’t uttered a word.

She knew she was the one that had to initiate the conversation, but couldn’t shake off the anxiety that was creeping up. Once her feet were ready to move without shaking, she approached the man, sitting right on the spot next to him that she had been used to back then.

“What are you doing here...”

Toji’s low tone almost made her shiver. His question rather sounding like an accusation, an observation than anything else. It was the same old thing he’d always do, where he didn’t ask for the other person’s sake but rather to emphasize that what they were doing was almost a joke to him, something so obvious that he didn’t need an answer for.

She shouldn’t be here - nobody asked her to come and he was probably the last person to know what to do with her. They weren’t friends, y/n told herself as she looked at his disheveled state, she was only an old memory, coming back to haunt him.

“I just thought-“

The womans’ eyes began watering, but she swore to herself that she didn’t want to be that stuttering mess in front of him ever again. She didn’t want to remind him of that same girl he had met three years ago. Y/n was a grown woman now, and for some reason she felt the need to prove it to him.

“I heard what happened. I don’t know if it makes any difference, but I just wanted to give you my condolences.”

A creak of one of the beer cans made her look up to the man, his face unreadable. Toji scoffed as he watched the can crinkle between his fingers.

“Everyone says the same shit. It was stupid of me to think ya would be any different.”

Y/n watched as he let the empty can drop to the floor, making it painfully obvious how silent it had gotten.

“Did Geto say the same too?”

Toji finally casted her eyes towards her form, almost seeming caught off guard by the question.

“He came to the funeral after everything that happened. Suguru was never somebody I would’ve considered a friend honestly, but there he was, standing next to me in a black suit.”

The dark haired man paused for a moment as his eyes darted to the glass door that led to their garden. A sudden chuckle escaped his lips, without any certain emotion being evident on his face.

“He didn’t once pity me. The guy just padded me on the back and said he’d see me at work again.” His gaze found it’s way to the girl in the robe.

“So?”

She knitted her brows in confusion, unsure of what to say. “What?” He laughed at the quick response, turning away to shake his head.

“I never really understood you, y/n. Even before you left-“

Toji leaned forward, prompting his arms on his thighs as he looked down at his hands.

“You were always looming around but ya never got to the damn point. It was like you were hiding something in that pretty little head of yours.”

Suddenly the young woman felt defensive, finally grasping the fact that she didn’t have to stand back anymore - this was her only chance.

“And you weren’t?”

His head turned, as he looked over his shoulder questioningly. Y/n took the opportunity to go further, staring back at him intently.

“You always acted all polite infront of others, casually waved at the neighbors, talked to my parents with a friendly smile - but once you were in here...”

She scoffed at the memories flooting her thoughts again. The harsh words Toji had thrown at his wife, the way he wouldn’t as much as look in his son’s direction most of the time.

“You were awful, Toji.”

The mans’ eyes grew dark with every word she uttered, but y/n was insistent on not taking it back this time, she needed answers.

“Sure, make me the bad guy all ya want. I’ll let ya have that, but don’t act all innocent on me.”

Slowly the distance between them became smaller, as the man leaned closer to y/n with a devilish grin.

“Do you really think I didn’t notice your little attempts? Ya think my wife would’ve appreciated the way you acted around me?”

The hand that was propped onto his leg was dangerously closer to her thigh, y/n noted as her eyes flickered down nervously. He knew all along - but what did that mean for her? Y/n gulped before speaking up again and meeting his gaze.

“You were already fighting with her about every possible thing you could, but you think that the girl next door would’ve made her break? Really?”

Toji’s stare was cold again, his lips shut close as he almost mumbled to himself in disbelief.

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing.” The woman shook her head as the tears slipped down her cheeks. “You didn’t even spare me a glance.”

Her voice broke as she smiled sadly, not knowing how to put into words why she had felt the way she did. Y/n couldn’t quite grasp it herself.

“I didn’t understand why even though you did everything your own way, disrespecting her multiple times and seemingly not even giving a fuck about your own family - you still never even dared to look at me in any other way than the fucking babysitter.”

A sniffle broke through the silence of the house, Toji still not wavering as he watched the woman break right infront of him.

“I know that you shouldn’t have and that it was selfish of me, childish to think you could ever see me as more, but I was so frustrated. I just wanted to be desired by you, and the little amount of attention you did give me just made it hard not to be addicted to you.”

In that moment, y/n felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t explain everything perfectly but she felt as if maybe this was the only way she could’ve made him understand, even just a little.

The girl back then already knew that her way of thinking had been selfish, and even now she couldn’t look past at how toxic it was to think that way about someone with a family, someone much older than her - but y/n still never stopped thinking about him.

Y/n closed her eyes, sparing herself the embarrassment she might’ve felt by looking at Toji’s reaction but suddenly felt his body moving beside hers. She opened her eyes as the man took her chin in his hand and looked down her lips longingly. Just for a moment, y/n thought that maybe she had been wrong all along - Maybe Toji had catched a glimpse of her when he smoked out of the bedroom window, maybe he too had wondered what it would be like to lay next to her and hold her for just one night.

Then his lips crashed into hers, softly but with a lingering determination. Before y/n could even react properly, Toji had moved back again. His eyes staying on the spot he had kissed her, tracing his thumb over it lightly.

“I can’t give you what you want. I never could.”

No. No. No.

Y/n thought back to when she had arrived today, when she claimed that everything had stayed the same. “Why?”

She pleaded with glassy eyes, her e/c ones boring into his.

“Because you don’t belong at a place like this - and I do.”

Even as the young woman sat there, watching him move away and stand back up, she didn’t feel any hatred towards him. He never did anything bad to her. He never treated her the way he had treated his wife. He never once took advantage of the situation.

But both of them knew he wasn’t a good person, and maybe letting each other go was the only way to avoid causing any more damage.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n didn’t know what exactly she had apologized for; if it had been for leaving the town out of the blue, or for crashing into his home without any warning. Maybe even for something that only Toji could know, like what circumstances he had been in to become this way - but she did feel sorry. Toji’s steps come to a halt at the doorway, turning his head, only to give her one last smile.

He had left the room without a response.

Y/n knew there hadn’t been anything left to say - this was their last chapter and she was finally ready to turn the page.

————

My first jjk story for now, but I’ll probably write more for other characters from the show soon. Also please feel free to correct me on anything grammar related since english isn’t my first language & i’m only trying to get better. ^^

Dealing with Change on a Personal Level

"Change is hard because people overestimate the value of what they have—and underestimate the value of what they may gain by giving that up."

– James Belasco and Ralph Stayer

Change is a scary thing for all of us. We get used to things being one way and have a hard time readjusting to things when they change for us unexpectedly. Unfortunately however, change is inevitable and unavoidable in life and it's up to us to adapt to the changes we have to endure. Change is one of those uncontrollable things that we wish wouldn't have to happen, but it's a lot easier to control how we react to the changes in our life, rather than trying to control the changes from happening themselves. 

When it comes to being able to control ourselves though, it will likely include having to make personal changes that we may not like or feel comfortable with, but will likely have more of a positive impact in the long run than stressing ourselves over something we have no control over. Short-term pain for long-term gain. But how do we go about making these personal changes?

Stages of Change

Pre-Contemplation

While in this stage, we are usually not thinking seriously about trying to change anything and are not interested in having anyone help us out either. We tend to defend our current habits, even if we know they’re not good for us because it doesn’t really feel like a problem...yet. We can get defensive whenever someone tries to suggest we need to change, even if they’re being kind and loving towards us (it’s hard to tell someone we love that they need to change something about themselves!) We don’t focus our attention on quitting these habits and end up not even wanting to tell anyone about them because we know people will likely judge or criticize us and tell us we need to change. Usually in this stage, we are in denial of our problems or think we have the ability to fix them whenever we want to. Do you think you might be currently in this stage? Likely not if we are interested in understanding how change works, we’re looking to seek help, and are starting to wonder how we can implement the changes we know we need in our lives towards habits, problems, or behaviors we have that we know needs fixing. However, perhaps we were all at this stage at one point in our lives.

Contemplation

This is the stage where we are aware that we have problems that need fixing, and that there are personal consequences for them. We know we have a problem, we may spend a lot of time working towards acknowledging and accepting that we need help and need fixing, but we’re struggling with ambivalence towards making that leap. We tend to weigh out the pros and cons of starting to make a change by either quitting these habits or changing our behavior. Even though we weigh out the negatives of staying the way that we are and the positives of changing to become something better, we experience a lot of doubt that there’ll be any positive outcomes in the long run because we have to deal with some short-term pains or losses. It becomes hard to see how going through short-term pain could possibly lead to long-term gain and a lot of us believe and try to convince ourselves that we can’t see ourselves getting better or not believing that we can overcome the battle ahead of us. We fear failure before even trying.

It may take anywhere between a few weeks to a lifetime to get out of this phase though. It’s all about taking that leap of faith towards recovery and doing everything we can to make sure we make it out on the other side. Thankfully though, we are usually more open to learning more information about our bad habits and prefer to use educational interventions and self-reflection on how we feel concerning our bad habits, and eventually we make the leap! The idea is to hype ourselves up enough to take the plunge towards recovery (trust me, it’s so worth it!)

Preparation

This is also known as the Determination stage, and this is where we start making a commitment to change. Our motivation for changing can sound like telling ourselves, “Something’s gotta change!”, “I’ve got to do something about this.”, “This is serious, what can I do?” This stage becomes a “research” stage where we are now starting to explore all the small steps we can take towards helping ourselves and our problems. This is when we either seek help be it from other people, online research, find a mental health professional, read self-help books, go onto online forums, support groups, watch videos, and so on so we can hear from others as to how they embarked on their journey towards changing their lives. 

This is a phase that shouldn’t be skipped however, but a lot of people tend to. Without getting the user manual and the tools needed, how will we know how to put something together? Education is important so we may gain the knowledge to make the change that we want for ourselves instead of falling flat on our face. When we attempt to do something without having all the tools at hand, we usually end up giving up on ever wanting to try again because we failed to realized we were not well-equipped to do so in the first place. The journey to healing and recovery is a long and rewarding one, requires a lot of self-patience, -love, and -compassion, but we have to make sure we’re fully aware of the commitment we have to make in order to commence.

Action

Also known as the Willpower stage, this is the stage where we believe we have the ability to change our behavior and are now taking the right steps to begin that change with a variety of techniques and skills we have learned from our preparation stage. This is considered to be the shortest stage of them all since the amount of time we spend in this stage can vary. It can be anywhere from 6 months, 1 hour, 2 weeks, etc. It’s a stage where we are expected to rely on our willpower. We end up making overt efforts to quit or change our behaviors and habits, and this is when we are most susceptible for relapsing.

We will have to mentally review our commitment to ourselves and try to develop plans to deal with internal and external pressures or temptations that can lead us down a slippery slope. We’ll use things like short-term rewards to help maintain motivation, we may analyze our behavior change efforts to enhance our self-confidence, and so forth. This is also where we are most open to receive help and support from others who are going through a similar thing, which is vital to our recovery journey. It helps to know we’re not the only ones going through what we’re going through and to seek out other people that have a lot of invaluable advice to offer to keep us motivated as well.

Maintenance

This stage is definitely where the work needs to last for the longest amount of time as it involves being able to successfully avoid temptations and pressure to return to our bad habits or behaviors. The goal is to maintain the new circumstances we’ve worked so hard to implement in the first place. We will have to continuously remind ourselves of the progress we’ve made. We also have to find new ways to reformulate the rules of our lives by either acquiring new skills or learning more about our behavior and psychology to deal with temptations in order to avoid relapsing. We will get to a point where we’re able to anticipate the situations in which a relapse could happen and prepare healthy coping skills in advance to deal with them if we end up slipping.

We have to remain aware that what we strive for is worthwhile to us on a personal level and has meaning. We have to learn to be patient and kind to ourselves, and recognize that it will take a while to let go of old behaviors and habits. We will have to come to an understanding that we need to continuously practice our new skills until they become as habitual as our old and negative ones were. Even though we may have thoughts of wanting to return to the old way of doing things because they feel comfortable and familiar, we will have to resist doing so and stay on track.

As we progress through our stages of changing, it’s helpful to always re-evaluate our progress as we move through each stage. It’s important for us to remember that it’s normal and natural to regress. Healing and recovery are not linear and some days we’ll have moments where we feel like we’ve gone back in our progress, but it’s not out of the ordinary. We need to be forgiving towards ourselves, being our cheerleader. At the end of the day, it’s up to us to make the changes we want for ourselves.

Relapse

Although this is everyone’s fear when it comes to recovery and making changes, it is not uncommon for anyone to relapse on their journey. It is a lot more common to have at least 1 relapse than to have none while on the road to healing, so we should take solace in knowing this because no one is perfect. Relapse is often accompanied by feelings of shame and discouragement because we believe we are failures and will never get better. While it is definitely a discouraging thing to go through, it’s important to note that there is always a positive way to look at failure. The majority of people who have been on the journey to healing will even tell you that it is not a straight path. There is always something to be learned from our moments of failure and it’s up to us to change our mindsets to see where we went wrong in order to avoid making the same mistake again. These people cycle through the 5 stages several times before being able to achieve a stable lifestyle change and it should be encouraging to know this. The Stages of Change diagram above considers relapsing to be a normal part of recovery. It’s up to us at the end of the day to be determined to pick ourselves up again when we fall and get back on that horse.

There is definitely a real risk that people who end up relapsing will experience an immediate sense of failure that ends up undermining their self-confidence. Remember that relapsing doesn’t have to be seen as failure since those habits have been so engrained in our minds that we can easily end up back there. We have to make sure that we encourage ourselves as well as others to see where we went wrong, where we were experiencing that moment of weakness, and how we can use it as an opportunity to learn how to cope differently and in a healthier way, strengthening those weaknesses. Relapses are important opportunities to learn and become stronger. We have to make sure that we don’t end up back in the Pre-Contemplation or Contemplation stages when this does happen, but rather restart back at Preparation, Action, or even the Maintenance stage.

With those who have relapsed, they will need to learn how to anticipate any high-risk situation that could possibly enable them to relapse more effectively, and control any external cues or environments that will tempt them to re-engage in those behaviors they’re trying to recover from. Doing so will give us a stronger sense of self-control on top of having the ability to get back on track.

Transcendence

This is the goal of where we all want to be. Eventually we will end up reaching a point where we’ll be able to regulate our emotions and understand our behavior/psychology in a way to see it in a new light. This is when our bad habits or behaviors no longer are integral to our life, along with knowing that returning back to that lifestyle would be seen as weird or abnormal to us. When we reach this stage in our process of changing, we will know that we have now transcended the old habit/behavior and that we are becoming a new person that no longer needs our old unhealthy coping mechanisms, skills, or behaviors to sustain us anymore. We have become successful in making that change we set out to do in the first place and know that if we can accomplish it for one thing, we can accomplish it for just about anything!

Kiss From a Rose

Prompt #6

Subject: Bondage Monster: Forest God

                    Misuse of plants

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

A fairy-esque home in the woods has away been a dream come true for me. The strange sense of peace that's accented by the mystic magical feel that only living alone in the woods brings. To wake about every morning to an otherworldly mist that hides the oncoming elk till it's just upon your front porch is breathtaking. Sit on the porch in the early summer days can truly take your breath away while breathing wonder back into you. I love my home, I'm glad I made this choice.

Having moved here in my early twenties was a gamble, especially when one has no money. A gift from my grandmother makes the financial strife a little easier, though just barely. Still have other bills to attempt to ignore along with the need for food. The adventure just began and it looked to be a disappointing one. Thank the heavens things worked out. Found some online work that miraculously fell into my lap and did some jobs on the side. Starting a garden and selling some food for the local market. Made the big bucks online, which sounds kind of dirty. I try not to tell people I make money online. Two things come to mind; Youtuber or porn star and I don’t have the body for porn or the personality for Youtube.

The garden has become my pride and joy since it produced its first tomato. I never knew it was hard until I relied on it for most of my groceries. A person can only eat so many cucumbers before you are desperate for change. Some trial and error later I have grown a wide variety of veggies and fruit. I legit cried when I managed to grow a pretty decent watermelon. That was the turning point in my cabin in the woods experience.

Today is too lovely to waste working inside. A fine day to perhaps sit on the porch, do some gardening, take a walk. I step outside, momentarily blinded by the sun. I straighten my shirt before heading to the garden. I admire the flourishing plants and all its produce. I note the ripening tomatoes and large bundles of cucumbers lining the ground.

I grab my supplies and head to work pulling the healthy ripe veggies. next, I tackle the maintenance, ripping out weeds and pruning the plants.

As I work I feel a tickle on my wrist. A gentle brush of a curling vine drives my curiosity away. Soon a leave brushes my face, curling to cup my cheek with too much force to be considered natural. I cease my shoveling to watch the plant in question. Furrowed brow, pursed lips. Before I give up, another cord glides over my ankle. The sensation continues, the vine sliding up my calf, squeeze me as it climbs.

I snap around onto my back, propped up by my arms as I worriedly watch the plant tickling around my knee. The green rope traces a scar on my shin, petting the slightly paled puckered skin. I let out a shaky breath as my mind catches up, my head dropping to my shoulders as I sigh. Only one reasonable explanation for why my tomatoes might be curling around my leg. Only one person.

"Mawida," I call out slightly amused. A rumbling chuckle is my answer followed by an emerging figure from the debris of the forest floor.

"Got you that time," Mawida laughs as leaves and twigs combine to form his legs. It will never cease to amaze me how his body can coalesce with such ease. Branches, leaves, twigs, flowers, vines, anything found in the forest just comes together to make the god in front of me.

"God of the forest or god of mischief? It seems like someone miss titled you," I answer as I sit up, brushing off dirt from my palms.

"I'm allowed to be more than one thing! I've been called many names, you come up with a few if I recall correctly," He pretends to ponder. I pick at a rock stuck near my thumb before I look up to acknowledge him speaking.

"When have I ever given you a title?"

He steps closer, crouching near my feet," well, just last week I remember you screaming out a few names for me. Calling me perfect and amazing."

I scoff," I never called you perfect, I was merely projecting my admirable skills. You need to pay attention better and stop stroking your ego, love." his face contorted in an unamused grimace, sneering slightly.

"I guess I just have to prove you wrong," he grins. I cross my arms with a quirked brow.

"Oh, yea? How do you plan to do that," I smirk. With no answer, just that grin, I begin sliding backward. I quickly lift my arms and stare down at my lower body. A vine wraps multiple times around my middle and thighs, dragging me back then up towards my home.

I rise from the garden, settling flush against the clinging ivy on the side of the house.

"Let me go, Mawida," I growl. He merely chuckles, stepping closer to my home and I. "Mawida, I'm serious," I try again. The bravado does nothing to him. His steps are fluid as he nears, eyeing me with no hint of subtlety. He shows he doesn't care how blatant his admiration is, he likes what he sees. As he steps closer I sneer at him, he chuckles again.

"I'm but a man in need of his woman. Do not trouble me with false anger, I just wish to worship my lady love. Is that a crime?"

"It is when you keep me bound to the side of my home," I tease. He pays me no mind, reaching out to my body. His gnarled twig and vine-covered hand cups my hip. We both watch as he trails it under my shirt, the vines around my waist loosen to allow him to raise the clothing underneath.

He sets the shirt under my neck, "Hold this for me." before I could answer a tickling feeling trails from behind my head then around to my throat. The vine weaves under and over the shirt, holding it up. His attention rests on my chest, admiring the uncovered skin with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"No bra today," he cocks a brow," Were you expecting me?"

I scoff," Don't flatter yourself." he chuckles before dipping to take a mouthful. My eyes slowly shut while a quiet sigh leaves my mouth. His wet tongue flicks and lathers my nipple, his teeth tugging with a soft grip. My hand strains against the bonds, urging to touch him.

Mawida leads kisses down my stomach, getting distracted with nips and licks on the way. After a few detours, he presses his lips to my hip before curling his fingers into my pants. This sends a jolt of alertness through my body. The small amount of give the vines have I close my thighs shut.

"No, we are not doing this in my garden," I snap. Our eyes meet as I look down at him near my crotch. His arrogant smile makes his raised brow just a bit more annoying.

"oh, do explain why not," he nuzzles my thigh," because I cannot find one reason why we shouldn't."

"Well, just to list the first one off the top of my head, someone could see us," I answer. Mawida takes the time to stand, looking around with confusion. He stops when he faces me again.

"Don't see anyone. Also, we are in the middle of the woods. Can't say that someone will happen upon us," he retorts.

"But someone could come and I rather not have my tits out when they do," I counter. It's not that I don't want to but out in the open adds a level of anxiety. The anxiety is thrilling, everything about this is thrilling, but the realist part of me understands the risk of embarrassment.

Mawida steps closer, resting his body against mine. His leaves caress my curves while some twigs poke into my stomach. He has a warmth, a wet warmth to him. His body reminds me of a greenhouse; vibrant, warm, humid, fragrant.

"I can feel every presence in these woods. I will let you know if someone nears," he whispers near my ear. His deep rumbling voice brings a chill down my spine and a fluttering in my crotch.

"Promise," I whisper back. He leans back with a soft smile.

"Promise," a vine curls a loose hair over my ear," Now can I ravish you?"

I roll my eyes," Ravish? Confident aren't we?"

