#“you're a liar”

[amongthebooks]

{whumptober: day 9}

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II/III (Reboot)

PROMPTS: Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | "You're a liar." | "Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days."

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 2.5k (AO3)

TAGS/CW: mistaken identity, misunderstandings, uncle Simon 'Ghost' Riley, light angst with a happy ending, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley

SNIPPET:

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap asked in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. Hands shaking even after Ghost had pulled the polaroid out from between his fingers. “Tell you what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, his thumb gently tracing over the young boy’s face. “A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?” or Soap stumbles upon Ghost's box of old mementos and makes an incorrect assumption.

Soap’s hands were trembling. His knees ached where he sat hunched on the floor, though he made no effort to move. It was as if he was a deer caught in the headlights, encountering something he knew he was never supposed to see.

All because of the polaroid in his hand.

Soap honestly had no intention of stumbling upon the photo, planning to only rummage through Ghost’s closet, looking for a pair of boots the man said he could borrow. The two had made progress in their… friendship in the last few months, enough that they felt comfortable letting the other borrow their things from time to time. Hoodies, tea, throwing knives - it was all easy to give up if the other wanted it.

So when Ghost eventually noticed Soap’s boots were barely within regulations, the pair hanging on by the smallest of threads, he subtly let it slip that he had an extra pair in his room. Glossing over the fact of how he knew Soap’s size when he said the other man could help himself to them whenever he had the time.

Before long, Soap found himself walking down to Ghost’s room with an extra pep in his step, still baffled by the fact the lieutenant trusted him enough to let him in. Not just in his room, but in his life.

When he arrived, Soap entered using the spare key on his lanyard- another recent addition- and got to work scouting for the pair of shoes. It always amazed him just how neat and orderly the state of Ghost’s room was kept in. Everything always in the same spot when he visited, like there were a million unspoken rules on where each thing belonged.

… It was cute.

Before he got too distracted, Soap figured it would be best to begin his search in the closet, quickly squatting down to dig around for the item. Unlike the well-kept nature of the rest of the room, Ghost’s closet was a mess. Sure, his uniforms and gear were pristinely hung, but underneath?

Underneath was very clearly where all of Ghost’s more personal effects went.

Soap made a mental catalog of it all as he moved medals, awards, certificates, and even some souvenirs out of his way. It was sweet, in a way, to see that Ghost hadn’t completely gotten rid of things that gave him his rightful recognition, things that may have once brought him joy. Even if they were heavily out of sight, Soap felt happy that they weren’t completely out of mind.

After a few minutes of rummaging through foreign belongings, Soap managed to locate a shoebox that was lodged in the back corner. Having to nearly fight with every other object to get it loose enough to slide forward. He didn’t think twice about throwing it open, wanting to double check that they were in fact the boots Ghost had mentioned. After all, what else would a shoebox contain?

What he had not expected to see, in any capacity, was the immediate flow of papers that sprung out from the box as soon as the lid was removed. Soap examined the contents with confusion and curiosity - torn photos, ripped documents, old notes, children’s drawings…

It was clearly a box that the lieutenant kept his ‘Pre-Ghost’ memories in.

The prospect of new boots was promptly shoved to the back of his mind as he fought the urge to dive into the small box. Not believing the gold he had stumbled upon. Yet, at the same time he knew how wrong it would be to go through Ghost’s things, not wanting to do something that would so clearly betray the man’s trust.

So Soap went to close it back up, gently scooping up the papers that had fallen out. If anything, he’d bring it up to him later and ask if they could go through some of it together. The pieces that Ghost felt comfortable having on display, anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time that the two held chats about their past, swapping stories back and forth regarding their lives before they met.

As he was grabbing the last stack, though, a photo caught his eye. An old, black and white polaroid of a man in fatigues, sitting on the floor in front of a Christmas tree as he looked up at a kid on his shoulders. The kid was young, still in his toddler stage, and Soap was immediately drawn to the smiles on both of their faces.

How they looked at each other with nothing but love and adoration in their eyes.

Soap brushed his thumb over the photo, gently wiping over the older man’s face. It was Ghost, he realized. He was embarrassed by the fact he didn’t notice immediately, especially since it was so clearly Simon.

Sure, it looked as if he couldn’t have been in the service for more than a few years —his face devoid of any major scars or marks— but he still had all of the features that Soap was smitten with. His crooked nose, his jawline, the softness in his eyes…he was beautiful.

Soap was so caught up in seeing a young Simon Riley for the first time that it took his brain a moment to remember that there was a child in the photo. A small kid on Simon’s shoulders that bore a striking resemblance to—

Wait, who was he?

It was hard to believe that they could be siblings. Too many of his prior conversations with Ghost had centered around the Scot’s own family and his relationships with his siblings, and not once had the man ever brought them up.

And if Soap had a younger sibling like that kid, a giggling mess that looked at Simon like he hung the stars? Soap would never shut up about him.

But who else could he be, if not family? The two looked so similar it was almost frightening, and he knew that if Ghost was to show him a picture of himself from his childhood, that kid would be staring back at them.

A thought came to Soap, then. One he wanted to immediately dismiss, though it made more sense the longer he thought on it. It was the only other explanation he could conjure up at that moment — and with how secretive the nature of their work was, of course Ghost wouldn’t mention his existence. Part of the reason the man hid his face was to keep his identity safe.

Of course he would want the same for his child.

That was the revelation that had his hands trembling. That had him shocked to his core as he brought the photo closer for a better look. It had to be his child - the resemblance was too uncanny to assume otherwise.

Why wouldn’t Ghost tell him? Soap knew it was a selfish question to come to mind, and sure, it made perfect sense from a safety perspective… but it still hurt. Everyone was entitled to keep their secrets, but Soap and Ghost were more than just colleagues to each other.

They shared nearly everything, so why wouldn’t Ghost have trusted him with that secret?

Soap’s eyes stung as he tried not to take it personally, but then he thought about the implications of what the child would mean. He felt stupid for only now suspecting that it was possible for Ghost to have a spouse. Even if they weren’t married, it was highly probable that the man was certainly not as available as Soap was led to believe.

The thought of flirting with Ghost over comms, months spent teetering on the line between friendship and more — all while Ghost already had someone special waiting for him back home? Soap felt bile rise in his throat.

He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t hear the door click open. Only noticing that he was no longer alone once a pair of legs entered his field of view.

“Strange, I don’t recall any pair of my boots looking quite like that, Sergeant.” A familiar voice rang out.

Soap jumped at the sudden noise.

Fuck, he was caught.

He felt no better than a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar— if the jar was extremely personal and entirely off limits. He had no time to hide the evidence, though. All he could do now was own up to what he saw, and hope that Ghost didn’t notice the rogue tear track on his cheek.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap started in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. He tried to go with a neutral enough statement, though his mind was conjuring up so many opinions on the topic.

Ghost crouched down next to him, making himself comfortable on the ground as he gently took the photo from Soap. His thumb softly tracing over the young boy’s face in a manner not dissimilar to what Soap had done to Simon’s.

“About what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, a foreign expression stuck on his face…one Soap had never seen on him before.

Longing?

“A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked up to him, then. The two making eye contact as his brows pinched together.

“Not my kid, my nephew.” He corrected, the sentence delivered in a monotone voice with as little words as he could muster. Evidently not providing any other details that could help his case.

“Bullshit,” Soap found himself snapping before he could stop himself, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “You’re a liar, LT. Not once have you ever mentioned having siblings, and I’m pretty sure you need one of those to have a nephew, yeah?” Soap phrased it as if he was joking around. Well, mostly joking. It was an attempt to use humor to cover up the offense he still took with Simon still not letting him in on such a big part of his life.

