"Lol it was an accident"

"Aren't all friendships?"

"Idk I'm trying really hard rn"

I'm currently hunched over my phone, staring at the blue and gray texts between us. It's been a couple of days since we'd sent them, but they haven't left my head since. I was too busy typing up a long-ass message to continue one bit of our ongoing conversation as per usual, and the topic had then changed. It would've been weird for me to bring it up in the middle of our other conversations, and so I never got the chance to respond to this exchange.

Maybe I also didn't say anything then because I know my response would be like this. A long, unwinding, unyielding story of my thoughts pouring out over my thumbs. And much of our texts that night had been about that and how I shouldn't try to relate to people through that anymore.

I can't help it, bud. So here I am. So here it is.

Accidents aren't something insignificant just because they are without intention. And, we could sit and ponder the nature of fate and coincidence and argue whether or not anything is accidental in this universe after all, I know we could. But, I won't dance around the question much here, or at least relative to how much I would typically.

When I was in pre-school, I remember this girl in my class that I thought was just the coolest. Her name was Audrey, and she was artsy and smart, and I wanted nothing more than to be her friend. I tried so hard. I brought her little gifts, I saved her the best candy I had on Valentine's day. I have a vivid memory still of trying to catch up to her after what I think was a puppet show we had both seen so that the two of us could talk about it.

None of it worked. She was a nice person, but we weren't meant to be friends.

In middle school, I did other peoples' homework, managed every group project, and researched hard into all their interests so that I could make conversation. I thought that was what you were supposed to do. Most of them ignored what I liked, if they didn't make fun of it. I wrote them gloriously elaborate stories about the entwining nature of our lives and frivolous things like fate. They liked it for a while, even making playlists and fanfictions of the characters. They liked it until it got real, and they had to see their long-crafted portrait of me fall apart as I revealed the cards I head been dealt and told them how badly I wanted a match to strike against those flimsy pieces of cardstock.

In the Iowian highschool, I was well aware that I would be bullied if I were to be myself. I tried to play the self-righteous card of "I'm going to be myself anyway!" It didn't last more than two weeks of no one shaking my hand or speaking to me or sitting next to me before I faded into colorless hull of what I used to be. I had tried so hard before: wearing funky little dresses, approaching random people all throughout the day and trying to befriend all of them. The only time I was welcomed into a group was when I led a soils judging team to victory; they only spoke to me to ask if they could cheat off my test for the next competition.

During my first year at college, I made small friend group from students I had been grouped with during orientation. I had thought it was as good as it could ever get, then. I got invited out, people wanted me over, and they shared their interests with me and were excited when I studied up on them. Sure, I was still doing their homework for them. Sure, they didn't take notice of my interests at all. Sure, I was waking myself up at absurd hours in the morning to buy hot chocolates with my own meal plan to wake them up with in the morning for their early morning classes every week, like they had asked me to since they'd known I was a morning person. And, sure, I did it all with a cheery smile, even when they cursed at the sound of my voice and rolled their eyes in my direction when I did come.

I thought that was what friendship was. Trying despite everything, trying again and again and again until it hurts.

I guess even now that I'm afraid that I still can't tell if my friends really think of me the same, or if I am, yet again, the pity friend or the one they know they can take advantage of because 'she's so nice, she'll do anything to make you happy.'

How am I supposed to tell? I don't have a good track record for this. Hindsight is 20-20, but I never once saw the signs before. How am I supposed to know if the people I've surrounded myself with actually want me around for me, just me?

That fear haunts me. The silence after showing them all my plans for writing our story has made it set ever deeper.

I think the one person, outside of my cousin and sister, that I haven't had to have the fear with recently was you. You overheard conversations between my family and I and were forced to see the filth of it, of who I was raised by and who I had become because of it. That accident became the beginning of our friendship, not just because of the self-disclosure, I think, but because of the respect and trust it built in me for you.

Because you didn't handle me like I was the naïve sunshine child that I pretend to be to avoid breaking down the image people have of me in their mind. You told me how annoying it felt when I was nice all the time. You taught me that it was okay to be angry, to be pissed with my situation and what they had done to my sister and I. You didn't shy away from the ugly that is a part of who I am, but you were honest and unafraid of hard conversations.

You shared your interests with me, and I was excited to hear about them, but I didn't feel the need to cram my brain with information about them to make talking points for us. I shared my interests back with you, and you listened even if you didn't care nearly as much about it as I did. Hell, our conversations were so choppy and incoherent half the time, but that was okay. Because sometimes it was nice just hanging around you, under the blue light of television screens, in silence or in deep chatter, or over the heavy smoke of the stove nearly burning something in the kitchen. Because both of us were making an equal effort for once.

That's why we became friends, I think.

Wow, I really did end up dancing my way through that one, didn't I? I really just wanted to tell you that I'm glad our accident happened, and I hope you're okay waiting for more accidents. Because it might take time. It took time for us to figure out our own rhythm. Be patient, and don't try so much. It's one thing to reach out to others, and it's a completely different thing to wear yourself thin by trying so hard that you destroy all your healthy boundaries and hand yourself away just to have companionship.

There is something at the core of you that you don't pay enough attention to to appreciate. I've sat and thought about a way to describe it, but no precise words to label it come easily. You care a lot, and there is a warmth inside of you that seeks to leave the everyone and everything and world itself better than when you found it. I've known a lot of people who have wanted to 'make a change,' too, but few have the resolve to actually do it. Whether it be sustainable power and energy, a triggering harassment training at a new job, or the doormat of a girl you accidently met moving into an apartment you saw on a Facebook Marketplace ad, you make positive change wherever you go.

Other people will see it, too. Accidents will happen; they always do.

Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

oh

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

mistletoe? oh no! - im jaebeom

⇢ prompt Why do we kiss under a mistletoe when it’s a parasitic plant that steals nutrients from its host tree? ⇢ pairing jaebeom x female reader ⇢ word count 6.9k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. alcohol. suggestive make out at the end :D ⇢ summary Six months ago, you drunkenly kissed Im Jaebeom on a beach trip with your friends. Afterward, the awkward tension kept the two of you from ever having the ‘What are we?’ talk and eventually, too much time had passed for anything to ever happen. Luckily, Pollyanna and a stupidly placed mistletoe have brought your feelings to the boiling point.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n happy new year’s my loves! as one last hurrah for 2019 & as part of @kwritersworld‘s holiday writing event, here is yet another idiots to lovers, christmas/nye au! here’s to a lovely new year, & new decade. i hope you all have a blessed, joyous, & prosperous year. i love you! ♥︎

You once thought that you were an introvert.

You know— someone deemed shy, with a preference to keep to themselves rather than going out of their way to interact with others. Introvert. Opposite of extrovert.

It wasn’t until you were a senior in high school did you learn new definitions for these personality categories. An introvert—according to your philosophy teacher and a TED Talk speaker shown on the projector during class—is someone who, simply put, thinks of how they feel before speaking. Extroverts, on the other hand, only identify their true feelings on a topic after they have begun discussing it.

The lesson stuck with you. Albeit your perpetual reservation from others, you were always one to argue. Smart, excellent report card over the years— but found yourself blurting your opinion out at the first chance before fully thinking it through. Now, you concluded, I suppose I’m an extrovert if that truly is what it means. This knowledge, for some strange reason, gave you a token for change. If I’m an extrovert, you thought, I must start acting one.

Now, having just been accepted into law school, you think you have hit the nail on the head when it comes to meeting both definitions of an extrovert. Park Jinyoung, on the other hand, has his doubts.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Have you really thought about what this is gonna do to your life?” Despite the genuine concern laced in his tone, Jinyoung’s words make you wince. How he manages to suck the life out of a celebratory night out for drinks truly is beyond you.

“Yes, Jinyoung,” you groan, taking a desperate sip of your coquito like it’s really going to help against his insufferableness, “I’ve only been working for this for a few years, let me change my mind now.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” he counters, leaning in close enough for you to taste his Jo Malone fragrance on your tongue. You raise a skeptical brow at him. “Have you thought about what becoming a lawyer is going to make of your life?” His words are clipped and emphasized like he is speaking to a child, trying desperately to get his point across.

“I appreciate you looking out for me and my future, Jinyoung,” you sigh, reclining back in your bar stool because sitting that close to Jinyoung for that long makes your head dizzy, “but I promise you, I have thought about this. I know I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, but it’s what I want to do. I promise.”

Jinyoung huffs, defeated, before tipping his wine glass back and chugging what is left like some sort of animal. Very not Jinyoung-like. “Well, then I guess there’s no reason to not celebrate with you,” he grins. Then, not even a beat later, “When are you gonna make time to marry Jaebeom and have a bunch of sexy little babies?”

“Aw, for crying out loud!” You howl, slapping a hand to your forehead before turning to him with a pointed glare and a pointed finger. “Okay, first of all, the fact that you used sexy and babies in the same sentence concerns me. And second, stop saying me and Jaebeom are going to get married! He doesn’t even look at me, how do you equate marriage out of that?”

“You mean, you don’t look at him. You guys had a great time when we went to the beach not even six months ago, saw each other half naked, shared a drunken kiss before bed, and then dropped all communication! What the hell is up with that?” Jinyoung has a habit of lecturing you like it’s his full-time job and it drives you absolutely insane because he’s always right.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a lengthy sip just to buy some time. “Come on, ___. My boy is out here drowning in unrequited love while you’re just all ‘Teehee! I’m a lawyer! Don’t talk to me when I’m doing lawyer tings!’ Cut the bullshit and let him take you on a date and blow your back out for Christ’s sake!”

You are physically unable to suppress your laughter, hand flying to cover your mouth and head thrown back at his comical outburst. He’s lucky you love him or else he would seriously regret that outrageously inaccurate imitation of your voice. He’s lucky you are tipsy enough to lose yourself in laughter and he’s especially lucky that he is correct, once again.

“Jinyoung,” you wheeze, letting out one more breathless giggle before flipping on the serious mode switch, “I would love to not only go out on a date with Jaebeom, but to date him. But things got awkward and so much time as passed that suddenly starting things up again would be weird. Don’t you think?”

“No!” Jinyoung yells. Half the people at the bar jump at the noise and turn to glare. You do just the same before shooting an older gentleman beside Jinyoung an apologetic look. “I just don’t think you’re drinking enough.”

“Yes,” then, a pause to ask the bartender for the check now that Jinyoung’s lectures are starting to put a downer on you, “that’s exactly it. I’m afraid to get drunk off my ass when Jaebeom’s around because I’ll do something stupid and either scare him off or bring him home and both are terrible options!”

“You’re no fun,” Jinyoung scoffs, “my two best friends, both pining after one another, but pulling the sixteen-year-old card and not talking to each other. Great! Just great.”

You laugh, hopping down from your seat and patting his knee once you have slipped on your coat. “Buy a mistletoe for the Christmas party and maybe something can be arranged.”

Jinyoung doesn’t find it funny.

For the past six years, it has been tradition for you and your friends to have a belated Christmas slash New Year’s party where Pollyanna gifts are exchanged and an excessive amount of alcohol is consumed because, well, your friends are fun. For the past three, however, you have been holding said party at Youngjae’s house, because he is the only one who has a house and houses are infinitely better for parties than apartments. Plus, Youngjae is a gracious man who welcomes the company year after year. Can’t understand why he wants nine psychopaths in his lovely little abode, but that’s not your problem.

What is your problem is the fact that there actually is a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. You’re going to kill Jinyoung.

You once thought Choi Youngjae was the coolest person to bless the planet. Now, you’re not so sure.

It’s the first thing your eye goes to upon entering Youngjae’s outrageously beautiful row home. Usually, you need a solid ten minutes to accept the fact that you will never become a model and have as many zeroes at the end of your savings as Youngjae, spending way too much time swooning over his grey vinyl wood floors and brick fireplace and white marble countertops. This time, however, while Jinyoung and Yugyeom do the whole bro hug greeting after wiping the snow from their shoes, you stand pressed up awkwardly against the front door, crockpot of buffalo chicken dip in hand, glaring at the stupid thing from two rooms over. Before you can turn an accusing finger to Jinyoung, Youngjae has turned to welcome you.

“You made it!” He cheers, flashing that thousand-watt smile of his and easing some of the tension that has begun to build up in your nerves like plaque. “Somehow, someway,” you return, relaxing into his embrace when he curves around the precious chicken dip to offer a half hug. “You need a drink,” Youngjae decides after having evaluated the lack of excitement in your response. Following after Jinyoung and Yugyeom, he leads you into the kitchen with a lively bounce to his step. “Bambam just finished making hot toddies, or you could be the first to take from our jell-o shot Christmas tree.”

He gestures to said “tree” on his dining table, a neatly stacked pile of green, red, and blue jell-o shots and you feel awfully terrible at having to ruin its perfected assembly. “It’s beautiful,” you muse, setting the crockpot on the counter and plugging its cord into an outlet, “it would be my honor to have the first one.”

“___!” Hollers Jackson as he slides open the door from the back patio and enters the kitchen, Maggie filing in after him. He must have joined her for a smoke outside. He proceeds to do a little dance shimmy as he makes his way over to you. “Jackson, my love,” you grin, squeezing him into a tight hug after he slaps a messy kiss to your cheek. “How are you, Miss I-Got-Accepted-Into-Law-School?”

That is going to be the topic of discussion for the night, it seems, and the heat of an embarrassed blush works its way up your neck at the realization. “I’m good. Really good, actually,” you say, directing your attention to Maggie who slips around Jackson to tuck into your side, “definitely not as stressed as I was. The holidays are a nice break from everything.”

“We’re all so proud of you,” Maggie hums, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Seriously, congratulations, again. You deserve it,” Jackson praises, reaching to squeeze your cheek. You swat his hand away in fear he will mess up the foundation you spent way too much time applying.

“Thank you, guys. I’m glad someone is happy for me,” you grumble, directing a cold glare to Jinyoung who, somehow, has already managed to fire Yugyeom up.

“What?” Bambam interjects, jumping into the conversation now that he has made his way into the room. “Didn’t you guys go out when you got accepted?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, smiling to the very expensive looking boy, “but he’s more worried than excited. Thinks I’m not considering how becoming a lawyer is going to affect my future, the stress of it, having a family, but…”

Maggie scoffs. “God, he sounds like your dad.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Ugh! Everyone, shoo! Why are we all in the kitchen? Go sit in the living room,” Youngjae hisses, grabbing Bambam by the shoulders and shoving him out of the room. Bambam makes a sound of protest, gesturing dramatically to all the food and the pot of hot toddy still on the stove.

“You can come back when there isn’t an entire crowd in here,” Youngjae counters, slapping a handful of jell-o shots into his hands, “I made Yugyeom promise to not eat all of ___’s dip, you don’t need to worry.” Bambam grumbles in response, stumbling after the others and you follow suit with a laugh.

Pausing just before the living room, Bambam stops to pass everyone a shot. “Here’s to Christmas and getting Jaebeom and ___ to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“Stop!” You whine, just as the rest ‘clink’ their cups and shout, “Cheers!” Nevertheless, down the hatch the jell-o goes and you glare at them all once they are done.

“Oh, speak of the Devil,” Yugyeom snickers just as you have ran ahead to crash down on the sofa, stretching your legs out across the chaise. Rolling over off your stomach, you turn to watch Mark, Jaebeom, and Shelby arrive, one too many gift bags and bottles of wine in hand. “Oh,” Maggie whispers from beside you, elbow nudging into your side, “look at your man.”

Funny thing is, you already are. To give you the benefit of the doubt— you were already watching the trio stumble into the room anyway, but it just so happened you stopped at Jaebeom. Before things between you got complicated, when you were just friends, he always had a way of stealing the oxygen from your lungs. Now is no different.

Dressed in black slacks, a white tee tucked in and a baby blue blazer to top it all off, Jaebeom looks nothing short of marvelous. He’s been growing his hair out, too, the black waves curling down to brush his cheekbones, screaming to be combed through with your fingers. And oh Christ, you can’t even begin to talk about the nose piercing. In the midst of your swooning, Jaebeom looks up after having deemed his sneakers clean enough to walk through Youngjae’s home, scanning the room before conveniently landing on you. The blush on both of your faces is instantaneous, hardly a second of maintaining eye contact before the embarrassment burns too hot and you turn away. Still, you can’t fight your smile.

Neither can he.

“Now the party’s started!” Mark hoots, swinging two bottles in the air like he’s asking for disaster. “Hurry and put everything down so we can play something,” Yugyeom whines from his seat across the room, pushing Jaebeom’s butt to move faster. “Patience is a virtue, Yugyeom,” Jinyoung comments, throwing a Hershey Kiss wrapper at him.

“Absolute children,” Maggie mutters. You hum in agreement.

“Do you wanna play the alphabet game?” Bambam proposes, earning a groan from Jackson. He hates the game, despite how often you all play it, claiming it takes too much brain power for a party.

“Yes! I’m down,” Shelby shouts anyway, having returned in time to hear Bambam’s question. To Jackson’s misery, you all agree as well.

“Youngjae!” Bambam shouts, waiting for him to yell back. “Grab the peppermint vodka when you come in! We’re playing the alphabet game!”

The way you all play most likely has deviated from the original rules of the game, but it works and it’s fun. Sitting in a circle, you go through the alphabet, naming something in a certain category that begins with whatever letter you’re on. For example, if you were doing fruits and were on the letter W, you could say watermelon. But, the person to your right is counting to ten, and once that time is up, you have to take a shot and the letter moves on to the next person until someone gets a word. Sounds easy, until you’re three shots in and not even halfway through the alphabet.

With Shelby collapsing down between Yugyeom and Jackson on the love seat, Youngjae on the armchair by the fireplace, and Mark on the bean bag brought down from upstairs, you realize with a rising sense of panic that the only possible seating for Jaebeom is by—

“Hey,” he says, tapping your outstretched legs, “can I sit here? You can keep your legs stretched. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure, sure!” You squeak, jerking to sit up and to pull your legs to your chest. However, just as he sits, he grabs your ankles to tug them back. Hesitantly, and with an appreciative smile sent his way, you hesitantly lay your legs over his lap, his arms comfortably rested over them. Oh, fuck.

Swallowing hard and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters in her chest, you turn back to your friends where the game is just starting.

“Okay, I’ll start since I’m in the middle,” Mark announces, readjusting himself in the bean bag to sit closer to the coffee table, “Yugyeom, you count. Actually, you don’t need to, I already have my word. A, as in artificial tree.”

“One word, idiot,” Youngjae scoffs, smacking the back of Mark’s head, “take a shot. Yugyeom, you go.”

The younger boy pales, panicking when Mark does as he is told. Then, he blurts, “A as in angel!”

“B as in bells!” Shelby shouts.

“C as in… Christmas,” Jackson says with a wink.

“D as in December,” Jinyoung hums nonchalantly.

“E as in eggnog!” Bambam cheers.

“F as in…” Maggie pales, trailing off. In your head, you start to count, while simultaneously trying to think of a holiday word that starts with F. “Festive!” She shouts suddenly. “Oh, shit, um… G as in… gingerbread?” You huff, relieved.

“H as in holiday,” Jaebeom says with a soft smile. All eyes are on Youngjae as he stares hopelessly at the ceiling. “I, as in…”

In your head, you count alongside Mark. “What the fuck starts with I?” Youngjae hisses, slapping his knees anxiously. The silence is deafening until Mark shouts with a sadistic grin, “TEN!” Youngjae hangs his head low before reaching for the bottle. Ironic, because Mark can’t think of a word, and neither can Yugyeom, Shelby, or Jackson. Jinyoung grins at their expense until it’s his turn. “Icicle,” he says without a beat.

“That’s not Christmas-y!” Yugyeom whines, hands thrown up dramatically. “Can you think of anything better, stupid?” Jinyoung fires back, evidently shutting him up. Poor Yugyeom, he can never win.

“J as in Jesus,” Bambam says with a laugh.

“K? Bruh, you gotta be joking,” Maggie sighs, throwing her head back against the sofa, trying to concentrate. “Ten,” you sigh sadly even though you counted to fifteen, patting her knee and Youngjae passes her the bottle. “Um, K as in…” Christ, you can’t think of anything either. Kris Kringle? No, two words, fuck.

“Ten!” Jaebeom chuckles, squeezing your calf and you quickly take a swig with a wince. The round goes all the way to Shelby, who happily yells, “Kings!”

The game drags on, keeping you all at the edge of your seats by the time U and V come around. When it comes to W, everyone has had one too many shots to be able to think quickly enough to come up with wreath. Except for Jinyoung, of course. You give up on Z, deciding there is no such word and you all let out a relieved breath at the game’s conclusion. “Does this mean we can eat now?” Jackson mumbles, far too gone for a party that has only started hardly an hour ago.

“Yes! I’m ravenous,” Bambam groans, helping his friend stand. Together, they’re the first to make way into the kitchen and you’re surprised Youngjae doesn’t chase after them to make sure they don’t knock anything over.

“Well,” Jaebeom yawns and you are suddenly mortified to realize that your legs are still casually stretched out over his lap. “That was fun.” Swinging your legs away and moving to sit up, you nod in agreement. “Very fun. Love watching you and Jinyoung outsmart us every time.”

“Hey,” he frowns, elbowing your arm now that you’re sitting upright beside him, “nobody could think of tree for T, but you did, so shush.” You turn to give him an unamused look. “That’s because Jinyoung was overthinking, and Maggie and Bam drank too much,” you laugh, standing with a stretch. Jaebeom raises an eyebrow. “What?” You ask, unsure of what that look means.