"well," the vines slowly pull my legs apart as he falls to his knees," I am a god, it tends to come with certain certainties." before I can tease back he rips the crotch of my shorts. The fabric is tossed away without a care as he moans with great exaggeration. His hands grope at my thighs, petting up and down as he admires for a moment. His eagerness lights up his eyes before he leans down.

Mawida buries his face between my thighs, my eyes roll back as his nose bumps against me. His smile grows wide before he loosens his tongue from his mouth to lick up my slick. My hips roll while my crotch throbs. I look down my body to watch him lazily eat out my cunt. His eyes meet mine making lightning strike my spine. Neither of us can look away as he ramps up his attentions. I watch as his hand pets around my thigh and up to where his mouth is. His rough fingers tease around my entrance, watching me bite my lip with eagerness.

He plunges two fingers inside me, curling them as he sucks on my clit. His smile grows as he watches my eyes roll back again. I grunt through my teeth while grinding heavily into his mouth. My stomach flutters as my cunt throbs. His fingers stretch and grow, petting and pressing against my walls with a heated gaze. I pant as I watch, whimpers leaving my mouth.

"Come on," I mumble. My peak is right there. I pull against the binds, the urges to curl my leg over his shoulder to pull him closer or grab his head are stronger than ever. The tugging rubs the vines into my skin, though it's soft it does leave a bit of a bite.

As I rest on the edge Mawida winks at me. The action makes me grin for just a moment. He follows the flirty wink with a soft nibble on my clit, humming as he does. My moan chokes out my throat as everything comes together. I clench my eyes shut and cry out into the forest. I ride his face while gripping the vegetation in a tight fist. He plays me like a fiddle while I flow through my finish.

Once I fall slack against the vines he rises from between my legs. He grabs my thighs, pulling them out from within the bindings to wrap around his waist. Next, he releases my arms and guides them around his neck. I rest against his shoulders while he takes me back into the house.

"Where to," he asks as he pulls the front door open.

"Bedroom," I smirk, "I'm not done with you yet."

His chuckle vibrates my cheek," That's something I like to hear."

------------------------------------------ Last one for this weekend, hope you all enjoyed. Next week we have dirty talking demons, sappy morning ventures, and near drowning.

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Afternoon Tea

Wolfie intended to post this last night and she fell asleep. Really sorry, Tsari! This week might be a more successful writing week though as I don’t have as many calls scheduled in, meaning I can stay in my own time zone a bit more. Hooray!

Anyhow, I won’t babble too much, I’ll just jump into the long-awaited and deserved fic (and yes, Tsari, there are still more after this so don’t panic)!

So, more wishes to grant, and here was the next on the list. This is something nice and friendshippy between Ned and John? Bonus points for including Gladys and EOS for @tsarinatorment as part of @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief2020. And I suppose it kind of covers a bit of Parker babysitting for you as well.

For a reference, imagine this is set after 'A Seed Once Sown'. You don't have to read that to understand this, but basically, John gets Ned a new job as the Tracy Family's gardener, so you're all caught up now. Also, I've only given this the one, quick proof read due to time constraints, so any mistakes are my own, sorry!

Summary: A not so normal family couldn't be expected to have strictly normal friends. So what if they were pot plants and AI's? Scott swears it's all something of a dream, he's overtired as it. But did someone say cake?

Word count: Just under 6000, I think, maybe 5800-ish?

----------

Scott honestly couldn't remember what he was meant to be asking John anymore. Alan and Gordon were planning something, that much he could tell, and they'd needed to know something which Scott's brotherly knowledge didn't extend to. He might be the eldest, but that didn't mean he had a decent understanding of physics. That, was John's area, as he had remembered pointing out, to which Alan and Gordon promptly stated;

"We tried!"

"We can't get a hold of him to ask him."

"So we thought we'd ask you."

Scott remembered trying not to be offended.

"But you knew I wouldn't know that."

"We thought that was likely."

"But asking was worthwhile."

Scott had shaken his head, not really sure how to deal with the troublesome pair when their energy levels were at a full on sugar high, the day off running through their bloodstream like an additional stimulant, and honestly Scott just wanted to rest, have a moment of peace and quiet. As it was, they were heading towards Gordon and Alan finishing each other's sentences by the end of the day whilst they created chaos.

The chaos would be created anyway. There was a sparkle in brown and blue eyes, one that Scott knew all too well-meant trouble – maybe another minor explosion, great. John wouldn't be able to stop them. The plan was clearly laid, but if they wanted to ask John something, Scott figured it was probably worth trying to follow the query through. It might reduce the chances of something exploding, after all.

"What makes you think I'll be able to get hold of him?"

"He always answers you."

"Yeah."

Scott didn't think that was strictly true, but he couldn't be bothered to argue, so he went with it.

And that was how he ended up here. Here being sitting on the sofa in the lounge, listening to Gordon and Alan's master-planning floating in from the sunny poolside, wishing maybe he could be out there napping (or was that dangerous with the terrible two around?) whilst waiting for John to answer.

For the third time.

So, no John didn't always answer him.

Scott was prepared to go out and tell his youngest brothers that, no, he wasn't successful either, stuff it all and go back to bed, but… those same eldest brother instincts were niggling. They'd been given life after the blonde pair told him John hadn't answered, and they'd been nibbling freely at his youth ever since his first call went unanswered.

One more call. He told himself. He would try once more. Then he would tell the troublemakers there was no success, risk of explosion and all, and try to go back to bed. He was tired. He hated days off; that first day of quiet, of nothing, it made him feel far more tired than any stream of rescues did.

It was the stopping, he supposed.

He had time to 'suppose' on the subject whilst he waited for the call to connect.

And waited.

And realised he must be getting even more grey hairs at this rate.

The call didn't connect.

The nibbling turned to biting.

EOS wouldn't. Scott knew that now. He'd spent far too much time seeing her for who she really was, witnessing the lengths she would go to for John (and them), and many hours speaking with her. Prattling, as Virgil would probably say.

EOS wouldn't, but that didn't mean the vast world of Space would be as kind. He got up, giving in, and heading for the desk.

Thunderbird Five was still there. The scans weren't showing any alerts or damage and there wasn't any maintenance on the scheduling list and Brains was still here, wasn't he?

"Hey Scott."

"Nothing, blast."

"Uhh… ok?"

He pulled his head up. Virgil was standing on the opposite side of the lounge, looking very miffed. Probably debating whether he should admit his brother to an institution. Virgil hadn't thought quite that drastically, although he had been deliberating how badly Scott would shout at him if he called Grandma up to look over the eldest.

"I didn't see you there."

"You didn't hear me either, clearly."

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Hey Scott."

"Right."

"What's taken your attention? Grey Hairs?"

"Hey!"

It was meant to sound more commanding than that, but it was bit half hearted really. The biting was rather violently taking chunks out of his bloodstream. Or it felt like it.

Virgil just nodded.

"Something serious then."

"Yeah. Brains is still here, isn't he?"

"Where else would he be?" Virgil seemed quite confused.

"I can't get hold of John. I thought maybe something had come up?"

"No, Brains is still building his to scale model of that thing from Atlantis."

"Right. So where's John?"

Virgil, laughed.

"Grey hairs indeed."

"What?"

"John's fine. EOS left me a virtual note. Some new answer machine type thing, she and John have tried to install. They're having afternoon tea with the Queen."

"He's what?"

"Yeah, I spoke to him earlier, well to EOS, briefly. John was greeting their guest apparently. But they are both fine, save yourself another grey hair."

With that, Virgil was heading out into the sunshine, risking whatever Gordon and Alan had up their sleeves. The chatter started up, but Scott was only half-listening. He was still mulling over what Virgil had said. John was ok, that was good enough for him to cease worrying – well, sort of, the biting was slowing back down to simple annoying nibbling; present, but not all encompassing anymore.

No, Scott was actually focusing on the part about afternoon tea with the Queen. He could hardly believe that Lady Penelope had managed to get John down to Earth again. The secrecy part, the not being told, that he could believe. Still- hold on.

The metaphor of holding horses went straight through Scott's mind as he pulled his head up like one might tug fiercely on the reins.

Virgil had spoken to EOS. EOS who never left the safe confines of Thunderbird Five unless strictly necessary. Furthermore, Virgil had said John was greeting their guest… oh. The Queen had gone to Thunderbird Five?

Carefully, Scott reached out to pinch the skin of his arm. He would have asked someone else to do it, but never again were his brother's going anywhere near him with pincers poised.

Still, he maybe didn't need to pinch himself quite as hard as he did.

"Ow!"

"You alright Scott?" Virgil called in.

"Yeah! Fine! Stubbed my… toe."

"Found grey hairs more like it." He heard Gordon mumble, and there was probably some agreement from Alan there as well, but he switched his hearing loop for the pair off. He'd had quite enough of that.

Point was though, he wasn't dreaming. Because this could have all been an elaborate dream out of tiredness.

Scott was trying to work out how to get his answers…. Maybe Grandma would know? When suddenly, a call came through.

It was Thunderbird Five. It was John.

"Scott?"

"There you are!"

He tried not to seem too relived. Although the niggling finally died a death.

"Sorry, um- Can you, thanks." There was a strange shuffling and passing of… was that a teacup? Scott momentarily wondered if he'd fallen through a rabbit whole like Alice and made his way into Wonderland. Wasn't that story all about drugs though? Or magic mushrooms or something? Maybe he hadn't then… Maybe he was going mad. "Did you need something?"

"Gordon and Alan wanted something. Nothing desperate. Uh… I can't even remember."

"They're not trying to make improvised explosives again, are they?"

"I honestly didn't ask."

Scott never asked anymore, not after all the trouble with shaken up and exploding bottles of Cola. Grandma had gone berserk, and it was easier to claim innocence if you knew nothing. Also, if it was all a prank, intended for him, he'd almost rather not know what was coming. He just kept an eye on the pair of them, and never let them do the supply run together ever again. Even if that meant owing Virgil a bloody ton for constantly going, dutifully with Grandma.

"Probably unwise."

Scott shrugged.

"I can talk to them, quickly, if they're around?"

"They by the pool. I wouldn't worry, not if you're busy. Virgil… Virgil said something about the Queen?"

"I haven't heard anything. I can check the news if you want? Hold on. No, EOS, Battenburg is the pink and yellow one. Well, Scott?"

"Well…?"

The eldest was still trying to put everything together. Was Virgil playing a practical joke on him? John didn't seem to know anything about the Queen. And had he heard cake mentioned? Maybe he really was losing it.

"There's no reports of anything to do with the Queen. I could ask Lady Penelope if she knows anything?"

"Right, um, are you-

"John-"

"EOS, jam tarts are red."

"What?"

"Sorry Scott, you were saying?"

Scott honestly didn't know what he was trying to say right about now.

And of course, that moment of his great confusion was when his brothers reappeared, Virgil shouting at Gordon that once his new tin of paint arrived, the fish would be doing naught but fixing Thunderbird Two.

Scott realised he'd obviously missed something there too.

"Oh look it's John."

"Is that tea?"

"John's having tea with the Queen." Virgil reminded.

"Oh, really?"

"And we weren't invited."

Scott didn't notice that John too had frowned here, about to say something before he was beaten to it.

"He's not having tea with the Queen!"

"Um… okay?" Virgil began, once again a little unsure. John was blinking in confusion, looking back to EOS as though she held the answers, and if the AI could have shrugged, she would have. "Are you doing okay, Scott?"

"I'm so confused!"

"Right," John began, clearing his throat, "Let me try and clear the problem here."

Scott was more than pleased to let him. That is, after all, what his brother did best.

"Go for it. Who the hell are you having tea with?"

---------

Ned was experienced in many things. He'd worked in space; under the sea; with one of the biggest defense organisations known to the world and with a selection of important vaults. He'd faced death at the tendrils of the sun; at the ends of the perilous deep ocean's grip; at the hands of an irate Colonel; some Mechanical guy; and a poisonous gas.

He was experienced in many things, and Gladys had been by his side for them all, but he was only truly experienced in one thing.

Gardening.

Well, maybe two: he was pretty good at making tea.

Oh, make it three: he was a very good baker, if he didn't say so himself.

Thanks to those Tracy boys, Ned had realised where he belonged. He always should have stuck with gardening. Gladys liked gardening too.

His business was flying by now. He had quite the clientele on his list and brilliant references from International Rescue to get his foot in any door. It was all rather surprising, how all of this had come out of one offer to become a gardener to a family in need.

It had been a while since he'd seen any of the Tracy boys, but today was different.

Space looked different when you weren't going up there to work, or with limited interest. He was keenly awaiting sight of the one Thunderbird he'd yet to properly see.

He'd spent a lot of time baking and he hoped he'd made enough. He had four hold-all's full, but he'd seen the appetite on that family.

Although, then again, he was only meeting one man and a machine.

Speaking of, the space station swung into his view, looking like it belonged in the vast floatiness.

"Here we are, Gladys! Thunderbird Five!"

And he'd been waiting a very long time for this.

---------

John had been a little more than surprised when Ned asked if he could come to Thunderbird Five. They'd had the date on the calendar for a while now. Ned may have his own business, but he still maintained the Tracy Island gardens, and John had been in contact with the man ever since he left the safe haven of the island. Ned had kept himself miraculously out of trouble since, actually.

So no, John wasn't surprised by their meeting, but definitely by the choice of location. He'd assumed Ned wouldn't want to step foot in space again after the asteroid mine and the iridium vault. But, Ned wanted to see Thunderbird Five, and (maybe most surprisingly of all) EOS, again. Apparently, Gladys missed having a friend.

John had thought that a little silly at first. Because a non-sentient pot plant couldn't possibly miss what it didn't have, but then EOS had made a gleeful point about having missed her potty pink companion and John honestly wondered if it was possible for plants to have sentience. They did have life, after all. Ned certainly seemed to believe there was more to them, what with this great love for all things garden.

He'd agreed. Because, after all, it did save him from ending up at some coffee shop of choice with gravity down on Earth. He much preferred staying here anyhow.

He'd had EOS leave a message for his brothers, so they knew he was there, but not readily available for any great scheme that was being concocted in the absence of work. They'd been working on a new program recently, so that people could leave International Rescue messages, in case of busy times, or if they ever needed to go 'out of office' again so to speak. John was sure it was fine, so he'd left the job of leaving the first ever message with EOS, in the hope that the holo-communication system would display it.

And if not, Virgil would know he was alive. They'd been chatting for a bit whilst Virgil had him place an order for some new paint for Thunderbird Two. Alan or Gordon – John didn't know who and he didn't want to know – had scratched Thunderbird Two on the last outing. Again.

And so the day had come, and Ned arrived. John had offered him to come via Tracy Island and the Space Elevator, but Ned had proclaimed he wanted to surprise his brothers, and besides, had already booked himself and Gladys onto a nice little connecting flight via the newly rebuilt Space Hub One. John had merely smiled and let the man go about his odd ways, although he had asked that Ned say hello to a Chief Controller Conrad for him. He'd been more than happy to pick Ned up from the Space Hub, but Conrad had sent someone to him instead.

So he and EOS hadn't moved a muscle in waiting for their guest until EOS registered that it was time to open the airlock.

John had expected Ned and Gladys. He hadn't expected the boxes.

"Hello!"

"Ned. Nice to see you again. And Gladys."

"It's very nice to be here. Gladys is very excited."

"Yes, well, what's all this?"

"We're having afternoon tea."

"Yes, but-"

"Well, I took to presuming you might not keep tea on a space station."

"Um, no I don't as it happens."

"Good! Because I've brought my best china. Here you go."

And before John really knew what was going on, he was carrying two boxes whilst Ned carried the last and Gladys, making his way into Thunderbird Five by following EOS along her track. He was commenting on everything, saving nothing for later, musing over why it was all so white, and whether he needed it painted because Ned could do painting (apparently), and complimenting the nice little colours on the windows.

John didn't even bother to remind him they weren't really windows or correct him on any amount of stuff. The man was harmless and simple. Everything someone from International Rescue, like himself, needed the odd dose of.

They'd chattered aimlessly whilst Ned brewed tea and set multiple sweet treats onto plates. EOS was eyeing them all, jealously, not really even knowing what they were or what they tasted like, but John did. And he could see multiple traditional favourites. And he liked what he saw. EOS was googling them. Again. Honestly, he'd told her google was rubbish. It would only be a matter of time before something came out of that.

But when the tea was brewed to Ned's satisfaction, they sat themselves – as best as you can in space – with their pristine china teacups, all white with pink edging. They were obviously kept for best, just as Ned had said.

EOS was hovering by his shoulder, and Ned has rested Gladys by his side, with multiple plates surrounding the pot. If John was anyone else, besides John Tracy son of Jeff Tracy and member of International Rescue, he honestly would have been baffled at the sight of two men, an AI and a plant pot, sharing tea with cake and biscuits. Oh, not forgetting the whole in space part.

The picture would have made quite the post card.

Lady Penelope would have loved it. As proof he was socialising.

"So how's business, Ned?"

"Oh no complaints here. I do a good trade in Petunias."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, fly off the imaginary shelves they do! Because I keep them in the ground, get it?"

"Yes, I got that."

"Course you did. You're the smart one. That's what Gladys and I think."

"That's very kind of you."

"John?" EOS butted in, well sort of. It was an open conversation, and Ned had come to see her just as much as he'd come to see him, John reminded himself. He'd even gone so far as to offer her a biscuit. John had resisted the urge to face palm. It wasn't polite afternoon tea manners, he remembered. Besides, EOS had laughed, clearly finding it quite entertaining before asking Ned for a description of what said biscuit tasted like – so she could learn. Which had then led them to a rather interesting commentary on the flavours of different biscuits, Ned describing to EOS precisely why Highland Shortbread was different to Shortbread Snaps. John munched thoughtfully on a piece of each, realising he'd never noticed the distinct sugary difference before. Or rather, if he ever had known it, he'd forgotten all about it.

That was exactly what he meant: about the grandeur of International Rescue overpowering the littlest of things. Ned was a reminder.

"Yes EOS?"

"Can we have a garden?"

"I don't know if it would last, EOS."

"Oh… but it would be lovely to have bright plants around us!"

John could actually kind of imagine it. And he wasn't sure if was a good idea or not.

"I suppose, but-"

"Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble to do!"

"I'm not a gardener though, Ned."

And even if he was, he didn't know if he could achieve the growing and successful life of plants in space.

"I can do it! Bring some hardy plants up, find a place for them. We could do that, couldn't we, Gladys?"

A moment of silence whilst they waited dutifully the amount of time it would take for the plant to give an imaginary 'yes'.

It was the only thing John still wasn't quite used to.

"Well, I suppose we could always try it."

It was more to placate his company than because he thought it was a good idea. Only time would tell. And at least he could say he'd tried.

"Hooray!" EOS was definitely like a child still. "I wonder if they'll grow as big as the ones I saw on Earth?"

"They were growth serum induced EOS."

And that he was definitely not heaving up here.

"And I seem to remember having a fever."

John was honesty trying to discount that entire plant mad day from his memory banks still.

"Oh, and I've been meaning to say- Jam tart?"

"Thank you."

"-Thanks for letting me do all the gardening. On the Island."

"Oh, no thank you, Ned! I think Grandma was about to drive us all stir crazy. Either that, or Gordon might have tried to use the lawn mower again."

"Oh?" Ned asked around a mouthful of jam and pastry. "Not the Squid's thing?"

"He nearly cut his fingers off the last time."

"How'd he nearly do that? Any decent lawn mower has a cut-off switch." Hmm, of course. Gardening was Ned's comfort zone, you could hear that, just as space and communications were his.

"And any decent person using a lawn mower doesn't usually try running with it to get it done sooner."

"Ah, rushes, I see. I thought that was more the Hot-Shot Kid?"

"No. Alan's actually tempered. Scott rushes."

"That's your big brother?" Ned had spent enough time around them all to know them, but it had been a while, and (as John had learnt) Ned tended to go by his nicknames for them, as opposed to their given names.

"The one and only."

"The one I threw Iridium at?"

"Yeah… maybe don't bring that up. Scott's still a little bitter."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Oh, no. He knows that, Ned. It's not about the fact you threw it at him- well, sort of, more the fact the have better aim that him."

"Oh! It's nice to know I can do something."

"Speaking of, when could you next visit the Island? Grandma's been on about some kind of trellis? And Virgil is really interested in Topiary. He's trying to keep that a secret, but umm... he still forgets EOS can still read their search history."

'Forget' might be exaggeration of the truth. Gordon had found out after EOS had told John something she'd found without actually telling him how she knew. Alright, you could argue that John should have asked, but he hadn't. When he'd then mentioned it, Gordon had brightly put two and two together. John had promised to make EOS stop. But she didn't and John didn't actually mind. It had given him a great idea for what to get Alan for his 21st.

"I am very good at that now, John. Undetectable."

Ned chuckled. "Is there anything she isn't good at?"

"Probably not."

"I have multiple functions. I am a rescue assistant, a de-bugger, a computer hacker-"

"Ok, EOS, that's probably enough."

"Oi, you plotting to take over the world or something?"

"If I was Ned, I'd let you know. We'd need a few more flowers to brighten everything up out there."

"Oh, we could do that." Ned actually sounded quite excited at the prospect of being part of a world domination plan. "Couldn't we Gladys?"