“Just because you haven’t heard of them doesn’t mean they don’t exist, Soap.” Ghost’s tone grew a protective edge to it, reverting to calling the other man by his call sign.

Fuck if Soap knew he needed to stop pushing, but… this was important. He didn’t need answers, but he wanted them. Maybe if he was a better man, he would’ve stopped himself, but if the two were ever going to be ‘more’, he wanted to know about his family. Especially when Soap doubted he would ever get the opportunity again.

“I find it hard to believe you’d keep something that big from me, Si. After all this time?” Soap tried again. Christ, did the man really have an entire family that he knew nothing about? Did Gaz know? Did Price?

“Learning everything isn’t always what it seems, Johnny,” Ghost sighed, the fight seemingly leaving his body as it morphed to dejection.

“C’mon, LT. Try me, I can keep a secret.” Soap encouraged, continually trying to persuade him.

“Dead, Soap. He’s dead. They’re all dead, just drop it.” And… oh. Soap regretted his actions as soon as he heard the blanket desperation in Ghost’s voice.

“Oh, shit, Simon I-” Of course, that was— what was he even thinking? Asking a question like that? It made so much since now, after he stopped to think for a moment. Why was it that as soon as he picked up that photograph, the rational side of his brain just disappeared? Simon never talked about them because they had passed, and Soap had gone and opened that wound back up.

Soap’s hands now trembled for a different reason, for the fact he had upset the man. He didn’t even have a valid excuse, the entire situation was one of his making.

How could he ever fix things?

“Can you…Could you tell me about them?” Soap asked, hesitant for the first time that night.

“Johnny, I-” Ghost’s voice sounded wet and unsteady. Wrong choice, MacTavish.

“Shit, wait no- don’t. You don’t have to answer that, Si.” He immediately backpedaled. Soap was two seconds away from getting up and leaving. Completely embarrassed that he had mistaken his nephew’s identity, and upset that he had let such a small detail supersede the boundaries he knew Simon had.

“Joseph loved planes.” Ghost mumbled after a few minutes of silence, sniffling twice before scooting over to Soap. He took a breath to center himself before shifting his body so they could look at the polaroid together.

“See there in the picture? Couldn’t pry that bloody wooden toy out of his hands. When it was time for dinner, we had to bribe him with candy to let it go. Tommy—his dad— would always joke about how Jojo would become a pilot before we’d know it. But he was… he was the light of my life for a while there.”

Soap could see the crow’s feet in the corner of Ghost’s eyes, how he was smiling down at the photo with sad eyes. “I adored him.”

“He seemed like he was a great kid.” Soap said, and he meant it. He could almost picture it, the child rambunctiously running around the house, clutching the plane for dear life as a younger Simon chased him.

“Oh, he was the greatest,” Ghost whispered.

“I wish I could have met him.” He mused, wondering what it would have been like. Unashamedly imagining how he’d fit in with Simon’s family in another life.

“He would’ve loved you, the absolute menace you are. Pretty sure we’d have to keep the both of you both on leashes.” Ghost’s chuckle came out wet, but it still made Soap light up, happy to cause a reaction like that despite the circumstances.

“Yeah? Well, it seems like you were a great uncle, too.” Soap looked over at the man when he didn’t respond right away, worried that he had gone too far. That he had crossed a line by directly mentioning his old status. But then-

“...I miss it more than anything.” Ghost admitted in a small voice, leaning into Soap as he looked at the polaroid a moment longer.

The two spent the rest of the night on the floor, Ghost retelling stories of his ‘Uncle Simon’ days, and Soap asking a million questions about it all. He learned that it had been years since the lieutenant had talked about his family willingly, though the man reassured him that it was…nice to have someone that he could share them with. Like he was keeping their memory alive.

At some point, when dawn had crested through the curtains, the two had migrated to Ghost’s bed - coherent conversations morphing to exhausted mumblings as they mutually fell asleep on top of the covers.

Though Soap still had doubts that he hadn’t irreparably damaged their relationship due to his ridiculous accusations, when he woke up to see Ghost still in bed next to him? He figured that everything had somehow worked out better than he could have ever imagined.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #9

xxx learning everything ain’t what it seems

"What, you thought--you thought I wouldn't hear about my son, the hero? Course I came t' congratulate you." Luke’s words are slurred, the smell of booze coming off him in waves, and he’s swaying on his feet. It’s the first time JJ’s seen his father since helping him flee to Mexico. The two years have aged him; there’s more white in his hair now than brown, and his face is gaunt under his beard. “C’mere ‘n give your old man a hug.”

JJ doesn’t move. He can’t seem to make himself, just stands rooted to the ground next to his boat, heart pounding in his ears. Luke’s face falls, taking on a hurt expression under the drunkenness. 

“No, that’s, that’s okay. I get it,” he slurs.

“What do you want, Dad?” JJ finally asks. 

“Want?” Luke says incredulously. “Want? Come on, now, can’t--can’t a man just want to see his son? It’s been…it’s been a long time.”

JJ wants to believe him. God he wants to believe, wishes like hell that he could. But he knows his dad too well to even hope that he’s changed, much less believe it. 

“You want money? You saw my name splashed across some headline so you thought you’d come hit me up, is that it?”

Luke’s brow furrows, mouth pulling down into a frown. “No! No, JJ, no…” The wounded look shifts to one of guilt. “I don’t need much. Just a few thousand.”

JJ sighs, biting down on his bottom lip. He’d known it was coming but it’s still disappointing. It still hurts. “Look, I don’t have that kind of cash--”

“Bullshit!” The anger comes out of nowhere, twisting his father’s features into that drunken mask of rage that JJ is used to, and he can’t help it. He flinches. “You’re a liar,” Luke continues. “You owe me. I raised you and you owe me!” 

I don’t owe you shit, JJ wants to scream. He can feel his own blood getting hot, his heartbeat quickening, hands closing into fists as adrenaline starts to flood his system. He forces himself to take a deep breath, and then another, and then slowly uncurls his fists. 

“I can give you three hundred, but that’s it.” 

Luke scoffs, running one hand over his chin. “Three hundred. Three hundred?!” He moves forward, closing the space between himself and JJ in a few steps. JJ takes a step back. 

“I don’t wanna fight you, Dad,” he says. It takes some effort to keep his voice steady. It’s not fear that threatens to make his words shake. It’s anger. He’s been through a lot since his dad left, and he knows that if it comes down to it, his father isn’t going to come out on top. Luke must be able to sense it, too, because his stance eases a little, though he still looks pissed. 

“I should’ve known,” he snarls. 

“I thought you said he’d be good for it.” 

The deep voice comes from behind JJ, making him jump. He turns, and nearly runs into the stranger standing behind him. The man is huge, a tattoo creeping out from under his shirt and climbing up his neck. He’s wearing an all black suit that seems to barely fit him and that’s gotta be roasting him alive in this weather. JJ immediately goes on the defensive, stepping back with his arms raised. 

“Look, whatever beef you got--”

The man pulls a gun, moving surprisingly quickly despite his size. “Move,” he commands, addressing JJ, though his gaze is fixed on Luke. 

“You don’t have to do this, I’ll get you the money,” Luke says. He sounds scared. 

“I said move, kid,” the man says. 

“I…” JJ glances over his shoulder at his father, and is surprised at the determination that fills him. “I’m not gonna do that.”

The man looks at him for the first time. There’s almost something apologetic in his face. “This isn’t about you. You really wanna throw away your life for some sad old man?”

JJ stares down the barrel of the gun. He only ponders the question for a second before he says, “Unfortunately, that sad old man is my father.”

JJ is more startled by the pain than he is the sound of the gunshot, and he staggers backward, eyes wide, as he clutches his left shoulder. 

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, looking down at his hand. It’s only when the blood starts snaking between his fingers that he realizes what’s happened. He looks up with wide eyes. “You shot me.”

