#[ normally twice is a coincidence and three times is a pattern but.... ]

[afraidofchange]

Ilona (apparently) enjoys having her (almost always) taller partner lift her head by the chin to look up at them. That activates the immediate "🥺" face from her, I'm afraid.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Grocery Delivery

AO3

The knock at the door came as a surprise.

Opening it you found several grocery bags filled with items. Lifting the receipt from one of the bags you confirmed the address matched, and the order listed S. Riley. You know Simon’s last name was Riley. Would he be home soon? He typically messaged you a heads up to avoid, well you don’t know, maybe awkwardness? You never had men over for sexual reasons, but a group of friends for wine nights and games wasn’t out of the question.

Sending off a quick text you let Simon know his food arrived.

You got a message back almost immediately.

>Won’t be home for another week. Can you eat anything that will go bad?

Looking over everything as you unbagged it and placed it on the counter you were confused. Almost everything he bought was perishable, would need to be used in about a week and would feed you for at least a week and a half if you stretched it.

<Sure, I guess?

>Thanks.

The shop was almost bringing in a profit, a few more weeks of eating the left overs from the day and you would be able to start paying yourself more than the amount that covered rent, and car expenses.

You hadn’t been suspicious the first two times; shit happens and getting reassigned after being ready to go home was pretty normal for Simon.

But the third time? Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times? That’s a fucking pattern.

<Stop ordering food for me.

>Something wrong?

“Motherfucker you know something is wrong, you can’t just keep doing this!” You growled down at your phone.

>Watch me.

<If you put cameras up in our flat, I will smother you on your next leave.

>Better men than you have tried.

<*Lord of the Rings Meme* “I am no man.”

>No cameras but I could feel the anger radiating off my phone.

Pursing your lips you decided to leave him on read, let him suffer. Fucker.

Hours later at the shop a message pops through on your phone.

>You struggle to let people help you.

<Help is asked for, this is intrusive.

You set your phone down to greet a customer. When you returned there was one more message.

>You don’t have to earn help.

A hot spike of emotion ripped through you. Fighting back tears and nausea all at once you stepped into the cooler to cry. Sometimes having an observant man for a roommate fucking sucked.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[lambsouvlaki]

Rule of Threes

Jason and Bruce, after the Batarang incident. 1k words. TW: suicidal thoughts, guns, descriptions of wounds

Jason, his neck stitched up and bandaged, sat at the foot of his own grave. 

Gotham was merely cloudy today. The grass around him had grown thick, and was only a touch soggy from the night’s dew. The sun was rising, somewhere, but it wouldn’t pierce the band of smog that lined the horizon for another hour. The light had a dull brown tint to it. 

He sat with his legs crossed. The stone angel wept over the tombstone and the empty grave. How dramatic. It hadn’t been maintained over the last few months and mold crept up the sides of the stone.

Jason imagined a little bird in red and green sitting next to him. Blood splattered, dusty with the debris of a recent explosion.

Once was a fluke. Twice was a coincidence. It would take three to be a pattern.

He traced the bandage on his throat. 

Robin looked at him with a frown. He couldn’t speak. Of course he couldn’t, fatal smoke inhalation did that to a person. 

Jason swallowed through the pain in his own throat. He could still speak but he was trying not to to avoid agitating the wounds. 

He wasn’t even mad. That was the deal. He issued the ultimatum.

Him or the Joker. He didn’t… he didn’t really expect Bruce to go for it. He had no plans for a world with a dead Joker in it. He just wanted to see. And now he did. 

Jason snapped off a couple of grass stems. The green smeared on his glove. 

Joker was back in Arkham. Probably giggling up a storm by now, maybe he even treated himself to a whimsical murder or two. Batman was back on patrol. There was barely a hiccup in operations. At least this time there was no ambiguity. Bruce had chosen a thousand times before but now he had lost the shroud of plausible deniability. Jason ripped it away and made him dip his hands in the blood he was responsible for spilling.

Jason’s blood. Finally put to good use. It justified his existence for that round at least.

He ripped up a chunk of grass, roots and all. 

Why was he still alive? There was nothing left. 

The kid leaned against him. He could just about feel the warmth of a body freshly robbed of life. The kid let out an exasperated breath and nodded at Sheila’s grave, next door to his own. 

Jason hummed. “Sorry, kid, it's a nice idea but I’m fresh out of parents to die for.”

Robin whacked his arm. 

He smiled. His neck stung. 

Why the hell was he alive. 

“The problem with my surviving, you see, is that it lets Bruce off easy,” he said, letting the pain radiate up through his neck to his jaw and sinuses. “He gets to choose murder, but if the victim survives it doesn’t count. …Then again the dead are easy to ignore. Recontextualise into something more convenient.”

He left the grass in peace, and reached for his gun. He examined it in the grimy light. “Maybe it doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

Don’t, the kid’s single remaining eye seemed to say. 

“Why not? Everyone else got a turn.”

The kid just looked tired. The dirty tear tracks down his face were long dried. His right eye was swollen shut, the left was bloodshot. 

Jason’s finger tapped the trigger guard. He didn’t want to do it in front of the kid. 

Stupid. The kid had seen worse. Been through worse. What other escape was there from this game for three? He tapped the mouth of the barrel under his chin. 

A lot of sayings about threes, now that he thought about it. 

The rule of threes. 

Third time’s the charm. 

Three strikes and you’re out.

“Don’t.”

Three’s a crowd, he thought, lips flattening. The kid’s shoulders sagged.

“I’m just following your cue here, Bruce,” Jason said. His voice was raspy now he was pitching it for an audience beyond the imaginary. He turned his head, holding the gun loosely. 

Bruce stood behind him, dressed like a normal man, and standing several yards away. All the way up there with the living, even if he did look like something Death forgot to collect while doing the rounds. It was nice they had so much in common. 

He stepped closer. 

“Nu-uh.” Jason got up.  

The kid planted himself between them, staring up at Bruce defiantly. Aw. 

Bruce stopped. 

The kid was right in front of him, arms crossed. Jason looked at the horrible burned remains of his back. 

Three’s a crowd, indeed. 

“Jason–”

“We’ve been through this already. No take backs.”

Maybe this time it would stick.

Maybe it wouldn’t. 

Once a fluke, twice coincidence, thrice… 

Bruce looked between him and the gun. His expression was so damn aggravated it should have been funny. But Jason was tired. His neck hurt. He should still be dead, dammit. 

“Jason, listen to me,” Bruce started. 

“No.”

“Do you want me to beg?” he demanded. “It didn’t stop you last time.”

“Didn’t stop you either.”

His jaw ticked. All that tension, his dentist must weep over it. 

Bruce’s arm dropped. “What do you want?”

“This is old ground, Bruce, I don’t know why you’re expecting new information. You only get to keep the one of us.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Jason snorted and gave his neck a clap. His vision blacked out with pain for a second. When it came back Bruce was staring at him with his face frozen. Maybe it was horror. Maybe it was heartbreak. But probably not. 

The kid looked back at him, so tired.

He supposed this looked different from Bruce’s perspective: the grave was behind Jason, Robin beyond his grasp. A monster in the way. 

He was kidding himself. The grave was empty. 

But the kid wasn’t in front of him either. 

There were only two people in this graveyard. 

“He’s not worth it,” Bruce said quietly. 

“No.” Jason lowered the gun. “You’re not worth it.”

He threw it at Bruce’s feet. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked away.

[wokeupinmars]

Stacked Against You

Summary: You confront Spider-Man about his true identity, manila envelope style (literally).

masterlist

Goosebumps rise all over your body as the cold wind from the now-open window brushes past your exposed skin. You don’t need to look up, you know exactly who it is. “Sorry I’m late, some idiot tried to rob the pizza place on 13th Street.” The sound of his voice was deeper than normal, something he did when came to visit you like this.

“Romeo’s? They have some of the best pizza I’ve ever had. Are you hurt?” You can hear his footsteps approaching you, causing you to glance up at him. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ as he speaks. He sits beside you on the bed, “Tonight was really calm aside from the robbery attempt towards the end, I helped an old lady carry her groceries home, and she gave me one of those strawberry hard candies.” 

“The ones with the filling, because those are so good.” You can see him nod his masked head out of the corner of your eye. “How was your day?” 

You fall back onto the bed, “It was fine, I’ve been going back and forth about doing something.” He mirrors your actions and falls back too, “What’s got you so lost in your thoughts?” You sit upright, taking a deep breath before exhaling the word ‘you’. 

“What?” The eyes of his mask furrowed, further expressing his confusion. “You’re Peter Parker.” 

The eyes of his mask widened, “Wh-What?” You repeat yourself, “You’re Peter Parker.”

“No! Why would you even think that? Who even is that?” His voice was laced with panic as he sat up. You move off the bed and towards your desk, opening the drawer. Your back is turned to him when you say, “I’m glad you asked,” turning around with a manila envelope in hand, his name-his real name written in thick black marker. 

You start by pulling out old pages of a newspaper containing photos of Spider-Man, “Peter Parker is a close friend of mine, but more importantly, he’s a part-time photographer at the Daily Bugle. In fact, he’s their best photographer, because he’s the only person that manages to capture you on camera well,” 

“Oh, so you think I’m some photographer? I can assure you I’m not,” he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t think, I know. The angle these photos are taken can only be taken by one person, you. No normal person can take these. Do you honestly expect me to believe these weren’t taken with a self-timer? This one is literally a close-up of you scaling the side of a building,” you shove the pictures in his face. 