Another imaginary 'yes' pause. Well, that time John actually thought he heard something. He briefly shook his head at EOS who gave a little flicker of mischievous purple. Great. She was working on a voice program for a pot plant. The world didn't need him gaining an army of talking plants. And he probably shouldn't think of that. EOS had a strange way now of working out what he was thinking.

"Biscuit?"

Ned offered another plate his way.

As if John would say no. For once, this was good homemade stuff, nothing like what Grandma conjured. It was a shame their Granddad's grand cooking abilities never rubbed off – and that the man was a little too shy to tell his wife she couldn't bloody cook.

This, was actually quite a good way to spend an afternoon. It was like having a butler. A little like Parker. Hmm. John loved his own space, but maybe that wasn't too bad an idea. And EOS would have Gladys for company. Gladys who she could give voice too. Yes, maybe that was an idea worth entertaining. He'd make sure to put it on their discussion list for later.

After a bit of looking at the calendar – which for them of course, could mean nothing in a second's notice – plans had been made, back-up plans had been made, and a final resort back-up was steadily waiting in the wings. Just in case the world decided to fall into utter chaos on all the prior days. John was nothing if not prepared for most – if not all – scenarios.

And with all this sorted, they moved on their discussion.

"So what's been happening with International Rescue whilst I've been away doing me worldwide gardening?"

"We've had a pretty run of the mill time of it. Minor volcano incident, hurricane, little rockfall - did more damage to property than people. Oh, we did go to The Mechanic's new Zero-X2 launch."

"Oh the scary bad-turned-good guy that took me into space in the vault?"

"Yes."

Ned nodded, like that whole trip had been washed through the crystal blue waters under the bridges of forgiveness.

"How was it?"

"Absolute success. Brains was ranting for days."

"Good that, isn't it, Gladys?"

It was at this point that Ned lifted Gladys from her comfy place of residence to take hold of her once more.

John couldn't comprehend how he hadn't noticed it; well of course he could, there had been EOS, and Ned, and Gladys, and cups of tea and Battenbergs, with biscuits and jam tarts – all homemade – and it had been a little like the days they'd spent at Lady Penelope's as children under Parker's supervision. Parker had claimed to not be very good with children and to have absolutely no experience whatsoever. John smiled wryly at that. Yeah right. Give children sweet treats and they will bend to your instructions. Not to mention that all the while they sat on the comfy sofas - munching and trying not to leave crumbs – Parker would be demonstrating his excellent array of 'magic' tricks. It was only when Gordon asked for a go that Scott had realised what Parker had actually been meaning to teach them.

Anyhow, Gladys had been resting on a communication switch. Ned noticed this too as he clutched the pot close to him. He stil expected to be shouted at, like his days back in the GDF, or admonished by his employers, like his days back in Hydrexler, or left stranded and alone, like his days back asteroid mining. He was human. John could recognise. If he was completely honest, that was more his reasoning for proposing to Colonel Casey an offer he knew Ned would never refuse; that, more than the fact getting a gardener would save them and appease Grandma.

Of all the people they'd rescued, Ned had grown on him. No puns intended.

"Oh… Sorry?"

"It's fine, Ned. If it was anything serious Thunderbird Three would be outside."

John may have turned his back, but he could tell Ned was looking desperately around outside for any sight of the Thunderbirds. Ned had had a rare opportunity to see them all now, and yet still gazed upon like he'd never seen sight of them.

John could understand that.

Scott appeared before him, looking like he was trying to hide his great relief.

John hid a smile.

And tried to appease his brother's worry at the same time as Ned offering him another cup of absolutely fantastic tea.

Obscuring a teacup on holo-communications wasn't easy.

But he was going to damn well try his best.

He knew what would happen if his brother's caught sight of edible food.

---------

"I did leave a message."

"And I got it." Explained Virgil, sitting down comfortably on the sofa. "It said you were having afternoon tea with the queen."

"Umm… no." John replied. "That's not what is should have said. EOS?"

"I sent what you told me too, John."

"I never the Queen, EOS."

"But Gladys likes to think of herself as a Queen of the Geranium's."

"Too right she is!" Ned exclaimed, merrily, still holding Gladys in his grasp.

For a moment, there was absolute silence from the island.

Scott no longer knew whether he was dreaming, in the middle of a nightmare, or maybe I he had been slipped the odd set of drugs.

There, sharing the holo-screen with John, was Ned Tedford and Gladys.

"You're having afternoon tea with Ned and Gladys?" Gordon exclaimed.

"Yeah." John answered, like it was a normality. "Ned wanted to see Thunderbird Five."

"I really like it. Especially the floaty floatiness."

"John, I still cannot find that word in the dictionary."

"It doesn't matter EOS."

Alan was just a mess of chuckles. In fact, Scott was surprised there was anything left of him save the sound.

And of course, it was – as things usually were for the Tracy's – at this moment that Ned raised a plate full of neatly sliced cake. John would have liked to have finished the explanations first, and kept the whole Ned being here thing a secret. Especially as they'd been planning a great surprise for Virgil's birthday. John still vowed to make up for the one which the middle child essentially 'missed' which he still felt a little at fault for. This would top that ruined surprise in seconds. As it was, John had learnt that Ned was good at keeping secrets, so there wouldn't be any worries there. The problem was how to deal with now.

Now being the very obvious sight of cake.

The harm was already done, so John reached out a took a piece.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome."

"What?" Alan bellowed, narrowly avoiding taking Scott's ears clean off, "You have cake?"

"Homemade and all." Ned added, somehow managing to balance a numerous amount of plates in his grasp, with one balancing on Gladys as well. EOS' little lights brightened, and John sighed at her forming even more grand ideas. Gladys was not proving the greatest of influences on his AI, and John felt an understanding for the struggles of their father when the boys went out into the world, forming their own friendships.

Eyes were glimmering back at them.

"You-"

"Have-"

"Cake!"

John wasn't sure what happened first really. In seconds, Virgil, Gordon and Alan were on their feet.

"Hello Ned!" Gordon waved.

"We're on our way up."

Alan was rushing around like a mad thing.

"To Thunderbird Three!"

"You mean to the cake!" Gordon insisted, following the youngest at a speed that rivalled a sports car.

"Scott, are you coming with?"

Virgil was waiting, looking at the brunette expectantly.

Scott wanted to say no. He wanted to go bad to bed and sleep, because clearly he needed it. His head still wasn't entirely wrapped around the fact that EOS could apparently talk to Gladys and that the pot plant liked to be thought of as a Queen, nor why Ned was waving at them from Thunderbird Five whilst pouring cups of tea and sharing biscuits with John like he'd lived up there for years now. He was entirely lost as to where the real Queen fitted in, he'd honestly forgotten his true reason for even trying to call John – which got him involved in all this madness in the first place, and everyone rushing around and shouting was doing nothing for his head.

But there was cake. Homemade cake, that – most importantly – didn't look like it would poison them.

John couldn't really eat it all. They were only looking out for his health by going up there to help finish it, Scott supposed.

Some second wind had him off his feet in seconds.

"See you in a bit, John."

Virgil gave a little cheer and some kind of funny-step-dance that wasn't really a dance, which John desperately hoped EOS had been recording. She recorded everything on the Island now. Even Gordon's singing the in the shower. John had questioned why, slightly unsure as to whether it was even a good idea to be doing so, only for EOS to play him a section – audio only, thank whatever God there was. Gordon was surprisingly good. No, not good actually. Pretty good. Now one could hold a tune quite like Virgil could, but John was surprised to find that Gordon had a talent he wasn't boasting about. He'd asked – slightly more wisely – why EOS was even keeping that. Her pointed answer was exactly what he should have expected. Blackmail material. John had wondered then if he should have let EOS get her claws on the World Wide Web. She edited Wikipedia enough as it was.

Still, as his brothers left his sights, heading to warm up Thunderbird Three, John waved a hand to EOS who closed the link. He rolled his eyes as he turned back to Ned. It wouldn't be long before his brothers joined them, shattering the peace and quiet of Thunderbird Five, stomping rudely over proper afternoon tea. John sometimes wondered how Lady Penelope put up with Gordon making all the mess he did when he stayed in London. Parker. That one was obvious. The man spent more time running around Gordon to keep everything in order than he did shadowing Lady Penelope for her own safety.

Their quiet afternoon was dead in the water. A very new one was about to begin.

"Sorry Ned. It will get noisy now, and busy, and… crazy."

He wasn't going to hold back. Ned knew them well enough after all.

"Oh that's alright. Gladys and I wondered if we might be seeing everyone, so I've bought plenty of everything. A gardener is always prepared!"

Far more prepared it seemed than the man had been in any other job.

John glanced over towards the two unopened boxes. If they contained anything like the feat that was currently placed before them, they would be absolutely fine. Ned was finally right where he was meant to be.

And John supposed he should have asked why Ned had bought a full set of teacups.

Always prepared, those gardening types.

A Natural

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Warnings: Crappy writing because I wrote this while extremely stressed

Posted: 1/10/2019

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Flufff and probably angst: 5,327 words

A/N: Inspired by a prompt by @hybridfanfiction (Let me know if I need to untag you), and apologies for the quality. This was major stress relief writing after my hard drive died and I’m still...it’s a whole debacle but I might be able to save files if the scan ever finishes. It feels like it’s been forever since I posted, but it’s only been seven days.

Theo was bouncing on seat as he looked out the window. "I promise I'll be good! Can we go now?!" You sighed, then unbuckled. "Wait for me to open your door." Not that he had a choice, you kept the child locks on the doors because as obedient as your son was, he got excited and tended to rush towards whatever it was that was exciting him. That was one of the reasons the school counselor had suggested you adopt a hybrid. Not only would it provide Theo with a friend to play with but it might slow him down a little while he makes sure his friend is still with him. Which is what brought you to the adoption center. You waited until he was sitting still and opened the door. "No running, no yelling, no leaving my side unless I tell you you can. Now, we're here to find you a friend but we don't necessarily have to get one today. Okay?" He looked up at you, his eyes the same color as yours and shining with excitement. His hair, which you had carefully combed, was a mess. Thankfully his clothes were devoid of stains since he had dressed after breakfast and wouldn't have lunch until after. You smoothed his hair. "Mom?" "Hmm? Did you say yes?" He nodded, grinning at you, and taking your hand. "I'll be good!" He bounced on his toes. You smiled and nodded. "Alright, let's go. You've been really patient." He pulled you all the way to the building, then through the door. "Hi!" The worker grinned. "Hello. Welcome to Cedarbrook Adoption Center." "I'm y/n, this is my son Theo. I called yesterday," You told him, keeping a firm hold on Theo's hand when something caught his attention and he pulled on you. The worker nodded. "Ah! Yes! We'll have one of our specialists with you in a second if you'll take a seat." You nodded. "Okay, come on, Theo." Theo reluctantly sat down next to you, kicking his feet back and forth and looking around curiously. "Do you think we'll get a dog hybrid? Or a cat hybrid? Maybe a bunny hybrid? Ooh! Or--" "Or whatever one seems to fit with us. Let's just calm down, kiddo. If you're too excited then they could get nervous." You kept attempting to get his hair to lay flat, but it just rebelled as always. It was something that reminded you of his father. His gorgeous, amazing father who had died without ever seeing this precious being that somehow managed to wring every drop of energy from you. Theo was your world. The thought of interrupting the careful balance you already had in your home was stressful, but you knew that it was time for a change. Theo needed this, and everyone you consulted had said that it would actually really help you too. Whatever was best for Theo. "Hello, my name is Jungkook. I'm going to help you find a hybrid today." A man with bright eyes and a charming smile greeted you and gave Theo the high five that was expected. "Any idea what we're looking for today?"