“Why does your snowman have a cape? Oh—” he starts, lifting the fabric attached to the winking snowman on your ugly sweater to find a carrot penis below the three buttons. Jaebeom breaks out into laughter, face scrunched up and head thrown back and it consequently makes you laugh, too. Well, if there was any person that was going to ask first, you’re glad it was him. “Was not expecting that,” he chuckles, wiping the tears that have accumulated at his eyes before rising to stand and oh, suddenly you feel so small with him standing so close to you like that. God, he’s beautiful, you admire. Without thinking, you brush away a tuft of hair that has fallen over his eye, just to see your favorite pair of moles. It isn’t until rosiness blooms across his cheekbones do you realize what you just did.

“Sorry,” you rush breathlessly, taking a step back and turning to make sure nobody saw that. Luckily, only Shelby and Yugyeom remain, too busy cozying up to one another to notice. “___!” Maggie shouts from the kitchen like some godsent angel whose purpose is to save you from awkward moments. “You have to come see this!”

You shoot Jaebeom an awkward smile before swinging around him and making a beeline for the kitchen. Idiot, you scold yourself before taking a deep breath and bringing a smile to your face. “What?” You hum, leaning your head on Maggie’s shoulder. All it is is a SnapChat story of someone you went to university with, a picture of an engagement ring, but you are beyond grateful she called you in. After she stops to take a selfie with you, you navigate around your friends to start a pile of food on your plate, everything from dim sum (thanks, Jackson), grilled pork belly, kimbap, bulgogi sandwiches, spaghetti (thanks, Jackson, part two), and, of course, tortilla chips with your buffalo chicken dip. Big plate for big brain.

Despite the crowdedness, thankfully you are able to avoid standing anywhere close to the mistletoe once Jaebeom enters the room only a few moments later. Finally making your way to the dining table, you let out a sigh of relief now that you don’t have to worry about anything looming above. Of course, your friends have a different idea.

“___,” Maggie purrs just as you have set your plate down, gazing at you expectantly and fluttering her lashes.

“What do you want?”

“Could you get a water for me? There’s bottles in the fridge. Pleeeaaase?” She sings. You wave her off, having already turned around. Can’t be mad at her, honestly; you forgot to grab something for yourself to drink, anyway. Pulling two bottles off the shelves and nudging the refrigerator door closed, you’re just trying to grab a potato chip from the bowl on the counter when Mark rounds the corner and trips over his own feet, coincidentally falling towards you but when you step back to avoid the red wine sloshing in his glass, Jinyoung has suddenly appeared behind you and you stumble over his foot.

It’s a good plan, you think, expecting Jaebeom to catch you like some fucking knight of shining armor and steady you just below the mistletoe, but unfortunately for them, you’re quick to reach for the counter and Jaebeom has literally just turned around in his search for silverware. Regaining your balance against the cabinets, you do not miss the group’s combined groan of disappointment and can’t help but triumphantly grin. “You okay, Mark?” You ask, spinning around and suppressing a laugh at the ‘please don’t kill me’ look in the older boy’s eyes. “Yep,” he coughs, stepping to the side as you brush past.

Dinner is tense, to say the least. Maybe it’s just you. You’re annoyed, beyond so, at your friends’ lack of maturity. Relatively speaking, yes, they are trying to help push you and Jaebeom in the right direction, but their ways of operation lack any beneficial qualities. This is your problem, and you have to deal with it yourself.

You stay quiet, for the most part, occupying your thoughts simply on eating and the approaching excitement of Pollyanna. When you all picked out of a hat a little over a month ago, you initially panicked at Bambam’s name looking back at you on the folded piece of paper. As it turned out, buying gifts for him ended up working out; first, you found matching sweaters for him and his cats, then a travel set for his Bleu de Chanel cologne, a mermaid blanket he had found an Instagram ad for and wouldn’t shut up about, and finally a gift card to his favorite Thai restaurant. What’s more exciting is finding out who has your gifts. Plus, everyone did incredibly well keeping quiet this year, managing to make it all the way without slipping who had who.

Unfortunately, your irritable emotions aren’t done for the night. After finishing your much needed, sobering meal, your goblin friends are prepared to have you and Jaebeom beneath that mistletoe if it’s the last thing they will ever do. Trying to clean up before everyone really gets trashed is an absolute nightmare, everyone taking part in the scheme of leaving just the two of you in the room, nudging him your way, asking you to help Jaebeom do this, help Jaebeom do that. It only gets worse once he realizes what they’re trying to do, curving around you like you have the plague and each time you make eye contact, you contemplate fleeing to the bathroom just to scream.

After what feels like ages spent in the stifling kitchen, you migrate back to the living room to finally, finally open gifts. Good riddance, mistletoe. At everyone’s look of general disappointment, you let out your umpteenth relieved sigh of the night and collapse back into your precious spot at the sofa. You know you’re getting old when you have only been out for two and a half hours and you’re already exhausted.

To make matters worse—or better, you can’t really tell at this point—Jaebeom also sits back down beside you. You can tell he’s anxious; he’s gone back and forth between picking at his nails and a scab on his jaw for a while now and you almost want to say something until you remember how deliberately he dodged you in the kitchen. Maybe, just maybe, a part of you had hoped he would have taken the opportunity and kissed you himself. Why would things ever be so simple?

“Alrighty, friends,” settling into his chair, Youngjae beams. “Let’s get this party started. We’ll go in the same circle as before.”

In turn, Mark flashes that boyish smile of his and leans across the table to pass a bag and small box to Jinyoung. “Ooh,” the younger boy hums excitedly, “thanks, Mark.” Next, Yugyeom hands Jackson a bag, Shelby slides a big box to Youngjae, and, breaking into a fit of laughter, Jackson ends up giving a bag right back to Yugyeom. Jinyoung passes Maggie her gift, and when Bambam rises to hand Jaebeom a hefty bag, you can’t help but miss the way he glances sadly to you before smiling gratefully at his friend and engulfing him into a hug. Suddenly, it dawns on you that there are only three other people left, and watch with an impending sense of dread as Maggie walks across the room to give Shelby her gift. Two left.

Grinning excitedly, you lean over to pass Bambam his gift bag, earning a smile in return bright enough to put the Sun out of business. Now, the moment you all have been waiting for.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turn to Jaebeom, sending all prayers to God that he will rise to hand Mark the bag in his hands.

The universe laughs.

“Ugh,” Jaebeom groans, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “you’re so far.” He places the gift bag, which, is surprisingly heavier than expected, on your lap. “Thanks, Jae,” you manage, smiling fondly at him. Behind him, Youngjae drops a box by Mark’s feet, but by now everything around you has faded into the background, leaving only you and Jaebeom floating in the midst of it all. Even though he has turned away, you can’t stop staring at him. Why’d it have to be him? What are the chances? God, something tells you you’re going to fall in love by the time the night is over.

It isn’t until the tearing of wrapping paper registers in your mind do you snap out of it, coming back to reality and quickly redirecting your attention to opening your gift.

There’s a lot to unfold here, you think with a racing heart, removing the tissue paper and finding three separate items inside. You go for the small box first. It’s a jewelry box, no doubt, but this doesn’t keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay once you lift the beige lid to reveal a rose gold bracelet, diamonds in the pattern of a constellation. There’s a small card attached to the lid, too, and flipping that over you read that it is the constellation for your zodiac sign. “Jae,” you whimper, lips curling into a pout and he laughs at your touched expression. “This is beautiful.”

“Shh! Open everything first,” he hushes, waving you off and returning to his own gift.

Sucking in a deep breath, you do as you’re told and reach for the much larger box. Tearing open the wrapping paper and lifting the lid, you find a glass dome atop a wooden base, and inside is a beautiful red and gold rose with little fairy lights surrounding it. A Beauty and the Beast replicate, without a doubt, and it is so stunning you wish you could lift the glass and feel the fake rose for yourself. A man of taste, without a doubt.

Last but not least, you grab the envelope and excitedly tear it open, because envelopes mean one of three things: 1) a card 2) tickets 3) money, all unlikely options when it comes to Pollyanna.

Well, maybe not, because inside are two passes for the art museum up in the city. “Dude,” you kick Jaebeom’s ankle and stammer out, “how did you? When did you?”

He laughs. “You mentioned wanting to go a few months ago, and I didn’t think you ever got a chance. You haven’t, right?” He sounds worried. “No, I never got to go,” swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, “thank you, Jaebeom. Everything is so beautiful.”

“Of course, ___,” he smiles, reaching for your hand and even though it’s only a gentle squeeze he gives you, it has your heart doing somersaults. “Anything for you.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You are going through some serious torture here and still won’t make a move!

Everyone is extraordinarily jovial after opening gifts. With Christmas music filling the room with cheer and one too many drinks being mixed, holiday charades and pin the nose on Rudolph are played with high spirits and excessive competitiveness. The night is fun, without a doubt, and you try to ignore the way your friends are still trying to get you and Jaebeom under the mistletoe no matter how annoying it may be. Why can’t they do it to Yugyeom and Shelby? Sure, everyone knows they fuck but neither of them have the balls to officially ask the other out, so why are you the one targeted? Jaebeom didn’t ask for this, either.

“Fuck!” Youngjae groans when Maggie makes her shot into their cup for jingle bell beer pong. Since freshman year, you and Maggie have fought back and forth for the champion's title against Youngjae and Jackson. With this being the second win against them for the night, you get to wear the label proud until next time. “Oh, yeah, baby!” She shouts, doing a funky celebratory dance before jumping to give you a hug.

“I’m a disgrace to the Chinese community,” Jackson cries—literally—before squatting to bury his face in his knees.

“HA!” You laugh mercilessly, jumping along with Maggie in triumph. “You guys are so mean,” Mark chuckles, walking away from their own losers’ championship to see what all the commotion is about. “Just to Youngjae and Jackson,” Maggie defends, gesturing to the pair having a drunken meltdown together. You hum in agreement.

“Yugyeom and Jaebeom are playing Jinyoung and Bambam. It’s pretty intense,” Mark explains, blatantly sarcastic when you glance curiously to the other table. “They’re all so drunk, they’re literally just throwing bells at each other.” He holds up one such bell that must have strayed away from the game. You laugh, hugging your jacket closer and watching Yugyeom begin to twerk when he finally makes a shot.

“My God,” Maggie snickers, shielding her eyes and turning away from the scene to comfort the still depressed Jackson.

“So,” Mark starts, “you and Jaebeom, huh?”

You groan. “Me and Jaebeom, what?”

“I mean, those gifts he gave you were pretty cute. What’s it gonna take for you to ask him to go to the museum with you, hm?” He purrs with a rise of his dark brows. Shit, he does have a point. Why else would Jaebeom give you two passes? To bring one of your other, definitely less artsy friends to go with you?”

Mark simpers at your speechless self, knowing he’s trumped you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hold the cold air in long enough to gather your scrambling thoughts before releasing a heavy exhale with absolutely no change to how you feel. “I’ll try,” you grumble, “why can’t he make the first move?”

Mark lets out a dry laugh. “___, are you serious?”

“Huh? What—”

“He’s been making the first move for months,” he interrupts, shaking his head at your textbook definition denseness, “you’ve just been curving him the entire time. I know you’ve been busy with law school stuff the past few months, but come on, now. You have to grab him before someone else does.”

If it weren’t for the chill of the air keeping your cheeks and the tip of your nose cold and ruddy, you know the color would have drained from your face. Embarrassed and in desperate need for some space, you quickly turn away to look in the direction of the house, where Coco scratches at the backdoor.

“I, um, I’ll be right back,” you say, voice small. Heart hammering in your chest as you jog up the steps and across the small deck, it isn’t until you have slid open the door to let Coco out and closed it behind you do you let out a shaky sigh. “Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking off your jacket and slinging it over a chair before moving to cower in the corner. Reaching for what little tortilla chips are left, you anxiously take the lid off your chicken dip and begin shoveling mouthfuls into your mouth. Is it true? Have you really been the one dodging Jaebeom all this time? Sure, everyone always says it, especially Jinyoung, but it has seemed like Jaebeom has been curving you, too.

Maybe he has just been giving up.

This makes your head hurt, you think, bending down to rest your forehead against the counter. The fucking gifts, man. Mark is right—the bracelet, the rose lamp, the museum tickets. How did he remember that small detail you mentioned… when did you even mention it? You can’t remember, yet he did! Jesus, all this time you’ve wasted being an absolute clown over this. You’ll have to do something about it. Tonight, you decide, looking to the clock above the stove. 11:12 PM. Forty-eight minutes until New Year’s. You’ll kiss him, and that’s when you will—

“Ahem.” Behind you, someone clears their throat and it quite literally feels as if you have jumped out of your skin. “Jesus Christ!” You jump, spinning around with a heart thumping in your chest. Your heartbeat only mildly slows once you realize it’s only Jaebeom. OnlyJaebeom, yeah. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, chuckling awkwardly. “Did I interrupt something?”

You wince, beyond humiliated he caught you mid-pep talk slash breakdown. “No, no. You’re fine, I was just, um…”

“Catching a breath?” He finishes when you trail off. Maybe he’s not so drunk, after all.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking to your feet.

After a long moment of silence, Jaebeom clears his throat. “Listen, ___, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and—”

“Wait!” You interrupt before your brain has even caught up. His eyes widen in surprise at your sudden excitement. “I need to tell you something, first.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” he laughs nervously, stepping closer to lean against the counter beside you and his proximity suddenly makes it very hard to breathe, let alone figure out what you want to say.

“I don’t know where to start. Okay, um, first, I guess. The gifts you gave me? Amazing. Probably one of the best I’ve ever gotten. So thank you, really,” you start, rushed and out of breath. Jaebeom hums, lips tilting into an amused smirk. You don’t miss how he leans just barely closer. “Second. Mark was just talking to me, and he said something that just… fucked me up. Apparently, I’m good at school but not at catching when someone actually, truly likes me.”

At this, Jaebeom’s curiosity has peaked and his heartbeat starts to mirror your own. “I don’t know how this happened. I know we kissed over the summer, and you have been my friend for years but all of a sudden, I realized that I like you. You’re like, one of my favorite people in the world. But then things got crazy busy and I told myself I needed to concentrate, but for fuck’s sake, I’m still head over heels for you after all this time. And Mark said that if I don’t stop curving you, soon you are going to find someone else and, Jesus, I don’t think I can live with myself if I let you slip by.”

Somewhere in the middle of your ramble, Jaebeom has pressed himself to you and curled a finger through a belt loop in your jeans to keep you there against him. Even up close, he is so unbearably handsome, nose still beet red from the cold, lips cracked and face left unshaven. “So,” he whispers, raising his free hand to cup your face, “are you ready to finally stop running from me?” You offer a tiny nod, nuzzling into his hand before, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” Jaebeom doesn’t waste any time bothering to answer, tipping your chin up to meet his lips. Jaebeom’s kiss is soft, just a drawn-out peck but it’s enough to drop kick your sanity right out the door. “Tastes like buffalo chicken,” he whispers with a smile, just barely pulling back. Just as soon as he has stopped, you are fisting your hands into his jacket and tugging him back, greedily opening his mouth with yours and whimpering against him once he has caught the hint and slackened his jaw to deepen the kiss. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but kissing Jaebeom leaves you breathless, limbs weak kind of drunk on his taste and leaving you desperate for more.

“Jaebeom,” you sigh dreamily, arching into him when he drags a hand down your spine. “Fuck,” he whispers, pushing you further against the cabinets and mindlessly gyrating his hips with yours. Hands brushing past your ass to grip the back of your thighs, he orders, “Jump.” You do as he says, allowing him to help you onto the counter and you distantly pray someone doesn’t walk in on you, especially Youngjae. He’ll murder you if you knock something down.

“Can’t believe you’ve kept me waiting all this time when you kiss like that,” Jaebeom mutters, kissing along the length of your neck and groaning against your skin when your hands brush along the waistband of his pants. “Never met someone who wears an ugly sweater and still manages to be the hottest one in the room.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slips beneath your sweater, fingers brushing just over your bra and leaving fire in their wake. “Impossible,” you huff, wrapping your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, his involuntary thrusts brushing deliciously against you, “when I say the same thing about you.” Jaebeom chuckles, returning to your mouth and cradling your jaw to meet him. You could do this forever, you think, nails digging into his arms when his hand cards through your hair and he kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“God, I can’t do this when I’m not sober,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and you can’t help but smile at the soft gesture. “Me too,” you admit, reaching to play with the soft hair at the back of his neck, “we can do this whenever now, though.” Jaebeom chuckles, leaning back to admire you before placing a much softer kiss on your lips. “Does that mean you’ll go out on a date with me?”

“Well, yes, of course,” you grin, sliding off the counter and cupping his face, “I meant what I said. I can’t bear the thought of not giving us a chance.”

“It’s about damn time,” Jaebeom teases, earning a light punch to his arm. “Hey! I’ve been stressed out of my mind. I was blind when it came to seeing you flirt with me.”

“I’m kidding, ___,” he chuckles, “I’m glad it took us until now. It’s a good way to start off the year, knowing I’ll meet my New Year’s Resolution and be able to bone you sooner than later.”

Your eyes widen at his words, warmth instantly blooming its way up your neck when you glance to the growing tent in his slacks and he lets out a triumphant laugh. In the midst of your embarrassed flush, the back-door slides open and none other than Jinyoung starts shouting, “Where the fuck have y’all been? Oh— shit! What happened?”

Then, not a heartbeat later, “Kiss! KIIIISSSSSSS!”

“KISS!” Maggie screams, bouncing behind Jinyoung and it isn’t until you look up do you understand. Of fucking course— the stupid mistletoe.

“Shall we, m’lady?” Jaebeom asks, voice laced with amusement. You quirk a brow at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him closer.

“We shall.”

·

·

·

Not even three hours into the new decade, Jaebeom has already met his New Year’s Resolution.

Comfortember Day 5. Cuddle + Day 7. Blanket Fort

We Hold Each Other So Tight (they couldn't break us if they tried)

@comfortember

Read on AO3

Tony and Peter were inseparable. They had been ever since Tony had adopted Peter after May's death. He had helped the grieving teen through the heartache and loss of the last true remaining member of his family. May was Peter's mother even if he had never called her that. It was what they both felt.

And then it was taken from him and he didn't know what to do. Peter thought he'd gotten used to losing the people that he loved but this was different, felt different, than the other times.

This was a loss with finality, a loss that truly broke Peter, and it broke Tony's heart to see his kid have to lose someone else. Tony stood by him though, he stayed and he loved Peter. He showed him that he hadn't lost everyone, hadn't lost all his family but had gained a new one. And that new one never replaced the one he lost, never ignored what the family Peter once knew had done for him. They only loved him and comforted him in his pain and loss.

Slowly his loss became bearable and the heartache eventually lessened. It was no less strong but, just like the other times, it became easier for Peter to go on with everyday. He started smiling more, laughing more. He put the Spider-Man suit back on and slowly became more of his old self.

And through it all Tony had stood by Peter's side. He had guided him, helped him, and became the father that the billionaire wished he could have had.

They spent as much time as they could together, squeezing in lab days, movie nights, and any random thing they could think to do together. They were never apart when they had the chance to be in one another's company.

Those chances disappeared completely when Tony was called in for a mission with Steve, Nat, and Sam. The only four available at the time to be called to mission.

So they left, Tony promising Peter that he would be home in a few days, just in time for the younger hero's academic decathlon competition.

Peter waited those days for his dad to return, occasionally sharing messages to him through FRIDAY but otherwise not able to get in direct contact with him. Peter's senses flared two days after Tony left but he brushed it aside, thinking it was anxiety as it sometimes triggered his spider sense (especially when it was to do with Tony.)

The day for the team of four to arrive back home came and went with no sign of the quinjet that they left on.

Rhodey and Pepper tried to reassure Peter that Tony was fine, that they were probably just held up a bit. Peter knew it wasn't true. He knew that was what they wanted to believe but he couldn't, his senses hadn't lied to him yet.

Tony wasn't home and Peter had no idea where he was.

---

Pepper

Pepper knew that Peter was anxious, that he was scared, but she didn't know what to do. As much as Tony joked that she knew everything, she didn't.

She didn't know how to find Tony, she didn't know how to comfort Peter and tell him that Tony would be fine because she didn't know if he would. She'd been here before with Afghanistan. It wasn't the same but she couldn't help but immediately go back to that time. The stress and fear coming back too.

Pepper didn't know how to keep her worry and fear from Peter, how to help ease his own worry and fear.

She wasn't close with Peter like Tony was, she didn't have that same intense connection the two shared, but she loved him. Boy, did she love him.

In the past years of getting to know Peter through Tony and then adopting him with said man after May's passing had allowed Pepper to grow to love him like her own.

She would never try to take Mary or May's place but she was so grateful to be given the chance to care for Peter.

Which is why when Peter knocked on the door of her and Tony's room later that same night the team never arrived with fear in his eyes and his shoulders hunched, she let him in immediately. She didn't remind him he was always allowed in their room because she knew he didn't need that extra reassurance as he usually did.

What Peter needed was to be held, to be loved and sheltered. So Pepper did. She pulled Peter close to her and squeezed him in her embrace as he lay with his head on her shoulder. She whispered assurances of love, that she would never leave him and knew that Tony wouldn't either. Not if it was in either of their power.

Pepper cuddled with her son for the rest of night because that's what he was, her son. She hadn't raised him, hadn't watched him grow, but she loved him. She held him and protected him from his nightmares.

And she would do it until Tony was returned to them

---

Ned, MJ, Harley

Peter had been subdued ever since Tony, Sam, Steve, and Nat had dropped from satellite, communications, and missed their arrival date. He became quiet, withdrawn, he didn't even pass notes to Ned a single time during their biology class.