“And don’t even get me started on the videos of you fighting or all the times I’ve patched you up and Peter just so happened to have a bruise or scar in those exact spots?” you interrogated. 

“That’s just a coincidence,” he’s trying to reason with you. 

“No, Pete. Once is a chance, twice is a coincidence, and three or more times is a pattern. Then your voice-”

“What about my voice?” 

“You always try to make it deeper but it never holds, it always falters. You always end up actually sounding like yourself, always!” 

“I have no idea what yo-” 

You step closer to him, shaking your head, “No, none of that. There’s no use denying it…the evidence is stacked against you, Tiger.” 

Peter’s glad his mask is still on to hide his flustered face at the nickname. He lets out a nervous laugh and takes a deep breath before grabbing the back of his mask and pulling it up, revealing a bashful smile and fluffy hair. 

You can’t help but grin at him, “I knew it!” 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Mad at you for being a superhero? Absolutely not. Worried? Definitely. I mean, Pete, you are the only person I know who runs toward danger. I’ve always worried about you and your safety, even before I knew, back when you were just Peter.”  

He lets out a sigh of relief, “Really? I know this is a lot to take in, I don’t want you to think I didn’t trust you enough to tell you.” 

You stand between his legs and place your hands on his shoulders, “I know you trust me. You wouldn’t come to me when you get hurt if you didn’t.” 

One of his hands rests on the back of your thigh, and the other plays with the edge of your shirt. “Can I ask what really tipped you off?” 

You smile down at him before opening your mouth, “There were a few things I kept a close eye on like you running off in the direction a siren was coming from. The places you had bruises and scars, as you, would match up with the videos of where Spider-Man got hit in your latest fight or an area I helped you ice or stitch up. And then your moles, you have a million of them, it’s not hard to miss when I’m cleaning your bloodied chest. You’re also in skin-tight spandex, I recognized your frame.” 

“You know for being just a friend, you sure do pay a lot of attention to me, honey.” There’s a smugness to his voice. 

Your cheeks heat up at his words, focusing your gaze on the wall behind him, “I’m just an observant person.”

“Uh-uh, that might be true but that’s not just the case now is it?” His gloved hand slips under your shirt, thumb drawing circles against your skin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Peter’s smirk grows, “I think you do, baby. I think you-” his voice falls into a whisper “- I think you love me.” You turn your head to meet his eyes and exclaim “What!” 

“You love me, you’re in love with me.” His confidence is beyond visible. 

“I am? That’s quite the accusation, I’d ask to see your evidence but I’m almost certain you don’t have any.” You were trying to hold your own but it felt like he could see right through you. 

“Well I don’t exactly have the same kind of proof as you but I know I’m right.”  You give him a skeptical look, “Oh, do tell.” 

He starts running the hand he has on the back of your thigh up and down. “You do that,” he says. 

“What do you mean?” There’s a wicked look on his face, “Your heart starts racing when I touch you.” It was true, your heart was pounding against your ribs, but there was no way he could know that…right?

It’s as if he could read your mind because he continues speaking, “When I got bit, I didn’t just become super strong, my sense heightened. Including my hearing, especially my hearing. And right now, and every other time I touch you, your heart races.” 

You didn’t know the full extent of his powers, you knew he had super strength and a sixth sense but you felt dumb not even considering the fact he could have super hearing. “So the time you held my hand-”

“When we were crossing the street and your heart skipped a beat and you held your breath for like twenty seconds, yeah I heard that.”

“Oh, my god.” Your cheeks were now burning. 

“You also always have your hands on me, not that I mind, I really like it.” You open your mouth to contest his statement but he cuts you off before you have the opportunity, “Before you deny it, I would like to point out you’ve been stroking my cheek this entire time.” You were, hadn’t even realized you were doing it, you begin to pull your hand away from his face when he leans into your touch. 

He pulls you closer, causing you to straddle his lap. “I love you. I know you love me too, you can lie to my face but your heart will give you up every time.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, he loves you, and hearing him say that makes you melt. 

“I love you, I have for a while now,” you whisper against his neck. “I know you have, honey,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Do you really listen to my heartbeat?” You asked, you had to know, the idea made your heart swell, and you wanted it to be real. “Of course, I do. It’s my favorite sound, I love hearing that I have the same effect on you that you have on me.” 

“Oh, Peter, you’re truly something else.… gimme me a kiss, please?” You close your eyes and pucker your lips waiting for his lips to meet yours. A warm feeling takes over when you feel his lips press into you. The kiss starts off delicate, the both of you were so giddy that you’re grinning against each other. The giddiness doesn’t go away but minimizes when your eagerness takes over, turning the kiss from sweet and gentle to heated and a bit sloppy with Peter’s tongue slipping into your mouth when you let out a small gasp after he gives your ass a squeeze. Your fingers work their way through his hair, tugging at it slightly, smiling when he groans into your moan. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, “You’ll be the death of me, honey.” 

[arrowfortea]

if i had a nickel for every time a dragon age character was forced to reckon with a new name and identity due to being put to purpose as someone's sword arm, while referred to as their canine pet, i'd share those nickels with you. but. you know it'd be two and how that isn't a lot :(

but you're right, it IS weird that it's happened twice due to him volunteering himself as a way of protecting his sole maternal and/or sisterly figure and subsequently getting titans' blood inserted into his body. and we could get like, a gumball in '96 with these, lemme get my keys

maybe that's why he detests the qun (expressing hatred of the forced sense of choicelessness/"purpose" and expressly comparing it to slavery). total bummer also that he leverages arlathan's loss to serve his discriminatory arguments while being combative with the dalish (and expressing dislike of their ""sense of superiority"") total bummer his romance climaxes with him (temporarily-ish) ditching the MC when it forces him to revisit his past self and he can't handle it. anyway romo'd fenris has a red ribbon around his right wrist [pulls out colour wheel] so if the green anchor is on inky's LEFT hand-

yes i'm digging through the couch cushions of logic because we need to find a THIRD coin somewhere!!! then we could mimic the pattern that shows up across on fenris' markings!! the three dots on his forehead! which show up symmetrically on his elbows, knees etc. like draw his lyrium markings - oh you did that already? can i see?

cool! i found my keys and i'm gripping them with a normal amount of force, let's go - the delorean is over there. kinder economy here we come haha anyway i meant to tell you how the demon fenris can be corrupted by in the fade is the pride demon because he's tempted by the power to "rival" his oppressors and the pride demon expresses to fenris how he bears their marks on his body and soul similar to what MYTHAL says to him "the chains are off but are you truly free" anyway vallaslin geas something something

anyway this was a trick, i hate gum and i don't know anything about american currencies. but you and me are gonna go back and learn all about the first build of da4 right now because if this is a coincidence i'm gonna FLIP out but solas' agents AREN'T IN VEILGUARD and i need you to drive actually because my hands won't stop shaking no i'm good this is fine i'm fine

[brionysea]

possessiongate is so perfect. it explains so much. mike being grabbed by that vine right after the mind flayer leaves will and as el is closing the gate... how do people not see it? it's such an in your face sequence. there is no reason for them to have included mike being grabbed by the leg, and especially in that order, if he was fine and okay right after. s2 did not get the happy ending. something had to happened

when has a sudden and dramatic shift in one's behavior and personality ever meant something not related to the supernatural? it is every single time in this show!! mike shouldn't be an exception. like.. there's a reason why his pov is gone for TWO whole seasons!! it isn't just to suddenly reveal he's gay and that's it - that's why he was weird. it's a supernatural horror coming of age at the end of day, as you said perfectly in your summary of the theory. it has to be tied into the actual horror. it has to be. that's just how an allegory works.

i wish more people talked about this theory still! :(

thank you!!! yeah honestly that whole sequence in the tunnels is so suspicious, especially because it followed dustin thinking something happened to HIM in the tunnels and then it was just... nothing. there's another one after as well where mike and lucas think the demodogs are about to jump on steve and dustin, but nothing happened, they just ran past to get to el and hopper

so they keep pushing the idea that it's dangerous to go into the tunnels, and JOYCE said that it was dangerous for the boys (mike and will) to go into the tunnels so it obviously IS dangerous because joyce byers is literally NEVER WRONG, and yet... nothing happens when mike ignores joyce's warning and eventually goes down there? no consequences? hopper almost died, will was in a lot of pain from the hive mind connection when the hawkins lab people burned the tunnels, but the rest of the kids get off scot free and nothing of importance happened and it wasn't a trap? one dustin fakeout, one mike fakeout, another dustin and steve fakeout? and NONE OF THEM had lasting consequences??????? no external or internal change occurred????

the rule of 3s is pretty important in writing. once is incident, twice is coincidence, thrice is a pattern. stranger things likes its 3s, there are so many trios, and there was the whole 'it's a three-man job, not two' thing in written dialogue. so we know the pattern of 3s is important, it's too deliberate and repetitive not to be; SOMETHING happened, SOME sort of internal change must have occurred after that suspicious sequence (since no one died so it can't be an external change) - and who's the character who changed during the s2 epilogue (pushing will to dance with a girl, pouting about it, then dancing with/kissing el while a stalker song masquerading as romance played) and was acting different as soon as s3 started? who was the character who clearly underwent some sort of internal change in between the two seasons about people being flayed/possessed, even if we don't get to intimately SEE the cause of that change, as if the problem wasn't actually solved when they got will back?

there's also the fact that even if someone, FOR SOME REASON, wanted to reduce mike to his sexuality, queerness is often depicted as not a simple thing in horror. a lot of things aren't, but with the history of queer censorship... stranger things wouldn't be the first to use their imagination to make a seemingly mundane topic like 'thinking you need to act straight until it makes your queerness go away and you can finally be normal' fit better into the genre. and that's ON TOP OF the show-specific patterns that you pointed out!