You nodded for Theo to talk. His face scrunched as he thought of serious answers. "A boy." "Okay," Jungkook said patiently, smiling down at Theo. "I want to be able to play with him," Theo said, then looked at you before looking determinedly at Jungkook. "I know what I want, but not how to say it." Jungkook laughed. "I understand. Come on back. You can lead the way." Theo looked up at you, then nodded and hurried off with Jungkook when you smiled your permission. He was talking a mile a minute while you looked through an information pamphlet Jungkook had given you when he came in. It had quick information about the traits of the different types of hybrids and how the hybrids are cared for here. "Alright, we've passed the babies and toddlers. These are the four and five year olds. You're striking me as an awesome six-year-old. Do you want a hybrid younger, the same age, or older than you?" "Older," Theo said, walking past that room. And the next. Jungkook looked back at you. You shrugged and gestured that it was Theo's choice. You'd been told that it was important that the hybrid be his choice, and he had his own thoughts about what he wanted. Which made you nervous, but you also knew that kids--especially your kid--had a really good sense about people. You were surprised when he went into the room of hybrids over twenty. You were standing by the door, watching with confusion as your son went around the room observing all the hybrids in there. They regarded him with curiosity, reacting to him in a friendly manner. Jungkook stayed beside you. "He knows what he wants. That's good. And an older hybrid won't be as high of maintenance for you," He said, obviously sensing how tense you were. He offered you a comforting smile. "Still, it's strange that he's picking one that's an adult." You rubbed your arms in apprehension, watching to see what his choice would be. He was talking to a few of them now, nodding in response. They were gathered around him and he was so calm compared to how he normally was. He pointed back at you, seeing you watching and grinning. You waved a little. "Your husband...?" Jungkook asked, looking at his clipboard. "Died. Before Theo was born. Actually, I didn't even know I was pregnant when he died." Jungkook nodded, making a note as he bit his lip. "Are you a good story reader? Do you do voices?" Theo asked a hybrid, following it over to a different area with some chairs. You didn't hear the responses, but Theo looked pretty happy. "Do you sing? Do you know lullabies?" He asked, grabbing the hybrid's hand and leading him toward you. The hybrid nodded, then glanced up at you and suddenly looked a little shy. You fought the urge to blush as well. He was hands-down the most beautiful and handsome man you'd ever met. "This is my mommy. She's the best. Isn't she pretty?" The hybrid nodded, stepping partially behind Theo. "Mommy, this is Taehyung. Can we take him home?" "You're sure, sweetie?" You asked, but you'd never known him to be unsure about anything. Even the things you'd wish he would be unsure about, such as his dislike of carrots. "I'm sure," Theo said, nodding firmly and then taking your hand in his other one. "Okay," You said, looking at Jungkook. "Paperwork?" He nodded, smiling. He looked genuinely happy about Taehyung getting chosen. "We'll go take care of it. Tae, grab your things and say goodbye to the others?" Taehyung nodded. Theo hesitated. "Mommy, can I stay back here while you do paperwork and play with everyone?" "Um..." "It's okay with us," Jungkook said softly. Taehyung met your gaze, a little less shy already. "I'll keep him safe." Something in your head told you that it was best to start off with trusting Taehyung with Theo. You'd have to eventually anyway and frankly, being in a secure building was as good a place to start as any. You nodded. "Okay. I'll be right back." You kissed the top of Theo's head and followed Jungkook to fill out the paperwork. Last you saw, Theo was following Taehyung further into the room with a hop in his step. Next you saw of him, he was being tossed in the air by the hybrid and caught just as easily, both laughing and the other hybrids seeming to feed off of the positive energy they created. Theo had his father's smile. You went over cautiously, smiling. You had a few information packets and some things to help make Taehyung’s transition a little easier (not that Jungkook seemed concerned, he said that he was required to give it out and that Taehyung would transition just fine), but mostly you just had Theo’s backpack since he had abandoned it in the waiting area. Taehyung noticed you and set Theo down, looking sheepish and scared. “Uh, sorry—” Theo was trying to get back up. “More! Please?” You laughed softly. “He loves that. He got too big for me to do it last year. As long as you’re careful, I don’t mind. We should get going, Theo, it’s almost lunch time.” Theo grinned and ran, crashing into your legs. “Food!” He turned toward Taehyung. “Food! Let’s go!” Taehyung nodded as well, clutching a pillow and a pillowcase that was stuffed with his belongings after another hybrid handed it to him. “Y-yeah, let’s go.” The other hybrids said more goodbyes to him, while you slowly headed for the door. Theo was racing toward the door, excited about food. “Come on Tae-tae! We have to get lunch.” “Theo, your backpack?” You prompted, giving Taehyung more time to say goodbye. Theo froze, then looked around wildly before realizing you were carrying it and rushing to you. “Sorry, mommy, thanks.” He put it on with your help, then gripped the straps and looked up at you excitedly. “What did we talk about?” You asked gently, smiling. He looked up at you sheepishly. “No running off without your permission. Sorry mommy.” You dropped down to kiss the top of his head. “It’s okay, baby, it’s an exciting day. Just stay where I can see you and let’s not leave Taehyung behind, huh?” His eyes widened and he looked back at Taehyung. “Oh no!” He ran and latched onto Taehyung’s leg. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind.” Taehyung laughed and picked him up, nuzzling his face, and then just carrying Theo out into the hall. You took the pillow and pillowcase so that he wasn’t holding all three, giving him a reassuring smile. Theo started telling him about kindergarten, and his bedroom, and the house, and everything that he could think of. He just talked on and on. And on. He was a loquacious thing. He was still talking when you were taking him from Tae to strap into the carseat. He only paused when you closed his car door. You looked apologetically at Taehyung. “He’s going to be talking for another couple hours. He gets like this when he’s excited. He’ll calm down after he gets some food and runs out of things to tell you.” Taehyung smiled happily. “That’s okay. I’m excited too. He’s great.” “You can either take the front seat or sit in back with him.” He gestured that he would take the back, following you around to the other side of the vehicle. Theo talked the whole drive home, and as they got out of the car, and as you unlocked the door and let them into the house. He dragged Taehyung back to his bedroom before you could say a word. You sighed and shook your head, he was like this when he had a playdate too. You just resigned yourself to making lunch and letting Taehyung know the house rules after Theo had fallen asleep during the nap time that he was ‘too old for’ (he conked out at the same time every day). You checked your email while the water for macaroni and cheese was boiling, grimly noting the emails from your clueless coworker that heralded a difficult workday on Monday. “Theo, sandwich or hot dog?” “Hot dog!” He cheered from his room, then you heard him go right back to chattering, probably introducing Taehyung to his four stuffed animals and all of his other toys. You turned on the broiler, and got the hot dogs out of the fridge. Theo pulled Taehyung into the kitchen. “This is the kitchen!” “Taehyung, what do you eat?” “Everything,” He replied easily. “Hot dogs and mac and cheese?” He nodded, smiling still. He looked genuinely pleased and seemed to be relaxed. His tail wagged gently, and his collie ears were swiveled toward your son as he listened carefully to every word that was uttered. He guided Theo around you and into the dining room without ever interrupting. His smile just got bigger and bigger. Lunch was the usual of Theo talking and you listening while eating, except Taehyung was there, also listening and asking little questions.                                                                                                                 Theo dragged Taehyung off the moment the man finished his own lunch. You did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, picked up the living room, put Taehyung’s things in the spare bedroom, and straightened up in there for him. You peeked in on them in Theo’s room, seeing they were playing with the army men. Your watch said that you had another half hour before he crashed, maybe a little longer with how excited he was. You looked over the ingredients in your fridge, planning out dinner until you heard a shuffling sound behind you. Taehyung was standing there. “He’s asleep.” You smiled. “You okay? He can be a lot to handle.” Taehyung just grinned. “He’s great. I love him. He’s so bright and energetic. We’re going to have a lot of fun.” You nodded. “This room over here will be your room. I put your pillow and things on the bed. Anything else you need we can buy.” You pulled an extra blanket from the closet. “Especially clothing. I only have to work until lunch on Monday and we can go to the store to get you whatever you need. Okay?” He nodded, looking around and then out the window. “This is really nice. Thanks. I’ll be a good hybrid, I promise.” “I’m sure. Jungkook had the highest praises for you,” You told him, then smiled. “Well, if he’s asleep, we only have about half an hour before he wakes up again. Might as well give you a breather and let you acclimate.” You dipped your head to him and left him looking after you with an expression you didn’t understand. You went to your own room, looking over some bills that for once you didn’t have to worry about. You’d gotten that raise that you deserved the moment management had changed, and suddenly you weren’t having to cut corners just to make ends meet, another reason you were able to adopt a hybrid for Theo. Someone shook you gently. You started, sitting up and bonking heads with him. “Ah!” “Sorry! Sorry, um, Theo started throwing up. He’s okay right now, I gave him some ginger ale.” Taehyung sounded a little uncertain. You mentally cursed. “He must have a migraine. He’s not throwing up now?” You rubbed your head. He nodded. “He stopped a while ago, I just left his side because he seemed a little better.” “Thanks, Taehyung.” You got up, running a hand through your hair, and going out to where Theo was miserably watching ancient episodes of Winnie the Pooh. You ran a hand through his mop of hair. “Hey, baby. Taehyung said you were sick?” He rubbed his head, pouting and reaching out to you. You sat and pulled him into your lap. “Migraine, baby?” He nodded and curled into you. “Hurts, mom.” You kissed his head and got comfortable. “Taehyung took good care of you, baby?” He smiled. “He’s the best.” You nodded, sighing in relief that he seemed to be feeling better. You smiled at Taehyung. “He’s certainly something.” Taehyung smiled back, looking so happy that you had to look away. Being in a house with him was going to be challenging. It’s been forever and a day since you had to function around an extremely handsome man. It’s been you and Theo for so long. Now you had to find a new balance. You turned your attention to the screen, unsure what to do or say around the new man in your life. ——— You tucked Theo in. “School tomorrow.” He pouted for a second. “Okay. Will you and Tae-tae pick me up?” “Yes, we will. And we’re going to have roast beef and mashed potatoes for dinner tomorrow.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then took your goodnight kiss, smiling as he giggled happily. “I love roast beef,” He said, grabbing his stuffed rabbit and hugging it. “Goodnight, mommy, I love you.” “I love you too. Now, Tae can read you one story. That’s it for tonight, okay?” He nodded. “Yes mommy.” “Goodnight, love.” You kissed his forehead again and got up. He suddenly grabbed at you. “Mommy? You like Tae-tae, right?” You tilted your head curiously. “I do. Why?” “Like, a lot?” You sat back down. “I suppose so.” “Like as much as you loved my daddy?” You flinched, and all amusement you had over the line of questioning died. “Theo…” “Because I love him a lot, and he’s an adult, and he thinks you’re pretty and I bet he—” “Theodore,” You whispered sternly. He closed his mouth, looking up at you with big, sad eyes. “Yes mommy?” Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to explain it to him in a way that he would understand. “You know how much I love you?” “Beyond infinity,” He answered easily. “I want you to be happy, and healthy, but…baby, did you get Taehyung because you wanted a father?” You asked. He’d never said a word about a father before, and rarely asked about his own father. Theo nodded slowly. “Are you mad?” “No, honey, I’m not mad. But I want you to understand that Taehyung and I probably won’t fall in love. Do you understand?” He nodded, but he had tears in his eyes. You sighed and pulled him into your arms. “It just…isn’t how that works.” You kissed his face gently a few times while he sniffled. “Okay mommy,” He whispered, then looked up desperately. “But Taehyung is staying, right?!” You laughed softly. “Of course. I’ll go tell him your ready for your story.” You tucked him back in. “Love you, baby.” “Love you, mommy.” Tears gone, crisis averted, you went out to the kitchen where Taehyung was finishing a snack. “He’s ready for his story.” “I’m sorry,” He blurted, holding his hand in front of him. “For?” You glanced around, expecting to see something broken since that’s how he was asking. “Theo, the whole dad thing.” You relaxed a little. “Oh, yeah. I guess he saw his friends all had both and decided he needed to as well. It’s okay. He loves you without the title of dad anyway. It’s good for him to have you around.” He hugged you. You were surprised, but you hugged back, having read that hybrids thrive with physical affection of any sort. To reject him could greatly upset his adaptation to your home. Besides, he smelled fantastic and it was kind of nice feeling strong arms around you. Made it feel a little less like you were holding the world on your own. He hesitantly nuzzled your hair and cheek, he held you tighter. “You’re tired.” You shrugged. “Labor of love, right? Emphasis on the labor. Have fun reading to him. I told him only one story.” He nodded. “I’ll make sure he sleeps. You go sleep too.” “Thanks, Taehyung.” You kissed his cheek, then turned and headed toward your room. You felt exhausted. You changed, and somehow managed to brush your teeth. You didn’t make it under the covers, and your dreams… You woke up feeling like you needed a drink, shaking a little and hopping into a cold shower (it wasn’t intentional). You hurried to dress and go down to check the water heater, groaning and trying to figure out what the heck you were going to do now. Then your phone alarm went off to tell you to wake up Theo. You darted upstairs, only to find both of them already up and Taehyung helping Theo get a bowl of cereal. Taehyung looked at you with a smile, then it faded slightly. “Good morning?” “Uh, water heater is broken. Morning, baby.” You kissed Theo on the head and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ to Taehyung before rushing off to dry your hair and get ready for work before wrestling Theo into clothing for school. You had to tell him what was happening a day in advance so that he didn’t have a fit over the changes that came with the day, another reason it was so important for you to plan meals. Sure, he could get behind some spontaneous activities and changes, but most of the time he froze up and became a wall of stone. He was already dressed when you came out, and he was waiting for you while talking about what they were doing in class with Taehyung. You blinked, relaxing a bit. “You want to go in early, sweetie?” He nodded. “I can help Mr. Jung! See you later, Tae-Tae!” “Shoes,” You redirected the six-year-old toward the shoe rack. “Tae, feel free to do whatever. I should be back around one and then we can go pick up some more clothes for you and anything else you need.” “Okay, I’ll be ready then, y/n.” Your heart beat faster and harder at the way he said your name, then almost stopped as he bid an affectionate ‘see you later’ to your son. Theo looked so peaceful in Taehyung’s arms. “Can we play catch when we get home tonight?” “Sure,” Tae replied happily, then gave Theo a little kiss on the forehead. “Be good for your teacher.” “Okay!” Theo took your hand and you both went out to the car. You were still reeling a bit from the chaos of your morning, but not having to worry about getting Theo ready, and even getting him and yourself to school a little early set you up for a much better day. You could figure out the water heater issue tonight. Theo would need a bath, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t boiled water for a bath before. ———— Shopping with him was the worst idea you’d ever had. Especially clothes shopping. It wasn’t that he picked expensive things. He was conscientious about the budget, even asking about it before, and he tended to grab cheaper items. He just also looked good in absolutely everything he put on. He knew how to put together an outfit and suddenly you felt like that mom that always looks so dated in the TV shows that desperately needs a makeover. He looked like he had stepped out of all of the latest fashion magazines. If anything, his animal features made it even better. You were being out-fashioned by a man that was part Collie. You focused on the linens that you needed to supplement the use of the spare bedroom, and the extra towels. You grabbed a few extra blankets as well, knowing that texture was everything to hybrids. He came with a modest amount of items, with a happy smile. “Thanks, y/n. For getting these for me. It’ll be nice having more clothes.” You nodded. “Of course, you’re part of our family now.” You examined the prices for twin-size sheets for Theo’s bed, remembering that one set had officially bit the dust when his foot went through it. Might as well get all of the necessities now while it was within your budget to do so. “Still, thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He carried the bags out to the car, insisting on doing it and keeping up a lively conversation about everything and nothing going. He was universally charming and it was hard to resist that adorable grin and enthusiastic words. He got you to tell him all about your life somehow, and about Theo’s father. “I found out I was pregnant with Theo two weeks after burying his father. He never even knew. How do you tell a six year old that his father never knew or expected him, that his father hadn’t been excited about him because he never knew he would have a child? So I dance around it and say that his father would have loved him so much. That he would have been so proud of him. Like I have the authority to say what he would and wouldn’t have loved or been proud of.” You sighed, slumping in your seat a little as you both waited for school to end and Theo to run to the car. “You’ve done really well with him, y/n. He’s so kind and intelligent.” He sighed, looking happy. “I’m really happy he picked me. It’s nice. I get to play with him and have fun, but I also get to help you take care of him. It’s really fulfilling. It helps me feel like I’m not just being a burden.” “No, definitely not. If you hadn’t been there this morning it would have been a disaster zone. We both would have been late, and he probably would have his shirt on inside out, and it would have been a mess.” “I fixed the water heater,” He said. “What? How?” You sat up again, locking at him. “It happened at Cedarbrook a couple weeks ago and I watched how the person fixed it. It was a really easy fix.” You checked that off of the list of things you needed to take care of, the burden of responsibility easing up even more. “Thank you.” He nodded happily. “Cold showers stink.” “Oh yes.” The car door opened and Theo climbed in. “Mommy! Tae! Look what I did in art class!” He said, flinging himself onto the console with a drawing. “That’s amazing, Theo!” You praised him, looking over the drawing. “We’ll put it on the fridge when we get home.” He beamed at you. Taehyung was grinning. “Is that me?” Theo nodded with his whole body. “Of course! And that’s mommy, and that’s me, and up there in the clouds is my dad watching over all of us and being happy that we’re happy!” You smiled, mentally making a note to send Mr. Jung a plate of the fudge that you knew he loved for helping Theo so much. He always managed to say just the right thing that made things easier on you when explaining things. Yeah, Hoseok had earned some fudge if he had managed to explain to your son something that just made you upset. Theo dropped back into his seat, buckling up easily. “We’re still going to play catch when we get home?” “Yup! Then we’ll clean up your room so that your mom will let us have pudding.” “We have pudding?!” Theo froze with excitement. “Yes we do. What else did you do in class today?” You quickly diverted his excitement. “We’re learning a new song in music class, but I don’t like it. I miss Mr. Kim. I want him to come back. Mr. Jung gave me a new book to read!” He was starting to pull everything out of his backpack to find the new book. “Why don’t you show it to us when we get home?” Taehyung suggested lightly. “What song are you learning?” “On top of sketti,” Theo mumbled grumpily. “On top of spaghetti, that’s a fun song.” You smiled at him in your rear-view mirror. “No, it’s not.” Theo pouted, but you could see the smile hidden behind the pout. “So, where’s Mr. Kim? Your music teacher?” Taehyung asked. “I don’t know.” “He’ll be back next week,” You reassured gently. “He just had some things happen with his family.” “I don’t like Ms. Hannigan,” He pouted. You figured she must have talked baby-talk to him. He hated that. You’d never talked like that with him, instead just talking like a normal human being. There were some days he was lucky you had the energy to get him dressed when he was learning to talk and you certainly weren’t about to expend more of your precious energy to talk to him like a baby. The result was that he had a hard time around any adult who was overly enthusiastic or fake. “How can you know if you like her? You’ve only had her for two classes.” “She talks funny. Like she’s telling a silly story, but all the time.” You sighed. “Just be patient, okay honey. She’s probably a very nice teacher. Some people are just different.” Taehyung nodded, twisted in his seat to look back at Theo. “Sometimes they’re really nice they just don’t know how to talk to us yet or they want you to like them and they try a little too hard.” Theo looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay. I’ll be nice to her too.” You parked the car, feeling warm and fuzzy. “You want a snack today?” “Mmm, not today.” You nodded and got out of the car, watching lovingly as Taehyung pulled Theo out. Theo was wrapped around Taehyung’s neck and torso, grinning and giggling and Taehyung pretended to be affronted by this ‘attack’. It was loud and a little crazy, but you felt… Peaceful. They played outside for quite a while, then came in laughing and having fun and Theo ran to his room while Taehyung got some water for both of them. You already had dinner in the oven without Theo getting underfoot, and were in comfortable clothes while you read a book you had tried reading for the past three months. Taehyung wrapped his arms around your shoulders and neck. “He said he wanted to clean on his own.” You laughed softly. “He does that.” He nodded, then was quiet so you went back to reading, relaxing in his hold. Then he kissed your cheek. “If I ever have a pup of my own, I’d want him to be just like Theo.” You were frozen, heart racing almost as quickly as your mind at the small gesture of affection. He chuckled deeply, gently nuzzling your neck. “I knew it. You do like me like that.” He moved around so he was beside you. He kissed your cheek again. “You’re shy. You’ve been alone for so long you don’t even know what to do with help. It adorable. You’re adorable. You’re beautiful.” Your cheeks were burning, and you met his eyes hesitantly. “I barely know you.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently. “Someone needs to take care of you. I saw that the moment you walked in.” You shook your head. “I haven’t dated since long before Theo was born. This is a bad idea.” “We’ll go slowly.” He kissed you again. You sighed and let him kiss you. You had definitely thought about this. About him holding you. Wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. “I cleaned my room, mommy!” Theo called happily, his little feet pounding down the hall. You and Taehyung naturally shifted away from each other. “Good job, baby! Thank you for cleaning.” You welcomed him onto your lap, not wanting to think about what had just happened. “Taehyung helped me catch better!” He flopped over so he was on both of your laps. He wiggled until he was comfortable. “Mommy?” “Yeah?” “Can I call Tae-tae my dad? Would my real dad mind?” He asked really quietly. You took a deep breath, then swallowed and nodded. “If Taehyung is okay with that.” Tae was grinning at you. “I’m okay with that. I’m here for keeps.” You couldn’t believe it, but you knew it was true. You knew you were crazy for feeling like you knew him already. He was just so open and honest and…refreshing. Three days with him, and you already felt like he was a part of your life you never wanted to let go of. You wanted to pull him closer. You wanted him to hold you all the time. “Why don’t we all cuddle up and watch a movie?” You suggested, looking into Taehyung’s eyes. He pulled Theo into his arms, the kid cuddling up right away, and shifted next to you, putting an arm around you. He snuck a kiss to your cheek. “Sounds perfect to me.” Theo made a contented sound, already half-asleep despite it not even being dinnertime yet. Completely unaware that he was getting what he wanted.

Masterlist.   Part 2.

Winner’s Curse Ch.17

Note: We’re back to sweet sweet Gil and surprisingly enough, Jade became such an interesting character to write that she sprung into her own. Which means the next chapter is a Jade chapter, and totally disrupting my outline for it but that’s what people mean by the characters write themselves. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also tw:mentions of abuse.  “Are you sure this is the right room?” Gil asked the minion again, trying in vain to read the map Uma had given him to navigate the castle. It kept crumpling up and going upside down. 

The goon just grunted and shoved him through the door. Gil caught himself on the door handle just in time to see the sparkle of a dozen bejeweled drapes and Jade reclining on an ottoman, bringing sweet relief of knowing he hadn’t messed up.

“Hello Gil!” Jade cheerfully waved before abruptly yelping. Her head whipped to glare at the boy bent at her feet, “Come on slave boy, have you not given a foot massage before? It’s supposed to be gentle.” “Not my fault if you have a lot of tension there, Princess.” The guy sarcastically shot back.  Gil recognized the boy despite his tattered clothing, he was that Prince from Agrabah!

“What? He’s a prince! Why is he your slave?” Gil asked, completely forgetting what he had come here for. 

“The only way we could get him from being killed in the dungeon was to find a way to use him. And what better use that having the son of my mom’s enemy be our slave boy.” Jade grinned. 

“But um I don’t if that’s..” Gil paused, unsure how to word what he wanted to say without offending Jade. But he was pretty sure that being part of the Anti Villain Club meant not using another person as a slave. Even if it kept him from being killed. But then again Yen Sid that being an anti hero was a complicated thing and they didn’t always do good things. He wasn’t sure. He got so confused during the explanation. 

Luckily, Jade seemed to sense Gil’s hesitance and put a gentle hand on his bicep. “He’s not actually my slave. It’s just pretend so Mom and Uncle Jafar don’t freak out that I’m becoming soft or something. I’m still helping to stop all this.” 

“Yes, she’s just enjoying this all too much.” Aziz added wryly, pressing a little too roughly on her instep so she kicked at his head. 

“When you’re done with Jade, how about you get started on me. I’ve never had a massage before.” Gil jumped at the addition of this other voice and saw that white haired girl peel away from the window balcony and walk to a pile of pillows. He couldn’t remember her name, but she looked very different from before. She was dressed all fancy and bejeweled like Jade and she had a tentative smile that looked like she was baring her teeth.

Jade held her hand up for a first bump but the white haired girl ignored, “Slave boy, you’re dismissed.” 

“Come on slave boy.” Lala patted to a spot beside her on the pillows. 

“Not you too.” Aziz groaned. 

“Shush, just do it.” She commanded as Aziz got to work on her shoulders. 

“Sorry for the distraction. What is that you need to tell me?” Jade asked, focusing her full attention on him. 

“Harry and I went to the Anti Villain Club like Uma told us too and they agreed to help us. It was so easy, we didn’t even have to threaten them. Which made Harry mad because he really wanted to threaten them with his hook. Anyway, Yzla has been giving me messages to give to Uma like how they got most of the sober lackeys on our side and they’re starting to work on convincing merchants like Madam Medusa and Ivy De’Vil.” 

“Good, good.” Jade’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“And that’s all we have so far since Uma hasn’t sent any orders about attacking yet. But Yzla wanted to send me a special message to you that she’s working on a potion to unhypnotize Jay and she can’t wait to see you this afternoon after the Coven meeting.” 

“Aww that girl.” Jade mused contentedly for a moment before her smile faded away and her eyes glazed over to look at the far side of the room. Gil’s eyes followed hers and he almost jumped to see the frozen statue of Jay standing sentinel next to an opulent queen sized bed. 

It was weird to see him that way. So still like he wasn’t even breathing. Dressed in the robes of a prince, hair slicked back in a man bun but his face was blank like a puppet’s. And with a constant red glaze on his eyes. 

“That’s creepy.” Gil shuddered. Jade sighed without much emotion. A valuable skill that he wished he could have. Mother always warned him not to be so expressive with his emotions because that just made him a target. 

“It’s so strange to see him not fidgeting or talking or anything.” Jade shook her head.

“I think it’s an improvemmffengtf” The other girl began to say but Aziz covered her mouth. Then she bit him, “Don’t do that!” 

“Is he going to stay that way forever?” Gil asked, turning his attention back to Jade. 

“I don’t know. Probably. Uncle Jafar wants that since he turned traitor. Him being hypnotized will keep him in line, and he’ll obey the rules and he’ll act like a prince but he just won’t be himself.” Jade said, “Then again, I don’t think Jay would ever be able to act like himself if he was a prince. Or me as a princess.”

“Don’t you want to be a princess?” Gil asked. He had been wondering about that since Yzla informed him that Jade was a new member of the Anti Villain Club. Jade was a thief like Jay, always attracted to shiny gold objects. He had thought she would love to be a princess and get all the riches in the world. Why would she join the Anti Villain Club and work against the Coven then?

Jade looked hesitant to explain but she looked at him and a rare soft smile broke on her face. She inhaled and began to explain. “I wanted to be rich and powerful but not like this. I can’t do anything fun anymore. No more fighting or drinking contests because I’ll get dirty. No more flirting because I have to marry someone else who is just as rich and powerful. It’s too much pressure. And Mom is having me do magic lessons all the time and I’m just not good at it. I can’t cast spells or shapeshift or do anything my mom wants and then Mom starts…” she trailed off, seeming to sink lower in her seat before Gil’s eyes. 

He understood that feeling. Even when Father wasn’t around, just thinking about his meaty hands colliding with his stomach, the phantom agony of it, he wanted to hide too.

Unbidden and very unwelcome, his mind flashbacked to the thought of Lars and his sadistically gleeful face. Gil squinched his eyes and forced himself not to think about that. 

He was good at that. Forgetting. Forgetting was so much easier than thinking and he certainly didn’t want to think about what kind of pain Lars had wanted for him. 

He knew Nasira hit Jade but he didn’t know how bad it was. No one did. After all Jade was the unofficial makeup expert on the Isle, able to cover any unsightly bruise while giving perfect winged eyeliner so she always looked good. 

Besides, you just don’t talk about it on the Isle. Being hit and getting into fights was supposed to make you tough. Complaining or losing one made you weak.

 But it wasn’t that way all the time Gil had learned. He found a good place with Uma’s Crew. They wrestled and got into bar brawls, he had several stitches from when Gonzo smashed a chair over him, but it was safe. They never crossed the line and left him bleeding and half unconscious on the floor. 

“You know, you could join Uma’s crew if you want. For protection if you need it.” Gil suggested.

“No. I don’t need anyone!” Jade snapped, her emerald eyes flashing so similarly to her mother from the few times he saw Nasira venture the streets.

“I mean um,” Jade paused. Frozen like a deer in headlights at her small outburst but snapped back to her usual breezy smile with a finger-snap quickness that gave Gil mood whiplash. “I mean, no thanks. I don’t think Uma would want me after I stole that chest full of pearls from the Jolly Roger.”

“That was you!” 

“Yeah.” Jade smiled proudly, “Besides I don’t like ships. It’s so cold and wet and rocks too much and it’s on the sea. Ugh.”  

“Still you could come over sometime, you don’t have to join or anything but you can join our wrestling nights.” Gil cheerfully said.

“I would like that, LeGume.” Jade gently hit his shoulder and twirled a pocket knife she snatched from his belt. Gil nodded his head again feeling happy with himself. 

Then again, he always felt comfortable around Jade. She was so low maintenance and friendly. As close as you could get to a friendly person while on the Isle. She never made him feel stupid. That’s what she liked most about her. She didn’t refer to him as an idiot in every sentence and when they talked, she listened. She actually listened and looked interested in what he had to say, not dismissive. She didn’t look impatient whenever he was trying to remember something he had forgotten and she flirted with him. That was also rare. 

Girls usually flocked to his brothers since they were more handsome and stronger but she flirted with all of them equally. He had asked her once if they could “get together,” and he had hoped she would say “yes” so his brothers would stop mocking him for not having laid anyone. But she said “no.” She said he was too sweet and eager like a puppy, and he understood that. 

After all, Father had said no girl would sleep with a sissy like him. He needed to be tougher. But that little thing did nothing to shake up their camaraderie. 

Uma warned him that Jade’s friendliness was a ruse, she charmed everyone she pickpocketed. Which was true, after hanging out with Jade, he was always missing several of his belongings, but it was fine with him. They had a good time. Friday Fight Night at the Tavern with her was always a blast even though his brothers and her cousin didn’t get along. 

“Why won’t this stupid door open?” A voice cursed from outside the room and the door knob began jangling. 

Gil leaped to the floor, struggling to hide under the too small space under the ottoman as Jade flung the door open. Gil stopped his vain efforts in relief when he saw the familiar brown leather boots of his captain and stood up and saluted her. 

Jade beside him was making painful choking noises and Gil’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the smoky pink skinned creature next to Uma and Calix.

The creature blew past them all to scoop up Aziz from his place and hug him with an audible bone crack. “Aziz, my son, you’re safe. Thank Allah! I thought you were dead. You’re not dead. Thank you. Thank you! And you’re all healed. This is the happiest day of my life.” 