No one knew how to handle it and they couldn't fault him for the way he was feeling right now. Not for a second. Peter had lost every single true family member that he had and now one half of his adopted parents was missing.

Ned, Harley, and MJ had tried as many ways of trying to distract Peter and give him a bit of happiness but none of what they tried was really working.

Until Peter came to school in a hoodie that he had obviously taken from Tony's closest if the MIT logo was anything to go by.

MJ sent Pepper a message in the fine art class that she had alone from the three loser boys she somehow claimed as friends. And yes, she had the number of the coolest women ever.

MJ relayed the idea to Pepper, who immediately jumped at it and offered to get them the snacks and blankets they needed. She presumably disappeared to do that before MJ could say that it wasn't necessary even though it kinda was. Obviously it's my friend who would have a bottomless pit for a stomach.

And so Peter was greeted with the sight of blankets piled on one of the couches as he walked out of the penthouse elevator with Ned, Harley, and MJ close behind him.

When he saw the mountain of snacks and drinks on the coffee table, Peter stopped in his tracks, a confused frown on his face before he was being jerked forward by MJ and Harley's arms hooking over his elbows.

"C'mon, Loser. We're building a blanket for, watching whatever we can find on Netflix, and eating enough sweets and snacks that we pass out."

And if MJ said they were going to do something… well, they did it.

Peter felt a warmth building in his chest, spreading across his body from its center in his heart. He was still worried, terrified, but the fact that his friends took this time from their day to do something to make him happy was enough to make him want to cry.

Later, once their fort was built and they all lay cuddled together in it with the TV playing softly and their snacks mostly eaten, Peter sat up a bit from where he was propped against a pillow.

He looked at his friends for a moment and they all saw the clear gratitude in his eyes, even though it was shadowed by his worry for Tony and the others.

"Thank you, guys. You didn't have to but… thank you."

"Always, darlin'." Harley murmured from the top of their blanket fort cuddle nest they had made inside of it.

Ned and MJ echoed him with their own affirmations.

A moment passed in silence before, almost as one, they all moved closer together, pulling blankets and pillows with them until they were all curled around Peter.

They stayed in their fort for the rest of the night as they watched movies and ate until they eventually did pass out in a pile together.

---

Happy

Happy was no stranger to the hyperactive, anxious ways in which both Peter and Tony thought, the way their minds would sometimes fix on a train of thought or topic and little would be able to distract them. Usually those ways tended to bring brilliance with them, a new high tech range for one of SI's many products from Tony or a new web formula or combination from Peter.

But there were also times where their minds instead chose to get stuck on the trails of darkness and anxiety that seeped through the two geniuses minds.

That time happened to be now. Why it had to be now, Happy knew was for a lot of reasons, but he wasn't entirely comfortable that it happened with him around. Yeah, he had really come to care for Peter since he got the chance to get to know him better, but the care had especially grown after the kid was adopted by Tony.

The problem was that his care didn't magically give him the emotional range and ability to really help Peter during a spiral like Tony, Pepper, or even the kid's friends could.

But here he was, kneeling in front of Peter as the kid tried and failed to hold in his tears. "What if he doesn't come back? What if– what if I lose him like I lost May? I don't have anyone else!" Peter hiccuped out, losing the battle as hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Hey!" Happy said sternly but Peter could hear the slight hint of the stoic man's care and worry shine through. Happy gently grasped Peter's arms. "Tony will be okay. He will fight tooth and nail to get back to you, Kid. I know that for sure. And even if he isn't, and something does happen, you are not alone, you hear me?" He brushed a hand over his face and sighed. "Dammit, Peter. You know I'm not good at this. You have us all, okay? Pepper, Rhodey, me, your friends and the rest of the team. I know that we're not May or Tony but you have us and you always will."

Peter, whose tears had allowed slightly as Happy spoke, didn't trust himself to talk in case he started crying again. He just looked at Happy and nodded, hoping that the man would understand without him having to use words.

Happy understood.

Shit, I feel like I'm breaking out in hives. Ah, man. He's looking at me with those damn Bambi eyes.

"Ah man. Okay, c'mere kid." Happy sighed and gently pulled Peter forward with the hands he still gently held the teen's arms with. Before he could even let himself regret it, Happy was smothered with an arm full of Spider Teen. He slightly awkwardly patted Peter's back and wrapped his arms around him.

It was weird as hell but Happy hoped he was doing it right. Whatever it was.

Clearing his throat and pulling away, Happy let his arm stay around Peter's shoulders. "We've got you, Peter. It'll all be okay. Tony will be home and then we can never tell him about this, yeah? He'll never let me live it down that I willingly hugged you."

Peter gave a slightly wet chuckle, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his MIT hoodie. "I'll keep it a secret for blackmail material."

There he is. Happy thought as Peter cracked the joke. His sass and humour had vastly diminished and Happy had been starting to wonder if he would ever hear it enough to roll his eyes at again.

It was a relief to hear it even though there was still an underlying sadness and fear in Peter's very self.

Come back, Tony. Your kid needs you.

---

+1. Tony

Peter lay in his room on a Saturday night two weeks after Tony, Steve, and Nat were supposed to have returned.

He hated how he couldn't stop thinking about them, how his mind wouldn't rest and how it brought up endless scenarios of what could have gone wrong.

He hated how he always felt seconds away from crying, how he just wanted a hug from the one person that he could get one from.

Peter lay in his room on that Saturday night, not knowing how long he did until he finally was able to fall asleep.

---

Peter woke up the next morning feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. He sat and had breakfast in silence, ignoring the concerned looks that Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey shot at him.

After he had helped clean up, he practically stumbled to the living room and curled up on one of the couches. The couch that he and Tony always shared.

No, stop thinking.

Peter buried his face into the sleeves of the hoodie that he was burrowed into, trying to drown out his mind.

It didn't work. All it did was hurt more when he realised that he couldn't smell the scent of cologne and motor oil that once clung to the hoodie. He didn't even have that comfort to remind him of his dad anymore. Vaguely he thought of going to steal one from Tony and Pepper's room but he didn't have the energy.

Just like the night before, Peter lay on the couch, his mind pulling him in circles for he didn't know how long before he was able to escape in his sleep.

---

Hands shaking him gently was the first thing that Peter felt as he started waking up. The next was a familiar, irregular heartbeat and the smell that was so missing from his hoodie, from the living quarters around him.

Cologne and motor oil.

Tony.

His dad.

Peter darted up from the couch, launching himself into Tony's arms as a sob ripped through his chest.

"It's okay, my love, I'm home. I'm here." Tony murmured, tears choking up his own voice as he hugged Peter as close to him as he could. Sobs and cries shook Peter's shoulders and it broke Tony's heart.

"Please don't leave me again!" Peter whimpered, hot tears trailing down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead into Tony's shoulder. "Please don't go!"

"I won't, Petey. Not without a fight. I'm not going anywhere if I can ever help it. You're my kid, my son, and I will always try to come home to you. No matter what." Tony said vehemently despite the tears still streaming down his own face.

They would have to talk later once Peter had calmed enough. Tony had to explain why he took so long to come home, to contact anyone, but that was for later.

Now, all he wanted was to hold his child. So he did. He held Peter, hugged him and cuddled him until both their tears had stopped falling and their hurt hearts started to warm.

"I'm here."

Earthbound 1/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

 'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 2 Part 3

……………………………………………………………………  

 Chapter 1: Scattered Amongst The Stars

Alfred is six. It was his birthday last Tuesday and he got to have a really big party and it was really really cool, but the coolest thing ever was that he got an e-tab from his Ma. Everyone at school already has an e-tab -as a July baby he's one of the youngest- so now he can finally join in with the special classes that they have and play all of those games at lunch time.

Alfred doesn't like feeling left out. It's not nice, Ma says, when you don't include people, so that means that the people who play games on their e-tabs when they know he doesn't have one are being mean on purpose and that really hurts. Except now, now he can join in and be their friend again and won't have to sit alone at his table when it's interactive e-tab time.

It's not real learning, Pa says. He didn't want Alfred to have one, says that it rots your brains and makes you lazy, and says that the e-tab time is just 'enrichment', it's not part of the curriculum because they're not learning anything, just downloading and watching stuff. Still, Ma must have talked him around because on Tuesday Alfred opened the box and there it was, all for him. There's some games on it, from Grandpa, and Ma had uploaded some of his favourite movies for him to watch as soon as he'd synced his mind up. Pa got there too, he must have done, because there's also some files on 'Earth History', 'The Fall', and one about extinct animals which Alfred really doesn't wanna read but Pa's been mentioning at least one of them every dinner since so he probably should.

He goes into school and begins to chatter happily to his friend Ben as soon as he sees him about 'Zip Blast', the current school-yard fad, and about how he can't wait to sync up and play because he'd been practising over the weekend and he thinks he's kinda good now.

Ben looks uncomfortable. 'Oh, I don't think we're playing that one any more.'

'Huh? But...' Alfred stops and looks at Ben in disbelief, 'but Friday you said it was the best ever!'

'Well it was,' Ben concedes, reluctantly, 'but now there's the new 'Rock-ite' out so we played that over the weekend.'

Alfred's heart sinks. 'We?'

His friend has the grace to look as apologetic as a six year old can look about these matters but nothing more than that and at recess Alfred is alone once more. He tells himself it's okay, he doesn't care anyway but it's a half-hearted lie at best and he doesn't try to kid himself for too long. Instead, he decides he may as well sync up one of those stuffy files Pa put on the e-tab to pass the time and nibbles a cookie to keep himself entertained.

His teacher finds him gormless, ten minutes later. His eyes are glazed as he stares unblinkingly at the wall and his cookie, one chunk missing, lies forlorn on the table next to his slack left hand but his brain is more full and awake than it's ever been. Information about a long dead planet far far away pound and crash in his head and as soon as the data file has been properly synced he reaches out for his tab and loads up another.

At eight, Alfred has become that kid. No matter what conversation he gets into or who he talks to, if there is an opening or an opportunity he will bring up Earth and once that's accomplished he can go on and on for hours. He's downloaded every possible data file he can find about the entire subject: life before the Fall, the Fall itself, and the human race's desperate escape across the stars and for him it's still never enough. There's always another e-file to sync: about ancient nations, about old sciences and religions, about old wars and songs and dances and food; every second he can spare he gives over to tales of the past woven from the binary of today.

They are a scattered people, he likes to tell his listeners, there are hundreds of us, strewn across galaxies and planets and ships and no one knows how many of us there are any more because the Fall ripped apart alliances and histories so we don't even know who else is out there to find. Everything was lost, everything; the history, the stories, the places, the-

At this point, someone usually either changes the topic of conversation or he realises that they've walked away and left him babbling to himself, his eyes shut as he imagines the flight to freedom that happened too long before he was born. Adults are usually nicer and listen for longer, but they don't mean it either and by pretending to be interested in what he has to say they only serve to hurt him more.

He just can't understand, why does no one else find this interesting? Why does no one else dream of where they as a species came from and long to see it for themselves? Alfred would do anything to feel the wind on his face, to have breeze in his hair and the sun touch his skin because although he could play in a holo-room or go on a special holo-holiday it's not real and Alfred longs to just feel it. The sun on his planet is strong but the dense material of the domes blocks it from actually reaching him; he can't feel the warmth. At school he's learnt that it's too hot out there anyway and he'd die, but according to his data files the sun should be warm and gentle and fill up summer days and spring afternoons, so he can't quite feel the danger as much as he probably should. There's no air outside the domes either and what's the point of feeling the sun without a breeze, so he's not as sad as he could have been. It wouldn't ever compare to mankind's old sun, the sun in the stories he's growing up on.

He sometimes spends his recess and lunch at school rushing about as fast as his legs can carry him. Trying to get his own wind in such space is hard, but not impossible and if he focuses hard enough on his self-made breeze he can imagine that he's running over rocks and cliffs and weaving in and out of long gone animals that only the sky can remember. If this doesn't work, he syncs with his e-files to learn about something else, he's started to get into the people recently and likes the stories about normal stuff the most. Food, clothes, toys. Relatable things that he can see in his own home and use to imagine that he's been transported back through time and space.

There are often pictures of houses and Alfred marvels as how big they are and how much stuff those people must have had, collected form all the many places they must have seen. You can't get wood any more, but maybe if he asks Pa nicely he can get him some of that building material they use for making the new domes and he can practise making his own, just to see if he can.

He spends his weekends tinkering in his room with old bits of plastic, metal and cables and every now and again he plugs in a new circuit board to the plug sockets in his room and sees if he can make the lights turn on or off from somewhere else. Last weekend he built a fan and managed to make it blow. He can sync up a sound file from Earth and imagine that he's in a town somewhere way back when and there's a breeze on his face and there's someone who wants to talk to him.

Alfred is fifteen and is the best engineer in his school. He specialised early -he'd always had a knack for building things and he's good with numbers- and now this is what he's known for. Alfred can look at a electrical hub or a circuit board and immediately he can see either what's wrong or how to improve it and this makes him valuable. He's been building and fiddling with this sort of stuff in his room for ages but now it's finally cool, people actually want him to do that now. He sees it as a lucky thing, that he was bullied so much for it previously, because now he can see how much bullshit people like to throw when they want you to do something, how much an opinion of someone can change depending on their age and talent. Too good too young: weird and a nerd, you're wasting your time. Then you hit the right age and suddenly you're very experimental, very mature, it's good to know what you want in life. But ah, still young enough not to know your worth, you'll fix this for me for free, yes? If he wasn't as good as he is, he thinks, how valuable would they think I am? The answer scares him because he knows what it is and knows how thin the line he treads is; there are others like him, don't forget.

What even is he, without the skills of his hands?

He is seventeen. Alfred hates it, but Ma could use the help and Pa's not getting any younger, so he accepted an offer not too long ago for a entry level job in the government engineering department. It is an amazing offer for someone so young and fresh out of school, he knows that, but as much as he enjoys what he does the days wear him out and he spends less time listening to his e-files and more time building the dreams of others far more affluent than he.

He thinks he's doing okay for a while. The days whittle by easily and he starts to build up a nice savings pile that he uses to help out his parents every now and again. But he's nothing special. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like him on this planet who have been fed on a diet of strict, specialised schooling meant to produce only the best and Alfred knows that the only thing which sets him apart from the many many many others is his ability to just keep going. There is no safety in what he does at his age, no net to catch him if he slips up, so he begins to take on private jobs at the weekend to build up his CV further and get his name out there, making the chance of falling just that bit smaller. Before he realises it it's been a month since he last had the time set aside to listen to an e-file and that hits him, hard. He'd never had to set aside time before. Hell, he can't remember when he'd last done anything other than go to work, come home to sleep, and repeat.

He's struck by the monotony of it all. He can't see a difference between his life and that of his dad's, or his dad's friends, or anyone he knows, for that matter. Is this all there is? Is this all anyone does? When is there ever a break? Then, he gets it. There won't be a break. As soon as you can't keep up in this crazy race he's in, you're worthless. He's kind of been kidding himself, almost, that there'd be an end to it all, like a video game where you complete the level and then suddenly it's free play. You work hard to get a reward of, of something, or at least you can stop worrying and panicking about being left behind. There is no free play, he realises, it just keeps on going until you can't play any more because life has ground out your energy and sucked the vitality from your bones.

He goes running; pounding his feet on the treadmill he sucks in the humid air around him and imagines than he's running through an old Earthen jungle, dodging trees and leaping over crags in the forest floor. But there's no wind, and Earth refuses to come alive.

Alfred is eighteen. A message came through from Earth, old true Earth, that a new colony there is doing well and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since, thinking and dreaming about what he'd do if he ever went there, if he ever set up his life there instead of here. He could...no. There is no safety in history, he knows. There is no definite chance that anyone would want him to do that. Besides, there's no potential for definite growth, no stable career plan because you can't guarantee a career on digging up the scanty past of a long dead planet. But no matter how big of a safety net he could make for himself in engineering he feels no passion about any of it and the idea of spending his days encapsulated in this metal world of domes and tunnels makes him feel cold.

There's something that calls him in his dreams and whispers over the wind in his mind and this builds and builds in his feet until he can't keep them still any longer. One more look out of the window and up at the stars and he's gonna blow, he needs to get out and go go go because if he doesn't then he's gonna sink in this place.

Before he can stop himself he's bought a ticket and finds himself packing hurriedly late at night when his parents are asleep, stuffing clothes into the only bag he only which is far too small for this sort of thing but who the fuck travels anywhere these days? He hasn't got time to be better at this so he crouches under his bed and reaches in, all the way back until his hand scrapes the wall and he finds his old fan that he built when he was eight. He puts it on his bed, places his e-tab next to it with a message of what he's done and that's that.

He slips out without waking his parents, because saying goodbye would only be too hard and he knows that he'd end up changing his mind if they spoke even one word to him, so he says his farewells in silence and disappears.

................................................................................................................................

Peter is five and he sits upon his mother's knee, playing with the buttons on her shirt. She's with other adults and they're all talking about something that he doesn't really understand but they all sound sad and the air feels heavy so he keeps quiet like a good boy should and thinks about other things to keep himself busy. He thinks about the e-book his nanny got him last Christmas, the one with the pretty pictures, and thinks that it would be nice to live inside that book, with the greens of grass that he's never touched before. He wonders if grass is hard or soft and he spends so long thinking of this that that night, when he is sleeping, he dreams that he is running on grass and it is prickly, tickling his feet.

There is a voice in the dream, singing him the story but it is not Nanny's voice, nor Mummy's or Daddy's, but another man's and the lilt of his voice sings a language Peter doesn't know but it is a good voice for story telling and so the dream is vivid and touchable. He flies through the grass, feet pounding at earth instead of metal and the voice chuckles, deep and throaty. It makes him feel safe.

He wakes up because his Mummy is stroking his hair and forgets; school teaches him about how the air system in his dome works. Grass isn't as important as breathing.

He is eight and they are learning about the old Earthen languages. There used to be many, his teachers says, and each language held a culture, a history and a soul of a people and there used to be hundreds of them on Earth before it Fell. The teacher is old; his words are flat and there is no passion in his tone, but a thrill runs up Peter's arms as he imagines so much more. From the nothing he is given his brain decides to give those dead languages life and all of a sudden there are bursts of sound echoing inside his head. The teacher moves on, the class sits bored, but Peter can hear consonants clash against teeth and tongue and fricatives slip between breathy vowels. There are phonemes which glide between dipthongs and tripthongs to bound and fall out of the hundreds of mouths of hundreds of people; whispers of a past no one can hear tell stories long forgotten.

There is a clap very close to his head which scares all of the sounds away. His teacher looms over him, frowning in exasperation.

'Again, Peter?' he says, 'Stop daydreaming, boy. I asked you a question.'

'Er...' his classmates snicker and he feels his ears go red. 'I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't listening.'

'That much was obvious.'

Peter's cheeks burn hotter and he stares at his e-tab, focusing on the light of the screen to stop him from crying.

Before too long the lesson changes, then the day ends and he's allowed to go home. He walks alone through the corridors and exits the school dome, coming into the shuttle bus bay. He's a big boy now, he can take the shuttle bus all by himself and he has a special card to prove it. Weaving in and out of the other children, he hurries to where his bus is docked and scrambles inside to rush to his favourite seat, hopping up and placing his bag on the seat beside him. He likes to sit alone, because then he can stare out of the window and dream for as long as the journey will let him without worrying about talking to someone. Not that anyone wants to anyway, the other children say he's not got a brain because he would rather focus on the story in his head than on their silly games.

Nanny doesn't mind, she says it's good for people to dream and says that he goes off to somewhere called 'Neverland' whilst she pinches his cheeks and calls him her little Peter Pan. But when he gets home Nanny isn't there, Mummy and Daddy are and they're huddled in front of the large e-screen in the sitting room, faces pinched in worry.

He drops his bag by the kitchen table and goes to join them. There is a man on the screen speaking about their air ventilation system and a 'catastrophic degradation' and about some big numbers with a scientist nodding seriously to his left.

'What do we do now?' His mother's voice is hushed, fragile.

His father raises his eyes to her and shakes his head slowly. 'Debbie... you heard what he said. The planet's no longer viable.' His eyes flick towards Peter, suddenly aware that he's there too, and he smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes. 'Hey Pete. Do you mind doing your homework in your room today?'

Peter could ask why, but he sees that his Daddy doesn't want him to and Mummy looks like she's going to cry, so he glances once more at the screen and nods. He leaves them with the scary looking numbers and tips his books onto his bed. That night he dreams of waves crashing against his legs and he tastes the salt on his lip when he wakes.

At nine, there's some breaking news. Earth, of all things Earth, is habitable once more and it can't come at a better time. Peter sits on his favourite sofa at Nan's house, with his father having lunch, when the planet-wide intercom coughs its way to life and briefly deafens them all before the sound adjusts ever so slightly.

'ATTENTION ALL. PRIMARY SUPPORT SYSTEMS FOR THE SOUTH SIDE HAVE SUFFERED AN IRREPERABLE MALFUNCTION. BACKUP SYSTEMS WILL HOLD FOR APPROXIMATLY 3 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL; MAKE YOUR WAY TO YOUR EVACUATION POINTS.'

Then, it falls silent once more.

South side, that's them. Peter immediately feels as though he's going to be sick and by the look on his dad's face he's not alone. Once one half of the planet goes the other will surely follow. It's something they've all been expecting and planning for for years, but it's far, far too soon, they should have more time than this; they're not ready to go and the government's not even started the evacuation programme yet. His Nan shoots a look at his father from where she's sat in her armchair. It's a look Peter can't really read because there's something there that he subconsciously doesn't want to acknowledge.