“I didn’t want to. And I don’t want to do it again, but I will if I have to. Step aside, kid.”

JJ tries to come up with a good snarky response, but the pain is kicking in and he’s starting to feel light-headed with adrenaline and he can see in the man’s face that he’s serious, that he’s going to pull the trigger again and this time the gun is pointed at his head and--

Sirens. 

He hears sirens, and the stranger must hear them too because he swears and then holsters his gun before taking off running. JJ watches him go, a small triumphant smile on his face that quickly fades as his legs give way beneath him. He lets out a yell as he hits the ground, jarring his wounded shoulder and sending bright zaps of pain through his arm and chest.

“D-Dad?” he says, twisting his head as he searches for his father. 

“I’m here,” Luke says, moving into his line of sight. He looks frightened, and distracted, glancing around. “But listen, JJ, I--I gotta go.”

“Wha-what?” JJ’s chest tightens painfully at the idea of being alone. “No, Dad, don’t--don’t leave me here.”

“Cops’re gonna get here any second, and I gotta not be here when they do. You understand, right? You just, you hang on til they get here. Hang on, JJ.”

“Dad!” He tries to push himself up with his right hand, but the blood’s made his hand slick and he slips, falling with a cry that’s equal parts pain and frustration. “Dad, don’t!” 

But Luke is already running. 

He doesn’t even look back. 

JJ closes his eyes and lets out an anguished yell as the tears start. And then he lets out another one. He’s spent his whole life wishing his dad would just leave, and now, the one time, the one time he wants him to stay, his dad is abandoning him. Leaving him to bleed out all by himself. 

The blood just keeps coming. His hand is covered in it now, the hot, red, sticky stuff.

He thinks he might be dying. 

He doesn’t notice the sirens that get louder and louder, or the slamming car door or the sound of running footsteps. 

“JJ!” a voice calls. It sounds distant and strange. “Oh, my god.”

He opens his eyes, blurry from tears, and says, “Dad?”

“What?” the voice says. “No, it’s me, it’s the sheriff.”

JJ blinks, and the face that goes with it comes into focus. JJ’s heart sinks. “Shoupe?” 

“Yeah. Gonna get you some help, JJ, just hang on. Dispatch, this is Sheriff Shoupe. I need an ambulance now. Now, you hear me?” 

A woman’s voice crackles over the radio. “Sheriff, we’ve got paramedics headed your way about four minutes out. Over.”

“How--why’re you here?”JJ asks. 

“I was in the area, heard gunfire. Listen, I’ve got a first-aid kit in the car, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” JJ reaches out, grabbing Shoupe’s wrist and smearing it with red. Part of him is ashamed of his own desperation, but a bigger part of him is terrified. He swallows. “Don’t-don’t leave me, please. Please don’t leave me alone.”

Shoupe doesn’t look certain, but he nods. “Okay. Okay, I’m not going anywhere.” He reaches for his belt and pulls out a pair of gloves, hurriedly putting them on. “I need to put pressure on that.”

He’s moving before JJ can protest, pressing his hands to the bullet hole in JJ’s shoulder and JJ screams. 

“I know!” Shoupe says. “I know, I know, I’m sorry but I’ve gotta try and slow this bleeding down. You still with me, kid?”

JJ’s eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched, pained breaths puffing out through flared nostrils. The tears are starting again, and he can’t do anything to stop them. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Shoupe says. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay! Paramedics’ll be here any minute and they’ll patch you right up. You hear me? You’re gonna be just fine, JJ.” 

“He--” He can feel the sob building in his chest and does his best to ignore it. “He left me.”

“Who left you?” Shoupe asks, and JJ realizes his error. Shoupe hadn’t actually seen his dad. “Who left you?” Shoupe repeats, and JJ just shakes his head. 

And then Shoupe says, "Was it your dad?" JJ doesn't answer, but it must show on his face because Shoupe's expression darkens. "Did he do this?"

“No,” JJ says quickly.  “No he didn’t--god my shoulder hurts.”

“I know it does,” Shoupe says unhelpfully, face wrinkled with sympathy. There’s something else in his expression, though, and JJ is pretty sure Shoupe doesn’t believe him about his dad not being the one who did this.

“He--he was big,” JJ says, and Shoupe looks startled. 

“What?”

“The…” God, talking is taking a lot of effort, and energy that JJ doesn’t have. He does it anyway. “The guy who did this. Big white guy with a--a neck tattoo. Went that way.” He lifts his hand as high as he can, which isn’t very, and points past Shoupe. Shoupe looks over his shoulder, then back at JJ.

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Okay.” He lifts one hand away from the wound and to his radio. “Shoupe, here. Shooting suspect is a white male with a neck tattoo, last seen fleeing on foot headed south from my location. Be on the lookout. Over.” 

His hand moves back to JJ’s shoulder and JJ lets out a groan because he doesn’t have the energy to scream again. A shiver runs down his spine, and he frowns up at the sky, looking for signs of a coming storm. 

“‘s it cold to you?” he murmurs. 

He’s surprised to find that the clear expanse of blue is completely free from clouds. Which must mean that it’s just him. He’s pretty sure that’s not a good thing. The bleeding hasn’t eased up much, and there’s a tiredness starting to seep in.The pain, sharp and unrelenting, is the only thing that’s keeping him awake and even that... Another shiver runs through him and he blinks heavily. 

“Hang in there,” Shoupe says, and then adds, “I hear sirens. You hear that, JJ? Hang in there.”

JJ tries, but his ears are starting to ring and there are black spots at the edge of his vision, and then everything goes black.

xxx 

[catsandgoodbooks]

No. 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You’re a liar.”

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

“What are you doing here?” Sapnap hissed, pointing his sword at Dream. He was tired and stressed and he wasn’t even sure how Dream got in here and really did not want to have to deal with him right now. He didn’t want to deal with Dream’s mind games or threats. (He didn’t want to have to try to kill him, didn’t want to have to fulfill his promise)

“What, I’m not allowed to visit an old friend anymore?” Dream asked, pouting a little. Sapnap ignored the little shock of surprise at seeing him without his mask on. He didn’t understand why the villain wouldn’t be wearing it now.

(Sapnap had almost forgotten what Dream’s face looked like, pale and freckled and scarred – Sapnap didn’t think he always had so many scars, but he wasn’t going to question it right now. He had almost forgotten how large Dream’s eyes were, wide and childish and mischievous. He had almost forgotten how vibrant they were, bright bright, radioactive, unnatural green)

“No, you’re not! We’re not even friends anymore,” Sapnap protested. (Sapnap wasn’t sure if they were ever friends, because was Dream always like this? Had he just been lying the whole time? Was any of it real? And worse…what if Dream never changed, and they were all wrong?) “Not after you, like, tried to kill everyone–”

“Oh, when did I do that? Sure, my memory’s a biiiiit faulty, but I think I would remember something like that.” Dream grinned, batting his eyelashes, leaning languidly against the wall. “Well? Care to remind me?”

“You started like five wars, dude!” Sapnap ran a hand through his hair. “And you blew L’Manburg three times, and you tried to steal everyone’s stuff to control them–”

“But when did I try to kill everyone? Like, sure, I did that stuff, but half the server did too, and, hell, Technoblade blew up L’Manburg too! I was mostly just helping there, and I don’t see you going after him, do I?” Dream urged playfully.

“People did go after Technoblade, Dream,” Sapnap argued. “They tried to kill him.”

“Blah blah butcher army, blah blah Technoblade’s execution, yeah, I know.” Dream rolled his eyes. “But that was it. No one went after him after that, even though he went off and destroyed more stuff after that. Well, excluding the little part where he got locked in Pandora with me.”