“Jordan, you called me your son again.” Aziz wheezed. 

“I only do it after you’ve been in mortal danger, it’s fine. It’s not weird. I’m not concerned.” Jordan squeezed him one more time before dropping him gently to his feet on the floor. 

“I’m concerned and your breath smells like vomit.” He commented to her. 

Jordan pouted, popping a mint that came from thin air into her mouth, “Why do you always have to ruin the moment.” 

“You called me your son, I want to make it less weird.” Aziz retorted. “Do you not want me as your substitute mother?” 

“No! I don’t! I want you as my sis- Why are we having this conversation? You don’t even want to be a mom.” 

“So? I still can-“ 

“Guys!” Calix clapped his hands getting their attention, “I know you can do this all day but we have bigger things to worry about.” 

“It’s real. Genies are real. It’s hot and talking and magical.” Jade managed to find her voice, still looking incredibly freaked out. 

“I’m not an “it.” I’m a “she.” Jordan corrected, “Why do you look so scared? I’m normal like the rest of-“ she looked at herself, “Oh right, I’m not in mortal form! Sorry, sorry I forgot.” A cloud of pink smoke changed her to the appearance Gil first saw her in.

“Genie..you’re a genie.” Jade muttered. It was sort of funny to see Jade who was usually so in control of herself and breezy be stunned into stammering.

“While she digests that information. Let’s get started on the plan.” Una took control as she usually did. The white haired girl abruptly stood up from her perch observing the conversation and strode to the balcony. 

Aziz rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Lala’s not helping us anymore. Don’t worry, she’s not going to tattle on us, but she doesn’t want any part of it. You know, deniability if it all fails.” “Fine, it’s better if we have smaller numbers while infiltrating the castle.” Uma said but Gil could tell by the tight line of her mouth that Uma thought Lala was being cowardly. Uma always believed that they should all stand by what they wanted or believed in, no matter the consequences. Not go back and forth. 

Gil leaned in, ready to take his next orders when Uma glanced at him and pointed to the door. “Gil, you’re not part of this mission. Go back to the Crew and tell Harry that I need to meet him at sunset tonight. It’s about his sister.” 

Gil nodded as seriously as he could. If something had to do with CJ and Harry, it was important indeed, and he was not going to fail his captain.“You got it!” 

stars of lovingness in her hair

A/N: heeeyyyy it’s part two. This features very bad French, from me, a person who was supposed to be certified fluent in it in high school, and only used google translate to double check myself, which I do not reccomend—so I take full responsibility of the shittiness of the French dialogue. Also the poem I keep using is À une passante by Baudelaire, which I have attached here right after the translations. Also this wasn’t beta’d and was edited by me, a tired person.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, some suggestive dialogue, metions of anxiety, general repression of feelings

read part one here :)

chapter summary: a few months have passed since you met Brian, and the two of you have become rather good friends. Halfway the focus of the story shifts more toward’s Brian’s perspective, and focuses on his feelings and how he deals with them. This jumps back and forth from the current timeline to a few months prior.

——————————————————————————————-

friday night

It had been a few months since you’d become friends with Brian. The two of you had become rather inseparable since you met, at first, spending Tuesday and Thursday nights together—you tutoring him in French, and him helping you out with algebra. You felt as though you had known each other all your lives and quickly found a friendship form between the two of you. Even after you’d finish your lessons you’d stay at his flat a little longer, with him making you tea of playing you a new song he’d written about a polar bear on his guitar or god know’s what. There was just something about Brian, you thought, that spoke to you, beyond the music and the intelligence. You enjoyed one another’s company. On more than one occasion you’d ended up dozing off, with your head resting gently on Brian’s shoulder, and his head leaning against yours while Doctor Who played on the telly—which had raised eyebrows from many people, most of all Brian’s roommate, but you were friends, you thought, nothing more.

Now, he’s sat on the floor of his flat, your knees on either side of him, his notebook facing open on his lap, illegible scribbles of verb conjugations and other grammatical rules written across the pages as he sat with his legs crossed. 

“I wish you’d keep your curls,” you say as you run a brush through Brian’s hair, trying your best to be gentle and not tug so hard, your fingers delicate as they undo any tangles and knots you found. By the coffee table lay the hair straightener, as you waited patiently for it to heat up, its thick black cord uncoiled and plugged to a nearby outlet. You’d volunteered to do Brian’s hair, before tonight’s gig—seeing as he almost burnt his flat down the last time he’d tried to straighten his hair. Brian, being Brian, had found an excuse to squeeze in an extra study session, although it took some convincing on your part.

“I don’t,” Brian laughs, “wish my hair looked good—I look like I’ve just gotten electrocuted half the time! I’m gangly, awkward and I’ve got a huge nose—the straight hair redeems me, I think—makes me look halfway decent.” 

Your heart sinks a bit as you hear him talk about himself like this. You couldn’t bear hearing him think so little of himself when you thought the world of him.

“Well, I like them,” you say, with a pout, gently kicking Brian in the thigh with your foot.

“Ow!” Brian protests with mock indignation.

“Oh, piss off that didn’t even hurt,” you chuckle, before reaching over and grabbing the hair straightener. “Now hold still, alright?” Brian nods, turning his head away from you, trying to focus on his notes. “Right, allons-y! Pouvez-vous me lire? Je veux entendrer.”

Brian shifts nervously in place. “Oh, now? I thought we were only doing grammar today. Y/N, ’m afraid I haven’t had practice in a bit, but I promise—“

“Pouvez vous, parler en Français, s’il vous plait.“ You interrupt, casing your eyebrows at him rather sternly when he turns to look at you. “And stay still,” you add, “I don’t want to burn you.”

Brian laughs at that, pointing out how it’s unfair that you spoke in English just now, before you set him on track and tell him to just get on with the reading.

“Qu'est ce que voulez-vous que je lire?” Brian asks.

“Tu peux décider. Je n’ai pas de préférence.”

Brian holds his finger up for a moment telling you to pause the damage on his hair for a bit, before reaching over to his bag and pulling out a collection of Baudelaire’s poems—and you smile to yourself knowing he probably took it out of the library when he saw you reading it. He starts, slowly reading the words at first, but relaxes as you place your hand on his shoulders and urge him to continue.

“Un éclair… puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté 

Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,

Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité?—how was that?” Brian tries to turn his face towards yours though you keep him in place, taking a moment as you finishing straightening a strand before you speak again. 

“Très bien, Baudelaire aurait été fier!,” you praise, giving his head a gentle pat. “Although you still drop the accent egout on some places, but you’re getting there. You can speak French, you’ve just got to be a bit more confident, Bri. Maintenant, continuez s’il vous plait.”

He continues, reading out verses, with you listening intently, at first hesitant of any mistakes he might make, but relaxing as you tell him he’s doing better, helping him out only with a few words here and there. Eventually the two of you stop, choosing instead to listen and sing along to the Sgt. Pepper record while you finish straightening his hair. But that eventually spins its way to its end, and you and Brian, too preoccupied with his hair to get up and flip it over, just sit there quietly, and comfortably enjoying each other’s presence. 

—————————

Brian’s POV

As he sat there, feeling Y/N run her fingers delicately through his hair, Brian couldn’t help but sink into the warmth of her touch, feeling how relaxed he was around her—with her—near her. He listened to the static of the record, and the gentle pattern of Y/N’s breathing. Brian opened his mouth and turned his head slightly, as if to speak, before quickly turning away, choosing to say nothing, instead.

“What was that?” He heard Y/N ask him, straightening her back up off the couch and leaning her body towards him.

“Nothing,” Brian reassured her, his hand gently reaching for her knee for a brief moment. He said nothing more to her and instead let the silence take over, as the words he’d wanted to say hung in the air.

—————————

a few months prior 1969

Brian walked into class that morning, feeling, for the first time in his academic career, completely out of place. He was surrounded by younger students, all of whom he didn’t recognize from his department. And although it wasn’t anything truly serious, he felt his anxieties bubble in his stomach, at the thought of sticking out. He’d stick out as because he was older—because he was out of his department—because of how he looked, Brian thought. He didn’t like his nose, or his hair, or how skinny he was—his appearance already made him feel awkward and out of place, and now people were definitely going to notice him, an upper-year, awkwardly sat on the wooden chairs—probably struggling to keep up with the class because he was an idiot who’d put off his electives until his last year—

“Bonjour classe. Pouvez-vous vous asseoir, s'il vous plaît. Nous allons commencer sous peu.” Brian heard a tall, and rather stern looking woman say as she entered the class. “Sit down, please. We’ve ten minutes,” he heard her add when nobody moved.

Brian, along with everybody else began looking for seats, with Brian opting for a chair somewhere towards the back of the lecture hall. Brian ran his fingers across his pencil, not even noticing how he’d begun to strum a pattern of a song as he did. He looked around himself, before running his other hand over his hair, making sure that the front didn’t curl up and out. Eyes shifting towards the door he saw a girl enter the hall. She was very pretty, he thought. She craned her neck looking for a seat before situating herself a few seats down in front of Brian. Then Madame Augillard began speaking.

Their Professor seemingly refused to speak a word of English, Brian noted. To his relief he wasn’t the only person who looked lost, everyone else around him (including himself) seemed to scramble for their dictionaries, hastily flipping across the pages. Well, everyone except her, he thought. He stole a glance at her, raising her hand whenever the Professor had a question—and though Brian understood virtually none of the words they’d exchange, he could tell from Augillard’s smile that this girl was getting everything right.

Brian found the next few classes over the next few weeks easier than the first day, with the Professor noting that she only ever spoke strictly in French on the first day to discourage anyone who wouldn’t take the class seriously. Brian was still struggling, however—well, his definition of struggle that was. He got decent marks and all that, but he thought he could do better.  Not being satisfied with his grades enough, Brian opted to spend more time at the library, much to the disappointment of his bandmates, who were hoping to slip in as many rehearsals as they could. But Brian found that didn’t help either. 

Walking into the library, Brian glanced around for a seat, only to find her, sat comfortable in a corner, brows furrowed as she scribbled down notes. He found out rather quickly that he could always find her there. She was so intelligent, he thought, so focused. He studied the way her eyes read over her textbooks, the way she fidgeted with the edges of her notebooks when she was concentrated. He mentally chastised himself in class or at the library, telling himself to focus, and feeling guilty and weird at how often he’d stolen a glance at her.

One lecture, as Brian sat in Augillard’s class, he found that he wasn’t listening to the lecture, really, but to a song he’d hear whenever he saw her. His composition notebook, rather than being endless lists of verb conjugations and overly complicated grammatical rules were instead filled of scribbling pages and pages of a words, some crossed out, some riddled with question marks—a song he didn’t know the words to just yet.

—————————

friday, late night

A bead of sweat rolled down Brian’s brow as he pushed the amplifier into Roger’s van. He, Roger and Tim all thought they’d played quite well, but much to their disappointment, there were only a handful of people who attended tonight’s gig—but Y/N was there, and that seemed to make up for it. Y/N had gone home, much to her chagrin, helping a well-pissed Suzie walk the two blocks home as she draped her arm on her shoulders. When she’d found out that Roger had written a song about a girl he was seeing who was definitely not her, she had, according to Y/N, decided to get “very much, thoroughly, and without a doubt piss-drunk.” 

“This yours?” Roger asked, interrupting Brian’s train of thought. He held out a composition notebook, but before Brian could nod his head ‘yes’ and take it from his friend, Roger yanked it away, holding it above himself and refusing to give it back. “Who’s this about, though?” He asked Brian, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner. He opens the notebook and begins to read. 

“On such a breathless night as this. Upon my brow the lightest kiss—oh very poetic, Brian.” Roger grins mischievously, his laughter erupting in bubbling fits as Brian runs circles around him, trying to grab at him. Roger continued reading, “I walked alone, and all around the air did say ‘my lady soon will stir this way—“

“Will you give me that back?” Brian demands, almost lunging towards Roger, who’d by now made his way up one of their speakers, dangling the notebook above Brian as he continued to read out of it.

“Needing - unheard, Pleading - one word—oh, Brian, you’re a next generation Shelley, you are!”

“Will you stop acting like a child, Rog!” Brian demands.Roger grabs Brian’s arm as it reaches for him, before giving him a look of feigned shock, and widening his blue eyes at his friend. “Give it back,” Brian says rather pathetically, wringing his hands away from Roger.

“Tell me who it’s about and I might—I’m curious, you never wax poetry, not even about that bird you shagged in April. Did you even shag her—“

“Oi! Get off the speaker’s those cost a fortune!” Tim yelled from down the street. Tim walked towards his bandmates, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as Roger hopped off the speaker, not even looking the least bit embarrassed to be caught, but rather, smiling widely at Brian, who by now, was fuming. “Christ, I’m gone a few minutes to pay our venue, and you lot are out here doing all this.” Tim continues.

“It’s Rog’s fault!” Brian stomps, sounding almost like a petulant child when he hears the words come out of his mouth. “Sorry,” he adds quickly, feeling embarrassment creep up into his cheeks as he tried looking Tim in the eye.

“Brian’s in love—or bewitched—possibly both,” Roger says quite musically, turning to face Brian before he flutters his eyelashes at him. Tim yanks the notebook from Roger’s grasp and hands it to Brian, before exasperatedly muttering at the two to just finish packing and get in the car.

————

saturday morning

“Briaaaannnnn,” Roger drawled, as he lay on the couch, very much hungover as his legs draped over the back as he let his head fall off the seat, his blonde hair swinging with every shake of his head, “Who’s it for, Bri—“

“Stop. I’m trying to study,” Brian retorted, as he sat on the couch, never taking his eyes off his textbook to look at his friend beside him.

“Studying—it’s a fucking Saturday, Bri! Get some rest, get drunk, go out! Christ it’s not French again is it?” Roger said as he began shifting on the couch, turning to lay his head on one of the armrests, and effectively nudging Brian off the couch as he tried to stretch his legs. Roger winced at the volume of his own voice.

“Bloody hell, Roger, get your feet off the couch I’ve no room!” Brian complained, trying to push Roger’s feet back by settling himself back on the couch, struggling to be comfortable

“Why the fuck are you even taking French anyway? Could have dropped it for an easy one. Don’t even need it to be a physicist—”

“Astrophysicist,” Brian began, standing up, finally. “And this isn’t French it’s for my physics final on Monday—and I happen to like taking French. I’m not just here to get a degree, y’know—it’s the pursuit of knowledge—“

“You just like spending time with Y/N–“ Roger interrupted. Brian stared at him for a few seconds before swatting at his friend’s feet with his textbook.

“Ow! Shit! What the bloody fuck was that for?” Roger protested, though Brian barely grazed him and he tried to kick and flail his legs up to get at Brian.

Brian huffed, crossing his arms as he raised his brows at his friend. “Don’t you have a biology exam to study for?” He said, rather indignantly.

“Hah. Didn’t I tell you? I’m exempted.” Roger says with a cheeky grin, propping his feet back up on the couch. “That’s that natural brilliance I s’pose—some of us don’t need to study,” he muses, reaching over to the coffee table to get his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Brian made his way to the kitchen, huffing as he sat himself on the small, short chairs, frowning as Roger stretched his legs up in the air as if to taunt him. After a few moments, his friend poked his head from behind the couch, his chin resting on his arms as he crossed them.

“So it’s about Y/N then, I reckon.” Roger says, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he lights it.

Brian doesn’t answer, but his face does flush, and he holds up his textbook rather impractically to cover his face.

Gotcha. Roger thinks. “So you fancy her then.” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows a bit as Brian finally looks up at him.

“We’re just friends, really, Rog—”

Roger takes a long drag out of his cigarette, “You think I don’t see the two of you sprawled out on this here couch every other night—“

“We were studying. For French—“

“Her hands running through your hair? Yeah you lot was studying French alright,” Roger rolls his eyes, “next thing you know you’ll tell me you’re reviewing Isaac bloody Newton’s three laws of gravity while she’s got her hands down your trousers jerking you off—“

“She was straightening my hair—she was being nice.” Brian interrupted, snapping his textbook shut, nostrils flaring as his mouth forming a straight, hard line and he stood up out of his chair. Roger’s smile faded and his expression began to soften.

“Brian,” Roger said with a gentler tone, before promptly putting his cigarette out and swinging his legs over to straddle the couch “I’m sorry, that was out of line. But there’s no need to lie to me, we’re mates, you can tell me anything—I won’t even make fun of you if it actually bothers you. Sorry if it did.” 

“S’alright” Brian said quietly, sitting back down again. 

“So, you must really like her then, huh?” Roger asks, his voice kinder, and eyes focused on his friend. He made his way to sit himself opposite Brian by the kitchen. Brian, doesn’t respond, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of his textbook as he stares at the floorboards, although Roger gets his answer from the silence alone. “So why don’t you tell her then, she’s not seeing anyone, is she?”

Brian is silent before shaking his head and speaking. “We’re friends, Rog nothing more. And even if I was interested in her in that way—it’s not a chance I’d want to take, I mean, what if I make things awkward, or we never speak again. I don’t think you understand that you can just be friends with girls without doing anything, honestly, Rog.” Brian tries to shrug it off with a laugh. They were just friends, he thought. And although he might have fancied her, he truly valued their friendship, and she seemed to as well. He would regret it if he chose to be selfish and ruined that.

Roger just stares at him, his brows furrowed, and his mouth curved into a frown, seeming rather unconviced with his friend before getting up with a sigh and a pat on Brian’s shoulder. 

“If I were you, I’d take my chances,” he tells Brian, before turning on his heel and flopping himself back onto the couch, leaving Brian in the kitchen alone.

——

Later that night Brian sat on his bed, his composition notebook open to him as he tuned his guitar. Roger had left—something about bar-hopping with Farokh, which Brian had kindly declined, opting for a night in. Brian sat in his room, his fingers gently strumming over his strings, leaning in to the warm glow of his bedside lamp beside him.

This was stupid, he thought. Why was he even bothering finishing this song? 

When he first wrote it down it started out as a few words that gradually blossomed into sentences every day he’d see her pass him by at the library, the sunlight streaming in to illuminate her, small particles of dust floating around her, making her look ethereal. But now—now that he knew her, and heard her laughter, and seen her smile. Now, Brian found as though he was discovering new words to his song, and heard the melody clearer than before every day that he knew her. 

Maybe Roger was right. Maybe he should take his chances, he thinks back to their conversation earlier. But there was no point in finishing it. They were meant to be friends. They were good as friends. Nothing more. It would ruin things, anyway.

 But Brian knew he had to get the song out of his head eventually, or he might just go mad, he thought. Brian reached over, grabbing his pencil, writing out the words he heard so clearly in his mind. He read over them carefully, his voice small and gentle before he began to sing. Then he began adding music to it, strumming gently with his sixpence between his fingers.

When his song ended he let the last words disappear into the silence of his room, and he couldn’t help but feel further away from Y/N than when he didn’t know her.

TRANSLATIONS:

“allons-y! Pouvez-vous me lire? Je veux entendrer.” = Let’s go, can you read to me? I want to hear…”

“Pouvez vous, parler en Français, s’il vous plait.“ = Speak in French, if you please.

“Qu'est ce que voulez-vous que je lire?”  = “What do you want me to read?”

“Tu peux décider. Je n’ai pas de préférence.” = (informal version of ‘you’ indicating comfort, and casual tone) You can decide. I don’t have a preference.

“Très bien, Baudelaire aurait été fier!” = Very good! Baudelaire would have been proud!

Maintenant, continuez s’il vous plait.= Now, continue, please.

“Bonjour classe. Pouvez-vous vous asseoir, s'il vous plaît. Nous allons commencer dans quelques minutes” = Good morning class, please sit down. We will begin in a few minutes.

À une passante de Charles Baudelaire

La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.

Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,

Une femme passa, d’une main fastueuse

Soulevant, balançant le feston et l’ourlet;

Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.

Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,

Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l’ouragan,

La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.

Un éclair… puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté

Dont le regard m’a fait soudainement renaître,

Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l’éternité?

Ailleurs, bien loin d’ici! trop tard! jamais peut-être!

Car j’ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,

Ô toi que j’eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais!

TRANSLATION:

The deafening street around me roared.

Tall, slim, in deep mourning,  majestic grief,

A woman passed, lifting and swinging

With a pompous gesture the hem and flounces of her skirt,

Swift and noble, with statuesque limb.

As for me, I drank, twitching like a crazy man,

From her eye, livid sky where the hurricane is born,

The softness that fascinates and the pleasure that kills,

A lightning flash… then night! O fleeting beauty,

By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,

Shall I see you again only in eternity?

Somewhere else, way too far from here! Too late! Perhaps never!

For I do not know where you flee, you don’t know where I go,

O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!

Chapter 7

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier

Arthur very slowly came to the realisation that the surface beneath him was no longer hard and cold, but soft and warm. The world was no longer pitch dark and the room seemed bright on the other side of his eyelids. He finally opened them and quickly realised he was lying in his bed. And that he felt extremely, awfully sick. Turning his head he saw a glass of water on the bedside table and grasped for it greedily. He swiftly finished the whole thing before falling back into the soft nest of pillows.

He could barely remember anything. He had started drinking… Why? Oh. Alfred. He had wanted to get rid of the pain. Well, it seemed to have worked for a while… but now it was flooding him again, and with it came the additional pain of his stomach turning itself in knots and his brain pounding against his skull. Arthur shut his eyes and tried determinedly to fall back asleep. It did not take long.