[rarepears]

This is a weird mix of a drabble and just notes/outlines of the idea. Might clean it up later and post to AO3, might not.

Au idea: If MDZS considered more about the impact of war on bodies and minds ft. Jiang Wanyi...

***

Jiang Cheng hated war. There seemed to never be enough time to take a minute to breath and rest after a battle before the next strategy meeting or the next logistic reviews. His robes were always caked with grime and blood, his sword in need another round of cleaning and maintenance, but there was only just enough time to scarf down food and water while another cultivator relied updates of casualty numbers and news of more fighting between the Nie and Jin or the Lan and Wei Wuxian again.

But Jiang Cheng found that he hated the aftermath of the war even more. He was prepared to be overwhelmed by the process of rebuilding Lotus Pier; he was aware of the challenges that would befall on the nearly destroyed Jiang sect, from the lack of financial resources to the manpower and near decimated alliances with the (former) subsidiary Jiang sects. He knew that he had no clue what he was doing, but with his sister by his side again and Wei Wuxian whose mind moved faster than it had any right to, he thought he could handle anything in his way-

But Jiang Cheng never realized to consider this.

[Flashback to Jiang Cheng not thinking much as he powerwalks through the rebuilding efforts and one of the taverns is full of cultivators who fought in the Sunshot Campaign drinking away in broad daylight. It's not even noon yet! This is the 5th time this week that Jiang Cheng caught them slacking away for some drink.

Jiang Cheng still recalls how powerful and serious these men were in battle. They didn't shy away from the fighting, unlike Jin disciples. But here? In peacetime, when everything was finally starting to become normal again, NOW they decide to throw up their self-disciple and become wasteful drunks despite seeing all the hands that were needed for the rebuilding efforts? Jiang Cheng scowled and gave them all a piece of his mind, but he still found them emptying yet another bottle of the most potent rice wine the next day, only in another tavern that was located in a more quiet corner of the town.

Jiang Cheng was anything but pleased to find out that this particular hidden hole in the way happened to also be Wei Wuxian's favorite place to hide away for drinks as well. The thought about the other drunkards fled his mind as he immediately beset upon his brother and haul his ass back hom for jie to give him a stern talking to for abandoning his duties as First Disciple.

But like with the other cultivators whose personalities did a 180 since the end of the war, Wei Wuxian still continued sneaking out for more wine.

Once was an outlier, twice was a coincidence.

Then Jiang Yanli, looking for Wei Wuxian once again, found far too many empty wine bottles in Wei Wuxian's room instead of the man himself.

Evidently this drinking habit was a pattern.

Jiang Cheng scowled.]

Yunmeng Jiang Sect was far worse than he ever expected it to be. It was a clan full of crippled men and women still dealing with the lingering aftereffects of battle wounds. He was up to his neck drowning in the cost of healers and medicine, but he and his pride refused to kick out the honorable men and women who fought to avenge his parents and other fallen members of the Jiang sect. Even if they were rogue cultivators prior to the war, fighting along side them during the three long years of battles installed a sense of comrady that Jiang Cheng acknowleged.

And it wasn't like his meager sect could afford to turn away anyone willing to join it.

But he couldn't very well expect a man missing a leg, from thigh down, to help with roofing or hammering away at wooden boards. A man still haunted by warfare noises, jumping at any and all sounds of screaming, couldn't be trusted to teach classes anymore than a blinded scholar could make sense of the remaining records abandoned by the Wens who occupied Yunmeng during the Sunshot Campaign. Still, this was better than the ones who were permanently paralyzed from the neck down or the woman who received a faceful of metal shards to the face.

(Jiang Cheng wondered if death would be better than continuing to live, unable to see, hear, or smell.)

Jiang Cheng had no clue how Jiang Yanli was able to organize the logistics of it all, arranging schedules that would accommodate people's new bodies and still allow the sect to slowly but surely remerged from the ashes with newly constructed building and new recruits joining their sect. A quarter of the sect was made up of people who's only contribution was making useless noises of complaints about how their beds were too soft or making up fanciful tales of war for children to listen with great rapture. Otherwise they were just useless mouths to keep feeding and endless bags of medicine to continue stuffing.

Jiang Cheng had never thought to factor into his plans of how surviving war would be impacted by having half the members of his sect suffering from life-altering battle injuries. Nearly all of them complained of aching scars on a rainy day and Jiang Yanli was on the constant lookout to watch for people stealing extra pain-relief medication than was prescribed.

At least the sect's consumption of the meat being at an all time low was helping save many coins from the tiny budget Jiang Cheng was working with. Who would had thought that being part of the special forces that got special viewing of Wen Ruohan's torture chambers would leave such a lifelong souvenir?

Jiang Cheng could only hope that, with a third of the sect being vegetarian, now no longer able to consume meat without puking or having flashbacks to the Wen's Fire Palace, mealtimes wouldn't continue backsliding into something that further resembled the Gusu Lan's bland vegetarian fare.

---

A pair of Nie disciples served as messengers to the Jiang Sect. They were ferrying some contracts that were to renew the Jiang-Nie trade routes.

Jiang Cheng noticed that one of the disciple had two swords on him while the other had none.

The former glared at Jiang Cheng for daring to ask about it and looked ready to storm out of the receiving room, contracts be damned. The latter shrunk away in shame and embarrassment but mumbled out that his martial brother was holding onto his sword for his own good. That since the war, he was having Bad Thoughts and not having a sword on him was improving things.

Jiang Cheng's mind couldn't help but recall the Jiang disciple he saw committing suicide-

[Flashback 2: Jiang Cheng stumbling upon a Jiang disciple - one of the few who survived the burning of Lotus Pier - by the riverbank, face looking eerily calm as thought he was at peace and not freezing with his legs, up to his knees, submerged in cold water.

Jiang Cheng too late to stop the blade smoothly, swiftly cutting into the long pale neck.

Jiang Cheng didn't tell anyone what he saw. Instead, he claimed that the Jiang disciple had been hiding life-threatening injuries - a slow acting but fatal poison - and succumbed to it last night.

The Jiang disciple, having served the sect for 20 some odd years, deserved respect, no matter the ending.]

And suddenly Jiang Cheng's understanding of Wei Wuxian's refusal to touch his blade again takes on a different meaning. Jiang Cheng didn't want to admit it. Wei Wuxian was supposed to be infallible, undefeatable! He could always be relied upon to show Jiang Cheng up, fixing up his messes with not a speck of effort or thought!

But his drinking, his limping gait when he thought no one was watching, and the flinches when the smell of the kitchen cooking meat wafted through courtyard and open windows into the receiving room all pointed to the same conclusion:

The war had touched Wei Wuxian more than Jiang Cheng realized.

And he was going to lose his brother to a self-inflicted death if he did nothing about it.

[dayntee]

[Fic] That Year at Arlathan University - Ch. 6: It’s in the Details

As usual, the fic is available to read on AO3 here:

Or below the cut.

Have a little fluff before your weekend!

Summary:

In which Harding spots a pattern, and Ellana has to deal with it.

Another arrow thudded into the dead center of the target and Ellana dropped her stance to address her students.

“Remember, don’t be afraid to pull your draw up to your face. Your hand should be far enough back for a gentle rest against your cheek and, so long as your form is good, there’s nothing to worry about!”

Some of the newer freshmen glanced back and forth to one another with nervousness and Ellana signed.

“Bellara, would you care to demonstrate?”

“Yes, hahren!” The younger Dalish women hopped forward, her complexly designed compound bow in hand, and began to take position.

In most other settings including classes, Ellana had observed Bellara as an excitable, awkward, and somewhat unsure individual. Even when she was fully knowledgeable on a topic, there was a stutter or shake in her voice when she answered questions or, Maker forbid, have to present before classmates.

However, there was a whole transformation when she stepped foot on the archery range. If there was one thing the girl had a natural talent for, it was having a bow in her hand. There was a swell of kindred pride in Ellana’s heart; she recognized all the same tendencies and habits she herself had from years of ritual and recreational hunting, an activity virtually every Dalish elf committed an extensive amount of time to in their youth.

Here, where the targets were static, still, and always a predictable distance, the effort was practically child’s play.

Bellara took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment in a small, centering meditation. Then, maybe even faster than Ellana could manage herself, she let loose three arrows in rapid succession, landing them in a triangle pattern around the single shot already at home in the target. Their locations were too precise for it to have been a coincidence; Bellara was purposefully avoiding having the arrows damage each other.

“Excellent form. Alright everyone, line up at one of the targets. If you have questions, you can ask myself, Harding, or perhaps Ms. Lutare if she doesn’t mind,” the young woman nodded enthusiastically in response to the gentle request and dispersed among her teammates to offer advice, tips, or help adjust their form.

“You’re pretty good at the whole teaching thing, Ellana,” Harding elbowed her in the ribs, looking up with a smile. “I hope your culture classes are going just as well as your archery lessons,”

Ellana smiled half-heartedly before responding. “If I’m being honest, those are a lot more difficult. Between having no help and three times as many students, I’m worried I can’t give everyone the attention they need.”

She paused to help a student adjust the positioning of their legs.