'Earth?' Her voice is a thin whisper.

His father nods gravely. 'We got them Mum, the tickets came yesterday.' Peter's heart briefly lifts at the prospect, a longing that's deep and euphoric but then it crashes quickly. 'But...'

His Nan smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. 'I know.'

Slowly, with growing horror, Peter understands. 'Wait,' he whips his head back and forth between the two of them, 'Nanny, where-'

'Don't worry, Peter,' she gets up and goes to kneel in front of where he's frozen in his chair, hands digging nails into the old material, 'I'll get on one of the other evacuation ships.'

'But you're not-,' his eyes burn and his voice is breaking but he doesn't look away, 'but you're not with us, why aren't you coming with us.'

'Oh Peter, my little Peter Pan,' she hugs him tight, pulling him in to her chest and he grips his hands in her shirt and tries to take in as much of her as he can.

'Mum we- we have to go.' Dad doesn't sound much better and before Peter can register much his Dad is hugging his Nan with a funny tight look on his face, then he's being pulled by the arm and out of the door, stumbling over his feet as he tries to keep up.

A terse shuttle bus later they get home to his mother already throwing their things into cases and boxes, haphazardly grabbing at e-frames and e-tabs to squash them and their memories safe under piles of their clothes. Peter could help, should help, but all he can do it sit numbly on the floor and cry whilst his life is collected and contained into a few measly bags. The rest will be left.

It doesn't take too long, thankfully, as Peter doesn't know what's worse, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible or wanting to stay and cling to the remnants of the only life he's ever known. As they make their way to the loading bays for the Earth-bound travellers he blearily finds himself thinking about what classes he'll miss in school tomorrow, but then he remembers Nanny and the ordeal starts anew as reality sets back in.

His parents are focused on more practical things.

They stand in line, their few pieces on luggage already being loaded on, and wait to board the ship they were assigned to only yesterday. His mother speaks under her breath, as if she is afraid to talk too loudly for fear of jinxing something. 'The Earth ships aren't even ready. They won't have enough food let alone rooms.'

His father shakes his head and slips his hand down to intertwine with hers. 'They must have known something like this could happen at any time, they've been predicting it for years. If anything, the rooms may not be ready but the agricultural sections will be.' He looks determinedly at the back of the head of the man in front of them and swallows. 'They only give out tickets if there's room. We'll be fine.'

Peter's mother glances his way meaningfully, and then back to his father.

'Jo, there're not enough ships; no one was ready in time. They can't have planned for everyone.' She bites the inside of her cheek, one hand on Peter's shoulder. Her fingers dig in, hard, but he doesn't try to shrug her off. He can barely feel it.

His father understands. 'She'll call us when she can.' Then, the line moves and they lurch forward together, huddled close.

Just before the door, where the tickets are being checked and where the din of the engines roaring into life starts to become uncomfortable, his father takes one last desperate look at out of the window at the distant domes of their colony, nestled in the dust. He taps an impatient rhythm against the tiled floor. 'She'll call.'

She never does.

................................................................................................................................

Francis is three and his daddy has just left Mummy.

'He went to fight,' she says as she strokes his hair. This confuses him because fighting is bad and you're only allowed to fight if someone tries to fight you first and no one has been nasty to Daddy that he's seen.

Mummy doesn't answer but continues to stroke his hair, humming softly a tune she sings to him every night before bed that sounds old and sad and sleepy, so he just nods and rests his head heavily against her chest.

He doesn't see his Daddy again.

He is ten when he realises that there never was any war. The notion strikes him dumb one day in the kitchen as he distantly listens to the news playing through the announcer when he helps wash up after dinner. The announcer is speaking about something banal, a fashion show maybe, but Francis is staring out of the window and up at the sky, up at the stars that push through the daytime's thin atmosphere. He doesn't know what caused him to start this train of thought, but once it's started his brain quickly pieces together the puzzle that it has ignored all of this time.

At school they were taught about wars, about age old battles with guns and swords and metal where blood was spilt over land and the wealth it contained. But, there hasn't been any fighting here. He scrubs a glass, sponge squeaking against the side. And even if there was fighting somewhere far away, his dad would surely still be able to write or visit, or come back after all this time. And more importantly, if there was a war going on now then surely he would have learnt about it at school, rather than learning about age old political struggles on the human-ruined home world.

His mother takes the glass from his slack grip. 'Daydreaming?'

He shakes himself to and looks at her. Turned away and out of the window her face is suddenly older and oddly clearer than he remembers it being, she looks like a person rather than just his mother and that's a scary thought. It's as though the wash of childhood has momentarily slipped away and he's now aware of both it and the harsh brushstrokes of reality. She's a person and feels things, just like he does. So it hurts, that she lied, and it will hurt him for a long time because he doesn't know why but cannot for the life of him bring himself to ask her. Francis is good at reading people and he knows that this isn't something he should ask about, so turns back to the dirty dishes and doesn't.

When Francis is fifteen there is a war, of sorts. The planet nearest to them, the one they rely on the most for trade, switches governmental policies and refuses to continue their current agreements. This results in a breakdown of communication and heightened tension between the two colonies, each bristling angrily at the offence yet unwilling to be the first to initiate anything rash. There is minor rationing imposed upon Francis' planet until trade is re-established as well as a draft of specialisation training implemented, just in case. He's unaffected by the rationing; the draft is a different story. Just in case this trade block becomes permanent, his planet needs to be prepared to become fully self sufficient in everything from science, to food, to art, to the army.

The block stays in place and tensions rise. Against his wishes, Francis is assigned a scientific draft. He is now seventeen and knows he needs to be given something but he'd prefer agriculture or education to research, if he could have the choice, or the arts if he's allowed to dream. He isn't. He brain is good, his grades are high and thus he is far more useful to the cause working on the advancement of his planet than working to help feed it.

A few days after his birthday and a month after his posting letter arrives, his mother rides with him on a shuttle to his boarding station. He will try out four different areas: mechanics, medicine, biology, and physics, then he will be assigned to what he works with best, where he can produce the best work possible. But Francis can't think of anything worse than being stuck in a lab all day, shutters drawn and devoid of all personality. Even worse, he's heard the rumours that have managed to float back from those who have graduated and knows that once he boards this ship there's no escaping the life he'll be moulded into. The programme is four years long and then he will be placed into a job where he will stay until he dies. At twenty one he will have no other skills for work other than what he will acquire at the science facility, there is no swapping careers afterwards. He wants to do so much, there is so much that he loves to do, and with each passing shuttle stop his heart grows more frantic, fighting his brain which has accepted the inevitable.

He gets physics. He calls his mother to howl down the phone once, just once, before he realises the futility of doing so; nothing can or will change. Accept it.

At twenty, a year before his training would end, there is finally a truce. Trade resumes and Francis finally tastes sugar after five years but now, after so long, the taste is too much. Not fully qualified yet too old to be automatically accepted into another programme, Francis is in limbo. There isn't much point in him continuing his training, there are more than enough specialists now and not enough jobs to give them, so there isn't anything for him to do. It's odd, now that there is nothing to work towards he feels empty but at the same time everything is just too much. He returns home and his mother fusses and tries to talk to him, tries to get him to come out of his room and sit with her and he did, at first, but the longer he's home the shorter his resistance is and the longer the 'breaks' are in his room.

Emotions seem to be harder to process without a goal, that or he never had many to begin with and without something to distract him from that notion he's finally noticing how few he has. Either way, other people are small insignificant creatures who worry about such useless, banal things. Who did what, with who and where. Did you know, her son the doctor? Well, he's a you know what now and- ugh. Francis can no longer take it.

He doesn't really see this as a problem. He feels as though he's risen above other people and finally understands that such things are not worth his time; why worry, after all, about what job to get. Why worry about whether or not someone likes you. Every day, regardless of what they do, the planet will spin and the domes will reflect the same bleak, churning sky and Francis realises that he's trapped here, by this life and that his life means nothing. None of their lives do, it's all the same; nowhere new to go, nothing new to do. Pick a job, do the job. Come home, go back. Retire. Die.

So he sits in his room, because if he talks to his mother or to anyone else he is reminded that somehow he's supposed to care about it, that life here is supposed to matter to him just as it matters to everyone else. His mother will mention this or that and he'll have to either fake the responses she wants, or not and upset her and neither option sounds pleasing to him.

After years of monotony and training suddenly he is permitted to express again and it's like he's forgotten how, the parts rusty after all the disuse. There are too many emotions and he finds himself forgetting to use them or using the wrong ones because he can't do them automatically any more, for some reason, and reactions that call for an understanding of nuance are just lost to him. Very quickly everything is too much. Food, heat, depth, people, concepts, everything.

He hides away but then they stop becoming too much and they shrink and shrivel up and become nothing at all he can feel how empty he is. Nothing can fill the void he's got because he doesn't even know why it's there and he can scarcely tell that there's a problem in the first place. He does knows he's got a problem though, really, knows how serious it is by the way his mother watches him with fearful eyes and baleful glances. She tiptoes tentatively around the house, carefully softening her words and her gentleness feels like a pressure cooker slowly but surely building something that's going to get bigger and hotter and harder to make go away. She avoids talking about it, about how Francis feels or doesn't, and by doing so the problem is allowed to grow, unchecked. Francis doesn't have to act any more, doesn't have to pretend, and so the feelings of apathy grow and grow until they swallow him whole and all he can bring himself to do is sit and stare and the sky, a dark choking yellow.

It feels heavy to look at, like a lid covering everything in his life, all potential, all future, all growth. It just festers and sinks lower and lower still and he sits and watches it for days before he's realised he's done so.

When Francis is twenty-two, his mother breaks. Not that she herself breaks, but her patience does.

'I can't do this any more.' she says. There are tears on her face and Francis watches one slide off and fall onto her collar. 'You need to go.'

Francis appraises her properly, meeting her eyes. She flinches at his gaze but remains resolute in her decision, though her bottom lip quivers. 'There's nothing for you here, we both know that. You don't want to be here, so you need to go.'

'I don't want to be anywhere.' he replies.

She gives him a watery smile. 'I know. That's why, you might as well see if you can want to be somewhere else.' She lifts up her arm and shows him her e-tab, the translucent screen showing a brightly coloured ticket. 'I've bought you a flight. It's Earth, it was declared habitable a few weeks ago.'

Francis knows he should feel something, this is one of those instances when he knows that he should be feeling something but he can't quite imagine what emotion he should give her.

She doesn't seem to expect one. 'It's one way. And this, this is all of my savings, Francis.' Her eyes are wide and her face is suddenly so very very old. 'If you don't want to be any more, at least make that decision once you've seen this. You can't go without seeing this, after all. See this, see it for me and then you can decide, okay?'

Suddenly she looks shocked and runs forward to embrace him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and knocking her e-tab into his face. The garish purple of the ticket burns his eyes. 'Oh Francis.' She sobs into his shoulder and clutches tightly into his shirt. 'Oh Francis it's okay, you can cry if you want to.'

Oh.

He's crying.

................................................................................................................................

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

Survey #348

“nothing will be free  /  nothing will be done  /  black out the sun”

Do you have any famous relatives? My third or so cousin is the author of Not Without My Daughter, but she's not like a smash hit or anything that most people know. I really do recommend the book, though. It's a long read, but a beautiful, true story. Do you care about celebrity gossip? Nah. Have you ever failed a science course in high school? No; I was very good at science. What’s your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Does your house have a basement? No. No house I've ever lived in has had one. Do you like Hot Topic? Well duh. Do you think imagination is valuable? VERY! Just imagine how many incredible things wouldn't exist without it. What was your reaction to your first time falling in love? Unspeakably happy, and I felt like I was building a future with someone. I felt like I had purpose, which I should mention to anyone reading is a mindset to NEVER adopt. No one gives you purpose; you're born with it. How much weight can you lift at once? Ha, not a lot. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want a black one with faux snow on the branches, then maybe red ornaments. Kinda look like blood dripping off. Sounds metal. Name three YouTube channels you’ve been loving lately. Lately, John Wolfe, The Dark Den, and Aim To Head Mix. Have you ever bought a designer purse? No. Do you wear jewelry often? No. What color was your senior prom dress? Black. Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Jason's older brother is colorblind to two colors, but idr which. Would you ever consider a career in writing? I'd love to. What was your first favorite color? Red. What do you think about horror movies? I love them. If you love them, what’s your favorite? I really enjoy The Crazies and both The Blair Witch Project movies. Oh, and of course Silent Hill. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I don't have the money to get anyone presents... and while I sometimes get ideas about something I could make someone, then it wouldn't be fair to the rest of my family if I don't make them something, too. What’s your favorite word and why? I really like the sound of "serendipity," as well as its meaning. It's just a pretty, nice word. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? Not really... I think the coolest thing I made was when I put the clay heart I made in Art into a shadowbox, and a poem I wrote was in the background. It was a gift for Jason. I remember working really hard on the whole process and being really happy with it. I don't want to know what he's done with it since. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? I don't know. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Everyone knows about Venus' terrarium by now... Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? No. Ever done drugs? No. Tell me one of your worst habits. Catastrophizing. I take a tiny seed of something potentially bad, and in seconds it's a damn redwood tree. And I do mean "in seconds." What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I don't know, I don't have any particularly unique ones, I think. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I just use earbuds. Do you think you would be a good therapist? You know, it's funny, I've actually pictured myself as one a few times, given my level of understanding and empathy for people, as well as how deeply I want to see others succeed and spread the word that recovery from things like depression is very possible. I've never truly entertained the thought, though, given I'm quite sure I legally couldn't be given my suicidal past and mental illnesses. There is also NO way I could listen to so many people's suffering and manage to stay healthy myself, so, no therapist position for me, thanks. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? Creamy, 100%. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Roman has an adorable navy one with a bowtie. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? Old friends, sure. What is something you want to begin learning? I want to improve my ability to perform what in therapy is called "opposite action," where you do the opposite of what your depression (or other conditions) make you want to do. It always helps me feel good, like when I draw even when I don't initially feel like it, but it's rough to really force yourself to do it. What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Ice cream is my comfort food. What is a quote you find comfort in? There are really a lot, but none come to mind immediately, gah. What is one Tumblr blog you really appreciate? I actually haven't been on my main Tumblr in months, but oh my god there is a Markiplier blog called "lady-raziel" and she is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. The meme quality is A+. What is a comfort movie/show for you? When I actually liked watching movies, I enjoyed watching Silent Hill when I was down. That whole franchise just makes me so happy. What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? That I'm PROUD of, idk. I'm not that happy with the last drawing I made, and I haven't done any serious writing lately that I find noteworthy. What is a video game that you find comforting? Shadow of the Colossus is probably #1. I find it so relaxing while equally epic as fuck. The soundtrack is to die for, and after playing it a billion times, it's pretty easy for me to kinda breeze through and just enjoy myself. Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? No. Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? THE MOUNTAINS!!! Particularly in the woods IN the mountains! Are you closer to your mother’s or father’s side of the family? Mom's. I don't even remember anyone from Dad's. Have you ever been in a “perfect relationship”? I thought so. Have you ever lost a fingernail or toenail? No. Were you a Disney or Nickelodeon kid? I preferred Disney. Have you ever been inside a jail/prison? No, and I don't plan on it. Have you ever dated a guy with a beard, mustache, or goatee? Jason had a goatee usually. He'd go clean-shaven sometimes. Did you ever name your stuffed animals? I named every single one I got as a kid. Now I don't, really, unless they're really special. What’s the name of the person who cuts your hair? I'd rather not share, given her name is very unique. Do you like cheeseburgers? Yes, they're one of my favorite foods. Do you have a Flickr? Yes, but I don't use it anymore. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Do you drink milk? Yeah, I love milk. Where was your FB display pic taken? My room. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yeah; white rice. My dumb ass didn't realize it had JUST come off the stove. My tongue hurt literally for weeks. Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No. Do you own any CLOTHES from Victoria’s Secret? Er, are undergarments not clothes? But I know what you mean. No. What are your grandfathers’ names? William and... I can't remember Dad's dad's name. Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Well yeah. Are you against seances? I don't know if I believe in them being effective, but either way, they seem like a bad idea. Even risking luring a negative energy/spirit to you is something I'd stay away from. Do you own any superhero shirts? No, just Harley Quinn ones, some with the Joker on them, too. I need to toss 'em though because I am like, violently against romanticizing their abusive relationship. I used to just like them as a story character couple, but I got to a place where it just seemed... wrong to "glorify" it by wearing merch and stuff. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica, durrrr. Who is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met? Can you believe that would be my former best friend? Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never had an animal in my path. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you like kissing in public? If you're my serious s/o, I could care less, so long as it's a simple peck. I'm not making out in front of people. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I don't know. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? I don't know. I'm lonely and love feels amazing, but I need to get my life on track before I can be a good partner to someone and not just dead weight. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Huh, funny, he's the one that walked away. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Uhhh that would depend on how serious we are, where we are, and just what mood I'm in. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? ugh What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? also ugh What’s your dirtiest secret? TMI AHEAD. Probably receiving oral while bare-ass naked on the chaise in the living room while we were home alone. Or having sex in my sister’s bed. Oops. Would you ever get lyrics tattooed on yourself? Yeah. I already do, anyway, and I plan on getting another. Can you photoshop images well? I'm decent at it. Where did you last drive to? Mom and I went to go get our Covid vaccines today. What’s the first verse of the last song you listened to? "I don't know what we're supposed to be, but I know we lost it along the way to something better, something so much more than pleasure that we seek, so blind inside to fill these holes left by these lies that we tell to ourselves as we manufacture our own hell." What do you hear right now? The aforementioned song: "BLACKOUT" by 3TEETH. What was the last thing you laughed about? This is so fucking immature lmao but when we were driving earlier, we passed a gas station that had a sign that was advertising Coke, but due to space limitations, it abbreviated to "2 liter Cok" and I cackled like a child. Mom laughed harder than I did. Do you know any gay people personally? Ye. What was the last thing that startled you? I think it was a car hoonking at somebody the other day. What was the last thing to make you even remotely sad? Today's been a kind of rough PTSD day thanks to Facebook. My old high school friend had her beautiful daughter, a childhood friend just got married the other day, another friend is due to have her baby in just a couple weeks... It's just weird but even more painful to know it was the life I once fantasized about with a guy that just dropped me and made a break for it. I hate admitting that there's this deep, deep bitterness in me about it, like he took my life away from me, even though that's of course very unfair to say. I don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on with my day.

Family (Thomas x MC)

Summary: Thomas and Marissa ask Luz an important question. Inspired by my post here

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: None. I think this is pretty fluffy.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope​ @senseofduties​ @badchoicesposts​ @ao719 @princess-geek​  @chetachisblog​ @dorishi-desu  @hatescapsicum​ @annekebbphotography​ @drakewalkerfantasy​ @seriouslybadchoices @zambazeus @loilko​ @blackcoffee85​ @randomchoicesblog​ @fortunatelywaywardsandwich​

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged in my Thomas fics. And enjoy!

~~v~~

Marissa silently goes over all of her talking points one more time in her head as she walks into the ice cream parlor with Thomas and Luz. The father-daughter duo is walking ahead of her, happily talking about their sundae toppings while she’s trying not to have a panic attack.

While Ivy is away at science camp for the week, Thomas and Marissa decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to have a talk with Luz. With the wedding coming up in just over a month, they thought they’d see how Luz felt about Marissa officially adopting her.

Thomas and Marissa have talked about it at length, weighing the pros and cons, considering all possible outcomes, trying to put themselves in Luz and Ivy’s shoes. But they finally decided to stop ruminating and simply talk to Luz. She’s a smart, insightful kid. And she deserves to have her voice heard.

“You don’t want any ice cream, Marissa?” Luz asks, as she and Thomas sit back down, two hot fudge sundaes in hand.

She’s way too anxious to eat anything at this point. She’d probably throw up if she tried. “No, I’m good for now.”

“Okay, but you’re missing out,” Luz says, her voice taking on a singsong tone. 

Marissa smiles at the 10 year old in front of her. “I can tell. Your sundae looks delicious.”

“I can share it with you, if you want.”

“I just might take you up on that offer.”

A few minutes pass, and they talk happily over the bowls of ice cream. After a while, Thomas reaches under the table and squeezes his fiancée’s hand, a silent signal that they should probably start talking. She squeezes his hand back.

“So Luz,” Thomas starts, “we have the wedding coming up soon. Are you excited?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you most excited about?”

“We get to ride in a cool limo, right?”

Marissa chuckles softly. Of course the limo is the main draw for a kid. “Yes, there will be a limo. Are you and Ivy are still set to be the coolest bridesmaids ever?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well with the wedding coming up, your dad and I just wanted to...get your opinion on a few things. After your dad and I get married, I’ll become your stepmom.”

“Like Cinderella,” Luz concludes.

“I think Marissa is much nicer than Cinderella’s stepmom, though,” Thomas adds.

“I think so, too.”

“And while I’ll be your stepmom, we wanted to know how you felt about me adopting you,” Marissa says, looking Luz in the eyes. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Marissa won’t just be your stepmom, she’ll be your mom mom, officially,” Thomas explains. “And if anything ever happens to me, she will still be your mom, nothing can change that.”

“Is something going to happen to you?” Luz asks. A sense of panic settles into her body. “Are you dying?”

“No! No, of course not, I’m sticking around for a very long time. I was speaking hypothetically, baby.”

“Would that be something you’d be interested in?” Marissa asks.

Luz looks down at her bowl, avoiding the gaze of the two adults. Tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she blinks furiously in an attempt to get them to go away. 

She goes silent for a long while, mulling over what they just dropped in her lap. The longer she thinks about it, the more she wants to leave.