When Arthur opened his eyes again, the light was not so bright, and his head was not quite so close to exploding. He managed to drag himself to his dresser mirror, but blinked in surprise at the person who stared back at him. He could not remember the last time he had looked in a mirror. His eyes were dark, sunken. His hair was a matted mess. His lips were flakily dry and a large red cut ran across his cheek. He raised a hand hesitantly to his unshaven face, noticing more small cuts beneath the stubble. In short, he looked terrible.

Fragments of images flashed through his memory: glass smashing against a wall, bottles falling empty beside him, the stone floor of the cellar rising up to meet him… Arthur closed his eyes against his reflection, against the memories, and forced himself to get dressed.

Despite his pounding head, Arthur managed to make it downstairs. The first thing he noticed was an empty glass of bourbon on the mantelpiece. But he had left it full… Arthur's stomach flipped. Noticing a note under the glass, he quickly hurried over and grabbed it.

Alfred would not want this. Matthew.

Matthew. Of course. The last thing he'd seen in that cellar wasn't Alfred's face at all; but apparently it hadn't been a dream, either.

Arthur felt a wave of anger overwhelm him. He glared angrily at the note before ripping it to pieces and throwing it into the fireplace. How dare Matthew? How the hell did he know what Alfred wanted? Alfred was dead. As soon as he thought it, Arthur's knees nearly buckled beneath him. Dead. Dead. Alfred was dead.

"Of course he's bloody dead," Arthur whispered to himself. He knew that. So why was it like a punch to the stomach to finally think the words? Arthur breathed deeply, picked up the glass, and took it over to the sink. Back to work. What else could he do?

.

A week passed in the empty, grey, lifeless existence Arthur had quickly become accustomed to. He was waiting for it to get easier at some point, but at the same time expecting it not to, and somehow also hoping that it wouldn't. As the daily life of the pub went on around him, Arthur remained unmoving and lost in the centre of it. Business had once again slowed down, and today Arthur was left with little to do besides stand behind the bar polishing every glass one by one. It was the kind of mind-numbing task he almost enjoyed doing these days.

"How are you feeling?"

Arthur looked up from polishing the forty-eighth glass to see Matthew standing at the bar, in full dress uniform with his cap in hand. And of course, his polar bear attached to his lapel. Arthur suddenly wondered how he could have ever mistaken him... or anyone... for Alfred. "Better."

"Good. I was worried."

Arthur shrugged. "Why ever should you be worried?"

Matthew fixed him with a slightly disbelieving stare. "You were in that cellar for over a day."

"I was?" Arthur said it flatly.

Matthew fidgeted with his hat. He looked tired and drained. "That night, I came to see how you were doing, and the pub was closed…"

"If it was closed, how did you get in?" Arthur interrupted.

Matthew almost smiled. "You need to start remembering to lock your doors."

"Oh."

A silence fell, then Matthew took a long, steadying breath. "What were you doing, Arthur?" His eyes seemed to burn into Arthur's, almost scary in their perceptiveness. "I walked in and you were lying in a pool of broken glass and bourbon. There must have been six empty bottles next to you, not counting the broken ones."

Arthur shrugged again, expressionless. "I was thirsty."

Matthew's expression was unreadable, but seemed tinged with sadness. "Arthur, you could have killed your..."

Arthur quickly interrupted him. "Forgive me, though I know it was unforgivable to cause you such trouble. Please, accept my apologies."

Matthew smiled kindly and shook his head. "You do not need to apologise, Arthur."

"Nevertheless." Arthur did feel awful for being such a nuisance to Matthew. He was also incredibly embarrassed, and rather uncomfortable. As if he didn't have enough to feel awful about. He just wished he had been left to crawl out of that cellar himself - or simply left there for good. Perhaps that might have been best.

Matthew paused, seemingly at a loss for words. "We are leaving for France. In fact I am already late. I told you I would come say goodbye, so…" Matthew spread his hands.

As he looked across at the kind, young Canadian, Arthur felt another crushing wave of sadness. He liked Matthew. He could imagine being friends with him - in another life. Arthur swallowed heavily. He didn't expect Matthew to come back. "Matthew. I'm afraid I never was terribly good with goodbyes."

Matthew just nodded. "I thought as much. And I understand. I just wanted to… make sure you would be all right. You will be, won't you?"

Of course not. "Yes, of course."

"Good… Good." Matthew held his hand out over the bar. "Goodbye, Arthur."

Arthur took Matthew's hand in a warm handshake. "Goodbye, Matthew. Good luck."

Matthew gripped his hand tightly, his eyes kind but stern. "And don't do that again."

Arthur nodded. When his hand was released, he turned his back and closed his eyes. Would he ever stop feeling like this? Like the world kept ending around him? Even when he tried to help, all Matthew did was unwittingly cause him pain; and now by leaving he was causing more. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But there it was. Behind him he heard Matthew walk to the door. "Matthew."

Silence.

"Please… please be careful."

"You too, Arthur."

Arthur kept his eyes closed and waited for the sound of the door shutting. Instead he heard an unfamiliar voice behind him.

"Well, bonjour Monsieur!"

Matthew responded uncertainly. "Uh, bonjour."

"Forgive me, you seem very familiar… we have not met before?"

"I do not think so."

"Then please, we must meet now. Let me buy you a drink… for you are the loveliest thing I have seen since I arrived in England!"

"I… uh..." Matthew coughed softly. "Pardon, mais pas maintenant. Peut-être une autre fois."

"Ah, and he speaks French! Be still my heart!"

Matthew gave a tiny, uncomfortable laugh. "Monsieur, we are not in Paris. You may wish to be more careful with your words here. Not all would take kindly to them, and I am sure the last thing you would wish is a jail sentence in England."

The voice scoffed lightly. "Please, my dear, I can tell a likeminded soul from a street away. So come, drink with me, you must not leave!"

Matthew sounded a little thrown. "As luck would have it, Monsieur, I am just now on my way to France."

"Ah, how cruel the fates can be… for that is where my heart desires to go yet I cannot, and though I wish for you to stay you are leaving in my place! Perhaps one day, if we are lucky, we shall meet again."

Matthew laughed dismissively. "We shall see. Au revoir, Monsieur."

Arthur turned once he heard the door finally shut. He almost groaned when the Frenchman approached the bar. Bloody marvellous. First he had to deal with the Yanks, now he had to deal with the Frogs. The man was dressed in a French officer's uniform. His blond hair fell to his shoulders - rather long for a military cut – a light down of stubble covered his chin, and his right arm was bandaged from armpit to wrist. "Ah, how quaint. A little English pub." His voice was heavily accented.

"How can I help?" asked Arthur sullenly.

The Frenchman leant on the bar and smiled brightly. "Yes, please bring me a bottle of your best red wine. French, if you have it. Not to be rude, but your English wine is, how would you say it… disgusting."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He retrieved a bottle of wine from a glass cabinet behind him and slammed it down in front of the Frenchman. "Merlot. Best we've got. Incredibly old, perfectly cellared, simply one of the best wines in the country. One hundred pounds. Oh, and it's English."

The Frenchman wrinkled his nose. "Perhaps I will just have a glass of brandy."

Arthur shrugged. "Suit yourself." He replaced the wine and reached for a brandy bottle instead.

The Frenchman took a seat at a barstool, carefully leaning his bandaged arm on the bar. "So, what is this little pub of yours called, Englishman?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. Arrogant Frog. "The Emerald Lion."

The Frenchman furrowed his brows and tapped his chin. "Le lion vert. Hmm. The name is familiar for some reason." He nodded as Arthur placed a glass of brandy before him. "Merci, mon ami."

"My name is Arthur. And kindly refrain from calling me your ami." Arthur was hit by a sudden memory… "And kindly refrain from calling me your buddy." "All right, sorry Art. Thur." Just like that, the sudden despair of remembrance engulfed him once again.

"Very well." A smile played at the Frenchman's lips as he gazed at Arthur with intense blue eyes. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Arthur. My name is Francis. Won't you join me in a drink?"

Arthur rolled his eyes in annoyance. "No, thank you. I'm working."

Francis shrugged. "Santé." He held his drink up in a toast. Arthur noticed that two of his fingers were missing and felt a sudden stab of guilt. After all, Francis had fought for the same thing as Alfred. Whatever that meant these days.

"What do you think of the brandy?" Arthur decided it would only be polite to attempt sociability.

"This is the first drink I've had in two months." Francis took a deep sip, his expression pleasantly surprised. "And I must say, it is excellent."

"It's English," said Arthur with a tiny smile.

Francis smirked lightly. "Well, I suppose everyone gets it right once in a while." He took another sip and glanced around the pub curiously. "This certainly does bring back memories. It has been years since I have been in an English pub."

"This is not your first time in England?"

"Oh, no. I used to visit regularly, actually, with two friends of mine. We were even thinking of studying at university here, before the war. In fact…" Francis smiled wistfully, his eyes suddenly glazed and faraway. "London was the very first place we travelled together." Then he blinked it away. "But that was a lifetime ago." Francis finished his glass with a flourish. "I must apologise. I do not normally drink so fast."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry… you should see the Americans we get in here." Arthur laughed under his breath as he refilled the glass.

"Ah, the Americans." Francis nodded knowingly. "The young gentleman who passed me at the door earlier… do you know him? He is not an American?"

"Yes, I know him. And he's Canadian."

"Of course - the polar bear. Ah, what terrible timing; what a twist of fate." Francis raised his eyes and sighed melodramatically. "What a tragedy."

Arthur suppressed a laugh. It was the most he had smiled in weeks. "So Francis, whatever brings you to England this time around?" Arthur picked up where he had left off earlier, polishing glasses. He was actually starting to feel rather grateful to this French soldier for the distraction.

"An English hospital ship, actually."

"Oh. Were you wounded in Europe?"

Francis answered slowly. "I was captured in Italy."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Arthur stared at the bar top. He didn't want to know how Francis had lost those fingers. But his curiosity was overwhelming. He thought of Alfred, captured, and what he had gone through. So much for distraction. "Was it… was it very terrible?"

Francis dropped his gaze to his glass, his eyes suddenly dark and hollow. "You really do not wish to know," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," said Arthur again. He felt rather ill. "But you escaped… did many soldiers manage to escape?" A foolish hope.

"Not from those who captured me." Arthur looked at him inquisitively and Francis clarified, "Gestapo. Let's just say that I was incredibly lucky. I have a... how would you say it... a gift for escaping."

"Oh." Arthur reproached himself for even daring to hope about Alfred under those circumstances.

"If I may ask…" Francis peered intently at Arthur over his brandy glass. "You seem very interested in this. Why?"

Arthur paused, then without knowing why he was telling this strange Frenchman, explained, "I know someone who was captured by the SS."

Francis placed his glass down and sighed. "Ah, mon Dieu. I should not have…"

Arthur shook his head. "It's quite all right, I assure you. I did ask, after all."

"This person… he was a relative? A brother?"

"No, he was an American. He was… he was…" Arthur bowed his head, unsure how to finish the sentence. He was inimitable... he was mad... he was everything…

There was a brief moment of silence before Francis spoke softly. "I see. I am sorry."

Arthur shook his head again, blinking rapidly. "This is wartime. What can we do?"

Francis laughed at that, soft and humourlessly. "What indeed."

"Do you know Francis…" Arthur took a deep breath, looked up at the Frenchman, and smiled. "I think I will join you in a drink."

A few brandies later and thankfully the conversation veered away from such painful topics. Arthur knocked back another glass as Francis stared at him wide-eyed.

"You may speak of the Americans, but I have never seen someone drink like you, my friend."

Arthur waved a hand. "I'm used to it. I can hold my liquor." He immediately knocked over the bottle and decided to ignore Francis' laughter. As though the Frog could talk - he was already on his fourth glass. "And it is terribly rude to compare me to a Yank." Arthur and Francis seemed to have found common ground in their mutual exasperation with Americans.

"No class, whatsoever!" said Francis through his laughter. "And such a terrible sense of fashion!"

Arthur nodded in earnest agreement. "And have you ever tried to play baseball? Absolute bollocks! No bloody sense, none at all."

Francis leant forward eagerly. "Mon ami, but you should see the Americans in Paris! They seem to think that the entire world speaks English!"

"English, ha!" scoffed Arthur. "What they speak is not English. And what they spell certainly isn't, either."

Francis laughed loudly. They were quickly drawing stares from other customers in the pub, but Arthur couldn't care less. This was the most lighthearted he had felt in weeks. "And their food," continued Francis in a horrified tone. "It is worse than the English!"

Arthur ignored that last jab. "Their chocolate is rather good." He paused, lost in thought for a moment. "And they're so… eager. Energetic. And cheerful, despite everything. Actually… they're really not that bad at all, old chap."

Francis placed his empty glass down on the bar. "Oui, I suppose this is true. I have been two weeks in the hospital not far from here, stuck in a bed next to an American… Funny, friendly, but mon Dieu, he could simply not shut up!"

"I know exactly what you mean," said Arthur, remembering Alfred's inability to keep his mouth shut. He hadn't seemed to know how.

Francis waved a hand. "Fighter pilots. They are all the same."

Arthur smiled grimly. "It rather seems like it."

Francis glanced towards the ceiling, his expression fondly amused. "Ah la la, but this pilot was an odd one. When he was not sedated he spent the rest of the time pulling off his bandages, fighting the staff, and trying to escape the place. We had a little bet going to see who could get out first. As I said to him, if I can escape the Germans, I can escape the English." Francis raised his drink again.

Arthur hesitated. "Why was he trying to leave?"

"He kept saying he had to see someone…" Francis trailed off and looked at Arthur curiously. "Attend, I am sure this is where I have heard the name of this pub… Ah, these painkillers they have given me, they mess with the mind." Francis narrowed his eyes calculatedly. "What did you say was your name again?"

Arthur clutched his glass so hard he could feel it cracking. "Arthur," he responded in a very small voice. The air seemed to grow heavy around him.

Francis' eyes grew bright and wide. "Of course! Arthur from the Emerald Lion!"

Arthur froze in shock. He didn't dare to think. He didn't dare to breathe. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. "What was his name?" Arthur asked slowly, breathlessly. "This American fighter pilot?"

"Alfred. Lieutenant Alfred Jones."

Arthur dropped the glass. He ignored it shattering at his feet. The world seemed to fall apart and remake itself around him. His heart stopped, leapt in his chest, then thundered rapidly. He stared unseeing, unbelieving, and though he could see Francis' lips moving he could not hear a word. The sudden silence was followed by a deafening crash in his ears. When Arthur could finally move, when he could finally breathe, he managed to speak in a whisper. "Where did you say that hospital was?"

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

Hi! I hope you are doing well. I have been following you a long time and I remember you saying awhile ago that you have seasonal depression. I have depression in general but I definitely feel the change of seasons especially when the days are shorter. Do you have any tips for getting through the winter and dealing with seasonal symptoms? I am taking vitamin D but I don't really notice a difference. I have thought of trying one of those therapy lights but am skeptical. Thanks for your time!

Hi! There are definitely things I do, but it’s a constant maintenance process, so I do have a tendency to sulk and not follow my own advice. I’m fortunate that my housemate/best friend/platonic life partner gets on my case when I start doing that, though, so if you have someone you trust to check in with you it really helps. (Some of the things, like meditation and journalling, might be something you can coordinate with a friend to check in with each other about). I’ve ended up with a bundle of tools which I use to varying degrees, and winter is still rubbish, but it feels a lot more survivable than it used to. 

Here are my tips, in order of cost:

1. Have a regular bedtime at a sensible time. Mine is 22:30, although I don’t stick to it perfectly. A really good routine is turning off all screens at 10, getting ready for bed, and reading in bed until no later than 11. I often end up watching TV until 10:30 and then going straight to bed, but I think that’s better than working or messing about online. I think that dark, short days messing with your internal clock is a big part of seasonal depression, so imposing some structure helps.

2. Start and maintain a gratitude or positivity journal. All you need to do every day is make a quick note of things that were positive. (“I went for coffee with Hannah” “My new trousers are super comfy” “I saw a cute bird!”) It takes about five minutes and it really cuts through the bland “everything is awful” mindset that depression tricks you into. Some days it’s harder than others, but I try to write at least three things every day. I currently have this one, but I’ll probably just get a generic mini notebook when I run out of pages. 

3. Practice mindfulness meditation. I started this for anxiety, but if you consistently practice (that’s really important) meditating gives you a lot more control over any kind of overwhelming feeling or emotion. Again, this is something I am bad at doing myself, but if you can manage to set aside ten minutes three times a week or so, it makes it a lot easier to say “okay, time to move on and think about something else” when you’re really low. I started off using the free trial of the Headspace app (which is a good introduction, but I don’t like the guy’s voice and the subscription is SUPER expensive) and now use the Buddhify app (one-off purchase of about $5). I’ve also heard that Insight Timer (free) is good.

4. Using a daylight lamp consistently is helpful, but it can be a pain in the butt if you don’t already have a morning routine which involves sitting in a specific place (e.g. for breakfast or work) where you can set up the lamp. You have to commit to using it daily, for a decent chunk of time (for me 40 minutes was best). I’m not using mine (FYI: this reasonably inexpensive one) at the moment because I’m responding well to my current medication. If I weren’t so lazy and used the damn thing, I’d probably feel even better. It’s hard to tell the difference from day to day when you’re starting out, but after I’d been using mine regularly I could REALLY tell when I hadn’t used it, so I’ll probably go back to using it for a while when it gets really dark.

4a. Daylight bulbs are a related option which mainly help with motivation and energy levels. I put daylight bulbs in my ceiling light year-round, which makes it feel like it’s brighter outsideand tricks me into thinking the days are a bit longer in winter. Make sure you’ve also got regular bulbs in side lamps in the evening, though, or you won’t feel able to get to sleep.

4b. I have never regretted buying my dawn simulator alarm clock, which I got after two years of wanting one but refusing to spend the money. If you have to get out of bed at a set time every morning they’re fantastic–they’re more a “functioning adult” tool than a mood one, in my experience. But I went from having to use half my day’s spoons to pry myself out of bed whilst wailing to just being a regular grump who hit the snooze button once or twice. I kind of wish I’d shelled out for a slightly fancier one so I could use my own music as a wake-up tone, but it’s fine.

5. Medication and supplements can really help. I know that especially for US peeps this can be a ridiculously expensive proposition, but if your objections are based on the idea that medication will make you numb or dull your creative edge or amounts to some kind of failure, and you haven’t tried antidepressants before, please try to put them aside. [EDIT: For the most part, this attitude is perpetuated by people who have never experienced ongoing mental health issues. A friend pointed out to me that some people DO have bad experiences with antidepressants, and in fairness, my own first experience with citalopram made me feel pretty numb! Those are real experiences. But popular culture seems to run with the “pills turn you into a zombie” narrative when other medications have been hugely helpful to me. I’m really glad I didn’t write off medication as a whole based on that first antidepressant. Based on my own experience, I’d say it’s worth experimenting a little if you have a supportive doctor.]

If you cannot access prescribed medication, or the idea of “chemicals” is too intimidating, consider taking St John’s Wort (I am not a doctor, please do your own research! It did, however, work well for me). It’s a herbal remedy which is the first port of call for patients with depression here in Germany, and it has very few side effects (basically: you absolutely MUST NOT take it alongside other SSRIs, it interferes with hormonal birth control, and can make you more prone to sunburn. Always let a doctor know if they prescribe you medications on top of anything you’re already taking).

I took about 1350mg of the over-the-counter stuff for about five years and while it wasn’t a silver bullet, it REALLY took the edge off of my depression when the health service was failing to give me the support I needed. Here is a Cochrane review of 29 studies of St John’s Wort’s effectiveness. Lack of regulation is a bit of a problem in terms of not knowing the strength of what you’re taking, which is why I ended up taking three of the Boots One-a-Day extra strength tablets daily before it made much of a difference. When I got to Germany, my GP here prescribed me 900mg which was just as effective. But as I said, there are barely any side-effects and you’d have to be taking a lot more than that to overdose.

I also find vitamin D helpful, and while I’m taking vitamin B12 because I think I just have low levels of it it does boost energy levels a lot.

6. I’m aware that this one is very privilege-dependent, but if you can–take a holiday somewhere warmer and sunnier. It might be worth bearing this in mind when planning your annual holidays, if your days off/finances are limited. Don’t feel like you need to hold the trip to “awesome holiday” standards–it’s just about getting some sun on your face. Last year my partner and I picked a location based entirely on the weather report and prices not being insane (we had a holiday booked which was cancelled because the airline went under and had to rebook with three days notice) and had a super chill time in Valencia.

Okay, that got super long–I hope it was helpful! Good luck dealing with winter. I’ve had years where I really wondered how I was going to cope with the misery year on year for the rest of my life, but as my coping tools have fallen into place, it’s become easier and easier.

2257: A Multi-Verse Odyssey

2257: A Multi-Verse Odyssey

Giftee: @geekcornucopia

Prompt: Prime Lorca makes his way back to the prime universe after visiting a few realities.

Genre: Bit of angst, bit of crack!Fic. If such a medley is ever possible.

Rated: T for some bad language

Notes: This is my first time taking part in a fic exchange. Thank you @geekcornucopia for the prompts, @ussarchangel for setting this up and @makimurakaori for giving it the once-over. Any remaining nonsense can be blamed on me.