“Classes are way busier and more full than they’ve ever been,” Harding sighed. “So don’t worry about it too much, you’re not the only one. Hey, Mr. Veret, lift your arm a little more!” The Orlesian boy jumped a little before making an adjustment and looked back for approval. “There ya go,”

“Are you saying this isn’t normal?” Ellana glanced down, and Harding shook her head.

“I haven’t run like… numbers or anything, but it really does feel at least twice as busy as last year. I should ask Cassandra about it,” Ellana tilted her head inquisitively at the name. “Oh, she’s in admissions. You’ll know her if you see her, there’s not a staff member here who wouldn’t wither under her stare,” Harding immediately added. “She’s nicer than she seems, though!”

“I’m sure. I should probably get to know more of the other staff, but it’s just been so busy. Aside from you and Solas, I feel like I don’t know anybody here,”

“Been spending a lot of time with our resident grump I’ve heard,” Harding grinned and elbowed her friend in the ribs again. “You know, you’re kinda cute together.”

“It’s not like that!” Ellana felt her face flush a little. “He has been a lot nicer though. I was worried it was going to be a serious problem, but we do actually have quite a lot in common. When he isn’t insulting my heritage, that is,” her voice grew a little flat and frustrated at the end.

Harding’s face tightened. “Blackwall wasn’t kidding about backup, you know. Sometimes that jerk needs some humbling,”

“No! No, I actually do understand his perspective. We’ve seen evidence that a lot of our history has just been wrong for generations,” Ellana swept her eyes over her row of students, checking in on their progress. At least some of them were hitting the target, she’d take that as win. “But he does seem to have genuine interest in some of the more modern traditions we’ve developed. It’s really interesting to trace back their source and theorize when and why they changed,”

Harding hummed thoughtfully, her grin growing. “You know, I see it now. He gets super focused when he’s interested. He wants to learn everything when his attention is drawn. Like their favorite tea,”

Ellana started. “What?”

“Oh, he heard we knew each other, and asked me if you liked coffee. I told him about that tea, the one you used to mix back in college,” Harding paused to praise another student’s excellent shot. “I couldn’t remember the name, but I could describe the ingredients and that seemed to be enough. Did he bring you some?”

Ellana quieted for a moment, and Harding stared.

“It’s called dawngreet tea,”

“Ellana,” Harding knew when she was dodging an answer.

“…Every Monday, actually,”

“OOH, girl! When’s the wedding?”

Ellana gave Harding a good shove, blush rising to her ears, as her friend continued to giggle at her expense. She tried to compose herself as several students, Bellara included, turned to watch their exchange.

“Keep going everyone, you’re doing great!” No one was convinced and Ellana could see the students whispering among each other. Some were grinning, she caught a couple pointing.

“I think ya’ll might just be the biggest hot gossip this semester,”

“Oh, stop it,”

“You know, just don’t spill your tea,”

“Lace!”

*****

After practice and parting ways with Harding and her students, Ellana made her way to the locker rooms to shower and walk home. She slung her bow quiver and sports bag over her shoulder, and she mulled over the earlier conversation with her friend.

‘Surely she’s just teasing me,’ the air was beginning to grow crisp in the evenings, and she shivered a bit as her body began to cool down. ‘He’s just trying to make up for being such a dick that first week, right?’

She grabbed a towel on the way into the women’s locker room, dropped her bags on an empty bench, and began to strip down. It was a generally quiet evening; aside from the archery team, Wednesdays were just a lower traffic day in the gym, which she appreciated. It was part of why she took advantage of the facilities.

Plus, the pressure in her apartment sucked.

Piling her hair up with a clip, she occupied a shower and let the water warm. As she began to enjoy the growing steam and the heat against her stretched muscles, her mind began to wander over the interactions she’d had with Solas over the past few weeks.

Sure, there was the weekly coffee and tea routine. That was a kind gesture, and he had mentioned he stopped by a café every Monday anyway, and adding a tea to his order was no trouble. Just a favor, surely.

Then there were the intellectual talks. They made a lot of time to talk, actually. Walks between classes, lunch twice a week, the odd break where they ran into each other in their shared office. He often had some new article, usually from the news or a magazine, about some Dalish cultural event or tradition, and he wasn’t shy about asking her first-hand experiences with them. She’d been happy to oblige, and in exchange, he was helping her with her Elvehn.

He didn’t need to tease her so much though.

She slowed in her shower, arm stretched up as she scrubbed, and stared into space as if she was seeing something for the first time.

He teased her a lot, now that she thought about it. Little jabs about her ‘awful hot leaf water,’ an off-handed observation in the form of a compliment that seemed intended to disarm her about a Dalish garment or accessory she was wearing that day, a little mockery when her Elvehn pronunciation or grammar was off, always accompanied with the smallest smile.

‘He smiles mostly with his eyes,’ she thought, her own smile unconsciously stretching across her lips. ‘It’s a nice smile.’

The last thought stopped her mid-movement. No. Ugh, yes. She was developing a crush.

“Aw, fuck,”

*****

Notes:

Hahren - elven honorific; elder one, respected elder (as in older than, not necessarily elderly)

I struggled a bit with where to go from here exactly, so to buy some time while connecting dots, have some day in the life and gentle fluff.

I think I got what I needed though.

How ya’ll liking it? Any characters from DAI or DAV I haven’t introduced yet you really want to see? Let me know; I have notes on most characters and where they fit in this AU, but it’d be nice to know who you want to see!

[lady-ofmidnight]

The Barbie&Tumblr&Alexa conspiracy

So earlier this week, I finally got around to sitting on my couch with popcorn and my glasses (I can't see 5 feet in front of me without them) to watch the Barbie movie. On the tv.

The very next day, my tumblr dashboard was flooded with cat memes, pictures of fancy tea sets to drool over, batfam memes&art, and Barbie references. Everything except the Barbie stuff was normal. Has anyone ever heard the saying, 'Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern'? Yeah. I wrote it off as a coincidence the first day. And the second day. Plus, I was happy that I understood the 'Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House' reference! But then I started getting suspicious about the fact that I only started seeing an uptick in Barbie content after I saw the Barbie movie.

So that begs the question. If I only use tumblr on my phone, how does my phone know that I watched the Barbie movie on the TV. The TV that isn't connected to my phone. (Or any other device)

Are the devices conspiring with Alexa? Or is it just a weird coincidence...

[floatiessmx]

and second part lemme be honest other than the ethan slater the other shit have all been debunked

Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern, sorry but as a long term Ariana fan this has been going on for WAY too long now it’s not normal and excusable I’m not gonna lie the first few times it happened I ignored it but it JUST KEEPS HAPPENING surely there’s something wrong and no I’m not siding with the shitty men either any non biased fan would agree and I have seen them call her out on TikTok

genuinely who else

cause big sean all parties denied that shit and don’t say jhene cause she stole his ass first😭

pete his gf broke up with him beforehand

mac he was single so unless im missing something people are just waffling

i will say she doesn’t waste no time with them but actually being a homewrecker its more speculation than anything

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Boogeyman: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: fluff, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

“Excuse me?” you gasp.

Your entire team leaves the cabin to go check out the body in the woods, leaving behind some officers to watch the house. It’s still too dark to see any kind of energy out here, but with a flashlight, you’re hoping it will help you in some way to determine who might have done this. As soon as you get there, you don’t feel Fennigan’s spirit anywhere. There is nothing lingering behind, no evidence to comb through, and absolutely nothing that suggested Fennigan was responsible for the murders.

He’s been covered by leaves to hide him from anyone that walks by--not that anyone would. This part of the woods have been closed off as well as hundreds of yards from any known trail. Whoever did this knew he wouldn’t be found out here… that is, if someone did do this. You take out your own flashlight and shine it all around the woods as if there is someone watching your every move. However when you point the flashlight at Fennigan, you see the same yellow energy as you did twice before.

This can’t be a coincidence.

“Gideon, I’m seeing the same yellow energy around the body. I’ve now seen it three times. It’s turned into a pattern now,” you report.

“At first blush, it looks like Joseph Fennigan died of natural causes,” Mack says.

“His heart probably gave out while he was setting this,” Spencer states.

You point the flashlight to what he was referring to and see a bear’s trap underneath his body.

“Yeah karma's a bitch. Those coyotes were on and on for all week before the second and third murders ever happened.”

“This area's off a traveled path--it's a wonder anyone discovered him at all.”

“Is it? Those leaves didn't cover him up by themselves,” Mack says.

“He’s right,” you agree. “The deputy may not have been the first that found him.”

“Our only suspect’s been cleared.”

“Now we’re back to square one.”

“No,” Gideon shakes his head. “If Fennigan's been dead all this time, who's living in his house? Let's go.”

He doesn’t make a point about that, so you head back to the house with the rest of your team. You have to comb this entire house and strip all the evidence away so you can figure out who did this to Fennigan and these kids.

You don’t care how long it takes, even if it takes all night… which it did. Before you knew it, the sun was up and shining, putting the entire house in light. You have no need to use the flashlights anymore, but you do need a cup of coffee. JJ offered to make a run, so you’re waiting on her to get back.

In the meantime, you and Spencer are just sitting in the living room talking about the case and… other things. He’s reading some of Fennigan’s journals while you’re watching him read.

“Were you really scared last night?” you ask and lean back on the chair you’re sitting on.

“Not after that kiss,” he blushes.

“There is more where that came from,” you grin,

You peck his lips twice right before Derek walks in.

“Here's a question: if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound if there's nobody there to hear it?” Spencer asks.

“What the hell are you two reading over there?”