“Luz, sweetheart, can you say something?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Luz says, her voice taking on an uncharacteristically quiet tone.

“Oh.” Thomas and Marissa share a quick look with each other before turning their attention back to Luz. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”

Luz pushes her sundae bowl away. “I don’t feel like eating ice cream anymore. I want to go home now.”

“Are you sure?” Marissa prods. Luz doesn’t say anything back, but she nods.

Marissa wants to push further. They were having a great day and Luz was her usual bubbly self. The way she shut down concerns Marissa, but she doesn’t want to scare the young girl away by forcing her to continue a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have.

Luz quickly wipes a tear off of her face with the back of her hand. She slides out of her seat and stares at the adults. “Can we leave now?”

For the entire ride home, the three of them sit in a tense silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the tiny sniffles Luz was making in the backseat.

And it only makes Marissa feel like the most horrible person on earth.

//

Later that night after Luz is tucked into bed, Thomas watches as Marissa gets ready for bed. She moves from their closet to their en-suite, to her bedside table and back to the closet. She’s not doing anything productive, he finds out rather quickly. She mostly just anxiously flitting from one spot to the next. “Sweetheart, can you please stop pacing?”

“I’m not pacing,” Marissa argues.

Thomas closes the book he’s reading and tosses it aside. “Come to bed.”

“Not until–”

“Come to bed, Marissa,” Thomas repeats, taking on his stern lawyer voice. Marissa stops in her tracks and looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I used my lawyer voice on you.”

Marissa reluctantly walks back to bed, grumbling the entire way. She gets in next to him, immediately curling into his side. Thomas wraps an arm around her waist. “You’re so bossy.”

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, Day.”

“I just feel really bad about what happened today with Luz. I made her cry.”

“I don’t think you made her cry. I think the situation was stressful and that was her first reaction.”

“I just thought it would go differently,” Marissa admits. “And what if even bringing up the topic of adoption turns her against the idea of us getting married all together? What if she hates me? What if–”

“I love you,” Thomas says, cutting her off. “I love you so much, it makes my head spin sometimes.”

“I love you too.”

“And I know you love Luz.”

“Of course.” Marissa can’t possibly love Luz any more than she already does. 

Thomas kisses the top of her head, burying his face in her copper tresses. “So, we asked a question and we got our answer. We always knew there was a possibility of Luz saying no.”

Marissa sighs. She knows Thomas is right, but she still can’t settle down. After tossing and turning a few times, she gets up. “I’m going to make some tea. You want anything from the kitchen?”

“No, thank you.”

“Be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

Marissa makes her way through the dark house, fumbling the entire way. Even though she’s been living here for months, it’s still a lot to learn and get used to. The house is just ridiculously large and full of fancy buttons and switches.

After flipping a few light switches in the dark, the kitchen is instantly filled with warm light. Marissa rummages through the cabinet, looking for a mug and when she turns around to head to the pantry, she nearly drops her mug in surprise.

Luz is also in the kitchen, silently sitting at their breakfast nook.

Marissa puts a hand over her beating heart. “Luz, sweetheart! You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She holds up a pack of Oreos. “And I wanted some Oreos.”

“Are they double stuffed?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Marissa asks. After a moment of hesitation, Luz slides over in her seat, a silent invitation for the older woman to join her. Marissa sits down and takes an Oreo as well. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

A tense silence hangs in the air and Marissa doesn’t know how to handle it. She’s always had a great relationship with Luz, and she doesn’t know how to navigate this newfound awkwardness.

“Luz, can we talk about what happened earlier? At the ice cream parlor?”

“What about it?”

“Can you tell me why you started crying? I didn’t mean to make you cry, and I want to apologize if I was the cause.”

“When you and my dad started talking about the adoption and you becoming my mom, I got sad. Because I already have a mom, and what will happen to her if you adopt me? Am I just supposed to forget her?”

And suddenly everything makes sense. Of course Luz would feel loyalty to Soledad. “Oh honey.”

“I love you, Marissa,” Luz continues. “And I’m really excited that you’re here and that you’re marrying my dad, but I don’t want to do anything that will upset my mom in heaven.”

Marissa grabs Luz’s hands tightly. “I love you too. And I want you to know that no matter what happens, Soledad will always be your mom. I will never try to replace her in your heart or erase her memory.”

“Me potentially adopting you will never change that fact that Soledad is your mother. It just means that I’ll also be your mom forever. The cool thing about love is that you don’t have to pick and choose who receives it and when. For example, I love Ivy with every piece of my heart, and I never imagined that I could love someone as much as I love her. And then this smart, tough, funny, loyal, incredibly sweet girl named Luz came along and bam! My heart instantly doubled in size and I love you just as much. I’ll always love you, and if you’re not okay with the adoption, that’s fine with me. Nothing will change about our relationship and how I feel about you.”

A tear rolls down Luz’s face, but Marissa quickly wipes it away. “Can we still keep her pictures up?”

“Of course!  We can still keep her pictures up, and we can celebrate her birthday if you want, your dad can tell you stories about her, the whole nine yards. I never want you to feel like you can’t openly love and embrace your mom because I’m around.”

Luz nods thoughtfully, taking in Marissa’s words. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“I think my mom would really like you.”

Marissa smiles and dammit, she feels tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. “And I think that is very high praise. From what you and your dad say about her, your mom seemed like an amazing lady.”

“She was.” Luz inhales deeply. “If it’s still okay, I’m okay with you adopting me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Marissa wraps her arms around Luz and hugs her tightly. “It’s more than okay with me.”

The two of them say locked in a tight embrace until they hear Thomas clear his throat behind them.

“What’s going on in here?” He asks.

“Just having a good, much needed talk,” Marissa says.

“I told Marissa that she could adopt me,” Luz explains.

“That’s great!” Luz nods and then stifles a yawn. “Alright, little lady, I think it’s time to go to bed.”

Luz grabs another Oreo out of the sleeve and hugs both Marissa and Thomas. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, sweetie!”

Once Luz is out of the kitchen and back upstairs in her room, Thomas turns to his fiancée. He walks over to her and pulls her out of her seat.

“What are you doing, mister?”

Thomas doesn’t reply, opting to kiss Marissa instead. She responds instantly, pulling him closer and threading her fingers through his hair.

After breaking the kiss, Thomas plants another one on her forehead. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I might’ve overheard most of your conversation with Luz.”

“You snoop.”

“I was told that my gorgeous fiancée would be back in a few minutes. So after a few minutes had passed, I had to see what the hold up was,” Thomas explains. “And I walked in on your talk, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Well, I guess I can’t be too mad.”

“And listening you talk to my daughter just reaffirmed the amazing decision I made when I proposed. And I’m very lucky that you said yes.”

“You have a way with words, you charmer.”

A warm blush spreads across his cheeks and he drops his head, so Marissa can’t see. “You bring it out of me. Thank you to embracing my daughter with open arms and loving her as much as you do. I could not have asked for a better partner.” Thomas takes Marissa’s hand and examines her engagement ring. The 3-carat diamond shines brightly under the kitchen lights. “I cannot wait to marry you, Marissa Day.”

“I can’t wait to marry you either, Thomas Mendez.”

This isn’t an episode but here’s a Janstar fanfic I FINALLY FINISHED

Janstar story thing

It’s been awhile since Star has been in a relationship. Well, since she and Marco broke up. Star promised herself that she would let herself take a break from the romance, knowing it’s only caused her trouble anyways. She’s still friends with Marco, even though things are a bit awkward, but she’s okay with it. It’s better for things to be a bit weird than to be on bad terms with someone, for the most part at least.

Star has been hanging out with Janna more, getting back all that time not spent due to being with Marco and figuring things out on earthni. Her and Janna would usually talk and chill out at her place, or wonder around, checking out the weird new dimension Star created by accident. The only downfall of that, was that Star was slowly developing feelings for Janna.

Star has already felt this way for awhile, but never acknowledged that they were those kind of feelings. Mostly because she didn’t realize she was gay until her and Tom got back together. Which by her luck, Tom was very supportive of her and was also bisexual.

Star didn’t want to let her impulsive urge to jump into things take over, she wanted to wait it out and see how much closer they would get. Janna and Star were already close friends, but she had no idea how Janna would feel about her having these kind of feelings. She knows that Janna also likes girls, but Janna didn’t really talk about her love life that much. The last time that happened she went on a date with a skeleton guy and refused to tell Star why they didn’t go on a second date.

She really wanted to tell Janna how she felt, but Star was nervous about how she would react. Even though Janna was pretty chill with a lot of things, Star knew she would get panicky when it came to people liking her. And Star didn’t want this to come off as her hoping from one person to another, which was one of the reason she took a break in the first place. Other than the fact that she need an emotional break from relationships. She didn’t want to take any chances of ruining her friendship with Janna. Other than Ponyhead, She’s the only other close girl friend that she has right now.

The girls were once again at Janna’s house, they were in her room, sitting on her bed. Janna was talking about her new tarot cards that came in today. They were all shiny with dark colors and pretty pictures, that’s how Star always saw them anyways, still not knowing exactly how they worked. Janna couldn’t stop smiling and her eyes were bright as she messed with the cards. Star always though Janna was the prettiest when she lit up the way she did with things she’s passionate about. Her beaming brown eyes had Star melt every time, her smile made Star’s heart drop. Star loved seeing Janna genuinely happy, it’s not often she shows that side of her.

Star was having one of her intrusive thoughts of “I need to tell her” days. But this time it wasn’t just her not being able to keep a secret, she felt that maybe this was a good time. She’s waited 6 months to make the move.

Janna moved to the topic of star signs, this was Star’s chance to possibly make a move.

“Soo uh, who’s all compatible with Capricorn’s?” Star asks.

Janna looked up at her and the back down at her bed. “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s Cancer, Taurus, Virgo, Libra, Pisces, Scorpio.”

Star face started to turn red, Janna was a Scorpio and she was a Capricorn. She wasn’t going to fully depend on the stars to prove her point, but it would make sense.

“Aren’t you a Scorpio?” Star asked. She immediately regretted asking that.

“Yeah, why?” Janna responded.

This was already going downhill.

Star froze, not knowing how to answer without actually telling her the truth. That’s why she asked right? She couldn’t be sly this time.

“N- no reason! Just making sure.” Star stuttered.

Janna furrowed her eyebrows and poked Star’s arm. “Hey, what’s going on with you?” She asked.

“Nothing!” Star chuckled. Go going Star.

Janna crossed her arms and smirked. “Star, you know you can’t lie to me.” She said.

Star started to felt really anxious, why was this going so horribly?

“Why, is it because of your ‘Scorpio senses’?” Star smarted off. “Star why are you doing this?? Why do you have to get so defensive?? Just tell her!” She thought to herself. Her acting like this wasn’t helping her redeeming herself.

“You’re a horrible lair.” Janna said.

Star really couldn’t disagree with her though, Janna knew when she was lying. She seemed always know when her friends were lying. Star was never really the best at lying either way but she knew that she couldn’t get out of this one.

Star sighed. “I’m sorry Janna, I didn’t mean to come off like that.” She said covering her face with her hands.

Janna knew something was up and she really wanted to know, Star hasn’t been this jumpy since her and Tom broke up.

“Like what? Star, please tell me what’s going on. You’ve been acting weird for the past few weeks and I’m..kinda concerned.” Janna said.

Janna put her cards away and sat in front of Star on her bed. Star saw the worried look on her face, which made her more anxious. She tried to avoid eye contact for her to possibly calm down. But nothing was helping, she couldn’t even get words to come out of her mouth to tell her. Star’s heart was pounding and her face was red. Then out of impulse, she did something that was crazier than telling her how she felt. Star closed her eyes, quickly leaned in and kissed her.

It felt like everything around them went dead silent. Janna froze with her eyes widen. Her mind went completely blank for a few seconds. Her lips were so soft, she was about to kiss back but Star pulled away quickly.

What just happened?

Both of the girls faces were burning red. Star heart was racing, not knowing why she did that, and most importantly Janna.

Janna looked up at Star and saw the terror on her face. Janna had no idea what was going on and didn’t think Star knew what she just did.

“I’m- I’m sorry..” Star said.

Before Janna could say anything, Star quickly stood up and grabbed her heart purse. “I need to go.” She said.

Janna wasn’t going to let Star leave, now she more than ever wanted to know what was going on.

“No wait!” Janna said grabbing Star’s arm. Star turned back to Janna and saw her leaning off the bed so she could catch her.

“Please, talk to me.” Janna was basically begging Star at this point. She was so confused for all of this happening at once.

Star felt sick to her stomach, but this was almost not as bad as she thought it was going to be, since Janna was taking it slightly better than she thought she would.

Star let out a heavy sigh, and she sat in front of Janna on her bed.

“I..I really like you, but that wasn’t supposedly happen.” Star said.

Janna looked away. “Yeah, I uh..kinda figured that you didn’t mean to do that. But..why though?”

Star was shocked by her response. “What you mean why? You’re like, the coolest girl ever.” She said.

Janna’s heart started to pound, she always thought Star was cooler than her. Hence why she always wanted to show Star her magic things. But, Star thinking that she was cool too?

“You, really think I’m that cool?” Janna laughed nervously.

“Of course! You can do magic anytime you want! Your earthy magic is so interesting to me! And just the way you’re so passionate about it too...” Star responded.

“I mean, your magic is really cool too. You can do literally almost anything with it. “ Janna said.

“Yeah but, I don’t have that anymore, but you still have yours. You get so excited when you talk about those things and it just.. it makes me feel all warm inside. Seeing you light up about those things makes me happy too..” Star said.

Janna’s face turned red again, she’s never been complimented like that before.

“And you know, I’ve had feelings for you for a while now..and I didn’t want you to freak out because of that...and I thought they would go away after awhile but they just gotten more intense the more I tried to deny it and act like they weren’t there. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship..” She added.

Janna really didn’t know what to say, she was still trying to comprehend that Star even had feelings for her like that. But she knows how that is, it sucks.

“ I get how you feel, holding it back is really hard.” Janna said.

“It was.” Star said.

“I think you’re cool too Star.. and pretty..” Janna said.

Star’s eyes widened. “Wait.. you like me back??”

“Of course I like you! You’re like..the coolest person I’ve ever met. “

Star’s eyes lit up, her face started to feel hot again. She thought it was crazy that Janna thought she was cool, since she obviously think of herself like that.

“Well.. I guess..we should date then?” Star hesitated.

Janna’s heart started beating fast again, she never thought this day would come.

“Umm well, I’ve never dated another girl before.” She said nervously.

Star laughed. “I haven’t either..”

They both looked at each other awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“Well,...I guess we can try this out. I mean since we’re on the same page.” Janna said.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Star said.

There was another awkward silence, Star bit her lip.

“Soooo, I guess you’re my girlfriend now.” She said with her face red.

Janna laughed, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The girls both laughed nervously, but this time it seemed more out of contained excitement.

This didn’t turn out to be a disaster after all.

New Traditions and Worlds

My @homestuckss gift for @dykeiatrist ! I used “Davekat,” “Jane,” and “Hurt/Comfort” (with a bit of DirkJake) to create a cute little holiday fic! Hope you enjoy it :D Have a wonderful holiday season!!

Also on ao3 (@detective_in_space if the link doesn’t work!)

“Twas the week before Christmas,” Dave started before pausing, “Yo Rox, what’s somethin’ that rhymes with Christmas?”

“Ass? Wait, no, no that doesn’t work… Christmas…” Roxy muttered, “Okay so, like, the only thing I’ve got is Christmas, but you absolutely cannot rhyme ‘Christmas’ with ‘Christmas,’ right?”

“You’re definitely right,” Dave sighed as he scratched out the words in his notebook, “Dude, like absolutely nothin’ rhymes with Christmas words.”

Roxy moved over and rested their hand on his shoulder, “Karkat will appreciate the thought at least. Hey, there are other things than Christmas raps, like festive interpretive dances! Or Festive slam poetry?”

“Well, duh, it’s Karkat we’re talkin’ bout,” Dave laughed, but in his defense, it was true. Karkat would yell and insist that he hated Dave’s most ‘ironic’ gifts, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. Like it was just a whole elaborate game. The edges of Karkat’s eyes would wrinkle as his lips curled into a small grin. A small chuckle would escape, which Dave would obviously point out, and in response, Karkat would punch him (before wrapping him in a hug). Oh god, that was the best… 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Roxy interrupted, as they lightly hit the side of Dave’s head, “Did ya invite me over here just to fall asleep?”

“Nah dawg, I was just thinkin’ about the usual,” Dave brushed their hand aside. 

“So,” Roxy drawled, “Karkat?” Roxy wiggled their eyebrows at Dave. 

“No,” Dave exclaimed, “Fuck, I mean, no. Hey, do ya know any, like, traditions that people do for Christmas and all that jazz.” Now that was a smooth change of topics. 

“Smooth like a baby’s bottom,” Roxy laughed, “But, nah. I didn’t even know Christmas was like a real thing… thought it was an urban myth or something.” Oh, right. Roxy lived in some highly-futuristic society that was enslaved by a fish bitch, but there was none of that oppressive dictatorship on Earth C. Trolls, Carpacians, Humans, and well, any other species were free to chill by the fire and enjoy whatever holiday they wanted. Now that, was what sweet, sweet democracy was about (preach Obama). 

“Lit, lovin’ that we’re both oblivious of any cultural traditions… hey, you think one of the Crocker-Harley-English… berts... would know more about this? I’m feelin’ like they’d be all up in that shit,” Dave said, “Oh fuck, I’m so smart. That’s like totally their thing.”

After quickly picking up all his stuff and saying goodbye to Roxy, Dave picked up his phone and dialed Jane Crocker, the holiday expert, on his way home. Wait, oh fuck, what if she was busy? It’s not like he usually talked to her, so was it out of the question? Oh no, maybe he should’ve just texted John...

The phone picked up, “Hello, Jane Crocker speaking?”

“Oh… oh! Hey Jane, it’s Dave… ya know… Dirk’s cooler bro,” Dave started. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Yes, he could be floating around, but exercise was important. 

“Well, howdy there Dave. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it,” she chuckled, “Anyways, did you need anything?”

“So, like, Rox and I were talkin’ about Christmas and stuff… and well, we’re both dumb and have no idea what people actually do for it, so I thought you might be the expert on the subject? Because it totally seems like it’d be up your ally,” Dave rambled on. 

“Well golly, I’m flattered. It’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated the holiday, but of course, I’ll help you! Before the game, my father and I had so much fun celebrating… let’s see… Well, I’m sure you already know this, but we’d go out to a farm together and pick out a tree. I’d always search for the fattest tree, and my father would help me cut it down. And then we’d go get Hot Cocoa and pick out ornaments together, and well, oh sorry, I’ve gotten a bit off-topic, haven’t I,” Jane apologized.

“No, no! You’re literally the best… lemme just get a piece of paper to write this on,” Dave fumbled around his captchalogue, and pulled out an old notebook (of course, with Obama on the cover). “Okay cool, I got one, hit me with all that sweet, sweet info.”

“Alright… let’s see, what else… oh, well after we decorated the tree, we’d make and frost sugar cookies and cakes together. Oh! Karkat and you are welcome to come over together sometime and make cookies with me if you’d like,” Jane offered. Hell yeah, she was a literal legend. Roxy and Dirk had the best friends. 

“Yeah, dog, we’d love to! I’ll hit you up with a date once Karkat checks the calendar. You know him and… schedulin’,” Dave said as he continued to write down Jane’s suggestions. 

Jane chuckled, “Sounds good… and one more thing… My father and I would always put cheesy Christmas music on. That was the best… we’d make absolute fools out of ourselves, but it was so much fun. Literally, we’d just dance around and belt the lyrics… those we’re the days,” Jane’s voice started to crack… fuck… had Dave made her cry? “Sorry…” she continued, “I don’t mean to be so emotional. Oh lord, I’m sorry. I… I hope I helped you a bit, and just, feel free to come over whenever for cookies…” 

“Fuck, no,” Dave searched his brain… what would Karkat say… “Sorry for bringin’ up those memories. I know it sucks and all. I’ll give you some time and just hit you up later.” 

“Yes, that’d be great… see you later then,” Jane said as she hung up. 

Well, shit, Dave had already made one person cry and it was only 11 a.m. Maybe Christmas was just an emotional time and stuff. Jane was cool, though, so he hoped that she was okay. Plus, she gave him some kickass advice, and he was so ready to get his holiday spirit on. 

The rest of the walk to his place was boring. Dave tried to come up with some more sick raps for his Christmas album, featuring the new and improved version of “Jingle Bells.” The air was crisp and way too cold for Dave’s Texan roots (he blamed John for the freezing wind), so he was thankful when he finally reached the door. 

“Yo, Karkat, I’m home, and I come with words of wisdom from the one and only Jane Crocker herself,” Dave announced as he closed the door behind him. He attempted to throw his coat and hang it up, but it fell clumsily to the floor. He shrugged it off and continued through the cozy lil’ condo, finding his way into the kitchen, where he found Karkat doing a load of laundry. Yes, the washing machine and dryer were in the kitchen… it was only the most ironic, British mom location for them. Dave, being the coolest man to ever exist, ran up to Karkat and hugged him from behind. 

“Jesus fucking shit Dave! Are you trying to give me a blood pusher attack?” Karkat screeched as he jumped like fifty feet in the air (okay maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it basically happened). 

“Nah dude, you wouldn’t dare be all anime protagonist on me and faint. Like, imagine me runnin’ to cradle you in my arms while you murmur ‘I’m goin’ to have to kawaii the shit out of your desu.’ Literally, imagine that” Dave rambled. 