What? Sapnap didn’t think he ever was told about that part. He hadn’t been keeping up a lot with the rest of the server, especially not when it concerned the Blade.

Then again, Dream could just be lying to try to mess with him.

Dream took one look at his face and laughed. “Wait, you didn’t know about that? I thought everyone did!” He chuckled. “I’d imagine that Quackity would go bragging to you about it,” he commented slyly, one finger raised to frame his face.

“What does Quackity have to do with this?” Sapnap asked. He didn’t want to talk about Quackity right now. He didn’t ever want to talk about Quackity with Dream. His ex-lover was too much of a sore spot for him.

“We were talking about Technoblade? And people going after him? Did you expect me to not bring up Quackity? I mean, that’s like, fucking impossible,” Dream remarked, one eyebrow raised. “And like, more specifically, Quackity’s the one to come up with the plan to lock Techno up, so then we gotta talk about him.”

“Whatever,” Sapnap muttered, rubbing his face. He certainly hadn’t missed this. “Let’s just stop talking about Quackity." He really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Why the hell are you here? How did you even find this place?”

“Just wanted to swing by, y’know, check how you’re doing?” Dream pushed himself up off the wall. “And it’s not hard to find. Doesn’t even make it on the top five of secret places on this server. Too many builds,” he sniffed.

“I don’t know if you know this, but people need places to live, Dream,” Sapnap snarled.

Dream sighed dramatically. “I swear, if that’s another homeless joke–”

“You think we’re joking here?!” Sapnap exclaimed. “You’re just lucky that I haven’t stabbed you yet, Dream, and I really should of. This isn’t a game!” Sapnap shut his mouth, vibrating with rage, and suddenly realized that his hair was on fire again. Fuck. He needed to calm down.

“Well, that’s great,” Dream commented, completely unbothered, casual as all hell. “Just wonderful, really. Did you know your fiance was torturing me?”

“What?” Sapnap hissed. He needed a minute, even though Dream would absolutely not give him one. He couldn’t deal with this right now, when he could feel the fire building up inside his chest and tried to push it down. He’d already burst into flame once during this conversation, and he didn’t want to repeat that.

“Yep!” Dream responded brightly, but Sapnap could see something cold and calculating deep within his eyes. “Quackity’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Quackity wouldn’t do that,” Sapnap stated. He wouldn’t. Sure, Quackity had some flaws, and they weren’t…together anymore, or even talking at all, really, but Sapnap was sure he wouldn’t do that.

“He did! He did, Sap!” Dream insisted. Sapnap tried to ignore how his entire demeanor changed, how frantic (desperate) he seemed. It was just an act, just another way to try to deceive him and get him on his side. Sapnap wasn’t going to fall for it.“You’re lying,” Sapnap told him. Dream had to be lying. Quackity wouldn’t do that. He knew that Dream was lying. Dream always lied. That was what he did. “You’re a liar, Dream. He would never do that.”

[wordingg]

Impostor

Summary: Jason's first time interacting with another kid as Robin goes very badly.

Whumptober fill day nine. Prompt: mistaken identity, "you're a liar".

Being Robin meant more to Jason than just about anything in the world when he was fourteen. Less than a year ago he had been living on the streets, boosting tires and other unmentionable things just to survive. It was surreal to think that his life could change so completely in such a short period of time.

Training had been hard, really hard, and Jason had questioned whether it would be worth it many times while he was sweating and straining in the cave beneath Wayne Manor. But, it was all worth it and more to be flying through the night sky above Gotham city with that iconic yellow cape flying out behind him.

He was still new to Robin, still glued to Batman's side for every patrol and under strict orders not to stray. But, everyone knew that part of being Robin was doing what you thought was right, even if Batman told you otherwise.

So, when Jason heard a small voice yelling out the name Robin one night at the tail end of patrol, he barely thought about it. He carefully peeled off of Batman's tail and swung down to a lower rooftop closer to the bay.

He followed the yelling until he saw a small figure standing bundled up on the roof of an apartment building.

Jason proudly landed on the roof a good ten feet from the kid who was yelling for him and rolled his landing, popping up with his fists on his hips and a wide grin on his face. This was it! His first solo interaction as Robin!

The kid was a little girl with snarled and messy looking brown hair and huge black plastic glasses on a small pointy face. She was pretty tiny, he guessed maybe eight or ten years old, but she was swallowed by a huge red puffy coat.

"Hi, little girl!" Jason said, doing his best to hide his Bowery accent, but wincing when the vowel on girl definitely got too long. "How can I help you?"

There was a long pause where the little girl scowled impressively at Jason, and Jason did his best to smile winningly at her like he had practiced in the mirror. But, the longer that she didn't say anything, the harder it was to keep his face frozen in a smile.

Finally, she said, "You're not Robin," with more vitriol than Jason thought a ten-year-old would be able to conjure.

Jason jerked back at that, surprising himself at how much that comment hurt.

"What?" he asked faintly. Then, louder, he said, "No, I am Robin!"

"No, you're not," she yelled back. "You're a liar!"

"I am not!" Jason shouted back, completely losing his fake accent and his cool.

"Robin," a dark voice like the rumble of a V8 engine sounded behind Jason, but he was too incandescent with rage and hurt to start at Bruce's sudden appearance.

"You're not Robin! You're a nasty imposter and should be ashamed of yourself!" the little girl shrieked before running away from both Batman and Robin, crashing through the roof access door, and stomping down the steps at full speed back into the apartment building.

Jason stood there, frozen, his chest heaving. He felt impotent with rage, so hurt and angry and with nowhere to direct his feelings.

"Robin, I told you to stay with me. You disobeyed a direct order," Bruce rumbled, but the words hardly registered with Jason.

"She-" he gasped, clenching and releasing his hands frantically. "Why would she say that?" he asked. He meant to shout it, to scream it, but instead his voice broke pathetically small.

Bruce didn't say anything for a long moment, long enough that Jason almost scrubbed at his face with his hands before he remembered he wouldn't be able to reach his eyes with the domino mask in place anyway. He would have to wait until he could take the mask off to clean his face.

"That was Chelsea," Bruce said after a while. "Robin used to meet her at night and talk to her. She's a troubled girl," he said quietly, his voice softening, the rumble of Batman folding into the smoother softer tones of Bruce Wayne.

Jason stared at the door she had disappeared into. He wondered what troubled meant. He wondered what Dick had talked to her about. And, he wondered if a ten-year-old girl could tell he wasn't Robin, what everyone else thought. Maybe they all thought he was a pathetic imposter. Maybe they were just too polite to say anything.

"Robin, I should bench you-" Batman started, the growl back in his voice, but Jason cut him off.

"I don't care," he said roughly. "I want to go home."

"Robin-" Bruce started, the growl gone again.

"I don't care!" Jason shouted and then used his grapple to launch himself off the roof and back toward where they had stashed the Batmobile.

He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to think about it, he just wanted to run and feel the wind in his hair and the city beneath his feet. But even as the wind scrubbed away the feeling of wrongness, the words kept ringing in his head.

Jason wasn't Robin, and maybe he never would be.

[celira]

day 9

(cw: suicidal ideation)

The walls of the room are always, always closing in on her. Perhaps one day they'll run out of space, crush her between their whitewashed surfaces, a pincer grip of mercy, or justice, or whatever worthless prattle of the day the whispering masses comfort themselves with.

There is no justice for the weak. There is no justice for her. Therefore, she has been unforgivably weak. She has been turning this logic over and over and over and–

Logic is maybe not the word. She knows. She hears them call her the mad princess, and it's a tired refrain, one that's followed her in one shape or another since she was old enough to comprehend language, which was very young indeed. Why should she let it give her pause now?