“Just thinking.”

“The unsub found Fennigan's corpse in a lightly traveled part of the woods and no one else knew. So he was able to use his house and no one was the wiser.”

“That is, if Fennigan wasn’t murdered and placed there,” you speculate.

“You think our unsub killed Fennigan?”

“I’m just saying don’t go and assume.”

“Actually I was referring to Fennigan's wife,” Spencer says, continuing as if there wasn’t a whole other conversation going on.

“What are you talking about?”

“She was rumoured missing, perhaps killed almost fifty years ago. When in actuality, she left Fennigan for another man. He writes about it in his journals. How he would look out the window on a daily basis to see if she would come home but she never did. He never recovered and he ended up turning into a recluse that people in town misunderstood.”

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t connect with his spirit. He’d already moved on.”

“I found something,” Gideon interrupts. You, Derek, and Spencer get up and follow the older man into the kitchen. There are a ton of eaten food containers everywhere on the kitchen island. “These were delivered by the church to every elder's doorstep. Each one dated after Fennigan died.”

“So, the unsub ate everything,” Derek says before noticing there is something that’s not eaten on every plate. “Almost everything. Unopened bowls of cream spinach thrown into the trash. Each one wrapped with duct tape. One with each tray. So, we're looking for a guy who really really hates spinach.”

“Not necessarily,” you state. “If I hated a certain food, I’d just throw it away. However, because these containers are duct taped shut, our unsub might have an allergy to whatever is in there. He duct tapes it to prevent himself from accidentally eating it.”

“Take the prints and have Garcia run them for a match,” Gideon orders. His phone rings and he checks to see who is calling. “Hotch.”

At the mention of the other older agent, your heart sinks. You suddenly remember Elle and what she might be going through. It brings you back to the conversation you had with her in her hotel room.

“It's about Elle, isn't it?” Spencer asks.

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugs.

“You know I talked to her in Ohio.”

“Y/L/N, we all talked to her.”

“No, I went to her hotel room one night. She was drinking…”

“She almost died. I'd be drinking too.”

“Coffee’s here,” JJ announces.

Well, it looks like this conversation is over for now. You’ll just have to bring it up later. You take your coffee and thank her before heading into the living room with her, Derek, and Spencer. The officers in the kitchen take the trays and send them over to Penelope as fast as they can so she can pull prints from them. JJ, and Derek take one couch while you and Spencer take the one right across from it. You’ve been at this house since last night, so you need a small break from it. You take a big sip of your coffee and sigh happily, already feeling the effects of it.

“So tell me about your fear of the woods, JJ,” Derek asks with a small smile.

“I used to be a camp counselor when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont, at the night shift, I tucked the girls in and turned off the lights--the typical drill. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep. You know, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until... I noticed there was some blood on the hallway floor. So I followed the blood trail out to the camp director's cabin, walked up to his bed, and he was just lying there underneath his covers… Dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, and down the hall. I just remember it being really dark. Once I got to the door, there was another counselor there--I guess she heard me scream. They caught the caretaker on his way to town. I guess he still had the knife on him. Anyway, that's probably when I decided I didn't like the woods.”

The entire time she’s telling her story, you have to hide your smile. She may be able to fool Derek and Spencer, but she can’t fool someone who can connect with people’s emotions.

“You’re serious?” Derek asks, shocked.

“No! No! Come on. I don't know why I'm afraid of the woods, I just am. Why is he still afraid of the dark?” JJ points to Spencer.

“Yeah, Reid, why are you still afraid of the dark?”

“Because of the inherent absence of light!”

“Don’t be mean to him. I’ll be here to protect him from the dark,” you grin and lean your head on his arm.

“Yeah, like how you protected him last night?”

“I said shut the fuck up,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“JJ, that was pretty good. Just know that paybacks are a bitch,” Derek grins.

“I’m shaking,” she jokes.

Your phone rings and you sit up straight to answer it.

“Hey sexy mama,” you joke.

“I love our relationship. You know exactly what to say to make my heart sing.”

“You’re so weird,” you chuckle. “What do you got?”

“I pulled two sets of prints off those food trays.”

“Two? Whose?”

“One belongs to a child.”

“I knew it. I shouldn’t ignore my gut when it tells me something.”

“What did she say?” Derek wonders.

“Two prints, one is a child’s.”

“But which one of the victims?”

“Hey Pen, why don't you coordinate with the Ozona coroner's office for a match?”

“Oh baby, that's so yesterday! I already have the minions working on it. In the meantime, your intrepid hacker found you a match to the other set in the database. His name is James Charles, he's a local guidance counselor.”

“Yeah he's a local guidance counselor helping us on this case!” you gasp.

“Are you kidding? He's address is 3725 Briarwood Road.”

“I know exactly how to find him, Pen, thanks.” You hang up and look at Derek in disbelief. “Call Gideon, we just found our unsub.”

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag has a strike through it or it’s not linked, it means doesn’t work. find out why!

*if your tag is bolded, then the tag isn’t working. you have until next episode to get it fixed otherwise you’ll be deleted from this list*

@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @inkstainedwritergirl @estrela-rogers @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric @xs @sixpencespencee @boygenius-reid @meganskane @prophecyflame​ @happynekochan1 @babydee17 @darlingisntit @fandoms4ever97 @spencerreid-187 @snakeythesnake @nomajdetective @scarletstarrs @hc-geralt-23 @fairytalesforever @werewolfbanshee-love

[stormblessed95]

I hope it is OK to bring back yesterday's conversation about that Jimin vlive. I also rewatched it, and believe he wasn't alone at the beggining. Especially, when he says "how come THEY know it is me..." and not "how come YOU know..." he wasn't addressing the fans, but he could be talking to himself or it was an error in translation, who knows. I also heard him mumble something around that 12min mark, but who knows what he was saying or to whom. But yes, there was definitely no kiss in that moment. I just think that the person who was there with him might have went to grab something from the nightstand before leaving and jimin panicked that they would be seen on cam, but then realized it was unnecessary and thats why he was all giggly and embarrassed afterwards.

Anon 2: Talking about the kiss sound. This sound thing have happened three times with jimin involved .Don't you think it's kinda sus. 😂. That graduation video of jimin....Jm filming jk dance then kiss sound in that chaos....then the jimin v live...I mean jikookers r mature enough for giving room of doubt to jikook because if this had happened with other ship( u knw wht) then They would have made big deal out of it.

Combining these so we can just talk about it all in one go before we all officially move on from asks over this video!

I absolutely agree with the first anon. Jimin was probably not alone during the start of this video and whoever it was left shortly afterwards. We have absolutely no idea who it was though. Unlike the other hidden person vlives, there is nothing we can use to base suspicions on WHO it might be. Obviously I believe it to be Jungkook, otherwise I don't think they would have tried quite so hard to keep it a secret and how fast Jimin whipped that camera around showed he definitely didn't want whoever it was on screen at all. But for all we know it could have been staff or anyone else (unlikely in my opinion). I personally don't think this was a kiss with the other context included, but it *could* have been a blown kiss as the person leaves.

Now we technically (including this one) have 4 kiss sounds that jikookers contribute to being between Jikook. I only buy into 2 of them completely. The graduation video and Euphoria video. Those are definitely kiss sounds (blown kisses or potentially something more with Euphoria) and those are definitely done between Jikook. Undeniable proof with the sound and video showing both of them. I have posts on BOTH of those already in my masterlist. This would be another video that we have contributed to jikook, but have no technical proof that it was them. We just can't see Jimin behaving like that with a different member or staff. And they were on tour so things were normally kept pretty private and locked down in those hotel rooms, so I really think it could have only been a member or staff in there with him.

The last video people are saying there was a kiss sound for was during the V, J-hope and RM live stream during BE era. There was what sounded like a kiss behind the camera that people thought was a kiss because of how the 3 on screen members reacted to it and jikookers speculated that it could have been jikook simply because they were the only members we couldn't quite place as to where else they were otherwise and so it could have been them. I don't totally buy into this because it seems like a stretch but I have seen some pretty convincing theories. Lol and it could have not even been a kiss, it could have been staff members, there are SO MANY possible explanations for that one. So many. So I disregard it. But it IS interesting that these "suspicious kiss sounds" have occurred 4 times in connection to jikook (based on a stretch or otherwise). Once is chance, twice is coincidence, 3 or more.... well that is a pattern. Maybe one day we will get another kiss sound we can definitely link to both Jimin and Jungkook lol

Not to mention all the almost kisses we see them give each other and all the blown kisses we HAVE seen them exchange and give each other. Plus all the lip staring the two of them do. SOMETHING goes on with them. 😏

This entire Twitter thread really... and the fact that there is so so so much more of them doing this.... and their reactions to each other 😍 okay, I'll stop now because I'm getting off track here. Lol essentially yes, it's amusing we keep getting these types of moments with them. Really makes you think that they are boyfriends or something 🤔

[fanmoose12]

after death do us apart

Summary: Levi thinks his house is haunted.

Levi is in his kitchen, busy with a very important task of measuring leaves for the tea when he hears a loud, obnoxious thud, coming from his living room.

He softly curses, grabs his cane and rushes, as fast as he can with his body not as strong as it was before, there.

When he arrives, he sees that everything else is in order, except a picture frame that is now lying on a floor.

Levi's blood boils, an annoyance bordering on anger rushing through him. This picture - that one that now lies on the floor like some kind of useless shit - is his most priced possession. It is the only thing that keeps the memory of them alive, the one thing that reminds him during cold and dark nights that he might be alone right now, but there was a time where he wasn't.