Karkat groaned at this, “Stop spending time with Dirk. You’re turning into a shitty weeb Karkat said as he pushed Dave away. 

“I can’t help it… it’s who I am,” Dave clutched yo his chest and fell to the ground, pulling the other boy down with him. Karkat’s words. The worst weapon of all. 

“I’m going to go live with Kanaya and Rose,” Karkat grumbled, falling to the ground as dramatically as possible (making sure to land on Dave with as much force as possible). 

“Like you’d do that,” Dave scoffed, “She’s worse than me. Plus, is you did, we couldn’t be all romantic and celebrate human holidays together. C’mon dude, we gotta act like a high school couple. Get all up in each other’s space and kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, speakin’ of that! I talked to Jane, who is literally the best, and she was like ‘oh Dave! Check out this super lit tradition I did back on the o.g. Earth. Like, you get to cut down a tree and decorate with the most ironic ornaments.’” 

“Sound detrimental to the environment and a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating a fucking tree,” Karkat asked.

“Dude, it’s a pine tree, which is superior to all other trees. Besides,  it’s about family and friends. I mean, I never celebrated Christmas with Bro, but you can’t just diss Karen like that,” Dave said, using his best white mom voice. 

“Fine whatever. I’ll celebrate your dumb human holiday, but I call picking out the decorations,” Karkat bargained as he stood up and dusted off his pants (getting rid of Dave’s germs).

“Hell yeah, deal! Get your coat on, we’re gonna get a tree and bring it in our house,” Dave exclaimed, quickly getting off the ground. 

The boys quickly got ready and we’re out the door, hopping into their car. Dave has gotten it because well, basically of all Karkat and his friends could fly. He has listened to Karkat’s complaining enough and invested in an older, used minivan. And man, did he love the thing. Hey, maybe he’d become a car person after the holidays were over. 

Dave was about to drive to the nearest park with a saw, but Karkat demanded that he call and ask Jane first. Jane recommended a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and with the use of a GPS, they eventually found their way there (after a few hours of trial and error).

“Jane said that fat trees were better, but honestly, I’m lovin’ this tall ass one right here. I mean look at it. It’s taller than the Empire State Buildin’… wait, is that still a thing? Like an Earth C Empire State Buildin’?” In Dave’s defense, it was a totally valid question. Like, did Earth C have the same seven wonders of the world? Who knew. 

“Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a tree, not imperialism,” Karkat groaned, “And besides, our house isn’t big enough for that.”

“But Karkat, the economy,” Dave whined, “But like, what about this tiny one… it reminds me of you, short stacks.”

Karkat shoved him, “And the other reminds me of your flat ass.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment… since you're lookin’ at my ass and all,” Dave pulled down his Stiller shades and winked.

“Shut up, you fucking twink. Let’s just celebrate your weird human holidays and get the tree,” Karkat grumbled as he attempted to pick up the tree. 

Dave doubled over laughing as he watched the 5’3 troll struggle, but once Karkat shot him an angry glare, he rushed over to aid him (with his huge muscles, of course). “Nice, I can feel it pokin’ me through my mittens. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

After endless trial and error, the pair managed to carry the tree to the register and on top of their car, a red minivan that Dave had picked out.

“So,” Karkat started, “We just put a tree in our block and decorate it? And then some creepy old man flies around the world and gives presents to children by putting them under the tree?” His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand human traditions.

“Dude, I can’t even explain it. Humans can come up with some weird shit when they put their minds to it,” Dave laughed. The rest of the car ride consisted of Karkat rambling about trollian traditions. Their hands managed to find one another and rest comfortably on the center console (Dave, of course, kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times… hey, safety is important). 

Their next stop was the local hardware store. It was owned by a sweet, older Carpacian. In all honesty, she reminded Dave of the Mayor… a kindred spirit whose goal in life was to just lead and help make others happy. She made the place seem like the opposite of a place to buy tools. The place was decorated with festive garlands and cheery music rang through the air. Dave waved at her as the pair walked towards the Christmas section.

“So,” Dave drawled, “What kind of ornaments are we lookin’ for? Personally, I wanna find a dick shaped one… for the memories of cockscotch. Bless that game.”

“This is a family store, dick-muncher! And we’re getting triple-f ornaments! Family fucking friendly!” Karkat screeched, marching ahead (but not before grabbing Dave’s hand and pulling him along). 

“Fine, fine, I get it… gotta make our house grub friendly, for when John comes over,” Dave snickered as they walked the ornaments aisle. Who knew there were so many different variations in fucking decorations? You had some for your Karens, poor college students, newlyweds, too many to count. Karkat busied himself with the… glass ball? Well, whatever that kind of ornament was called. 

“These are nice,” Karkat noted, showing Dave a set of jade glass baubles (haha, like Kanaya).

“But like, dude, they’re so borin’,” Dave whined, “We gotta spruce this tree up… get it? Spruce is a kind of tree.” Dave chuckled at his own dad joke. Shit, he was hilarious. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to make this actually look nice. We’ll get other colors too, and “spruce” it up, as you say,” Karkat said as he went back to check out the boring ornaments. Dave, on the other hand, went to look at the children’s ornaments on the other side of the aisle. Most of them were new pop culture things that Dave didn’t recognize (God was he growing old). However, there were a few that grabbed his attention, and obviously, he was gonna have to show these to Karkat. 

“Yo, dawg. Check out these cool little fuckers. They’ll make our tree look mads cool,” Dave opened his hands to reveal a bunch of little crab ornaments. They were cute and not boring glass balls. Plus, crabs were like Karkat’s thing… he’d definitely appreciate them.

“Crustaceans? Don’t you just know the way to my blood pusher,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “Just put them in the basket before I change my mind.”

Dave threw his fist in the air and gave Karkat a side hug, “Hell yeah, you won’t regret this. We gonna get so festive up in this joint. All the moms will be beggin’ to check out the coolest tree in the neighborhood, which if ya didn’t catch on, will be ours.”

“You got me. I’m only doing this to make Carol jealous. She fucking deserves it,” Karkat chuckled. Yes, Dave knew he was doing swell when he made Karkat laugh. If only he could give himself a, well earned, golden star. 

“Dude yes, I fuckin’ hate Carol. C’mon, let’s get more lights. We gotta make this flashy and blow a fuse, speakin’ of which… do you know how to fix a broken fuse? Because I do not wanna call Dirk over to fix it for us. He’ll be like ‘Dave, I’m just tryin’ to celebrate the holidays with my darlin’ boyfriend… have I mentioned Jake’s ass? Damn, lemme just rant about that and never actually fix your broken utilities.’ Can you imagine the pain, Karkat,” Dave lamented? He loved his brother, don’t get him wrong, but he did not want to mess with Dirk this close to the holiday season. 

“I can, actually. Remember what happened the week before Jake’s birthday? Dirk is batshit crazy, but he gets it from you,” Karkat smirked as Dave feigned an offended expression, “Now, can we stop talking about his love life and actually pick out some decorations?”

The pair still had one more destination before they could go home and relax, maybe even decorate the tree… but knowing themselves, they’d probably wait until Christmas Eve to put the new lights and ornaments up. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Jane said as she opened the door, “I’ve already got everything out, so all we have to do is bake and decorate cookies… and perhaps eat a bit of dough.” She ushered the two inside. 

“Hell yeah, you’re the best Janey,” Dave said as the pair put away their coats and walked to the kitchen with Jane. Everything was so clean, especially when compared to their house. Karkat would always fuss about his habits, but Dave felt a sort of comfort in the messiness. So what if there were shirts thrown on the floor and an unorganized stack of papers on the kitchen table. It built… character. 

“I’ve never had what you humans call ‘cookies,’ but thank you for having us,” Karkat added. 

“Oh please, it’s no problem. I love baking, and I especially love helping people get into the holiday spirit,” Jane said. The trio fell into a simple routine once Jane showed them the recipe, helping the two boys when need be. Dave filled the silence by rambling under his breath about whatever he deemed important, while Karkat concentrated on making his cookies perfect. 

“Hey look,” Dave exclaimed while holding up one of his doughy creations, “It’s a Karkat angel! A Kar-Angel… a Karkat Van-Angel!” His cookies were shaped into gingerbread men with nubby horns and an uncharacteristic smile. 

“And I made a Dave-Cookie… oh wait, it’s just a blob of dough, my fucking bad,” Karkat retorted, going back to rolling out his dough. 

It was a long process, but after a few hours, the boys had successfully made their first batch of Christmas sugar cookies. A few of the cookies weren’t burnt on the edges, but they were delicious nonetheless. Jane demanded that the pair take home their creations, as she didn’t have enough room in her cabinets for more holiday desserts. 

“Goodness, thank you so much for coming over and making sugar cookies! I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been a while. Feel free to come by and help me whenever you all would like,” Jane chirped. 

“Of course, Janey,” Dave replied, “You best bet we’ll be back for some more goodies! Gotta get my housewife on. I can’t be accidentally poisoning Karkat with some undercooked cake.” 

“You’ve poisoned me with every meal of your’s, except the Kraft Mac and Cheese, but only because Roxy helped you,” Karkat spat. 

“Oh well, we certainly can’t have that. I’ll be seeing you both again soon then. Have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful new year!”

It was dark by the time they were home. Karkat and Dave both felt the sleepiness enter the body, as they kept yawning. It was too late to decorate the tree, so it was leaned against a corner. The pair immediately plopped down onto the couch and put on a holiday classic, Tim Allen’s “The Santa Clause,” which Dave argued was the best Christmas movie known to mankind, trollkind, and carpaciankind alike. 

“Y’know, I never imagined that I would celebrate Christmas. Like, dude, that shit was mads uncool,” Dave said out of the blue, interrupting the beautiful sound of Tim Allen interacting with CGI reindeers and kidnapped children.

Karkat groaned, “Well, me either, yet here I am, celebrating a dumb holiday for dumb human grubs.” He was just trying to enjoy this wonderful holiday film, but with Dave, silence didn’t last long. In a way, it provided comfort to the pair. He knew that Dave absolutely hated the silence, as it reminded him of his Bro. For Karkat, Dave’s endless rambling allowed him to take his mind off of his worries. It was an odd relationship, one that had taken years to achieve, but here they were… they had made it, yet Karkat knew there were still shaky moments for the two of them. Like now, for example. The pair both would jump around certain barriers, trying desperately to aid one another, while still attempting to not dig too deep. 

Dave rested his head upon Karkat’s thighs and snuggled into the pile of blankets, reminding him of their time on the meteor, “Y’know, I wouldn’t have this whole thing any other way. ‘M glad my first Christmas is with you, instead of Bro.” His words are slurred together and slightly muffled, and Karkat can’t help the stupid ass blush that creeps onto his face at the sound of them. 

“Fuck that guy,” Karkat spits. After a moment, he starts again, this time with a gentler tone, “And it’s nice to have you here too, no matter how fucking dumb your endless rants may be.”

Dave could almost hear Dirk whispering “Tsundere” in his ear as he chuckled, “Awe, love you too, KitKat.” He sits back up, nearly smacking the top of his head into Karkat’s jaw. He looks away for a second, briefly hesitating, then leans in, closing the distance between the pair. It’s just a brief peck, but it leaves the two of them speechless. Dave looks at Karkat through his shades. A light brush coated his cheeks and his lips curled into a small grin. 

Karkat pulls Dave into his side and looks towards the corner of the living room, where their small, fat tree is leaning against the wall. It was empty and in desperate need of attention (aka Crustacean ornaments). Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he paused the movie and stood up, pulling Dave with him, “Get off your lazy ass and get fucking festive. We have a tree to decorate.”

campus antics

word count: 1744

genre: fluFFFFF

pairing: han jisung x gender neutral reader

summary: college!au where jisung’s the cute, popular kid you’ve got an intense hallway crush on but you can’t seem to avoid embarrassing yourself every time you talk to him

a/n: lemme know if y’all want me to write a part 2 to this!! it’ll probably be better than this flaslkjdfsk sorry

song rec: can’t blame a girl for trying - sabrina carpenter

~

there he is, sitting at that picnic table he seems to always be at, headphones on and intently focused on his laptop like usual. his foot taps a steady beat on the ground as his head bobs slightly and you think you see him mumbling to himself. you’ve had a crush on han jisung since the moment you first saw him, and ever since then you find yourself silently hoping you’ll pass by him in the halls (not that you’ll do anything, but there’s no harm in admiring from afar, right) to catch a glimpse of him and his cute face.

you’ve discovered his favourite hangout place is this picnic table—it’s a beautiful day, and the breeze keeps ruffling his shaggy hair. annoyed, he moves to brush it out of his eyes, and when he does so he makes eye contact with you on the pathway. it’s only now that you realize you’ve stopped walking entirely, and when jisung flashes you an awkward, close-lipped smile you immediately turn and walk away briskly. your face is burning red as a tomato; hopefully you turned around quickly enough that jisung didn’t notice you practically drooling over him. you silently curse yourself, internally groaning as you pray jisung doesn’t think you’re a creep or a weirdo.

you’ve never actually spoken to him before; for one thing, he’s in a different program, so you never have classes together. he’s a music kid (which you think is the coolest thing ever) while you’re a med student. you love your program and you excel in all your classes, but you always admire the more creative and artistic people—like jisung. he also happens to be a member of several of your college’s clubs, which you suspect is how he became so popular. it seems everyone on campus knows jisung’s name, and when he’s not alone at the picnic table he’s almost always surrounded by a group of people laughing and talking with him—yet another reason you’ve never gathered the nerve to talk to him. you’re certain he doesn’t know you exist; that is, unless he permanently remembers you from the awkward eye contact you just made (you know it’s definitely seared into your own memory). you try to push the embarrassment to the back of your mind as you make your way to the lab—although as you fall asleep that night the moment replays over and over in your head, and you really hope you get a chance to redeem yourself.

~

unfortunately, the next time you come face to face with jisung, it doesn’t go much more smoothly—if anything, you’re even more embarrassed now than before. you’re running late to one of your classes; literally, you’re sprinting down the hall trying to make it on time (you know this professor hates students coming in late and interrupting his lesson, but you don’t like missing out on class so you’re trying your best to make it on time). you whizz around a corner, then WHAM! you find yourself flat on your stomach, although rather than feeling the cold surface of the floor beneath you, you wince as you realize there’s a person underneath you.

“i’m so sorry!!” you say as you scramble to get up, gathering the few things you dropped. you’re extremely flustered now, and would really like to just leave for class, leaving all this embarrassment behind. but, being the kind, considerate person you are, you stick out your hand to help the person up. he groans and grabs your hand, sitting up from the floor, and you quietly gasp as you recognize jisung—if you thought your face was red before, you should see it now.

“oh my god, jisung! i-i am SO sorry, i was just really in a rush to class and didn’t see you, wow i can’t believe i did that!” you pull jisung to his feet, half mumbling to yourself.

“it’s okay, i get it—you’ve got places to be! how did you know my name though?” he asks; he seems mildly confused, but not overly alarmed. you, on the other hand, are burning bright red, unable to believe you really just let slip you already know who he is.

“oh uh, doesn’t like everyone on campus know who you are?” you say in an attempt to play it off. jisung laughs softly and looks down at the ground.

“yeah, i guess you could say a few people know me. well listen, it was nice to meet you…” he says, voice trailing off as he waits for you to finish his sentence.

“oh, i’m just y/n,” you clarify, smiling shyly.

“y/n! you seem like you’re in a hurry and i don’t wanna keep you from where you’re going, but it was nice to meet you! i’ll see you around campus,” jisung says and with a small smile and wave, he’s walking down the hall towards where you came from. you stand frozen for a moment before remembering you have a class to get to, so you turn and make your way to class, not really caring about being late anymore since walking in and interrupting class can’t be more embarrassing than what just happened.

~

“you didn’t even get his number??” minho asks, astounded and, frankly, disappointed.

“minho, i RAN INTO HIM!! i don’t think he wants my number,” you say. you were studying that night and you made sure to facetime your best friend minho to tell him everything—you always go to him for advice. you look up from your notes to see him roll his eyes at you.

“well i mean he still talked to you, so he couldn’t have been THAT grossed out by you,” minho teases. “but you gotta get a chance to talk to him again,” minho says.

“…i’ll try,” you tell minho, although you know you’re still way too intimidated to just go up and talk to jisung. “now we should probably actually study, exams are coming up,” you remind minho. just like that the topic is switched and the two of you are studying, although jisung is in the back of your mind the whole time.

~

the third time you interact with jisung is, unfortunately, probably (definitely) the most embarrassing of all. you’re in the library, notes and textbooks spread across the table as you frantically scour them for helpful information, coffee always within arm’s reach. you’ve been spending a lot of time at the library recently, studying as hard as you can to ace your exams. a couple times you’ve seen jisung in passing, either at his usual spot or walking by just in the halls (on the rare occasion he sees you he’ll flash a smile your way and yes, your heart flutters every time), but you’re careful to avoid much interaction in fear of making a fool of yourself. you’re trying not to think about him too much anyways; your exams are really important, and a distraction is the last thing you need (although maybe you wouldn’t mind so much if it was jisung).

“uhhh, y/n?” a voice says from beside you. you look up to see jisung, surprisingly. “is this seat taken?” he asks, gesturing to the chair beside you. you shake your head, mildly in shock. jisung pulls the chair out and takes a seat beside you, pulling out his own study notes.

“what’s up jisung?” you ask, still confused as to why he’s studying with you.

“oh, i need someone’s opinions on some songs i’ve been working in for my final assignments. my friends are too biased to give me an honest opinion, but when i walked in here and saw you i figured it might be worth a shot. wanna listen?” he says. offering his headphones to you. dumbfounded, you take them. he clicks a couple things on his laptop then turns to see your reaction, biting his lip nervously.

as the song begins to play, your eyes widen and you look at jisung (who’s quite flustered and sheepish). you figured jisung was talented simply by the sheer amount of time he seems to spend working on his laptop, but you never imagined he’d be this good.

“jisung…this is amazing,” you say as you take off his headphones.

“you really think so?” he says, and you can tell he’s trying to hold back his excitement.

“yeah, like, wow. i can’t believe you made that,” you say, truly amazed by the song you just heard. you move to hand back his headphones, and that’s when it happens; you accidentally knock over your coffee cup. the hot beverage spills, staining your notes brown and dripping off the edge of the table onto the carpeted floor. thank god nothing got on jisung’s laptop, however it did happen to spill onto his lightwash jeans and white shoes.

“oh my god. jisung i-i’m so sorry!!” you say, looking at him in horror. how you manage to embarrass yourself every time you do something around him you don’t know, but you wish you could run away and hide forever.

“y/n, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. it’ll come out in the wash,” jisung simply laughs a little and reassured you. “you’re really clumsy though,” he says, poking fun at you.

“i feel so bad!” you pout, and it’s true—especially because jisung is so frickin CUTE and talented and popular and why the heck he’s talking to you you have no idea but you really wish you could stop making a fool of yourself for once.

“okay fine, i have a way you can make it up to me. take me out for coffee tomorrow, i’ll meet you in front of the library tomorrow at 2, see you tomorrow y/n!” jisung says, and before you get the chance to answer he gets up and leaves, with you watching him hurry out, bewildered. you turn back to the mess on the table in front of you, and as you start cleaning up you notice jisung’s number scribbled on one of the dry sheets of paper (he’s also drawn a little heart, which makes you smile to yourself). you decide you’re done studying for the day, so after you clean everything up and apologize to the librarian, you head home, wondering how you of all people managed to get ask out by jisung of all people—you’re not complaining though, and you find yourself almost skipping gleefully back to your dorm in anticipation of your date tomorrow.

~

requested by anon <3

Skype “Date” with Sam//March 27, 2020

Para: Skype “Date” with Sam.

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Blam BFFs. Mentions of Seblaine.

When: Friday Afternoon- March 27, 2020

Location: LeFay University(Boston)/Tokyo, Japan (Shibuya to be exact.)

Notes: A short self para where Sam teases Blaine over Skype and gets him thinking about things.

Warnings: Talks of futures and weddings and children.

“Sooo. When’s the wedding?”

Blaine jerked his head up from his text from Sebastian and focused his confused gaze on his best friend, Sam Evans. Sam was smiling, a goofy, big and toothy thing made sillier by the fact that Sam looked like Marvel’s Thor had wandered into a country western store. His blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail to display the weird mustache his oldest and best had decided suited him for his stay in Japan.  Before Blaine could ask him what he was on about, Sam spoke up. “I mean you can hardly take your eyes off your phone. Dude, you should see your gross mushy, lovey dovey face. Like, get married already.”  Blaine ducked his head sheepishly, shooting Sebastian an I'll see you in a few text, making sure to tell him he loved him before shoving his phone into his pocket so he wouldn’t be distracted.

“Sorry, Sam.” He mumbled and even though Sam was smiling and  his tone was good natured and teasing, Blaine still felt bad. He and Sam never got to see each other face to face. It’d been going on three years since they were last in the same country and Skyping was a rarity. The whole reason for the call was to figure out the details for Sam’s trip back to America (Sam still didn’t know the month, let alone what day he’d be here) and all they’d managed to do was tease each other. “But, to be fair, I totally saw the mushy, lovey dovey eyes you gave Yume when she walked in not five minutes ago so I guess I’ll be waiting for my invitation to your wedding.” he rolled his eyes, trying not to smile as he adjusted his screen. 

Sam, to his credit just shrugged. “We’d be the hottest husband and wife around. She’s the coolest person I know, next to me and then maybe you anyway. She’s like my other best friend, so it wouldn’t even be much of a change. Anyway, how are you, how’s the boyfriend besides sending you texts when it’s my turn to talk to you, Blainers.” Sam paused pursed his lips and rolled his eyes for dramatics at that statement. Blaine laughed and shook his head at the terrible nickname.