Second-born. Daughter. Hot on their heels: Prodigy. Monster. Epithets on epithets, some earned, some inflicted – you’re a liar, he said. Azula always lies.

When does it become more expedient to fill the outline drawn around you than try to challenge it? To rise to the expectation, rise to the occasion and then command it? When does it become folly not to grasp pitilessly onto whatever scant advantages you can claw together within the confines of your role?

Her claws are blunted, now, dull in form and in shine. The walls draw ever nearer, as they have since the day she took her first breath. Maybe, she thinks, they will gift her with her last soon.

[evillittlebirdie]

The Lies We Want To Believe

Inspired by Daggers of the Mirror by ArtsyBecca.

Daggers of the Mirror is such a fantastic work of fiction. Please go read it. Also, we hold these truths to be self-evident. Gale is a chubby, indulgent bunny Gale is insecure about the aforementioned indulgence Gale uses a glamor spell.

There were few pleasantries in the world more pure than being in love.

At first, Gale was happy to find an educated, kindred spirit in Elisabeth. As slender and graceful as a willow, her body betrayed the amount of force Elisabeth could deliver with a single spell. He couldn't help but find Elisabeth cute when she engrossed herself in a book. Even if the book was found off a corpse or had a molded cover, Elisabeth struggled to let it go. She hoarded magical ingredients and flowers. Lavender was her favorite flower. When Gale offered to show Elisabeth his connection to the Weave, he knew he was planting a seed that could only be nurtured by Elisabeth's hand. He did not dare to think she would reciprocate. It was foolish to hope that guided him. But Elisabeth did return his interest. And even more.

Gale felt like a young man when he walked hand in hand with Elisabeth. Chaste kisses brought a blush to his cheeks every time. They made love in the Weave and physically. Elisabeth not only defended him against Mystra but empowered him. And not least of all, Tara absolutely adored Elisabeth. 

It was not all one-sided adoration. Elisabeth utilized Gale as her confidant. Gale could feel his heart skip a beat whenever Elisabeth asked for his input. 

Gale remembered entering the Gauntlet of Shar and Elisabeth suddenly freezing. She could not even talk or speak. Once Gale eliminated the possibility of enchantment or poison, Elisbath finally lifted her hand and pointed. It was the rats surrounding one of the alters to Shar. 

Later that night, Elisabeth shared with him her humble beginnings as a street urchin. She shared the days of hunger and sleeping in alleyways. She remembered waking up to vermin running through her hair and nibbling at her toes. Once Elisabeth revealed her fear of rats, she told him everything about her life. Gale held her as she shared finding a true family once she attended a school of magic; as she confessed falling in love with an older female sorcerer who let her feelings down easily; and as she revealed her hidden doubts about her leadership. 

After that long night, Gale and Elisabeth were closer than ever before.

Despite all of his misgivings and doubts, Gale admitted one last secret to Elisabeth. Gale brought her into his tent (or more aptly,  their  tent. It had been weeks since he slept alone). He twisted a plain silver ring on his right hand. He prefaced the action with an apology. Avoiding Elisabeth's confused expression, Gale pulled off his ring. Gale had utilized the glamor ring for years, especially since his age began to show. Without the glamor, his true body stood in front of Elisabeth. His hair was naturally grayer, his beard more rugged, and more noticeably, his true frame was nearly forty pounds heavier. He always had a weakness for rich food and decadent pastries. He had a penchant for snacking when he was studying. And the year he spent isolated in his tower did very little to help with keeping slim.

"I'll never take the ring off again. I just wanted you to know who you were truly with," Gale confessed, keeping his eyes away from her face. He couldn't bear to see her disgust. 

Instead of disdain or even polite rejection, Elisabeth just reached in and embraced Gale tightly. She buried her face in his chest and pleaded, "Wear it outside if it makes you feel comfortable, but please do not hide yourself from me."

Gale could have wept with joy. He had a beautiful, powerful woman who accepted him. She didn't need him to be a god. She didn't want him to hide his body. They shared the same interests, desires, and emotions. They were in love and nothing could tear them apart. 

Gale had to find a way to stabilize the Netherese orb and defeat the Absolute. Once the world breathed easy, he could begin the proper happily ever after. Wedding bells, cake, and flowers inclusive.

***

"Fantastic work today, soldier," Karlach praised, clapping her hand on Elisabeth's shoulder. 

Astarion rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, praise the woman that hid back safely on a high ledge. Not the man who saved you from some brute bashing you in the skull," he feigned dismay, shaking his head in response.

"Oh, don't worry, I have full intentions on properly recognizing your efforts, pretty boy," Karlach grinned, winking her eye at Astarion. The pale elf returned her smile with a smug smirk before the two wandered off on their own. No doubt, Astarion would be thoroughly 'appreciated' by the end of the night. 

Lae'zel silently rolled her eyes at the pair before waving Elisabeth off. "Go mount your mate as well. You deserve to revel in your victory today."

Elisabeth chuckled at her companions' antics. As much as she enjoyed her company, there was someone else she would rather spend time with. "Good night, Lae'zel," She ended. She walked over to Gale's tent, seeing the flaps closed. She smiled endearingly. Maybe Gale had taken her advice and was resting. 

Typically, Elisabeth didn't like leaving camp without Gale by her side. But Gale deserved the break. Elisabeth was going after Guild thugs. Her magic was enough to ensure solid victory. Sometimes, having more than one magic user was a hindrance rather than an advantage. 

Elisabeth approached the tent and pulled the tent flap up, "Gale, sweetheart, I'm here-" Elisabeth stopped herself. Horror paled her face at the sight of... herself .

'Elisabeth' was straddling a shirtless Gale on his bedroll. He was unglamored. His silver ring was cast aside on the ground rather than safely put up. His eyes were closed tight and he was facing away from 'Elisabeth'. The double had Gale's wrists pinned above his head with one hand. With her other hand, she had a blade to Gale's cheek. 

"What in the hells?" Elisabeth shouted before taking her staff off her back. At the sudden yell, Gale opened his eyes and turned to face the tent's entrance. In doing so, his cheek cut against the doppelganger's blade. 

"Oh, here she is. Brave, brave adventurer back to save the damsel in distress," The replica responded with a mad laugh. Elisabeth's skin crawled at hearing her voice mimicked. The doppelganger's head twisted violently. Familiar ruby-red tones and pale skin appeared. And a devious laugh left the mouth of none other than Orin the Red. She pulled the knife from Gale's skin and ran her tongue along the bloodied blade. "Such as shame...If you only gave me a few more minutes, I could have made a  proper  damsel of him..." She cackled, disappearing in a shimmer before Elisabeth could brutally hit her with her staff. 

"Fucking bitch! I'll kill her," Elisabeth shouted angrily. She tossed her staff to the ground in frustration before rushing to Gale's side. 

Gale, who had shown every vulnerability to her, was unable to meet her gaze. Elisabeth placed her finger on the cut along his cheek. "Gods, look at that nasty wound. I need to get Shadowheart." She wanted nothing more than to pull Gale to her chest and never let go. But instead, she forced herself to move away.

But Gale reached up to grab Elisabeth's wrist. "Wait...I need my ring..."

Frustrated, not with Gale but with the situation, Elisabeth tried to pull her wrist away, "I'm very sure Shadowheart isn't going to mind-"

"Not without my ring," Gale insisted, his eyes darting around the floor of the tent. 

Elisabeth's eyes fell to the ground where the ring had fallen by the table. She picked it up and handed it over to Gale. The wizard let go of Elisabeth's wrist and quickly placed his ring back on. Elisabeth didn't wait to see the transformation; she just rushed to Shadowheart's tent.

"What's all the commotion? I thought I heard battle," Lae'zel stated her greatsword at the ready despite being out of her armor. She rushed to Elisabeth's side before her gaze moved to Gale's tent.