It's a picture of him, Hange, Erwin and Mike all standing together with their arms around each other. He doesn't remember if that had ever happened, but that's what he had found in one of Moblit's notebook and after he made that discovery, he just couldn't leave it behind.

No picture of them exists - Mike and Erwin were gone even before they found out what a photo camera was, and in her last years, Hange was always too busy to take a single photo.

He regrets it now, not pushing her to take it, but Moblit's picture is vibrant enough. He doubts a photo could capture their essence quite like his sharp eyes and skilfful hands could.

Onyakopon tells him there are more pictures of Hange now. There are portraits made by talented artists that paint Hange as the last Commander of Survey Corps or during her last moments on Earth.

They're hanged in museums and various memorials but Levi doesn't wish to see any of them. He doesn't care about them, those pictures - they were drawn by talented artists, and Levi doesn't doubt that.

But they never knew Hange, not like he did. So how could they come up with something worthy of the light she bestowed on this world? How they could ever hope to put it on paper?

Levi crouches down, his bones and protesting, and picks up the picture frame.

Thankfully, it is still intact.

But just as his old, broken heart swells with relief, there is another thud. This time, the book falls down, nearly missing Levi's head.

He curses again, loud and vulgar, letting out the best of profanities the Underground taught him.

He whirls around, his eye searching for the offender. The room is empty, though. It's mostly silent too, the only sounds flowing around are those from outside his window. But then he hears it, a faint, feeble murmur that sounds almost like "sorry".

His heart clenches, his hand gripping the cane to keep himself grounded.

He knows that particular sorry. Heard many times many years ago - ehen he stumbled over the barely conscious, sleep deprived body, when his shirt got soaked in tea, soup or some kind of possibly dangerous chemicals, heard it repeating over and over as gentle, trembling hands inspected his injuries and wiped away the blood.

It was sometimes accompanied by cheerful, loud laughter, other times - with quiet, broken sobs.

He couldn't hear that sorry. He couldn't.

It was just a trick of imagination, nothing more, nothing less.

I am not old enough to go senile yet, he thinks as he puts the picture where it belongs to.

It was just a trick of imagination, he repeats and leaves the room.

He goes back to the kitchen and resumes his task. The skin on the back of his neck is prickling, like someone stares intently at it, but Levi chases that feeling away, convincing himself that he's simply being paranoid.

He pointedly ignores the quiet sound, the one that resembles a sigh of disappointment and the one he heard too many times too, during long nights at the lab and inside Commander's office, as well.

***

It's not the first weird (unexplained, she would say) thing that happened in his house. There are instances happening all over the place, each of them brings a different degree of strangeness

Windows and doors - close and open on their own volition, lights turn on and off, books, his clothes, kitchen ware - disappear for hours only to appear in the most random of places, bangs and knocks sound at all times of the day, merciless to his sleeping pattern.

Logically, he knows that it isn't normal. He also knows that he probably should talk about it with someone. But he was never good with that thing - talking. All the people he was somewhat comfortable sharing his troubles are now dead and gone.

He theoretically can discuss it with Gabi and Falco, but he doesn't want to, because, well, no matter how big they think they are, they're still children. Onyakopon is out of question too, because he might just get too worried and then send him into that building on the edge of the town - mental institution, he calls it.

And Levi might be old, but he's not senile. Yet.

Probably. He hopes so at least.

His mind is still his own, broken but not shattered. He knows right from wrong, sees the difference between reality and a dream.

He still functions properly, and yet those instances don't back away.

He'd ignore it, write it off as a product of imagination or strange coincidence. If only it happened once. Or twice. Three times even. Three weird happenings in a row is hard, but possible to ignore. But when it happens every damn day, for almost dozen times, it's not just hard to ignore. It's fucking annoying too.

He knows a name he can put to describe it all, of course. Born and raised in the depth of Underground, how can he not? Stories like this were well known and greatly appreciated down there. They were children of the dark, after all, friends with shadows. Everything dark and scary, anything feared above their little world was welcomed and encouraged.

Isabel used to warn him about enraged, vengeful spirits that hunt those who wronged them or those who disturbed their resting place. Kenny - when he was in a less shitty, kinder mood - used to tell him about souls that die without fulfilling their purpose and were destined to roam through the land of the living for all eternity, unable to sleep with their business unfinished.

Before putting him to bed or whenever she felt especially sentimental, his mother used to speak of those unlucky ones who died before their loved ones did.

"They cannot find peace even in death," she said. "And so they come back to our world and stay close to the ones they still cannot let go, watching them until they are able to reunite."

He never believed in those stories, though. Perhaps, he was born and raised in the Underground, but he got out of it, lived his best years with the sun shining on his face and wind blowing through his hair.

He thought ghosts doesn't exist.

But now that his best years are behind him, now that he has seen enough shit to know that anything is possible, now that some days he himself feels like a ghost, he starts thinking of them more and more.

Hange is gone, he reminds himself, she's gone and even though you miss her like crazy, it won't bring her back.

Hange is gone, and none of it is real.

But, god, does he really wishes that it was. *** It is the middle of the night, and Levi feels a presence behind him. It's not ominous like in that book about ghosts he recently found. It's quite soothing, actually. It makes him almost content.

It's not looming or hoovering over his form either. It's right next to him, as though this something - or someone - lays on a bed close to him.

It doesn't bother him anymore, nearly not as much as it did before. It brings him comfort, in some sort. It reminds him of-

No. It doesn't.

The presence behind him shifts and Levi feels the blanket slip from his legs.

No, that won't do.

He tugs the blanket back, but either he's getting too weak with age or that presence, ghost or whatever is so much stronger than him, but he can't get it back. They fight for it for a while, each struggling to get the upper hand. Levi yanks it back, applying all the force that's still left in him, but bears no result. He grits his teeth, sweat gathering on his temples as he pulls the blanket.

"Give it back, you little sh-"

He doesn't get to finish.

The loud, snapping sound of ripping cloth cuts him off.

"Fuck!" Levi yells, frustrated. It was his favorite blanket. "Is this so funny to you, you piece of shit? Why do you keep tormenting me?"

There is a bit of silence, and then lights in his room turn on. With wide eyes, Levi watches the paper levitate from a small pile on his desk. Pen appears next, and it hovers above the paper, the sounds of furious scribbling filling the dark room.

Before he can say anything else, shout more profanities or threaten the invisible fucker to get out (he may not be as strong as he was before, but he has a cane and he still knows how to use it effectively), the paper starts flying, catching him right in the face.

Levi takes it in his hands, squinting his good eye to see what's written there.

It IS funny, but i didn't wish to torment you. You know that, right?

Something resembling a sob escapes from his lips. Levi fists his hands into sheets below him, but eight fingers is apparently not enough to ground him and keep him from falling.

"Who are you?" he asks shakily, his voice breaking.

The pen starts moving again, flying over another paper. This one isn't thrown in his face. It's gently laid next to his thigh. Levi takes it, and his hands shake so much it gets hard to read. Words swim between his eyes, but Levi persists, laying the note on his lap and bending over to see better.

His whole world shakes when he finally deciphers the words.

Haven't you guessed already?

He closes his eyes and some sound escapes past his lips, he's not sure if that can be called a sob or a chuckle, or a combination of both, but his whole body is trembling as he tries to fight strength to whisper,

"Hange?"

From somewhere close to him, on his left side where she always used to be, he hears a delighted, happy laughter.

He looks around the room, his eye shifting, desperate to find her, but he sees nothing.

Fear grips at his heart.

So just a hallucination then? Simple wishful thinking?

"Where are you?" he murmurs, giving it all another chance. "Hange-"

"I'm here," a warm sensation travels up his forearm. It doesn't exactly feel like an ordinary touch would, but it's there, it seems real and it fills his chest with hope. "Right here, a little to your left," she continues. "Just look at me, Levi."

He does, immediately he does. But there is no one next to him. The gentle sensation doesn't fade, gets more persistent if anything, but Levi still can't see her.

"You need to look a little bit harder," Hange murmurs. "If you can hear me, I'm sure you can see me."

Levi stares, his eye focused on the empty place next to him. He strains his vision, moves his gaze up and down, huffs in frustration and then finally, finally, he sees something.

It's vague, indistinct, barely visible in the dark, but he makes out the outline of the body. He can see the mop of brown hair, and they're messy as always, can see strong arms and wide shoulders, that long, prominent nose, that rosy, soft lips that are stretched out in a hopeful smile, those brown, sparkly he missed so much.

"Hange," he breathes out, his voice barely above whisper.

He wants to touch her, god, he wants to touch her so much, but when he puts his hand above hers, it goes right through her.

"The situation is not exactly perfect," Hange laughs. "I don't think you can touch me, and I can't exactly touch you as well."

"I don't care," he shakes his head and moves his fingers, until his and Hange's are close. He doesn't feel much, but something warm is still there and it still makes his breath stumble.

Hange is here, she's not gone, not completely, she's here, with him. It is more than enough.

*** They fall into a sort of routine after that. It's easy with Hange, as it always was.

She disappears for short periods of time, refusing to tell Levi where she goes.

"They asked me not to tell you," she says enigmatically, and doesn't ever elaborate, no matter how many Levi asks.

At first, he still worries he's going crazy, but then Falco, Gabi and Onyakopon show up. They all sit down around the small coffee table in Levi's living room, chatting amongst themselves and sharing the last news and gossips.