“I’m good, Sam. We’re both good. And it’s my fault. I messaged him first. Plus, you called me about an hour earlier than you said you were going to, remember?” The banter went on for another hour. They talked about Blaine’s dad and if it was weird to be taught by his parent. They talked about Sam’s anime drawings and his cool girlfriend and how they were getting on living together in the smallest apartment known to man. What it was like to live in Shibuya and if Sam missed living in America. All things they could talk about in text but, it was the next best thing to having Sam with him and it made Blaine feel good. And it was much needed. Sam was a reminder that they’d both gone through a lot (Blaine with his mom and Sam with his family's financial struggles)  and both of them had come out good people at the end of the day. The conversation was finally directed to the visit when Sam’s brain somehow took him a completely different direction. As it always did. It was like he was on a loop and had looped back around.

“But, like, you do want to marry him, right? He’s like your world. And, I mean the next step is to live together, duh, but then you could ask him to marry you and that would be super cool. And then you could adopt a kid, or whatever two dudes do, I dunno,  and you could name the kid after your best friend Sam. I’d even be cool with his middle name being David after your other, less best friend, David. And then you raise that kid and one day that kid has a kid and you two become grandparents and then you’re old together and happy and bam! That’s life, right? It’s, what do you say all the time? Romantic. And if I know you, and I totally do, so, I know you love romance. What’s stopping you two?”

“Wow. This is not what I thought we’d be talking about tonight.” Blaine smiled, shaking his head, his laugh light in his throat as he listened to Sam talk about what he thought the cycle of life should be for him. He tried not to visibly cringe at the name Sam David. But, he had to admit the rest of what Sam was saying sounded nice and admitting that to himself hurt a little. He hesitated, not sure how to approach this. Blaine’s life with Sebastian was all about the now. Sure they planned ahead like normal people but, who knew what would happen in a month, two months or two years from now. His intuition told him him and Sebastian were safe from the Council and Order for the time being but, for how long? Not long enough for Blaine to let himself really want either of these things too much anyway. Sometimes planning for the far future just hurt so he usually tried to avoid it.

“It’s just that when Seb and I first met he told me he couldn’t see himself getting married or having children. And I don’t know, I’m not even sure that’s what I really want. I mean, maybe, but, I’m just happy being with him now, you know?” He bit his lip, in thought, before giving his friend a smile. “Besides, I don’t have to marry him to love him like I do.”

And it was all true. Seb did tell him when they were first dating that he wasn’t into either thing. But, Blaine had been with him going on two years now and he could sense a change. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t ready to admit any of that to even himself. But, if Blaine asked him to marry him in a year, something in his heart told him that Seb would say yes. That it would please him. He wasn’t sure about the whole children thing. It was something Blaine didn’t even know that he might want until he met Sebastian and they had gotten the chance to grow together. But now he could almost picture their life ten years down the road and sometimes it involved little feet and big, candy sticky grins. But, the vision always went hazy and Blaine would always lose the fantasy before he could take it too far. He meant what he said to Sam though. He didn’t need to marry or have children to love Sebastian. He’d be happy and content to get to just be with him and love the rest of his life.

Sam’s confused and unsure face at his explanation upset him a little. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew when Blaine wasn’t being entirely honest. This would be so much easier if Blaine could really talk to Sam. Really tell him why he didn’t know if he and Sebastian could have those things. As long as they’d been friends, he’d struggled with this, now, it was worse than ever. A part of him thought Sam might actually know, his best friend was smart like that. He thought differently than most people, his busy, labyrinth brain would slowly work things out and it wouldn’t surprise Blaine a bit if he kinda knew. Sam said weird things sometimes. Comparing him to this comic book character or that. And he used to catch Sam studying him like he was waiting for him to do something magical. But, Blaine couldn’t tell him and Sam wasn’t offering up any information if he did suspect anything so he kept on their friendship like he always did.

“Oh, by the way.” Blaine perked up, attempting to use Sam and David’s friendly rival to appease his friend. “It’s very big of you to share the name of an imaginary Smythe-Anderson baby with David. I know how big the unnecessary competition with you and him is.” He laughed as Sam launched into a whole tirade on why he was the better friend. (He’d been around longer and through more with Blaine. Duh.) 

An hour later they had to hang up the Skype session for the time being and Sam still hadn’t decided when he’d be coming back to America. The only take away from the whole conversation was that Sam would make the best Best Man and David would have to be the Ring Bearer in this imaginary wedding that Sam had concocted out of thin air. Sebastian wasn’t close to admitting that he might want to get married one day, and neither was Blaine but he couldn’t help but smile to himself, wondering if Blaine Devon Smythe-Anderson was too much of a mouthful while ignoring the pointed look Freya was giving him as he got ready for a  night with his boyfriend and the hot topic of his whole Skype session. He tried to ignore the little nagging feeling that he shouldn’t even entertain the thought because it would only lead to pain. It pulsed through him almost as if mocking him, telling him the High Witch Council wouldn’t let them go that far. But, he pushed it down because he was happy and in love and had gotten to talk to and see his best friend for hours and they couldn't take away how he felt. At least not tonight.

 /fin

Can you write something about Romanogers' life after he rescued her? An outsiders take on their relationship. A new recruit gets intrigued with the couple one day when they were sparring. He couldn't believe that His Mentor, Steve, went to the ends of the Universe to save her. -xoxo

Hi! So sorry for the long wait, anon! It took me ages to write something that is decent and I’m not even sure it is. I really hope you’ll like it.

Just a quick note — to the other anon who dropped this beautiful GoT related prompt for Romanogers: I’m working on it! 

Hot Gossip 

Two yearshad passed since Thanos (Post-Thanos year2 as some called it). The world had slowly stood up on its feet again andgotten back on track. They wouldn’t go as far as saying that everything was backto normal — because it wasn’t. Five years had been lost. Some were stillaccommodating to the change, some pretended not to be held back by it, and somewould simply not wipe away what would forever be known as the darkest time inall of the Universe.

There wasone thing all agreed on, though. No one could ever forget what the Avengers —all of the extended Avengers community — had done to bring the dusted onesback. They had been elevated to a whole new level of heroism. And all feltgrateful for their incommensurable devotion and their sacrifice.

Despite theloss of the world’s first defender — Tony Stark — the Avengers remained. Grew.Until it became an institution.

AfterThanos, the world had understood they needed as many heroes as they could get.The facility became a training center for any person ready and willing to makea difference. It was an honor to be accepted and be taken under the wing of theoriginal Avengers: Captain America, Professor Hulk, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch,War Machine, Falcon, James Barnes, Ant-Man, The Wasp, and Black Widow. BlackWidow who had miraculously returned after the Great Battle without anyexplanation was ever given.

Ethan,almost 19, was one of the privileged trainees who had gotten in.

First, tohis surprise, the training consisted of a lot of theoretical lessons — usuallyin the morning — then followed with physical preparation in the afternoon.

Ethan wasnot allowed to go on missions yet until the completion of his training in acouple of years’ time, but he counted the days to it. A calendar hung on thewall in the dormitory served as a daily reminder.

Unlike theother students in the facility, Ethan had been the very first to join the facility, making him the Avengers’ favorite (or so he liked to think).

He hadeverything to become someday an Avenger. He had the drive, the resilience, andthe courage. But he was also a little too enthusiastic. This was how he calledit. His mentors on the other hand.

Barnescalled it adventurous.

War Machine called it brazen.

ProfessorHulk called it bold.

CaptainAmerica called it reckless.

Falconcalled it stupid.

Black Widowcalled it cocky.

“You’re waytoo curious,” Hawkeye once called it during breakfast.

Ethanquickly swallowed down his toast.

“I was onlyasking,” he defended.

“Well youshouldn’t ask anything. Steve and Natasha’s private life is none of a student’sconcern.”

Ethansmiled triumphantly.

“So you doadmit they have a private life together?” he commented. Barton furrowed hisbrows. “Gotcha.”

“I have notconfirmed anything. All I’m saying is mind your business.”

Hawkeyegrabbed his empty mug and took it to the dishwasher. He then pointed hisforefinger at him. “I mean it, Ethan!”

Ethan noddedcoyly but smiled internally realizing his guts hadn’t lied to him. He knewthere was something going on between his two teachers.

It hadnothing to do with the fact that they spent all their time together, and evendelivered some classes together.

It hadnothing to do with the fact there was an organic closeness between them whichshowed in every interaction and non-interaction.

It wassomething deeper, something that went beyond obvious signs.

He oncewalked by the main gym and found them sparring. The eagerness to learn some newfighting techniques took over and he watched for a while.

Theysparred like two ballet dancers would move: at the same pace, and mirroringeach other’s motions. One always anticipated the other’s next move.

Despite the fact they were practicing combat skills, no anger, ruthlessness or evencompetition every transpired. On the contrary, quite a noticeable intimacy andgentleness which puzzled him.

Natasha puta stop to it as she reached for her shoulder and winced a little. Steve frownedwith concern and walked over to her. He pressed his palm on her painfulshoulder and stretched her arm softly.

“I’m okay,Steve. I guess I didn’t warm up enough, that’s all.”

“Or yousimply didn’t want to lose this one,” he answered with a smirk as he lifted herarm and stretched it in a different direction.

“Please,”she smiled. “You know I never lose.”

Steve letgo of her arm but his other hand remained on her shoulder.

“Maybe youshould have it checked out in the infirmary.”

Natashadove her eyes into his and simply smiled. It seemed it wasn’t the first timeshe had heard this.

“Sure,” shesaid.

Natashastepped out of the ring and made her way to the bathroom and Ethan couldn’thelp but notice that Steve’s eyes followed her until she went through the door,then lingered on a moment longer after she had disappeared before he finallylooked away and left the gym.

After this, Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about their interaction. He died to knowif there was a little fling between his two mentors. Curiosity was one thingof course, but part of him had made it an exciting challenge. If could indeedget confirmation that Capwidow was athing then that would be hot gossip to share with his friends.

He went toWilson next. Sam was undoubtedly the one he could get information from.

He jumpednext to him in the couch of the lounge.

“Do youknow you’re the coolest teacher?”

Wilsonprobed him. “Of course I know I am. And here’s some other flash news for you:I’m the strongest Avenger.”

“Strongerthan Thor,” Ethan asked.

“Thor isnow a Guardian of the galaxy. But even if he weren’t, he’d still come second.”

“Ok sosince we’re between cool guys here…,” the teenager swiftly changed topics. “I thought maybe youcould tell me what happened between Captain America and Black Widow.”

Sam laughed.

“You’reeven stupider than I think if you believe I’ll say something just because youcalled me cool.”

Ethanfeigned to pout. “Ah, shame. I mean Hawkeye trusted me enough to tell me they are an item.”

Sam gave hima reprobative look. “Nah. He wouldn’t tell you that.”

Ethansmiled. “He did. Just this morning.”

Sam put onhis best poker face.

“Why do youcare anyway?” he asked, confirming his theory in the process.

“I don’t. Ireally don’t,” he defended. “I was just wondering how it had happened. I mean, we’retalking about the Black Widow. How does one win her heart? Did Cap woo her — orcourt her, whichever it was called in the 40s.”

Wilsonsnorted. “First of all, you need to drop all those clichés…”

“About who?”Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“About both.”

Ethanrolled his eyes. “So you’re telling me he just asked her on a date and that wasit?”

Sam had asad smile. “Not that easy, kid. What Cap did, it’s out of our league.”

“What’d hedo?” the boy asked eagerly.

“He savedher soul,” Wilson said.

Ethanfrowned. “Like figuratively speaking?”

“Literallyspeaking,” he answered. “You know Natasha sacrificed herself to get the SoulStone.”

He nodded.

Everybodyknew. That’s why she wasn’t present for the final battle against Thanos. Butshe had come back, although the circumstances around her return had never beenmade public. She had simply reappeared a few weeks later during a mission.

Sam cleared his throat and looked blankly at the wall. “Cap had one last mission after Thanos: bringall the Stones back. At least that was the official mission. He did itdifferently. He went to Vormir and came back with Nat.”

Ethanstared numbly. “How?”, he asked.

“Only them twoknow. But it was supposed to be irreversible.” Sam snorted lightly. “I guessnothing is when Cap decides so. He fought to have her soul back, and he won.”

For thefirst time, Ethan was speechless. What had started as a search for hot gossiphad turned out to be so much more. He couldn’t believe that his mentor, Steve, went tothe ends of the Universe to save her.

The puzzle became complete and as he saw the bigger picture, he began tounderstand many things about the two heroes and the way they acted around eachother.

They shared a secret that bound them in the most intimate way.

Ethan suddenly felt the need to protect it, too. That invaluable secrethe had been lucky to be told was too precious to be spread.  

Captain America had stood square face to Thanos and his army with abroken shield.

But Steve Rogers had fought Death itself and come out victorious for thewoman he loved.

And his favorite Avenger grew even more worthy.

Defenseman Connor Murphy, the Blackhawks’ part-time locker-room DJ, discusses music and more in this week’s Chat Room (12/07/2019) [from the Chicago Sun Times]

Different music fills the Blackhawks’ dressing room on any given day. Sometimes, it’s Post Malone. Other times, it’s Drake. On rare occasions, a country song might be played.

There’s a lot of pressure when you’re the locker-room DJ, a role defenseman Connor Murphy gladly accepted at the beginning of the season. It’s on you to read the room’s mood and decide whether the team needs a mellow tune for background music or a rap track to get pumped up.

“There’s a lot I’ve learned from different DJs I’ve had on teams over the years,” said Murphy, one of several players in charge of the Hawks’ aux cord. “You’re not ever going to keep everyone happy, but you’ve got to be able to keep a majority of the guys happy because the majority will always trump the guy who’s going to complain about it.”

Overall, center Dylan Strome thinks Murphy is doing a pretty good job as the team’s part-time DJ.

“He always gets the guys going, and he usually knows what the guys are feeling,” Strome said. “At 9 a.m., he’s not bumping hard rock or something, so he’s got good taste.”

Murphy discussed music, shopping for his new apartment and why a meathead YouTuber is out to get him in this week’s Chat Room.

How did you become the designated locker-room DJ?

Connor Murphy: “Nobody else wanted to do it. . . . I started at it this year, but now other guys [Jonathan Toews and Zack Smith] are doing it more. So I’m not even the full-time DJ. It’s just that I started, and if I hear it’s a quiet room, I like to put something on just because no one likes it when it’s quiet. It’s awkward.’’

Who has the worst taste in music?

CM: “There are different arguments with that. [Andrew Shaw] might be up there because he’s comfortable putting his stuff on. He got booed a couple of times. I think he plays, like, ’80s and ’70s music, so obviously that’s not going to go over well with a lot of the young guys.”

What song is your guilty pleasure?

CM: “One of my favorites that would not be the coolest to admit, yeah, probably . . . the Kesha song ‘Praying.’ You know that one? That one gets the feels. Because there’s ones like that that are just deep and heartfelt. That would probably be the one I wouldn’t want playing around too many people.”

What did you do to pass the time when you were sidelined with your groin injury earlier this season?

CM: “I [moved] into an apartment during the summer, so decorating that — as bad as that sounds. Because it has to be done. . . . I had a box spring and mattress on the floor for a while, so I had to order a new bed and try to have a bit of taste in that stuff to fill the apartment. So I was doing a bit of that, some shopping, and I like trying out different restaurants in the city. There’s a lot in Chicago.”

What’s one item you bought for your apartment that you’re most proud of?

CM: “I have this portrait wall where you have a collage of pictures that are all in a grid. Like, you have nine pictures, so it’s three-three-three, and they’re all perfectly aligned. I’m very OCD, things need to be, like, lined up. And I couldn’t do it because it’s impossible to have frames lined up perfectly, so I had someone do it, but I love the picture wall.”

You’re a self-proclaimed foodie, so what are some of your favorite spots in the city?

CM: “Probably, like, Momotaro, Gibsons Italia. I like Tao. There’s a bunch I’m missing, but that’s what’s amazing: You can go to a different spot every night here. . . . I go to True Food [Kitchen] too much. Because I eat healthy, so it’s so easy to get, and Uber Eats makes it way too easy.”

When I was preparing to do this Q&A, I googled your name.

CM: “Oh, yeah, oh, yeah.”

Have you ever looked yourself up?

CM: “I haven’t, but that’s a hot topic. Everyone texts me about that, and it doesn’t change. It’s been like that for a few years. No one’s changed it. I think everyone realizes it’s funny, so they just leave it. A couple of years ago, [Connor Murphy, a YouTube star and fitness influencer,] commented on one of my Instagram pictures and told people to unfollow me, that I was a fake and that he was the real Connor Murphy. So he’s out to get me, I think. But it’s funny. I saw him on YouTube, and he’s kind of painful with some of the stuff he posts. But, yeah, it’s kind of interesting.”

Did you respond?

CM: “No, I just think it’s funny. Whatever. I get, like, people DM-ing me pictures of them posing in front of a mirror with their shirts off — like, guys. Because they think it’s him and for whatever reason. Or they’ll tag me in a picture, and it’ll be some guy standing with his shirt off in the mirror, flexing and being like, ‘New preworkout drink is working for me’ or whatever, and he’ll tag me in it. . . . So I have random guys tagging me in pictures of them with their shirts off. It’s weird.”

Do you comment back?

CM: “No, that would be bad if I did.”

Do you believe life is fair? It’s not always fair, but we’re not promised that it will be. Have you ever made a fan account on Instagram? No. Have you ever bought a youtuber’s merch? Yes. Name three people you want to meet in Heaven. I’d love to see my grandma and grandpa again. Do you believe in Heaven and Hell? Yes.