**

“Commander Burnham? Is it true?”

Michael looked up from her plate, momentarily confused by hearing what had become an unfamiliar title but in a familiar voice. Tilly - Ensign Tilly, she corrected herself, since they both shared new ranks - was clutching her lunch tray close to her chest from underneath rather than the sides, something she only did when she was either nervous or excited or, as was often the case, both.

“What’s true?”

“About… him. That he’s going to be our new captain?” She frowned. “Although would he really be new? Our new old captain, maybe? I mean, he’s not the same man, right?”

Tilly had made a lot of progress in modulating the volume of her voice, but she still had some way to go, especially when she was… nervous or excited or both. Michael indicated that she should sit down next to her, aware that eyes were beginning to turn in their direction. Most people on Discovery had learned to tune her out, but they were on Earth Spacedock where their ship was undergoing maintenance; here they were surrounded by strangers who knew only of them following their victory over the Klingons and Michael found that she disliked fame nearly as much as infamy.

“Yes, it’s true,” she finally confirmed, as casually as she could. “Provided he is proven fit to serve and command. According to Sarek, that should not be a problem.”

Sarek had, apparently, spent a lot of time alongside a select few other people talking to Lorca and that was how Michael knew of what was to come. He had openly asked her, in that blunt yet perfectly polite Vulcan way, whether she thought it would prove difficult for her working with him, and she now suspected that he had requested his time with Lorca to vet the man himself. She and Sarek still had some way to go to repair their relationship but she knew now beyond a doubt that he cared deeply for her.

“That’s gonna be so weird.” Tilly wrinkled her nose. “We need a new word for weird, actually, because frankly after everything we’ve seen in the last few months, ‘weird’ doesn’t seem to cut it anymore, does it?”

“No,” Michael said with a half-smile. “It certainly doesn’t.”

Her friend didn’t know the half of it. Tilly had been very aware (and possible over-invested in) Michael’s relationship with Ash and it had been a blessing when that had turned into a special kind of disaster - the kind of disaster Michael was beginning to think was reserved only for her. She had been there to push Michael when she needed to be pushed, and accepting when she had needed that, and she credited Tilly for enabling her eventually to have the best parting from Ash that could be hoped for. She hadn’t needed to go to her and ‘talk’, Tilly already knew what she needed to know.  

But Tilly didn’t know about Gabriel Lorca. She didn’t know that the man who had turned out to be from a mirror universe had been his Michael’s lover, that they had quite possibly plotted to take over the Quadrant together, that he had then more or less declared his love for her…

Saru knew. Knew that part, at least, what Michael had meant to that Gabriel Lorca, but had no idea what their captain had meant to Michael, and it was something far deeper than she felt capable to unearth. Maybe it was because she couldn’t talk about it that it hurt so much more than Ash. Maybe it was because she had let him fall, tired of getting hurt and wanting to do some hurting of her own. Except she couldn’t take it back. She’d seen him in her dreams for a while; once she had taken the hand he had extended to her. When she’d woken up, her heart thumping in her chest, it had taken a while for her to work out what was dream and what was real.

No, he wasn’t going to be the same person. People said that as though it was going to make it all easier, when in fact Michael wanted him to be the Lorca she knew. So she could say sorry. So they could start over.

“It’s macaroni and cheese.” Michael blinked, raised her eyes to look at Tilly. “You’ve been staring at your plate like you have no idea what’s there. It’s macaroni and cheese.”

She straightened and poked her fork at her food. “Trust me, that may be what it looks like but that’s not what it is. At least it’s nothing like the one Amanda used to make.”

“What’s Vulcan food like?”

Tilly could sometimes have an overbearing, distracting presence, and Michael loved her for it.

**

“They could move things with their minds?”

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “Is this really necessary? I’ve already been through one debriefing and it was pretty thorough. No toilet breaks. Are we gonna have toilet breaks?”

“Do you require use of sanitary facilities, Captain Lorca?”

That was the Vulcan Sarek. He had known of many different Sareks in his travels and had even met some of them; after his encounter with the one in the universe where Vulcans had not embraced logic, he liked this present version a lot. Lorca’s fingers pulled slightly at his collar, remembering too vividly how that particular Sarek had tried to strangle him, looking to avenge his daughter’s honour: Lorca had apparently abandoned her after she’d become pregnant with “his” child. She’d saved his life, her arrival to plead with her father triggering the jump that had allowed him to escape.

“No, I don’t. But I might. Soon,” he replied, defiantly emptying the tall glass of water in front of him.

“I can assure you that you are free to make use of the facilities any time you wish, Captain -”

“So they could move things with their minds?”

Lorca turned to look at the Starfleet officer questioning him. Lieutenant Commander Stamets had not been at the previous debriefing but he had co-developed the Discovery’s spore drive and had navigated the ship and its crew back from one of the parallel universes they’d been dragged to by one of his counterparts. No one knew more about the Mycelial network than Stamets, Lorca had been told, and he could tell the man was pretty annoyed at the thought that it may no longer be the case.

“Yes. Or rather… their will. They didn’t share much with outsiders.”

“And by outsiders you mean people who were not… What did you call them?”

“I didn’t call them anything. They called themselves Jedis.”

“And they had…. Light weapons?”

“Lightsabers. Used it as you might a sword, except it was a beam of light. Saw one go through metal, repel laser shots -���

Stamets uttered a grunt of disbelief. “This is the stuff of fairy tales.”

“And before Zefram Cochrane fired the Phoenix into Warp, we thought telepathy and people with pointy ears were the stuff of fairy tales, too,” he replied, crossing his arms and jerking his chin towards Sarek.  

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Captain Lorca is correct, Lieutenant Commander Stamets,” he said. “Since it appears that the theory of an infinity of parallel universes may be true, anything - quite literally - may be possible.”

“Why would I make this up, Stamets? You think I don’t know how crazy this makes me sound? I was asked to share any information about my experiences that may help Starfleet - and you - find a way to tap into the Network safely for everyone involved. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Stamets stared at him for a moment, impatience and frustration written all over his face. There was something of a grudge in the way he looked at him that made Lorca assume Stamets had some unfinished business with the Mirror Universe Lorca he had served under for many months. “Ok. All right. And this is helping us how?”

“They talked about this thing called midi-chlorians. Knowing what I know now about the Network, it seems clear to me that these things enabled some people to tap into the Network somehow, like your spores do, or the Tardigrades. As for what you can do with that knowledge, I have no idea. You’re the scientist, not me.”

The debriefing went on for another hour or so, by which time Lorca really did need to make use of the facilities. Stamets’ manner had softened a little, although he wondered whether that would have lasted if he’d mentioned the universe with the Wizards and Muggles, but the Scientist had been taken with Lorca’s recollection of the encounter he’d had with someone who seemed to have their own version of a spore drive, although the Doctor, as he called himself, could only travel through space and time within his own universe.

Dismissed from the debriefing and having relieved himself, Lorca was looking forward to something to eat when he was caught by Sarek before he could make it to the turbolift.

“Captain Lorca, may I speak with you?”

Lorca groaned. “I think I’ve done enough talking today, thanks. I’ve told you all I could already. Twice.”

“I am aware of and thankful for your detailed testimony. However, this time it is I who has something to tell you.” A tingle of apprehension ran up his spine. “It is about Michael Burnham.”

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Lorca had hoped to avoid the subject for a little longer. Besides, he knew plenty about her from her files: parents killed by Klingons, adopted by Ambassador Sarek and his human wife Amanda, raised on Vulcan where she achieved the rare distinction of attending the Vulcan Science Academy, Starfleet’s first mutineer, warmonger… And now, of course, saviour of the Federation, it seemed. Like the numerous other Michaels he’d met, she clearly didn’t do things by halves, as well as also being raised by Sarek (though not all of them were). The only kind of information Sarek could possibly relay to him at this point had to be personal.

He could have requested another command, left well alone, but what good would it do? In the end, in all his travels, it had only ever come down to one thing: Michael Burnham. There was no point in fighting his fate.

**

Tilly was sharing stories of the most disappointing deserts she’d ever had when Michael’s communicator beeped, requesting her presence in Transporter Room 3B. There she found Sarek waiting for her.

“Are you returning to Earth, Father?”

“Only briefly, so your mother and I may travel home together. But I have not asked you here to say goodbye, not yet. Eight years ago, I brought you to Captain Georgiou. Now I wish, if you would let me, to bring you to your new Captain.”

Michael frowned. “I’m not sure I understand. Am I being transferred?”

“No. I am referring to Captain Gabriel Lorca.”

“So it has been confirmed?”

“It has.”

She already knew it was unlikely not to be. Logically, she should not have been surprised. Logically. “I still do not understand. We don’t need to use transporters to board the Discovery.”

“He is waiting to meet with you on the surface.”

“Why?”

“Why is he waiting to meet with you, or why is he waiting on the surface?”

“Both, actually.”

“I suggested an informal meeting to him. The specific location was his choice.”

“You suggested it to him? Why?”

Sarek glanced at the crewmember manning the operations panel. “Let us transport to Earth and I shall explain.”

She wanted to object, stand her ground, but it was pointless to. The meeting may have been Sarek’s idea but Lorca could make it an order. Refusing to go would only delay the inevitable and felt childish.

They rematerialised in a small park just outside Starfleet Academy. Michael blinked away the sudden brightness, then followed Sarek onto a tree-lined path.

“When I mind-melded with Lieutenant Saru upon your return to our universe, I saw many things that he had experienced, and was made aware of many things that he knew. Your relationship with the former Captain Lorca went deeper than those he had with other members of his crew.”

Be careful what you wish for, Michael. She had wished for someone else to know but now that they did, the pain and shame were made real. Some of it was habit, of course - the fear of disappointing Sarek by showing emotions, her own anger that she could not stop feeling because all she knew of feelings was sorrow and grief now.

“This previous Lorca gave you something that you had lost, something you would not let your family give you both before and after your sentencing,” Sarek continued. “The greater the gift, the more grievous the anguish when it is gone. It is to be expected that you should feel betrayed, Michael. And trust, while easily lost, is extremely hard to regain.”

“He is not that Lorca. He is as worthy of my trust as any other Starfleet Captain.”

Sarek halted. “That is indeed the logical position. Yet you know as well as I do that it is more complicated than logic would allow, or you would not have brought Emperor Georgiou back to our universe.” Michael looked away. “It is not a reproach, merely a statement of fact. It was a difficult task, reminding myself that she was not my dear friend. I know what she meant to you. I also know that you would never let someone die if you could prevent it.”

“You’re worried I will only see the other Lorca.”

“Are you not?” She had nothing to reply to that. “When I said I suggested this meeting, it was not entirely accurate. While I suggested the meeting to Captain Lorca, it was your mother who suggested the meeting to me.”

“Amanda? This is Amanda’s idea?”

“She felt that meeting with Captain Lorca in a context not over-burdened with duty or protocol would allow for a freer exchange of thoughts.”

Michael looked around, wondering whether she might be able to spot him. All she could see were people milling about, enjoying their lunch break in the sun; at the other end of the park she could hear the cries of children enjoying a playground. It was all very normal, and that felt… weirdest of all.

“I think she may be right.”

“She usually is. Captain Lorca said he was hungry. You may find him near a food stand.” Sarek raised his hand. “Dif-tor heh smusma.”

Michael raised hers. “Sochya eh dif.”   

With a deep breath, she left her father and took another look at her surroundings. After a few moments she spotted a kiosk near a bandstand and headed that way. There she found him,  much like the first time she had the other one, standing ramrod straight with his back to her - except this time he didn’t half-blend into the darkness. Instead, he stood out like a sore thumb in his Starfleet uniform, slightly rocking on his heels as he waited at the back of a queue of civilians. Silently Michael gave thanks to her adoptive mother, because just looking at the back of his head was enough to send her stomach roiling with apprehension and hope. Here in this park, surrounded by strangers who could not judge and an open sky that made her feel like there was somewhere she could escape to, she was able to steady herself. With another breath, she approached him, straightened and crossed her arms behind her back.

“Captain Lorca?”

“Yeah?” The first time she had met the other Lorca, he had been suave and open. This one was scowling and looked distracted, then wary as he recognised her. “Commander Burnham. Would you care for some chilli?”

“No, thank you, sir. I’ve already eaten.”

He looked back at the queue, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it figures. C’mon, let’s take a walk.”

As they walked past a pond, Lorca stopped and half-smiled. “They’ve taken down the fencing. That’d have been helpful 30 years ago.”

“Sir?”

“When I was 15, I went skinny-dipping in there. Made the mistake of taking my clothes off before climbing over the fence, and then the water was freezing, so climbing back over afterwards was pretty embarrassing. Worst thing is, I knew it was stupid as I was doing it.”

It took her a beat to understand what had happened. “So why did you do it?”

“Same reason boys and men ever do stupid things they know they shouldn’t: to impress a girl.” Michael’s steps faltered slightly, which he seemed to catch from the corner of his eye. She saw him clench his fists, his lip twitch, but he said nothing.

They walked on for a bit in silence, until he spoke again. “I don’t suppose Sarek told you how we were supposed to do this?”

“No. That’s not his way.”

“Why do Vulcans always do this? Make everything so hard?”

“They would say that for them, the easier way has led their people into much greater harm.”

“Fair enough.” He directed her towards a small grassy mound. “I read your and Lieutenant Saru’s reports on what happened in that other universe, about the other Gabriel Lorca, his deception. What happened with Ash Tyler. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. More than is fair. For that I am sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.” She looked up at him. The mirror Lorca had often shown her understanding, but the blue eyes she was looking into now were shining with warmth and kindness. “Will you sit with me?”

Michael looked around; there were no benches nearby, so he clearly meant sitting on the grass. She nodded and they sat on the ground, Lorca with his arms around his pulled-up knees, Michael with her legs crossed. She became aware that he looked awkward and seemed to be pondering something difficult, his lip twitching again.

“This is difficult for you, too, sir, isn’t it? Why?”

“Because I don’t even know how to begin to explain why it is difficult. This -” Lorca gestured at the sky then at her and back at himself. “- This kind of thing isn’t my forte at all. Not one for philosophy or poetry, never been. But after everything I have seen lately… There are things I wanna tell you but I don’t think you’re gonna like it. I know that because I don’t like it, either. Because while I know it to be true, I don’t understand why and that really pisses me off.” He looked at her. “Do you believe in destiny, Michael?”

He had been vetted, tested. There was no doubt this was the Gabriel Lorca that belonged in this universe. To all intents and purposes, he was a stranger to her. So what did it mean that he used the same words as his predecessor?

“I’m going to have to get used to that look. Right?” he interrupted her thoughts.

“What look?”

“The one you’ve got on your face right now, when I say or do something he did.”

“And how much do you know about that?”

“Sarek told me the other guy did a lot of good things for you, how much you trusted him. So I’d have understood if you’d punched me the first time you met me.”

Michael shook her head. “No. No, never. If anything… I just want to say sorry.”

“Sorry? You? What the hell could you have to say sorry for?”

“Because when Emperor Georgiou killed him, he reached for me. He was dying and he reached for me. And I stepped away from him. But I know now that all the things he did for me… they were real. He saved my life, in so many ways. I should have saved his. I tried - but not hard enough. And at the end, the one thing I could have done for him…. I didn’t.”

“Your other Captain… He was in love with you, wasn’t he?”

Anger welled inside her at the thought that Sarek would have shared something so private, yet again she reminded herself that is exactly what she needed. A few months ago she would have been able to ride this out, focus on the work, but she was exhausted and recognised that it would be better to let something out before the dam burst altogether.

“Sarek didn’t need to tell me that,” Lorca continued, as though he’d read her thoughts. “If there is one thing I have learned from all my travels, it’s that there is always a somewhere and somewhen with a Gabriel Lorca who loves a Michael Burnham.”

**

Nice job, Gabe. Really smoothly done.  

Michael stared at him, looking appalled,then stood up. “I think this conversation is taking a very inappropriate turn, Captain.”

Lorca sighed, then stood as well. “You asked me why this was difficult for me, Commander. I think I’ve just told you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t believe in destiny, either. But you’re a scientist, right? If you carry out the same experiment, with the same elements, in the same conditions - what happens, over and over?”

She frowned. “The same results.”

“The same results. It��s not destiny - it’s probability, that’s all.”

“But the conditions are not the same. The mirror universe - we called it that because as far as we can tell it was the opposite of everything we know. So how could it have turned out the same for our counterparts?”

“Because the conditions were the same - for our counterparts. They lived in the same universe. They were changed in the same ways. But they remained aligned with each other.”

“So what are you saying? That people… that consciousness… moves on some kind of curve, or spectrum?”

“Honestly? It’s like I said, I don’t understand it myself. I can only tell you what I saw.”

Michael crossed her arms. “And what exactly did you see?”

“You returned from the mirror universe and ended the war with the Klingons about three months ago. I was found in this universe about two months ago. You probably know that I ended up travelling through multiple universes. What you may not know is that I was gone far longer than a few months. I was gone for about three years.”

“Three years? But how is that possible?”

“The network travels through time as well as space.”

“How did you travel through the Network?”

“I don’t know. At least not exactly. Which is why it took me so long to get back here. But now I’m going to tell you something I haven’t told anyone. The reason I was gone for so long is because that’s how long it took me to figure out why I kept travelling. And that reason… is you, Michael.”

Her eyes widened then turned darker, more guarded. It was an expression he was familiar with and the sensation was uncomfortable. Of course his counterpart would have felt something for this Michael. Lorca understood now what home meant. That’s how it must have felt to him, finding this Michael after his had died.

“There are different ways to travel between parallel universes. Mostly it has been accidental. When the Mirror Lorca travelled here, I didn’t end up in his universe. Somehow, I was dragged into the Mycelial Network. And when that happened, I think it knew I did not belong where I ended up, probably because my presence in the new universe - it was like a pothole in a road. Or a short-circuit. Wrong connections being made. Right piece, wrong jigaw.”

“If that’s the case, why did you not keep hopping continuously? From what I have heard, you stayed in some universes longer than others.”

“When you are doing a jigsaw, you only know two pieces don’t fit together when you try to put them together. So yeah, it took me a long time, until I realised that I only ever jumped from one universe into another when I met one of your counterparts. As soon as we… connected  -” he made a fizzing sound, mimicked an explosion with fingers “- the Network knew it wasn’t right. It’s just that sometimes it took me a long time to find the other you.”

Michael was silent for a moment. “What do you mean, connected?” she asked.

“The connection you have with your father Sarek. Through his katra. I can only guess that maybe what the Vulcans can do on some level is tap into the Network and that is how they connect telepathically, do their mind-melding. Human beings can’t connect in the same physical, tangible way but I think on some levels we still do connect. So when I made an emotional connection to another Michael, the Network knew it wasn’t right, because it should have been.”   

He could practically see her working her way through multiple thoughts at once. “If there’s an infinite number of universes, you could have been travelling forever.”

“If I hadn’t realised what I needed to do, what I could do, yeah.”

“And what was that?”

“I looked for you, Michael. When I was in the Network, I thought of home. I thought of you, what I knew about you. And I found you.” He smiled, ever so faintly. “You walked away from me a few times. But eventually you took my hand. You brought me home.”

“The dreams…” Tears sprung in her eyes, and he felt some in his, too. “I had this dream…” Lorca nodded. “And then 3 days later we heard you’d been found… How could I not see it -”

“Why would you, Michael? It doesn’t make any real sense even to me.”

“What does it mean? That we’re some kind of… The Vulcans would call it ‘bonded.’”

“I’ll try not to take the look of horror on your face personally,” Lorca said. “I told you earlier that I didn’t like it, either. There was someone, many years ago… Balayana. I loved her, I was going to marry her. But she died. I thought that was it for me. I’d met the love of my life and I’d lost her, because shit happens. To find that there is someone else…” He paused, still surprised it was so difficult for him to talk about.     

“I’m sorry.” Her expression softened. When he sat back on the grass, she joined him, too. “This is all very… complicated.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe…” She let out a long breath. “Maybe it would be best if I transferred to another ship.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It would be easier. Would it not?”

“Someone once told me that easier could lead you to greater harm.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “I am not Vulcan.”

“Hard to tell right now with that face you’re pulling.”

She smiled and, he could tell, almost laughed. Yes, it was complicated. But if this had been the first time he’d met her, or even remained in this universe and been assigned to the Discovery, it would have appeared very simple to him. The pull he felt towards her was unmistakable.

“Where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. Maybe we will only be friends. Maybe not. What I do know is that, at some level, the universe knows we belong together, in one way or another.” And you know that, too, he wanted to add. Because you felt something for the other Lorca. That connection. But there was no point pushing her. She’d already followed him a long way.

Instead Lorca reached for Michael’s hand, covering it with his own, gently closing his fingers around hers. After a beat, he felt her thumb gently stroking him.

And he knew he was home.

END.

A love/hate review of The Division game and all the things I wish it could have been. Please note that as of this point I have not played the massive update that supposedly took place to ‘fix’ the game. This critique is opinion based and if you love (or hate) the game more then I do feel to let me know how/why. Just be respectful of your dissent of my review.

I am of two mindsets about this game in the fact I thought it was a great concept and I generally enjoyed the setting and gameplay (to some degree) but on the other hand, the storytelling was less than exceptional, they had with PVP element and RPG damage system which ruined the game.