"You look healthier," Falco remarks, as Levi brings the tea from the kitchen.

As soon as he puts the cups down, the chaos begins.

The door shuts with a loud bang, the windows rattle and chandelier above them starts to dangerously tremble.

Levi also notes that Hange is careful not to make any mess, but she still acts so damn loud. And dramatic. He hides a sigh as he continues to sip on his tea and watch Onyakopon, Gabi and Falco lose their shit in front of him.

Gabi ducks behind an armchair, Falco close on her heels, curling around her. Onyakopon keeps frantically looking around, his breath quick and shallow. Levi can almost hear the sound of his panicked heartbeat.

"Stop it, four-eyes," he murmurs, too softly to everyone else to hear (not that they could pay attention to him amidst all that clutter anyway).

Everything stills immediately. Silence washes over his apartment, interrupted only by Onyakopon's gasps.

Hange snickers beside him, but Levi is the only who can hear her.

"This was fun," she giggles, running a hand over his shoulder.

Levi can't disagree with her on that one.

"What was that?" Onyakopon exclaims, clutching his heart. "Was it-"

"A ghost?" Gabi cries out, looking both horrified and excited.

Levi glances at Hange, silently telling her 'she looks just like you'. She waves him off and turns back to Gabi.

"Is is the first time it happens?" Falco asks.

"No," Levi answers, shrugging. A week ago, he'd be as disturbed as his friends are, but now he moved past disturbance to acceptance to delight. "It's been happening for weeks now."

"You aren't safe here," Falco, bless his young soul, looks genuinely worried, down to the deep crease on his forehead. "We should look for another apartment."

"Don't bother. I'm quite comfortable here."

Of course, he's comfortable. Hange is here with him, after all.

"But!" Gabi tries to protest, but Levi silences her with a raised palm.

"I'm not injured or unwell," he gestures on himself, as if to illustrate his point. "And, besides, it gives house some character, don't you think?"

"A very scary character," Onyakopon notes.

"Well," Levi almost smiles, hearing Hange's laughter behind his back. "The house is not very different from its master then."

His guests leave soon after, but not before Gabi and Falco make him swear to call them if anything 'more dangerous and scarier' happens.

As soon as they're out, Levi sits down in his favorite armchair. Hange flies over to him.

"So," she looks up at him, and the bright sparkle in her eyes, even though it is still a bit indistinct, sets his heart racing. "Have I convinced you that you're not going crazy?"

He wants to ask how, opens his mouth even, but then promptly shuts it closed. Of course, it is Hange. She knows his thoughts better than he does.

And if he had any doubts about her realness, they've disappeared right in that moment.

*** Hange is almost always next to him, hovering over his shoulder and constantly chatting into his ear. It almost feels like the good old days.

Although now he can't kick her leg whenever she starts teasing or rambling too much. His trademark glare has to be good enough, though.

He brings Hange books and introduces her to all kinds of new technology. She is beaming like a child at every new thing he shows her, and Levi's heart is so full of love for that weirdo, he's afraid it's going to burst.

Hange accompanies him on his strolls too, and his poker face has never put to trial more than during those moments, when Hange starts joking or fooling around, making him almost lose all of his composure.

He can't laugh or even berate her in public, and she knows it, goddamn. And uses it for her advantage, the asshole.

Levi gets his revenge when they're back at his house, refusing to give her new books until she swears to behave.

She swears every time, hand on her chest and all that. And she breaks that promise the very same day. Levi can't stay mad at her, though. He never could.

*** "You know, I thought you were a vengeful spirit at first," he shares with her one evening.

He sits in front of the fire, his legs outstretched to the source of warmth. Hange is laying on the floor, book hovering above her. She closes and turns to Levi.

"I could be," she says. "But, unfortunately, the people I'd like to haunt are long dead as well. Floch is gone, Eren is too..." Hange scoffs, shaking her head. "And I can't very well haunt every bloodthirsty soldier back in Paradise. Too much work for the old, frail me."

Levi lifts an eyebrow. "You don't look that old to me. Especially, when compering with me..."

"Oh, Levi," Hange rises and gets closer to him. She sits down on his lap, and Levi feels warmth spread through the skin of his cheek as Hange puts her hand on it. There is a smile on her lips, the one that Levi knows too well. The one that means that Hange is going to say something very, very stupid. She opens her mouth and proves him right once again. "I was always more attractive than you," Hange murmurs. "Nothing changed since my death."

He rolls his eye and laments that he can't flick her nose.

Hange is still smiling, and when she leans in, he can almost feel a ghost of a kiss on his lips. *** "Don't you ever feel regret?" Levi asks one day.

He is sitting in his wheelchair, looking at the bright setting sun from the small garden near his house.

Hange is on top of him, her long legs dangling from the wheelchair. As he speaks up, she turns to him, and the happy expression turns into something more thoughtful.

"Regret?" she repeats, frowning. "What can I ever regret?"

"This?" Levi gestures around. "I know, you're still here, but don't..." he frowns, struggling to find the right words. "Don't you wish for something more? For us to have a proper chance?"

Hange looks up at the sky, and for a moment she's quiet. Levi thinks if he should take his words back, change the subject completely but it's something that's been bugging him for a long time. He's happy, so happy, that Hange can still be with him. But there are moments when he wishes for... more. To be able to hold her hand and share meals with her, to walk with her through the streets without worrying that someone might think he's some drunkard or lunatic who talks to himself.

He knows it's selfish to even think about it, he already received so much more than he deserved, but isn't selfishness an inherent part of a human?

Sometimes, he just can't help but long for something more.

"I'm sure you know what a method of trial and error means," Hange begins, looking back at him. Her words confuse him, but before he can open his mouth, Hange shushes him and continues. "Remember those days at my lab? Nothing ever worked out, every experiment turned into an ever bigger disaster than the previous one, and I was so frustrated I wanted to crawl up the wall. But there was a certain beauty in it all - I tried, I failed, I tried again. Over and over, until something good came out. And, boy," she chuckles. "When something worked, it worked perfectly. And, maybe, all of this, all of us," she swiftly runs her fingertips through his brow and Levi shivers at the warm, gentle feeling that spreads down to his soul. "As a failed attempt. We tried, it didn't work," she pauses, and her eyes are bright, much brighter than the sun behind her. "We can try again."

Her words stir something inside, a long forgotten feeling of hope. But he still can't accept it so easily, the cynic in him fights to make himself known.

"But you're already dead," he protests.

"And that means this attempt has failed. Not as spectacularly as that time when my experiment blew up and burned Moblit's eyebrows, but... not a perfect success either. We can try again, though. We can say goodbye, walk from each other and then meet again, in some other place and time."

"And what if we fail again?"

"Then we try again. And again, and again, until we can get it right. And when we finally do, oh boy!" she exclaims, flailing her arms into the air. "Wouldn't that be spectacular?"

She laughs, so happy and free, and Levi wishes to gather her in his arms and never let go. All he can do right now, though, is circle his hands around her waist, imagining that he's holding her.

Just like always, he trusts Hange.

They will meet again, and, maybe, it will all fall apart in a disaster worse than this one. But they can try again. They can keep trying, until... forever.

And, perhaps, that's the true beauty of life.

[deafchild2000]

TVD/Legacies: Jade as Stefan and Valerie's great-great-granddaughter

(Re-editing this because I realized I got the generations wrong!)

Two seasons late, I know. But I've read the theories and...it would make sense, just needs to be fixed. Being of relation to Valerie and Stefan started great but as their direct child? I quickly decided to fix this theory into something more realistic!

1. A miracle of a last-minute save and Julian letting Valerie believe her baby (dubbed "Jacob") died to keep her from doing anything rash...which we already know inevitably happened.

2. It wouldn't be the first time someone with ties to the supernatural went blissfully unaware of the fact and lived normal lives before they were forced into it and killed, some no more well known than the Salvatores, specifically Tom Avery and Sarah Nelson/Salvatore. So the idea that Jacob was born and lived his entire life blissfully unaware of what his father's life tied him to and it catching up with any of his future children or grandchildren would be fitting!

3. Given the math and flashbacks, the baby would've been born in 1863, and Jade was born in '02/'03 (she was 16 when she was sent to the prison world). That estimated 140-year gap is enough for 3-4 generations of Salvatore-Tulle descendants to be born (and 156 counting Stefan and Valerie being born in the 1840s). And if my math is correct and 2002 is the year Jade is born, she fits the timeline of being Jacob's great-grandchild and Stefan's 2x great-grandchild.

4. Genes get lost and resurface over the years. Jade appears to have Valerie's looks, but I wish we'd seen more of her to know who's personality she's closer to (though considering Stefan wanted to be a doctor before he was a vampire, his distant relative, Tom Avery, was paramedic and Jade was training to be an EMT...yeah, she's likely closer to Stefan's personality).

(Notice I'm not going anywhere near the topic of Jacob - and by extension, Jade - having magic since through Valerie, either could have the gene. And ignore if that active gene could have played a part in Valerie narrowly saving her son's life. For me now, it's easier to say Jacob's line was all human and it ends with Jade being the vampire.)

(And also, how does the saying go? Ah yes: once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a habit. Tom's death, as pathetic as it was and no accident, I could understand. While staying out of the supernatural may have prolonged her life, Sarah's death fit the coincidence. But imagine this whole theory coming to heel here: Jade being the 3rd lost Salvatore relative who died (cementing a pattern - fate or curse, you call it) but breaking the pattern when she became a vampire, thus surviving? It would have been INGENIOUS if Plec had done this route as it would add to Jade's character and be befitting of the show title since she'd be Stefan's legacy!)