If so, do you believe you are going to Heaven? I pray that I will. What was the best time of your life? Childhood. Do you feel loved or appreciated for who you are? I know I’m loved. I don’t feel there’s anything I should be appreciated for. What could be the theme song of your life? I don’t know. Don’t you hate being all alone? (if applicable) I like spending some time alone. Sometimes I’m completely alone, other times I’m alone in my room but my family is home. I also like spending time with my family. Now as for figuratively, I do feel I’m alone in a lot of ways.  Do you believe rich people are worth more than those who are poor? Wow wtf kind of question is this.  When was the last time you read the Bible? I finished my first read-through earlier this month.  Do you have any embarrassing health issues? Yes. What are you longing for? A life where I’m in better health, happy, and doing something productive.  Who do you wish you could talk to? I miss Ty. What was the name of the college you went to? Nah. Were your college years the best years of your life? No, but I wouldn’t say they were the worst. There were rough times, but what I’d consider my worst years came after. Who was your first roommate? I’ve never had one. Who lived across the hall from you your first year of college? I didn’t live on campus. What was your favorite food they served in the Dining Commons? Do you consider the lunch ladies your friends? Have you ever had a janitorial job? No. Have you ever worked in food service? No. What was your first job? I’ve never had one. What year did you graduate high school? 2008. What’s something of yours that is missing right now? I can’t think of a physical thing that I’m missing. If there is, I’m not aware of it. Do you lose or misplace things a lot? No. Have you ever had a nasty rumor spread about you? No. Has anyone ever tried to ruin your reputation? No. What is your favorite flavor of frosting? Vanilla buttercream. What is your favorite type of donut? Glazed or maple. What is the name of your favorite bakery? I just get stuff like that from the bakery section at the grocery store. What is your current favorite Starbucks drink? White chocolate mocha with soy or a caramel macchiato with soy. I’ve been waiting for them to come out with more fall drinks besides icky pumpkin spice, but they’ve been lagging. Previous years they had other options that I really liked, such as the toasted graham latte. Have you ever been to the very first Starbucks in Seattle? Nope. I’ve never even been to Seattle. Or Washington. When was the last time you wrote someone a letter? Uhhhh. Do you write mostly in cursive or in print? Print. Have you ever called a teacher “mom” by mistake? Yes, in 2nd grade. I was so embarrassed.  Do you like the color of your eyes? Meh. I wish I had blue or green eyes. What color are your eyes? Brown. What was the name of the street you grew up on (if you don’t live there now) Nah. What was the name of the first dorm you lived in? Like I said, I never lived on campus. What was the name of your first imaginary friend? I don’t remember having any imaginary friends per se, but my cousins and I would make up other people when we’d play house or school.  Does it still feel like summer where you live? It most definitely does and has since May. What is today’s date? September 28, 2019.  Who’s birthday is today? One of my cousins.  What do you usually get for your birthday? Clothes. Who’s birthday is coming up next? Another one of my cousins next month. What is the last thing that came in the mail for you from Amazon? Phone case. Do you have a Paypal account? Yes. Have you ever had a brand or company reach out to you on Instagram? No. What is the last thing you purchased from Etsy? Some bracelets. Do you sell on Etsy? Nope.  What is a childhood dream that hasn’t stuck with you? I wanted to be a teacher when I was a kid. What is something you want to change about your life? My health. What is one thing you are looking forward to coming up? The drive I’m tagging along for later on today to drop off my brother. He’s going to one of my favorite cites for the weekend. Have you decorated for fall yet? Just a little. I have stuff for my room I need to get out, but I haven’t done that yet. I’ve been majorly slacking. I still have my Christmas decorations from last Christmas lmao. They’d only be put away for a shot time now... I don’t know if I’ll ever get around to it honestly. Do you type fast? Yeah. What color was your bedroom growing up? White. Who was your first favorite cartoon character? I don’t recall my first favorite cartoon character. I know my first favorite character in general was Barney, though. I was obsessed. Who is your favorite Disney princess? I don’t really have a favorite one.  Do you enjoy typing? I mean, yeah. Definitely over handwriting.  What bank do you use? Nah. What grocery store do you shop at the most? Walmart. What is your favorite fast food place? BK, Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Chick-Fil-A, Jack in the Box. I haven’t been much into fast food for the past few months, though.  Do you get sauce on your pizza? Uh, yeah? Ew, why would you not get sauce on your pizza. That’s an absolute must. Extra sauce for me. Do you like hamburgers? Meh. Do you like Coca Cola? Yeah. Do you like McDonald’s french fries? Yeah. What color is your hair? Naturally it’s dark brown, but I dye it red. Did you get your hair color from your mom, your dad, or a grandparent? My mom. What is your name (first and middle)? My first name is Stephanie. That’s all ya need to know. What are some other names your parents’ considered when naming you? Andrea. What would you have been named if you had been born the opposite gender? Jesse, I think. Do you prefer tea hot or cold? Hot. What is the best fall drink? Coffee (hot). That’s my favorite all year round. Who was the last person you know who had a baby? One of my cousins. …And what was the baby’s name? He’s named after his dad (my cousin). If you had a boy and a girl, what would they be named? I’m not having kids. Do you clean your room often? I keep it clean, it just gets a little cluttered. I need to go through and get rid of some stuff. Who taught you how to drive? No one has, I don’t drive. What color is your dresser? Brown. Do you have a hope chest? No. Do you have a favorite aunt, and if so, who is it? I have an aunt I’m really close with. Who is your favorite cousin? I was really close to a couple of my cousins, but when I distanced myself and became very recluse and withdrawn these past few years, that included from them as well. :/  Do you look like your mom? Yeah. What does your middle name rhyme with? What does your first name mean? “To be crowned” or something like that. Have you bought next year’s calendar yet? Nah. I don’t use calendars except for the one on my phone. The only reason I had one last year was because I won it in a giveaway.  What year did/will you turn 30? I turned 30 this July. Have you found your first gray/white hair yet? I’ve found a few. D: Is your hair long or short? Long. …and which way do you like it best? I like it long. What’s a food that you like, but it makes you feel sick? I just have a messed up stomach and bad indigestion, so. Do you have a problem with needles? Yes. Have you ever had to use an epi pen? No. If so, do you get a bruise when you use it? Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? Yes. If applicable, what color are your glasses? Black. Do you like the name Addison? Sure. Is there anything that you regret getting rid of? Yeah. I have a hard time getting rid of stuff. What have you been saving up to buy for a while? I haven’t been saving up to buy anything, but I do want to start on my Christmas shopping next month. I should have started saving up for that. This month was especially bad for some reason in regards to my spending. Does anything bother you about your past? I have a lot of regrets. Do you get bullied on facebook a lot? No, I never have. Why do you think people bully others? There’s a lot of reasons. Have you ever stood up to a bully? I’ve never been bullied. I was/am  the only bully to myself. Do you post on youtube regularly, if you have a channel? I don’t post at all. Which famous person do you think you could be friends with? I don’t know. If you could sit down and talk to anyone for an hour, who would it be? I wish I could do that with my grandma who passed away over 10 years ago. Do you own striped tights? No. Have you ever made your own Halloween costume out of clothes from ur closet? Yes, a few times. Do you own any antique furniture? I personally don’t. What year were you born? 1989. What is your favorite alcoholic beverage? I don’t drink anymore. Do you set goals for yourself? I should. Which country has the coolest flag? I like the American flag. I like Sweden’s flag’s colors. Do you like your country’s flag? Yeah. Which country do you live in? USA. What is your heritage? I really want to do one of those DNA kits to know for sure. When was the last time you received a hug? A few days ago. Do you have anyone who hugs you regularly? Yeah. Who gives the best hugs? My mom. Would you rather have the bottom bunk or top bunk? I’d have to use the bottom bunk. Window seat or aisle seat? I’ve only flown a total of 2 times and both times I sat in the middle. Have you ever thrown up on an airplane? No. Have you ever seen anyone else throw up on an airplane? No. Have you ever gotten sick in the car? Yes. What color pen do you write with the most? Black. Do you still wear clothes from the children’s section? I could. What were your favorite stores when you were in high school? Hot Topic was one of them. For some reason I don’t remember where else I shopped at for clothes.  Do you watch Bethany Mota on youtube? Nah. What color is your watch? I don’t have one. What color was the last pair of flip-flops you wore? I don’t wear flip flops. What is your favorite season? Fall and winter. Were you born in your favorite season? No, I was born in the summer. Blech. Have you eaten oatmeal lately? No, it’s been several months since I’ve hat oatmeal. I was eating it pretty regularly the last couple years, though. If you have bangs, do you cut them yourself? I trimmed them myself back when I had bangs. What color was the last cup you drank out of? Red. Do you enjoy graphic designing? I don’t do any graphic designing.  Do you enjoy editing photos? I like adding filters, ha. I used to dabble with Photoshop sometimes and made photo edits and gifs. What is your favorite app on your phone? I use YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, Spotify, Instagram, and Snapchat the most. Do you answer your phone every time it rings? Only if it’s my parents or brother. Have you ever called the wrong number? Yeah. Do you usually pick Truth or Dare? Truth. Was your first kiss magical? No, but it was all I knew at the time of course and I was pretty giddy about having had my first kiss, even though it was awkward af lol. Do you like kissing? Yes. Who do you want to be best friends with? My best friend is my mom and I’m perfectly happy with that. Do you like to decoupage things? I don’t do that. Do you have a printer? Yeah. How many tabs are open on your browser right now? 1 window, 5 tabs. Which Internet browser do you use? Chrome. Did you have a Myspace page back in the day? Yep. Do you miss Myspace bulletins? No. They were just posts like these are. Did you ever learn HTML? Just the very basics. Have you ever wanted to start a business? Nope.

Task 1: Character Questionnaire

A character questionnaire answered in-character by Cooper Newby.

What is your full name; if you have any nicknames, how did you get them?

Cooper James Newby. Uh, my grandfather’s name was James and apparently my Mom got Cooper from a book. Most people call me Coop and my friends in college called me CJ or Newby, kind of a frat thing. I prefer Coop mostly, or Cooper. If I hear Cooper James then I know I’m in trouble, that’s usually something my Mom uses on me.;

When were you born? Have you always lived in Hawkins? What would you call home?

I was born on the 18th January 1962 in Boston Massachusetts. At the age of five I moved to Portland, Maine and spent the rest of my childhood there. I visited Hawkins a lot as my grandparents and Uncle lived there. We’d often come to Hawkins for Christmas but my Uncle would sometimes make the drive up to Maine. He and my Mom were rather close and he helped out a lot. I don’t know what I’d call home, I guess I’m still trying to settle and find it.

Describe yourself; hair colour, eye colour?

Physical description? Dark brown hair, brown eyes, strong jawline, fluffy hair. Uh, this is a little weird, I don’t like talking about myself like this. Personality is also tricky, I guess ambitious, kind, trusting, cheeky. I try and be good, do what’s best and all that but I can’t help being me. I love to wind people up. If they’ve given me good reason to then I’ll find every way possible to irritate them. Most people don’t see that side if we’re just doing pleasantries.

Do you have any distinguishing facial features?

I have a scar in my eyebrow where I face planted the floor after falling out of a tree. It’s healed but if you look close enough you can see a sort of diagonal line in my eyebrow; I think it’s my right, your left. Besides from that, I guess I have prominent cheek bones and jaw lines. I don’t know, let’s move on, this whole topic is just unpleasant.

Who are your friends and family? Who are the people you are or wish you are closest to?

Okay, let’s start from the bottom. There’s me, my Mom is Pamela Newby. Then if we go to my Uncle Bob and my Grandma and Grandpa. I have a friend in Boston that I’ve been friends with all my life, a handful of good friends in Maine and some college pals. Hawkins, I don’t really know many people as the time I did spend here was with family. I’m, I mean I was definitely closest to my Uncle Bob, he was always on my side against my Mom and then I am fairly close to my Mom, even though we’re apart now. I would like to find my father, I’ve never asked for his name and sometimes I wonder if I should. I don’t know, it’s a question I’m not sure I want answering. Kinda like the movies, getting your hopes up for disappointment?

Where do you go when you’re angry?

Anywhere away from what made me angry. I’m a classic case of storming out of the house when angry. I need to just leave or escape whatever is causing that distress. I like knowing where my exits are, just walk away from it all. That usually helps or I get quite heated. I have a hot-head, quite a quick temper. I’m not afraid to get into a fight so it’s best I just go.

Biggest fear? Have you told this to anyone?

Bugs and dirt. I mean, I don’t mind getting muddy and being outdoors, if I am expecting it. There’s nothing worse that getting muddy when you don’t want to be. I wouldn’t say it’s a fear just something I actively avoid. I need to wash my hands if I feel unclean. Bugs I can’t stand, they’re disgusting and tiny and just in your face all the time. Spiders are the worst. My friends know I’m scared of ‘stupid shit’ as they like to put it. They’ve seen me freak out over a fly enough times. Like, dude, just get out of my grill; leave me in my own personal space.

Do you have any secrets?

Anyone who says they don’t are clearly lying. Everyone has secrets. What makes you think I’m going to tell you them? They’re called secrets for a reason, dummy.

Have you ever been in love? Or had a broken heart?

Um, yes. My Uncle always used to say it’s part of growing up.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, what are you doing?

Sunday? Movie day. That’s always been a movie day for me. My Mom used to take me when I was young. Or even like a jazz bar. It would be a day for entertainment. Theatre is also something I’ve loved watching as a kid. So yeah, I’m usually watching movies.

Do you have a strong childhood memory?

I would have to go with the Moon Landing. Damn that was the coolest shit ever for a seven year old, space nerd. I watched it on the television with my family and I was obsessed with rockets. We went to the local bar because we couldn’t afford a television. It was certainly something to witness. I’m envious, I’d love to be an astronaut. The radio communication between the astronauts and Huston were partly what sparked my interest in radio.

Whats your ideal night out? Where are you going? With who?

Oof, good question. Okay... ready? Going to see Queen in concert with my best-friend, Ellie. The one from Boston? Oh man that would be a trip. It’d have to be London too. Apparently nothing is as good as a band in their hometown. Plus, it’s London, man!

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Completing university and surviving three years of independent living. Besides from that it’d probably be the piano recital I did in seventh grade. I worked forever on that song.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Wife, kids, dog.....maybe a cat? I don’t know, it’d just be nice to settle down.

Most treasured possession?

My father’s pocket watch. It’s always been in the family and my mother gifted it to me when I was twelve. Kind of always kept it and it’s been through a lot. I’d be besides myself if I lost it.

What/who is it that you most dislike?

I really dislike idiocy in people. That’s what I like to call it anyway. When people mistreat others or disrespect others for no reason. If you want to be a bully, then I have no time for you. I’d rather call you an idiot and hope that you’re just uneducated enough to make stupid remarks and comments like that, rather than it be intentional. I just can’t tolerate it.

Who do I dislike? I can’t really say that I dislike anyone. Y’know, your general douchebags, people who are arrogant assholes, the usual. I guess I do have a bad taste in my mouth about Joyce Byers, I just- I don’t know. My Uncle was so devoted to her and then suddenly he’s just gone of a heart attack and I’m at his funeral. I just, something doesn’t feel right.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

How much time do you have? Haha! I run my mouth off a lot of times. I suppose my most used word would be ‘dude’ though in the right company I’m terrible for swearing. I swear far too much and often get told off by my mother for it. I just ramble too much. Sorry in advance!

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Ouch, tough question. It’s always the last question. I guess I’d like to give less of a damn about other people. Maybe without them I’d be on to bigger and better things. I’d take more risks, I’d care more about myself and my prospects. That damn Newby gene has me pinned.

5/21/21~5000 question survey 201-300 {CXVII}

This has been in the drafts for far too long lol

201. Put these creatures in order from what you would least like to be reincarnated as (1), to what you would most like to be reincarnated as (10) assuming reincarnation ended up existing AND you were given a choice: caterpillar, house dog, wild dog, vulture, male human, female human, oak tree, rock, manta ray, dolphin 

~female human, dolphin, male human, house dog, manta ray, wild dog, caterpillar, oak tree, vulture, rock

 202. What do you feel unworthy of? 

~sometimes i feel like i don’t deserve the love that people give me. but i definitely don’t dwell on that thought 

 203. Would you rather be remembered for having done something for humanity or being a really nice person? 

~doing something for humanity; that effects more people 

 204. Which do you value more: science or intuition? 

~honestly depends on what it is haha. i lead with my heart more than my brain sometimes 

 205. Your best friend and your significant other are in the hospital at the same time with the same ailment. Who do you visit first? 

~...... i hate questions where i have to choose one person over another, i can’t choose 

206. Does the universe revolve around human beings?

~lol nope we exist in it just like everything else. we took it upon ourselves to feel as though we are superior 

207. If you are no longer a virgin, do you wish you still were?

~no, that thought has never even crossed my mind

208. Who is your favorite poet of those who are alive right now?

~i rlly don’t know that many poets 

209. What is your favorite song from the 90's? 

~my heart will go on~ celine dion; stereotypical ik but like i love that song

 210. If you were in alphabet soup what letter would you be? 

~the r ofc:)

 211. Do you believe in fairies, ghosts, aliens, angels, dwarves, elves, etc.?

~i definitely believe in angels. as far as aliens and ghosts are concerned, i for the mots part believe in them but i am a little skeptical and someone can be a dwarfed person so i believe in that too, but the elves and fairies are a no go. 

212. What makes you want to be someone’s friend? 

~if we have similar interests, if they’re funny, kind, if they’re open minded and deep, and like to eat food a lot because i sure do

 213. Do you troll around the Internet harassing people anonymously for fun? 

~bahaha i have a life lol 

 214. Have you ever seen the movie A Man Who Fell to Earth?

~nope

 215. What is your favorite line from a movie? 

~”ughhh! as if”

216. What's your favorite video game? 

~i don’t rlly play video games lol

 217. Have you ever taken something that wasn't yours? 

~yeahhhhhh

 218. What is one phrase people say that irritates you?

~”we love that”

 219. You allow strangers to read your diary, but would you let your parents read it?

~lol never

220. Hot steamy bubble bath or quick in and out shower?

~depends on my mood. if i have something to do i’d obviously choose the shower lol

221. Are you allergic to anything? 

~nope

222. What is your favorite Terminator movie?

~i don’t rlly like any of them

 223. What is your favorite fast food?

~chick-fil-a!!!!

224. What would someone have to do to get you to never speak to him or her again?

~cheat on me or hurt someone i love

225. Would (or have) you ever whip someone or be whipped by someone in bed? 

~i have never and will never whip or be whipped in bed hahaha

 226. Have you ever said 'I hate everyone' and really meant it literally? 

~lol no

 227. Why do some people want to get more money than they could ever spend?

~greedyyyyyyy oooh. money is also an addiction i feel like; for some people they will never have enough 

 228. Have you ever won a carnival fish?

~:((((( no

229. Did it live more than a week? 

~^

 230. What's the best sounding accent a person can have? 

~i love a spanish accent or italian/bostson accents too 

231. What's the most boring thing you've ever read? 

~some book for school probably 

232. Do you prefer buttons or touch screens? 

~ig touch screens

233. Do you think there is a lot of similarity between the Harry Potter books and the Lord of the Rings series? 

~there rlly is but they’re worded differently because they were written in such different times. i enjoyed both but i love lotr. 

234. Would you consider yourself to be naive?

~in some regards, yes 

235. Which of your friends is most likely to go to jail?

~andrew 

236. What is the smallest amount of money that could be in a public toilet that would make you reach in and grab it?

~honestly if it was a $20 dollar bill

 237. Would you ever wear real fur?

~no

238. Arachnophobia or Eight Legged Freaks?

~huh?

239. What are your feelings about police officers? 

~not all of them are bad. Yes there are corrupt ones but can’t any career have corrupt employers? I would feel safer having them than not so I do not support the whole ACAB movement

 240. What is your favorite line from a song? 

~i have no idea lmao like my mind went totally blank

 241. Is fifty dollars a lot of money?

~to me yeah haha

242. Do you like the band Front 242 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Front_242)? 

~i’ve never heard of them

243. Would you rather have fame, money, or self-satisfaction? 

~self-satisfaction

244. What's your middle name? 

~alexandria

 245. What is the absolute limit, the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars?

~probs pee in a public place 

246. Are you good, evil or neutral?

~i’d say neutral lmao

 247. Should ebonics (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ebonics) be considered a language?~sure lol 

248. What color is your bedroom? 

~sage green

What color would you like it to be? 

~i want my next room to have just white walls 

249. When are you planning to move to a new home? 

~well i move into my college suite in august 

250. If you added up the cost of everything in the room with you, approximately what would it come out to be?

~well i’m not in my room right now so i have no idea

251. Do you blow your nose in public?

~i try to avoid it but you gotta do what you gotta do

252. Do you want to follow in your parent's footsteps?

~in some ways yes, but in other ways absolutely not

 253. What is the coolest web site you know of? 

~any online shopping place haha

254. Which cartoon would you most like to see turned into a movie? 

~most of them have already been turned into movies and they aren’t that great

255. Of the following, which word best describes you: enthusiastic, fair minded, generous, helpful 

~i’d say fair minded overall

256. Can you eat with chopsticks?

~no but i wish i could haha

257. Could you tell real money from counterfeit?

~most likely no

258. What do you think about school uniforms?

~i’m so glad i went to a public school and didn’t have to wear one. i love clothes and creating outfits so i’d hate to have to wear the same thing like every day

 259. What ancient civilization would you most like to visit?

~either egypt or greece

 260. What would make a great new Crayola color?

~do they have a sage green color?

261. If an art project is created with the intent of getting rich and famous, does that cast doubt over its significance as a work of art? 

~not necessarily. I feel like it’s hard to do anything artistic like that without a purpose or meaning

 262. If you became president, whom would you invite to sing at your inauguration? 

~ariana grande or sza 

 263. Who is the greatest philosopher of your country? 

~me lol 

264. If all the nations in the world are in debt, where did all the money go? 

~i feel like it went to borrowing and to funding the military

265. Is it as easy to make you happy now as it was when you were a child? 

~i feel like as a child it was easier 

 266. Who knows more...you, or your parents?

~depends on the topic tbh 

 267. What instrument would you like to be famous for playing? 

~electric guitar or piano

 268. Children fill its lungs completely with air. Adults breathe in a more shallow way, not filling their lungs completely. Why the change? 

~that is not a question for me lol

 269. Would you have sex with a stranger for one million dollars? 

~mmmmmm yeah tbh LMAO

270. Are you completely in control of your body? 

~i guess lol

 271. Which is more romantic: an expensive, glittering bouquet OR flowers that were hand picked as they grew beside the parkway? 

~i’d love either. sometimes money is the thought for someone but hand picked is so special to 

 272. Do you know yourself well enough to understand why you feel the way you do?

~in some instances, yes. but then sometimes i’ll feel a random emotion at times. there are times where i’ll just feel really sad and I don’t know why lol 

273. Which do you do more often: let movies, songs and books put your feelings into words for you or put your feelings into words by yourself? 

~both but the songs and books do it so beautifully 

274. Do you believe celebrities when they are endorsing a product? 

~usually not lol

 275. What kind of movies do you wish were made more often?

~i’m always down for a good horror movie 

 276. Does fashion matter to you? 

~yesss! that’s the field i want to enter 

277. Should politicians be held to the same legal standards as everyone else? 

~of course, if not more so 

 278. What do you get in trouble for the most? 

~my mom always says i do things last minute 

279. Should parents spank their kids? 

~you do what you wanna do as a parent

 280. What is your worst daily habit? 

~eating unhealthy foods lol

 281. If you had your choice which one TV show would you have canceled?

~pretty little liars because it’s literally knock off gossip girl

282. Do you like the taste of sweet or salt?

~definitely salt 

 283. Are you very precise about what words you use to describe your feelings and thoughts? 

~not always lol 

284. What do you feel the most guilty about? 

~sometimes i feel like i let people down because some of my decisions still depend on other people (ex: if my mom says no to something that someone asked me to do)

 285. Do you meditate?

~no

286. Can dreams be visions, or do you feel they are always random images?

~i think they can be visions but i feel that most of the time they are random images

 287. Do you try to write/say what you are feeling in a true and simple way?

~why are so many of these questions about this lmao um it depends if i have a grasp on my emotions in that moment 

288. The thief _______ that everyone steals. What verb would you fill in the blank with? 

~is jealous?

289. What's the most incredible experience you ever had?

~one night a year or so ago me and some friends just hung out but it felt like a movie. we were jamming to music with the windows down and just going crazy; what a time to be alive 

 290. Are you ever afraid to write/say/think how you feel?

~for sure however i have learned that that is very unhealthy so i usually tend to speak my mind 

 291. Do you write/say/think it anyway or become intimidated and try to avoid it?

~^

292. What is one thing you can't do?

~ride a bike 

293. Do you like movies starring Charleton Heston (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charleton_Heston)? 

~i’ve never seen any of his movies 

 294. Are you gentle? 

~i try to be 

 295. When do you feel the most raw and vulnerable? 

~when i’m alone and not talking to anyone 

296. Are you trying to find yourself?

~aren’t we all?

297. Where are you looking?

~in my passions and just getting to understand myself in general 

298. Are you sometimes afraid of being honest because you are afraid of hurting people's feelings?

~yep

299. What would make you a stronger person? 

~not lettings things that people say get to me and not caring so much of what others think of me 

 300. What book would you like to read sometime soon?

~there isn’t one in particular but i would like to start reading stephen king