New York City Setting (Loved) Reading up on this game I appreciated the groundwork the developer put into getting the setting right. How they contacted with real government agencies to try accurately portray the JTF accurately and took thousands of pictures of New York to capture the city. Like a winter cemetery with monolithic skyscrapers looking like dark pillars reaching towards the sky from the very beginning you knew you were in the Big Apple. There are many games that take liberties with real-world cities in games by shrinking them down to manageable sizes, you can love GTA all you want but if you lived in LA you know San Andrea is like a shadow compared to the real thing. The Division had no such issue as almost every second (save the underground/sewer levels) kept me believing that I was elite agent fighting in for New York.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Never (Hated) An aspect of the game that really bothered me was “Always Shooting” approach to the gameplay. Find a group of guys in the street with guns? Shoot them. Meet a fellow agent in the Dark Zone? Think about shooting them. Find two people over a body? Shoot them too. I understand this was a gun game but this really undercut the morality and humanity that could have made this game great. In eyes of the developer, everyone was guilty of something but by the rules of probability, not everyone in the city who was armed had to be a ‘bad guy’. Those group of men standing with guns on the corner? Neighborhood watch protecting their community. The two guys over the body in the alleyway? Found it like that and looking for ID or supplies.

Point is they could have easily put a verbal engagement into the game where you get the drop on somebody and allow them to surrender peacefully. Give a Mass Effect conversation wheel where you can get to the root of what the hell they are doing and either let them go, arrest them, rob them or even (if they do end up being bad) shoot them. I don't believe video games desensitize kids but they don't make me arguing their case for them any easier when the only option is to kill kill kill. 

Story Telling (Love/Hate) The use of the hologram playback of events was an original way of telling stories and gives you an almost interactive perspective on what transpired before. As did listening to the voice recordings, hunting down missing agents and reading the walls also helped paint the city that is in utter chaos. 

Perhaps I spoiled myself with the Brian Wood comic DMZ (totally worth the read) which really dove into a New York warzone setting but I felt like the developers took the story to a point and then just kind of stopped. No long-term plot, no secondary missions with a rich fiction to delve into or even a good use of the secondary characters who made up the JTF. This a consistent issue with most Tom Clancy games (save the Splinter Cell series which is linear but fun as hell). I would have happily given up the whole ‘Dark Zone’ for investment in more plot but most companies look to multiplayer now as the measure of success instead of having the fans keep a lasting impression in their mind like Mass Effect or other story-driven games. I think that metric of success is simply wrong.

Death By A Thousand Bullets (Hate) Probably the BIGGEST failure of the game was the DPS element to the guns. Nothing like being a firefight with a guy and pumping him with hundreds of bullets and only taking away a sliver of his health. I understand why they wanted to have a quality of weapons aspect of the game to encourage people to try/loot new weapons but going this route really just ruined the experience. They could have easily gone with a gun jamming up over time requiring maintenance or switching it out for something new to encourage alternative firearms. They did a really good job with the weapons system of Ghost Recon: Wildlands and for some reason omitted this game from that quality weapons system.

I just marvel the most at the fact that there was a probably an office somewhere full of developers creating this game and someone said “Hey shouldn't a bullet to the head kill a guy?” and someone saying “No, he is a level 13 and you’re only a level 2, therefore, your bullets do less damage!” “That doesn't make any sense...” “Shut up, Derek. No one likes you.” Did it actually play out like that but I promise you someone had a conversation like that AT LEAST once.

Missed Opportunities (Love/Hate) Getting passed the nitpicky elements above let's talk about some things it could/should have been. There was so much potential with this game for alternative missions, game modes and ways to play that I wish some developer might correct in the next version of this game.

The Convoy Mission - Seems simple enough but in a city full of cars, there should have been convoy mission where an APC or a group of Humvees needed to drive a couple blocks to help resupply one of the safe houses. Walking alongside it, dealing with the occasional attack and smashing open windows of cars that are in the way and push them to the side. Seems simple but a diversity of missions is never a bad thing.

Reclamation Tug-O-War - Would have been great to have seen a game mode where you hold your block and work to liberate surrounding areas from the various factions which sounds simple but also have those factions push back trying to reclaim blocks you control. This would have provided a replayable element where you take areas, establish a JTF presence and hold them until the city is under control.

Establishing Safe Houses - Like the Reclamation idea, when you set up a safe house it should have not simply been unlocked and then done. I would have enjoyed having missions focus on the success of these alternative safe house location away from the main base with tangible perks for doing a job well done. Could be complex like defend it from attack, find a new radio so they can keep in contact with HQ, or something simple like deliver the blankets where you keep the people happy and alive.

Zombie Mode - Lots of people shit on zombie mod mostly because they are dime a dozen but I doubt anyone could argue that this setting (the city itself) doesn't look like a setup for a zombie movie. It would be amazing to have a co-op horde mode being a separate playable game mode for players.

The Dark Zone (Hate) We know why they put this into the game but fuck me if it doesn't make any sense. “Hey! My radio stopped working over here.” *Shakes it* “Guess I can let my psychopath flag fly now and kill other agents.” This REALLY cut into the Achilles tendon and dropped the game to a new low. I already talked about how Shoot First, Ask Questions never basically was a green light for murdering anyone you came across but this game mode plays to the worse aspect of gaming culture.

Co-Op (Love) I wanted to end on two high notes after ripping into the game with so much hate. I enjoy games with a Co-Op element where 2 or more players join me in the world to set things right. There is always chance that one of my friends will flashbang me on purpose to piss me off but for the most part, it enhances the experience and the Division does this well, making Co-Op a feature and not a mandatory function for enjoyment.

Ola Strandh (Love) A special shout-out to the composer of the game's score. While I did not notice the soundtrack to much while playing the game, the score eventually popped up on my Spotify and with some easy listening, I started to appreciate the complexity of the music and the use of sounds to create an atmosphere. I would suggest giving it a listen and if you like composed movie/game scores adding this to your playlist wouldn't be all that bad.

Conclusion You’re a special agent with the license to kill murdering your way through a civilian population that was basically abandoned by their government during the quarantine. Kinda hard to have a moral footing when you think about the game like that. The story itself was unrealized and the RPG element to the game (along with PVP) killed the immersion that could have made this game epic. I leave the weapon/gear perk element in my RPG’s with the suspension of belief of ‘because fucking magic” but it has no place in the realistic shooters like this.  I will probably play it again as there was that update but I doubt they did the overhaul that this game badly needed. Regards Michael California

Anything under 5 gallons is too small for a betta, i know 2.5 is the *minimum minimum* but it is the same as putting your betta to a bucket and calling it a day. They need space. Plus a "tank" that small can't hold a stable cycle and is more difficult to keep as, Let's say a proper 10 g tank

aight so...i wrote this big long thing (i’m a really wordy person, and i ramble, so bare with me) when this ask got sent like a month and a half ago. i typed it up on my phone, but mobile tumblr does this thing where if you take more than x minutes to write a reply, it doesnt let you save what you’ve written as a draft and it default posts to your main. and then it just doesnt post ever...so now i’m here, on desktop, to write you this long-overdue reply, Anon.this ask came shortly after a post/comment/reblog on tank size recommendation, so i kind of want assume that this same person who was discussing with me sent this ask, but i’m not going to assume but this person asked on anon... I’m currently writing a long-winded caresheet about bettas (which i plan to post for peer-review tomorrow), and so far i’ve written this about Tank Size:******“2.5gallons:The absolute minimum, I do not recommend keeping a betta in anything less thanthis because even in a cycled 2.5, keeping a *stable* cycle is very difficult,and requires more frequent water changes (1-2x per week at least). In a tank this small, you’ll mostlikely need to buy an adjustable heater as well, since the smallest (trustworthy)heaters on the market are 7-7.5 watts, and depending on where you live or howhot/cold you keep your house/room, the heat will fluctuate too often, or be toohot or too cold since the volume of water is quite small. A 2.5 gallon bettatank is doable.5 gallons:A great median for those who want to give their bettas a wonderful environment,but may be cramped on space, move around often, or whose living arrangementshave aquarium-related restrictions. A cycled 5 gallon tank with a bettagenerally requires a water change 1x a week at least. A 5 gallon tank also keeps a more stable cycle than a 2.5 gallon, and over-heating is less of an issue/concern. I still recommend anadjustable heater (I’ll always recommend an adjustable heater), though, as I’vefound that even with an appropriately-sized preset heater/non-adjustableheater, the temperature fluctuates too often and by too much. A 5 gallon is aperfectly good choice!10+ gallons:A palace! Your new betta would love to have a 10+ gallon tank! They’ll swimover every inch of it, I promise its not too big :) A fantastic choice for thosethat have the space and can afford to set up a 10 gallon or larger with all thebells and whistles (more décor, larger filter, stronger heater, etc. than the smaller tanks). Your fish will thank you and brag to all their fish friends that they ended up with some pretty sweet digs.note: If you feel you can’t give your betta a 10+ gallon tank, and you can onlyafford a 2.5 or 5 gallon setup (or something inbetween), that DOES NOT mean I think you’re a bad fish parent ❤ as long as you can provide the basicnecessities your fish requires and keep on top of water quality, and then do *what* youcan, *when* you can, youre doing it right :) (Never stop improving!! never stop learning!!) Maybe it’ll be a few months before you can buy your fish thatnew hide or a few extra plants, or maybe you’ll have to wait til xmas or yourbday to be able to afford a larger tank if that’s what you want, and that’sokay. As long as you do the best within your means (provided your animal’sbasic needs are met), that’s all your fish would ask of you ❤”******note: i address properly decorating/filtering/heating/etc in the rest of the care sheet. this is literally JUST the section on tank size.1. addressing that “2.5 gallons is the *minimum minimum*” statement anon made:its just *the minimum*...when you’re saying how small is too small and how big is too big without any defining *objective* factors, then it becomes subjective and opinionated. I addressed the cycling issue above in what I wrote for the care sheet. imo a 2.5 gallon is doable. is it amazin, perfect, the best you can give your betta? no...but neither is a 5 gallon .-. so, if your standard of minimum is based upon your opinion of what looks too cramped, then thats okay, and good on you for promoting a 5 gallon as a minimum tank. and i’m not saying that sarcastically, either, i really do wish i could promote 5 gallons as the minimum tank size, but when i’m explaining fish care to someone in the middle of the store, i have to give them objective facts (like the ones listed above under the 2.5 gallon section)To someone who thinks that .5 gallon bowl at petsmart is okay, who is standing in the aisle with betta in hand, me going up to them and telling them 5 gallons is the minimum just cuz its bigger isn’t going to change their mind 90% of the time. with a 2.5 its still on the small side, but at least i can give them objective facts. and i DO say “but if you get a 5.5 gallon its 2$ more for 2x the size, and a 10 gallon is 4x the size for that same 2$ more! and it’ll be easier to heat, cycle, and you’ll have to do less wc on it :) plus more room for decor!! decorating a tank is almost as fun as picking out your new fish!! :DD” so dont get me wrong there, please. but so many people equate bigger tank with more work, suggesting a “proper 10 gallon tank” to someone standing in that checkout line with their fish, some cheap food, a bowl, and a plastic plant? if they took my advice i’d buy a friggin lottery ticket. (I actually think this is what the post was about originally, that one i was having the discussion on before this ask arrived...if i find it, i’ll give a link to it)2. addresing the “it is the same as putting your betta to a bucket and calling it a day.” statement:they make 5 gallon buckets so i see no problems there [somewhat sarcastic, somewhat serious tone]. Just because a tank isn’t glass or acrylic doesn’t mean you cant keep a fish in it imo. Plenty of people use tub-tanks so i dont see why a bucket would be so bad so long as it meets those minimum requirements (2.5+, 76-82, filtered, good food, appropriate decor, lighting a must since the bucket probably isnt see-through and fish shouldnt live in complete and total darkness imo) and the material doesnt leach chemicals, I dont really see a problem? i mean, most buckets are taller than they are wide, but so are some glass/acrylic tanks (fluval spec 3)...i get what you’re trying to say here (i think), though: just throwing a fish in some water and calling it good ain’t good, aint gonna cut it. just like you dont want to suggest 2.5 as the “minimum minimum” because you believe it is inadequate for a betta.3. adressing the “They need space. Plus a "tank" that small can't hold a stable cycle and is more difficult to keep as, Let's say a proper 10 g tank” statement:pretty much agree with this part. smaller tanks dont hold cycles as easily as larger tanks, just the way it is (this does NOT tank into account overstocking, uncycled/cycling tanks, or chemical/parameter spikes). I agree completely that a 10 gallon tank will hold a much more stable cycle than a 2.5 or 5 gallon will. especially if the stock is the same (i.e. one betta). I also agree that bettas need space, and would like to add that longer tanks > taller tanks, since bettas (and most other fish) swim side-to-side and not up and down. a larger tank (again, same stock) will also require less wc/maintenance than a smaller tank. but, imma reiterate, thats hard to explain to the betta+bowl person you see walkin around at your local lfs/lps/chain store...in most people’s mind larger = more work, even tho WE (and hopefully all of fishblr/bettablr) know that that’s not true, even if we do our best to explain that to the general/uneducated/betta-ignorant populace.In the end, i think maybe you (anon) and me have different approaches to the same goal. we both want to improve quality of life for bettas, debunk myths about them, educate people about them, make sure people do right by their pets.i just want to change everyone’s mind first, get more people up to speed and get them out of Bowls-Are-Okay-For-Fish-Land, steer them away from those awful glass prisons and gimmicky tanks and THEN talk about how they can really spoil their pet, how to improve as a Pet ParentTM and give their pet The BestTM. let the water heat up really slowly so to speak (like hot tub, or a lobster pot), since i think I’ll be able to change more minds that way: slowly, steadily...thats what changed my mind, and from personal experience this is what changes the minds of others more easily.If anyone has anything to add, rebutt, comment, reply, etc. please feel free to #told yall i was long-winded and rambly #still dont know how to add hashtags to these dang replies ;-; #fishblr #bettablr #Ronireplies

Roborock S6: Smartest, Most Powerful Robovac Yet

Our verdict of the Roborock S6: It's not perfect, but the combination of power and smart features makes the Roborock S6 an easy recommendation. Just don't count on it to mop up spills.810

Keeping your home clean isn’t easy. Even if you’re the tidiest person in the world, you can’t stop the inevitability of dust. What you can do is make sure that the dust doesn’t have time to accumulate.

Not all that long ago this would mean a portable vacuum and a rigorous daily maintenance routine. Now we can just have a robot vacuum take care of it for us. The Roborock S6 can do this and a whole lot more, but is it worth the extra money compared to the company’s more affordable models?

What’s in the Box?

The vacuum and the charging dock are the largest items inside the box, but they’re far from all that is included. You also get the power cable for the dock, a mopping attachment that we’ll look at later, and the manual. You also get a fair number of accessories.

One reusable mop cloth is included along with several disposable mop cloths and a mop cloth plate for use with these cloths. You also get a damp-proof mat to place under the dock for if you’re using it on hardwood flooring. Finally, you get a replacement air filter and water filter.

Specifications

On paper, the Roborock S6 looks similar to its siblings, the Roborock S4 and S5. That said, there is more than meets the eye here. While the specs may be similar, the S6 outperforms both of those models. We’ll look at why a little later on in the article.

When we looked at the Roborock S4, we remarked that the dustbin on that model was larger than the S6, but that is in fact not the case. The dustbin on the S6 is notably larger.

Battery capacity: 5,200mAh

Charging time: 3 hours

Cleaning time: 3 hours

Max suction: 2,000Pa

Dimensions: 13.8 x 13.7 x 3.79 inches

Weight: 7.9 Pounds

Build Quality and Design

The Roborock S6 is lighter than the S4, but it’s no less solidly built. While you should obviously be careful, this feels like it could take a few solid knocks with no issues. This applies to both the body as well as the undercarriage and various moving parts. The 14 sensors used in the vacuum include a cliff sensor to keep it from tumbling down the stairs, but the vacuum feels like a drop or two won’t kill it.

The overall design and aesthetic are similar to the S4 and S5, though this does have a few different touches. First, the white finish is striking, especially when paired with the orange-red sensor array on top of the vacuum. The downside is that the white does make any dust gathered while cleaning stand out more, so you may be tempted to wipe this down more often. Fortunately, it’s also available in black.

Setup and Getting Started

When I reviewed the Roborock S4 I noted that it was strange that the manual mentioned Roborock parent company Xiaomi’s Mi Home app instead of the bespoke Roborock app. That is the case with the Roborock S6 as well. You can use the Mi Home app, but the Roborock app gets you access to more advanced features as well as control from multiple devices.

While you could technically use the vacuum without the app, you’re missing out on a lot of functionality that way. To get started, all you need to do is download the Roborock app on the device of your choice, then either sign in or create an account. From here the app will guide you through the setup process.

You start by resetting the Wi-Fi on the Roborock S6, then choosing the wireless network you wish it to connect to in the Roborock app. Then you connect to the S6’s internal Wi-Fi and the app transfers your settings over. Once this process is complete, you’re ready to start using the vacuum.

Using the App

Once the vacuum is set up, you’ll see it on the main screen of the Roborock app when you log in. The simplest way to start using the vacuum is to select it, then hit the large button labeled “clean” at the bottom of the app. That’s all you need to do, as the vacuum will take it from here.

The app also helps you to maintain your vacuum. Tap the three dots at the top right of the screen to open settings, then tap the “Maintenance” option. Here you’ll get a handy overview of the air filter, side brush, main brush, sensors, and water tank filters. This keeps you from having to guess when to change filters.

You can also use the settings to tell the vacuum to travel to any location in your home, as long as it has mapped there. This is handy if you want to use the vacuum to clean a specific spot. On the main screen, you can choose from four cleaning modes: silence, turbo, max, and balanced. These let you opt for a more powerful clean or a less disruptive one.

Finally, there are a few options here you might want to enable. Carpet mode is turned off by default, but turn it on and the vacuum will automatically increase suction when it detects carpet.

Mapping and Smart Features

As with the Roborock S4 and S5, the main appeal of the S6 is just how smart it is. In the case of the S6, these smarts actually have an impact on its overall performance. Thanks to an improved processor, the Roborock S6 can clean more and for longer on the same 5,200mAh battery packed into the other vacuums.

This model also has a higher sensor count than the other models, which lets it more smartly navigate around your home. When I first started the vacuum, it navigated its way around the walls of the room, cleaning as it went. After it had mapped these out, it zig-zagged its way across the carpet, much as you would if you were vacuuming manually.

Using map saving mode, which is still in beta, you can edit maps once the vacuum has saved them. This lets you create virtual no-go zones. You can use these to keep the vacuum from roaming too far or from staying away from furniture that is particularly fragile or easily knocked over.

Once noticeable upgrade from the S4 was that the Roborock S6 seems to have an easier time finding and settling into its dock. Thanks to the medium-pile carpet in my home, I had to prop up the back of the S4’s dock to let it slot itself in. With the S6 that hasn’t been the case, as it has made its way into the proper charging position without assistance every time.

Performance

Suction is the same across Roborock’s S-series vacuums, and that’s not a bad thing. The vacuum does a good job cleaning, even where other vacuums might struggle. Roborock advertises that the S6 has enough strength to lift AA batteries, but I put the vacuum to a more real-world test.

I recently adopted three kittens who are quickly growing. They’re house trained but tend to track litter around in the area of the litter box, which is near my office. This means that a not-insignificant amount of litter makes its way on to two area rugs in my office. The Roborock S6 did a great job cleaning up, which makes my life much easier.

This was also a great way to test the sensors. As you’ll see in the video accompanying this article, the cats were fascinated by the vacuum and surrounded it while it did its work. Instead of blindly charging at them, the vacuum would slow down noticeably as it approached them, which makes me feel better about letting it do its job without supervision.

When it comes to spills or other messes, you don’t need to wait for the vacuum to make its rounds. Simply pick the vacuum up, put it down in the vicinity of the area you want to be cleaned, and press the “spot cleaning” button. This cleans a roughly 16 square foot area around the vacuum. This is handier than it sounds.

Mopping

While robot vacuums have gotten good to the point that you could at least theoretically use one for all your vacuuming needs, mopping hasn’t quite got there. The ideal way to use the mopping functionality of the Roborock S6 is to start with a clean floor, then use the S6 to keep it looking clean. This will prevent dust buildup, but it’s not too effective at cleaning spills.

It’s also not the easiest to use. You need to manually attach the mop to the vacuum, then tell the vacuum to do its work. Then once it has finished its job, you need to remove the attachment so it doesn’t get in the way of vacuuming. That said, if you want to mop the kitchen while you’re prepping dinner, this will help you save a little time.

The mopping module has a small water tank that you fill by opening the seal at one corner. You can adjust how much water is used with an adjustment switch that sits underneath the mopping cloth.

Should You Buy the Roborock S6

The Roborock S6 offers a nice combination of powerful cleaning, smart features, and ease of use. It also happens to look quite nice, at least as far as vacuums go, which means you won’t be embarrassed by it sitting in your home. Add the mopping attachment and it gets even better.

The advanced processor in the S6 means that while it doesn’t look all that different from its cheaper brethren on paper, it performs much better. This is definitely worth the price difference as long as you can afford it. This isn’t just a great upgrade, it’s yet another argument for why you should be cleaning your home with a robot vacuum.

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Read the full article: Roborock S6: Smartest, Most Powerful Robovac Yet

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