In conclusion, Jade being Stefan and Valerie's 2x great-granddaughter through their supposedly dead (but miraculously surviving) son is a great way to connect the 3 characters in a more realistic (and Plec Verse-like) way. Gives her more screen time and arc compared to just being Josie's love interest, gives a next-gen. connection to the Salvatores (because as much as I dislike Damon's character, ain't no way would he let anything happen to the only living tie he had left of his brother), and gives fans the satisfaction of seeing what no one else saw. Plus, it could be a running gag that she and Stefan share a Ripper status, like 2x great-grandfather, like 2x great-granddaughter!

[phae-undergrove]

how can one be sure that fair folk have entered their lives? i see signs like white moths, a family of deer in a strange place once, and some of my things go missing impossibly, but i always find myself second guessing myself while talking to them! thanks so much for reading and answering!

Hey there this is a great question! So first off I would say simply ask. put out there that you would like a sign that they are near you. Think of what you want that sign to be. Maybe it’s you seeing fae imagery more often. Maybe it’s a specific animal you want to see like a pure white cat. Simply open that doorway for the sign to come. And if you think you’re seeing signs which it definitely seems like you are to me but even I do this with spells or deity’s sometimes still I always am like “okay I need a signier sign” 😂 so I try to be really specific of what I want that sign to be so I know without a doubt when that happens it is the sign. For example. One of my signs I ask for when a spell has been successful is to see a neon orange smiley face and I picture how I want that face to look. Often within a few days of the spell I will begin to see the smiley face pop up either online as I’m scrolling or on billboards or on signs and bags etc. I hope this helped give you an idea of how to solidify those signs. I do find that when I notice something and it stands out more than it normally would that is almost always a sign regardless if I’m aware of what the sign means it usually is still just a simple “hey look this way”. So Let’s say you’re walking and you see a moth for example and this moth. There’s just something about it that causes you to linger on it a bit longer than you normally would a regular moth. Or you just can’t seem to get it out of your head after the fact. You may find it useful to take these experiences and write them all down and feelings you felt. This way you will be able to pick up on any repetition.

I also if I doubt any signs use this rule Once is a fluke. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

So having them written down can really help us go back and see if this is a repeated sign that we haven’t picked up on yet! I do hope this helped give you a few ideas on how to solidify the songs you are seeing! Please don’t ever hesitate to reach out if you have any further questions!

Merry meet ~B (Phae)

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the latest Dad!Spy fic, it seems like both of them have a degree of separation anxiety. largely *reasonable* separation anxiety because of the whole, y'know, Spy (and eventually Scout) being a mercenary thing, but it's still fascinating to see. i wonder how Spy would deal with easing Jeremy's anxiety and his own all the while knowing that he very well COULD be killed and leave his young son alone any time something goes wrong with work

spy as a dad would i think be extremely concerned about his kid’s safety to the point of paranoia, and the worst part of it all would be all the times when his paranoia is justified.

(warnings for discussion of canon-typical violence, none of it happening onscreen, and assorted mention of spy-type business)

-

Something about this felt so deeply... dishonest. Something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe some sense of irony, or... maybe just the sort of general guilt he’d had as a very young man starting to reverberate within him again. Whatever it was, sitting there and writing down the cipher of a message intended to ensure his son’s safety if he died, while that aforementioned son slept soundly against his shoulder, felt deeply morally wrong.

His eighth birthday was coming up. It was, according to Jeremy, a pretty big deal. And Jacques was aware that most children in more average situations would be having a party together, eating cake and playing games and having fun while he theoretically chatted with the other parents and talked about... school, or, extracurriculars. He wasn’t sure, to be honest, that was just his assumption. But Jeremy’s situation was anything but average, so he’d be making an attempt to do something else, something he’d enjoy enough that perhaps he would be able to put off the conversations of “why can’t I have normal friends?” for one more year. He’d heard about and marked down an annual fair, and found that this year the weekend it was taking place just so happened to also fall on Jeremy’s birthday.

It was a good excuse for why they were leaving town so swiftly. Much more justifiable to himself and more explainable to a very-nearly-eight-year-old than whispers on the wind of a pair of men he thought he’d killed twelve years previously being seen within the state and that alone being enough to make him very very nervous. He did not believe in coincidences, and moreover, he knew that him finding out about these men being alive was not an accident, it was a warning, and the only one he would be receiving before they struck to kill.

Regardless, he was still a bit troubled by it. And he knew it was an adjustment from the plans he’d been hesitantly laying for some time on where he would be and when, his route a closely guarded secret meant to be known to exactly three trustworthy people in entirely seperate areas of the world, and even then it was a risk he would never have taken previously. But him going missing would be several degrees more significant, as he’d realized roughly eight years ago.

A movement to shift, trying to keep his arm from falling asleep, was enough to wake up Jeremy, who blinked a few times down at what Jacques was writing as if waiting for the letters to make sense. “Is that Russian?” he mumbled sleepily after two minutes of silence.

“No,” he said, having to pause in his writing entirely, broken from the rhythm he’d gotten into. “It’s a cipher. Secret symbols and letters.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said simply, and went silent and still for long enough that he convinced himself that he’d surely fallen back asleep, and he was a bit startled when he spoke again. “Who are you writing secret symbols at?”

“A friend of mine,” he answered carefully, if kindly. “You’ve met him. Twice, actually. A very large man, who also wore a suit. I believe you told him you really liked his tie.”

Peter was a good man, or as good as one could be given the circumstances the two of them both worked in. He had made a very genuine effort at, as Jacques had requested, ‘easing up’ on the usual intimidating way that he carried himself when he’d been been told Jeremy would be there at one of the very brief meetings the two of them had. One was when Jeremy was three, and fully preoccupied with a gift he’d received for the holidays, and the other was when Jeremy was six. Apparently, Peter had decided the best way to appear less intimidating to a young child was to wear a tie plastered with a pattern of cartoonish bubbles. Jacques thought it was perhaps the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen, but was promptly proven wrong when Jeremy pointed it out gleefully within moments of being in a room with the man.

If Jacques died unexpectedly in most of the mainland United States and immediately surrounding territories, Peter would likely be the one taking care of Jeremy. At least until the other two correspondents could stop by and negotiate further on what would happen with him. Peter, at least, could cook and survive alone for multiple people (as he’d proven before on at least one occasion where Jacques was too injured to take care of himself and required assistance), and if he would stoop so low as to wear a bubble-patterned tie because he wanted to avoid intimidating a six-year-old, he was likely capable of stooping low enough to perform other essential activities involved with raising a child.

“I don’t remember that,” Jeremy muttered, shifting slightly.

“That is fair,” he nodded. “You do meet a lot of people, mon lapin, it is not easy keeping names straight.”

He hummed in sleepy agreement. A pause. “That one looks like a dog,” he finally said, pointing at one of the little letters on the page.

He tilted his head, squinting a little. “Hm. I suppose it does,” he acquiesced.

“Does it mean dog?”

“It is not kanji, the characters represent letters, which spell words in German,” Jacques replied.

“Is it that letter that looks like a B but it isn’t and sounds like that one dog?”

“...Are you referring to an eszett?”

“Yeah.”

“...And what dog does it sound like, exactly?” Jacques asked, fully baffled.

“The one that howls really loud.”

“Howls really—mon lapin, are you referring to a basset hound?”

“Yeah!” he agreed, sitting up a little and smiling. “That’s it!”

He wanted to further investigate why the word eszett reminded his son of basset hounds, but Jeremy picked that moment to yawn, reminding him of something.

“Well, dogs or otherwise, I do believe that it’s past your bedtime. You should go to sleep,” he said, no room in his tone for argument.

The whining noises began and were silenced by a swift kiss to the top of his head and the setting aside of the notebook he was working from, moving as if to pick up Jeremy and properly put him to bed. But then more genuine protests began, Jeremy moving to dart beneath the sheets before he could even properly set his pen down.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked earnestly, employing the use of his big blue too-much-like-his-mother’s eyes. A slightly disapproving tilt of the head did nothing to dissuade him, so Jacques sighed inwardly, standing regardless.

“Alright, alright,” he surrendered as he moved to also get ready for sleep, “but I will be awake rather early in the morning, and you do not get to complain at me if you also end up awake as a result.”

Jeremy didn’t look upset by this caveat in the slightest, just burrowing further and smiling like he’d won some sort of contest.

And he looked asleep enough by the time Jacques was back that he was very quiet and careful about getting back into bed, but woke up regardless with the express intent of tucking against his arm again.

And he knew he would miss this one day. His son was already growing up much too fast, and at very-nearly-eight-years-old was closer in many ways to twelve, and surely only had another year or so before he would be much too embarrassed to lean against his father’s shoulder this way, to comment upon how things looked like an animal, to speak so freely. Soon he would be having secrets, a life of his own that he’d know nothing about, and he looked forward to it of course but he would also miss it so very dearly.

He’d hate to miss any more of it by dying unexpectedly.

He wished he didn’t need to prepare for the worst. He wished he didn’t feel guilty for needing to work out details about what would happen if the nightmare scenario occurred. And more than that, he wished he didn’t have to feel all the more guilty about having no plan at all for what he would do if something happened to Jeremy. It was unthinkable. He couldn’t imagine having a world without his son in it, not anymore.

And so he leaned back as well, albiet so much more carefully with the understanding of the fact that children tend to be fragile, and couldn’t imagine.