Even Astarion and Karlach had taken notice. Their weapons were at the ready. And if the situation was less serious, Elisabeth would have pointed out Astarion's backward shirt. 

"It's Orin, it was Orin..." 

It was all a blur. Finding Shadowheart and taking her to Gale's tent. It was only a flesh wound. And with Shadowheart's immediate intervention, there would be no scarring. Gale responded negatively to Shadowheart's question about additional physical wounds. 

Gale was present, but he didn't seem quite aware. He would answer yes or no questions, but otherwise, he was silent. He sat on the bedroll and kept his eyes on his lap. Once Elisabeth discussed with the group about Orin and increased defenses, she was able to speak to Gale alone.

"Gale, what happened?" Elisabeth asked before sitting down on the bedroll next to him. Gale was propped up by several pillows, encased in blankets. By this time of night, Elisabeth would have expected him to remove his glamor ring. It stayed on. 

Gale turned to look at Elisabeth, to truly look at her. He grimaced before Elisabeth felt the gentle probing of his tadpole. He wanted to show her something. Elisabeth nodded before she allowed the connection to form. 

***

Gale wasn't necessarily 'clingy'. He just felt out of place when Elisabeth left him back at camp. But he didn't complain. He gave Elisabeth a goodbye kiss and sent her off with Astarion, Lae'zel, and Karlach at her side. 

After preparing dinner for the members at camp, Gale retired to his tent with a cup of tea, two cinnamon buns, and a book on arcane cultivation. It would be enough to keep his mind busy until Elisabeth returned. 

It was after sunset when the tent flap wavered. Gale looked up from his chair in the tent and smiled at the sight of Elisabeth ducking in. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Gale beamed, setting the book on his desk. He got out of the chair and moved in to greet his lover. 

"I could say the same thing about you. My darling little pet wizard with his treats," Elisabeth cooed, gesturing over to the plate next to his glass of wine. Only a quarter of a cinnamon roll remained.

Gale chuckled good-naturedly before taking her hands in his own. He pressed his lips against her knuckles before kissing her lips. "Idling the hours away until I could see you again, my sweet."

"You like this, don't you?" Elisabeth hummed sweetly. She took her hands from his. She turned around and loosened the flap of the tent, giving them privacy.

"I love seeing you come back alive," Gale agreed with a nod before sitting down. 

"It's more than that. You like relaxing here, studying in safety, indulging in luxury, while I fight for us..." Elisabeth temped with a sly smile on her face, moving closer to him. 

Gale flushed as Elisabeth swayed with each step. Of course, she was instigating the prerequisite to a sensual game. "Well, I cannot deny the allure." 

"No, you cannot resist can you?" Elisabeth whispered. She moved to him, setting her hands on his knees. She began to spread them and Gale felt his heart jump. "My sweet little Gale, my sweet little lapdog, ready for me after a long day of...violence..." Gale couldn't help but notice the desire in her tone regarding 'violence'. It should have caused confusion or at least hesitation. But then Elisabeth suddenly cupped Gale's manhood through his trousers. The sudden sensation provoked a jerking motion and a thorough distraction from Elisabeth's manner. 

"Ah...not quite ready yet," Elisabeth huffed, referring to Gale's softness. "No matter."

"You're eager," Gale pointed out with a chuckle. It wasn't uncommon. They had planned lovemaking ventures. But due to their lifestyle, they often engaged in frenzied trysts. "Just give me a moment, love." 

"Well, of course...After today's bloodshed, I wanted nothing more than to find release with my Gale," Elisabeth murmured before she hooked her leg around Gale's waist. She pulled herself into his lap and kissed him warmly on his lips. Gale returned the kiss, sighing as his hands traveled along her back.

"The things I want to do to you," Elisabeth purred against his lips. She ended the kiss before she removed herself from Gale's lap. She gestured over to the bedroll. "Take off your shirt. Lie down." 

Gale nodded, his cheeks flushed with anticipation. He was not sure what his love had up her sleeve, but he was eager to partake in it. He walked over to the bedroll and took off his shirt. He folded the article of clothing neatly and placed it on top of the table near the bedroll. He lay down on his back, watching with a smile on his face as Elisabeth sauntered over to him. 

Elisabeth lowered herself to his body, straddling him. What a vision. "Ah, one more thing to remove..." She hummed quietly before she took Gale's hand. Gale's heart skipped a beat but he took a deep breath. Elisabeth knew what he looked like and she loved him and accepted him for it. Elisabeth removed the silver ring from his finger before promptly tossing it to the side. 

Gale winced as the ring disappeared somewhere on the floor of the tent. "Darling-"

"Oh, oh, oh, my. To see it in this light..." Elisabeth cackled demeaningly. The sound made Gale's blood run cold. The sound was so wrong to his ears. 

"Look at you, all plump and lazy. The picture of a spoiled scholar," Elisabeth mocked, a grin forming on her face.

"Ah...love, I don't know what type of game this is, but I'm not...I'm not a fan of it," Gale mustered out, his cheeks red from embarrassment and not arousal. 

"Game? Oh, he thinks we're playing a game? Oh if it were only a game," Elisabeth giggled out, her hand moving along his soft stomach. "I'm not playing a game." She pinched the side of his stomach, making him wince and turn.

"Eldritch," Gale stated firmly, pulling from her hand. He utilized their safe word. They came up with the safe word when Elisabeth utilized her strap. They never needed to use it outside of that context. But it had to apply in this situation too. She would stop this and he could shake off the crawling anxiety. 

But instead of ending this odd game, Elisabeth only laughed again. "As though you truly have any choice, any right to say no to my observations." Her hands and fingers traveled along his body, squeezing his skin. "Weak, useless, wizard...hiding off in his tent with his nose in a book, stuffing his face with pastries."

Gale attempted to sit up, but suddenly Elisabeth grabbed his wrists. She positioned them above his head and pressed down harshly. Surprised at her strength, Gale could only try to wiggle his way out. "El...Eldritch," He repeated desperately. Even though he knew she heard him, there was a small part that knew that Elisabeth would never purposely hurt him. 

"I heard you the first time, Gale. Do hush unless you have something important to say. Maybe someone else would like to speak for once, instead of hearing your inane, self-absorbed rambling. You're almost as bad as the elf. But at least he's a sight for sore eyes," Elisabeth criticized. She sighed, using her free hand to tap her lip, "Now...where was I..."

"You were exactly the type of person I hated growing up..." Elisabeth hissed at him, her nails digging into his wrists, "Privileged, spoiled, egotistical, power-hungry. Sitting fat and happy in their warm houses while people starved and froze in the streets. Craving power with no regard for the little people trampled in their midst."

Gale searched Elisabeth's face desperately. Something had to be wrong. But this was her voice, her words. Everything he feared was coming true. She finally saw him for what he was. The visions of Elisabeth smiling at him, holding him remained out of reach. He sought to hear the sound of her crying his name in passion, the sweet 'I love yous'. 

"But...because of my own benevolence...I saw past your shortcomings. I ignored the fact that behind the glamor I was laying with a wretch. To sleep with a goddess's ex-plaything; that is quite a trophy," Elisabeth continued to degrade him, her fingers resting now in his long hair. She pulled at his gray-brown locks. She laughed as she looked him over, "Yes, you're a novelty to me, Gale. A toy for me to use until I properly grow bored of you. Do you truly think I loved you? How stupid, how gullible."

"I keep you alive and comfortable. I shield you against Mystra's wrath. I risk my life again and again and again and again..." She gripped his hair tighter. She forced his head off the pillow and hit it against the ground with each 'again'. The shock overwhelmed any physical pain from the action.

"And I come to the tent  I  procured, to find my arrogant, gluttonous sloth of a lover unable to get it up on command. Like any other man. I have been too soft on you, little wizard." 

He couldn't handle looking at her anymore. Elisabeth who was so young, beautiful, confident, and powerful...She pitied him. And now she finally had enough. Gale forced his eyes closed and turned from her burning gaze.

Even if he couldn't see her, Gale could still hear her. She mockingly laughed at him before letting go of his hair. She kept his wrists together. "Hmmm, well, let's see if we can do anything to salvage this unhappy situation." 

Suddenly, something cold, sharp, and metallic was grazing against his face. "Let's see...I wonder if I could do something about this cheek, make it nice and lean." 

"Gale, sweetheart, I'm here-What in the hells?!"

***

Both Elisabeth and Gale physically pulled back once the memory ended. Elisabeth felt sick to her stomach. Gale's insecurity, panic, and sadness nearly drowned her. She struggled to keep her composure. 

"In retrospect, I should have known something was atypical. You never come to bed without refreshing the lavender satchels," Gale commented.

"That is what led you to believe something was wrong? Not the verbal abuse? If Orin bothered to shake up the dried flowers in our tent, you wouldn't have had a second thought?" Elisabeth fired off her questions in disbelief. When Gale flinched back, Elisabeth cursed herself and her tone. "Damn it, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to...I'm sorry." She scooted closer to Gale and wrapped her arms around him. She was relieved when Gale melted in her arms. 

"I am so sorry she hurt you. She's a twisted monster and I cannot wait to kill her for what she has done to you, to us," Elisabeth told him, running her fingers through his hair. "Nothing she said about you was true. I love you. You're brilliant, selfless, gorgeous."

Gale mumbled into her chest, "You're only saying that because of what she said..."

"Fuck that," Elisabeth remarked bluntly, "I'm saying that because it's true. And I'll say it every day until the day I can't speak anymore. Then I'll write it. And if I can't move my hand anymore, then I'll tell you in the Weave. Then we'll die. And I can tell you again and again in the afterlife." 

Gale's shoulders began to move into half of a laugh, half of a sob. Taking it as an encouraging sign, Elisabeth made circles in his back with her finger. "I'm not letting you out of my sight for a very long time. So I hope you enjoyed your privacy while it lasted." 

Gale looked up at Elisabeth. His dark eyes shined with tears but there was a weak smile on his face, "I was foolish to think for a moment that she was you. I'm sorry."

"You don't get to apologize anymore," Elisabeth tutted, continuing to rub his back. "But..." She sighed, setting her head on Gale's shoulder, "There had to be a reason you were so eager to believe her. Something lingering inside of you." 

Gale opened his mouth as though to speak, only for a small whimper to leave. 

"Shhh," Elisabeth comforted him, "We can discuss this tomorrow. When you get some rest. I'm here for you. No matter what. I've chosen you. Just listen..." She eased him onto his back and lay next to him. She kissed the top of his head. 

"I love the wrinkles around your eyes, especially when you smile or laugh. The gray that peppers through your hair. The way your beard feels between my thighs. Your mind is so brilliant and intelligent. I know you only want to do better for everyone. You want to please. You're not selfish. Someone selfish would not do half of what you are doing. Your body makes me feel warm and safe. You enjoy the fine things in life. That is not a vice. I love putting my head in your lap. I can see why I will need to fight Tara over it. You have pleased me in a way that makes me forget the name of any other man or woman. Not because of what you do, but because of the love that is behind it. You make me feel like the most important person in the room."

"I love you, Gale of Waterdeep, Gale Dekarios." Elisabeth continued to stroke his back. With Gale's even, deep breathing, she thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep from exhaustion. But suddenly, Elisabeth felt something cold and metal in her hand. She looked down to see that Gale had passed his ring to her. His glamor was off. Gale curled into her, his face nuzzling into her chest. Elisabeth clasped the ring protectively in her hand before setting it under the pillow. 

"Sweet dreams..." 

[whumptimemain]

For too long

Just Dance 2023 | Jack Rose and Wanderlust | Whumptober Day 9 | "You're a liar" | Post-whump

CW: Implied past child torture

Jack Rose takes care of an eepy sleepy Wanderlust.

Jack Rose knew better than anyone how long it took to recover from Night Swan’s wrath. He’d known since he was far too young to understand what it meant when his skin broke into black feathers. It was knowledge he’d been bitter about carrying. What use was there for the ways he’d learned to heal himself?

He was bitter, but less so now.

He smoothed out the covers on the end of his bed, around the lump of blankets where Wanderlust laid. There was a certain calm to his near stillness. It was better than the way the prince had writhed under Night Swan’s magic. His light snoring was far better than the hisses of pain.

As Jack got up, Wanderlust stirred. He mumbled something.

“Hm?”

“Were you leaving?”

Jack shuffled back onto the edge of the bed. “No.”

“Yes you were.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.” Wanderlust adjusted and settled with a sigh. “You’re a liar.”

“Okay your highness.” He rolled his eyes. “You got me.”

“Yes I did.”

Jack patted his leg. “Get some more sleep.” Wanderlust was already drifting back into the same peaceful sleep as before, even if the marks on his face were anything less than that. They would heal.

They would heal.

[spritehouse]

The Sky is Overcast (I'm Sorry)

read on ao3

Prompts: "You're a liar" (no. 9), "You said you'd never leave" (no. 10), & Goodbye Note (no. 24) | @whumptober-archive

⚠️Content Warnings: arguments & abandonment issues

Pairing: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid Words: 680

Summary: “When?” He stops, the two of them standing in their living room, surrounded by little pieces of their life together—Spencer’s books and figurines filling the gaps on Luke’s shelves, pictures of them on birthdays, cases, days off, taking Roxy to the park– “As soon as I can.” “That’s not good enough.” “Spencer, I’m sorry–” “That’s not good enough, Luke. Why aren’t I good enough for you to stay?”

- or, luke has to leave to protect his partner, spencer catches him before he goes

Notes: i really hate having fics less than 1k words but my brain said no so 👍🏽

Spencer gets home 30 minutes early.

“Luke?”

The genius could tell you exactly how many minutes early—probably seconds too—he is, considering how much paperwork he has and factoring in the subway’s standard deviation to provide a more accurate projected arrival time, but for Luke, he’s 30 minutes early.

”Luke? Are you home?“

The first thing he notices is the silence—the lack of sound, no Roxy waiting by the door, tail wagging, waiting for Spencer to drop his bag to greet him–his hand instinctively moving to his hip, fingers finding the familiar weight of his gun.

“Roxy?”

His skin crawls as he creeps through the still apartment, gun drawn as he turns the corner to their bedroom–

“Woah, cariño! Spence!” Luke puts his hands up quickly, Spencer’s shoulders sagging with a sigh when he sees his boyfriend.

“Luke! Jeez, you scared me; why weren’t you answering? And where’s Roxy–”

He stops, shoving his gun in its holster, mouth going dry as his eyes land on a packed duffle bag sitting on their bed, his heart suddenly hammering against his chest, rib cage restricting his lungs.

“You’re leaving?”

He looks up, eyes wide and wet, watching his boyfriend stagger over his words silently, looking for the right thing to say.

“It’s not like that–”

“Where’s Roxy?”

Luke pauses, taken aback by the sudden topic shift, swallowing his anxiety before speaking.

“She’s at her sitters.”

“Why?”

The two agents stand, staring, studying each other, searching their carefully guarded souls, Spencer’s shoulders raised and shaking while Luke’s stance is relaxed, shocked, still processing his partner catching him.

“So you don’t have to worry about taking care of her while I’m away.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens, folding his fingers into fists to keep them from trembling, nails digging into his palms, watching his boyfriend for another minute before turning around and storming out of the room.

“Spencer–”

“What, were you just going to leave before I got home? Disappear without a trace? Abandon me?”

“I’m coming back–”

“When?”

He stops, the two of them standing in their living room, surrounded by little pieces of their life together—Spencer’s books and figurines filling the gaps on Luke’s shelves, pictures of them on birthdays, cases, days off, taking Roxy to the park–

“As soon as I can.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Spencer, I’m sorry–”

“That’s not good enough, Luke. Why aren’t I good enough for you to stay?”

Luke signs, stepping forward, arms outstretched, desperate to hold his partner, frowning when Spencer steps back.

“It’s not that, cariño; it’s not you, I promise–”

“Then what? What is it? Why can’t you stay?”

“I’m trying to protect you–”

“I don’t need protection, Luke! I just need you!” Spencer shouts, a sob slipping past his lips, resignation– desperation setting in. “Please, Luke; you said you’d never leave me; you promised–”

“I’m not leaving you, Spence–”

“–you lied to me–”

“Spencer–”

“You know who else left to protect someone? Emily, and she died, Hotch, and he never came back, Derek–”

“Spence, please just listen–”

“Give me the letter.”

Luke freezes, frowning, brows furrowed.

“What?”

“You were going to leave before I got home, but you wouldn’t disappear without saying something, without explaining yourself. Where’s the letter, Luke?”

The older agent stares at his partner for another second before sighing, disappearing into their bedroom for a minute before returning with a white envelope, Spencer’s name neatly written on the front.

“That’s it? You were just going to leave me with another note? Just like Gideon and my dad–”

“No, Spencer, let me– Look,” Luke reaches into his pocket, producing an old burner phone. “You can talk to me on that–”

“Seriously? This is all I get?”

“I will keep you updated, and I’ll try to text you at least once a day–”

“Luke–”

“–and I’m sorry, Spence–”

“Luke, please–”

“–but I’m coming back–”

“Go.”

Both men freeze, staring at each other, jaws clenched and eyes wide, silently pleading for forgiveness and understanding or to stay–

“I’ll be here.”

He always is—waiting, the one that’s left behind.

“Go.”

[daisy-mooon]

Liar

Whumptober Day 9: "You're a liar."

-

The moment she embraces who she is, past the gaslighting and the manipulation, Carol silently promises that she will never create a lie so damaging as Vers.

"I'll be back before you know it," Carol promises. And as the years go by, two promises become painful, damaging lies.

It's not that she had ever intended to abandon earth, but that doesn't change the fact that she did without so much as telling anyone. She's been so busy fighting the Kree and their lies that it's consumed her whole, turned her into something exhausted and hypocritical. She's a hero, yes, but there are days when she feels no more a hero than she did when she was Vers.

"I don't like lies." Carol says again and again to every person she meets, only able to think about the bittered lie she made to Monica.

And when she does see her again, able to tear that promise away from fully being a lie and into something unhappy and untrustworthy, Monica only has one thing to tell her.

"You lied." She says simply. "You're a liar."

The truth hurts, enveloping her whole and stabbing her right through the heart. It shakes her to her very core, resurfaces nightmares and half forgotten memories of Hala. Carol hates liars with a burning, unfogettable fury, and yet she is one.

It's devastating. She's not sure how it doesn't break her. Maybe it does. For all she knows, she's just lying too herself.

[whump3000]

Whumptober No. 9- Liar

"Nicholas, we need to get you out of here."

"But I've only just arrived."

And so it had been. For just a month, Nicholas had been free, and in that month, he could finally learn how to breathe again. His memory was shattered, but his heart was healing, swaddled in the infinite warmth of newfound friends and family. Or so he thought until this moment.

"Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it."

Nicholas wanted to laugh. "You want me to throw away my freedom for a feeling?"

"You don't understand," Sybil grabbed his hands, "I can see things. The shadows of the future, whispers of the past. It's been a long time since I've had a premonition, but--" she shuddered, "by the fates, I hope I'm wrong."

Her words were rivers, pouring down her cheeks. She spoke them earnestly, but they curdled in Nicholas's mind.

"You're a liar," Nicholas said, backing away. "Why would you tell me this?

Sybil gave him a sad sort of smile. "Why would I lie?"

[flydotnet]

Would You Stop Fucking Lying Already You Piece of Shit (affectionate)

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.” Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

I guess it's a new yearly ritual of mine: I have somehow getting back into Inazuma Eleven for three days, wanting to make an UTAU voicebank; and now, I guess I have the yearly, challenge-fueled (platonic) AkeJun fanfic. Last year had the Fanfiction Library's New Ship Challenge entry, "Honestly, I've Seen Better Days", and this year, we have a Whumptober prompt fill. Who knows what 2024 will bring! Maybe next time I'll actually go off the rails.

Yeah, it's yet another humourous take on a prompt. I'm a dumbass like that.

If you wish to place this oneshot in the actual HSAU timeline, it's meant to happen on HSAU+1, the year following the AU's main school year. It's around February+1, if so to speak.

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

Would You Stop Fucking Lying Already You Piece of Shit (affectionate)

Summary: Goro is stuck having to care for an unwell Jun for reasons beyond either of their comprehension. It gets weird.

Fandom: Persona 5/Captain Tsubasa (it's the funny high school teacher AU again!)

Word Count: 1.3K words

AO3 version available here.

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

“You’re a liar. A dirty fuckin’ liar.”

In response to his sharply accurate statement, all Goro gets is a loud sniffle.

“Do you even fuckin’ hear me?” He continues. “You’re a fuckin’ liar, Misugi.”

“You’re not the first to tell me.”

Absolutely infuriating.

“Remind me why in the hell do I have to babysit your lyin’ ass?”

“You actually don’t need to. I’m a grown adult.”

For fuck’s sake, he’s right. Goro doesn’t actually have to be here, he could just be exploding shit in his classroom, or in the lab, or in his kitchen. He could be having a nice day, now that his lessons for the day are over. Even attending Ann’s stupid-ass tea club sounds like a better idea, but there he is, having to keep guard over the smuggest bastard in the school.

“Unless you don’t want to disappoint Yayoi?”

As always, when one just points out his defaults, he attacks back. Why is he so good at it too? That’s nowhere near fair. Fuck this shit.

“You’re a coward and a liar.”

“You’re not proving me wrong.”

“Fuck you! There’s just nobody to do this except for me, so shut the fuck up!”

“Oh really?”

He tilts his head as he sits on his desk, a smug smirk on his lips. For once, they’d dried and ugly. (It’s not satisfying to notice. It itches under his skin).

“Your girlfriend’s busy and entrusted me with you. That’s all you need.”

“What about Hikaru?”

“You’re fucking with me? Is that how stupid you think I am?”

That takes Misugi off guard. Huh.

“What do you mean?”

“That guy’s on a class trip.” Goro deadpans hard enough to feel his own features set like concrete. “Y’know? He’s accompanying Fujisawa on the stupid yearly Euro Section trip to who knows where. I dunno, I didn’t listen to that part, I didn’t give a fuck. But I expected you to remember shit like that. Isn’t Bushy Eyebrows your best friend, dumbass?”

“It’s… uh…” His eyes fret around the place. “I forgot. I honestly forgot.”

He coughs into his elbow, the fabric unable to hide the sheer awfulness and wetness of it. It’s the sound equivalent of having to wash someone else’s cat, and the stupid thing is fighting back with its shitty claws and leaving hair in your hands and all over the bathroom – what was he thinking about already?

Right. Misugi being weird – well, weirder than usual.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Goro comments with an oddly serious tone that feels… outside of himself. “You’re always bragging back against me. You’re the one idiot here who can’t shut it. The hell’s this shit?”

“It’s a simple moment of forgetfulness. Life can be tough on the memory, especially short-term.”

Despite the smile on his face, there is a sense of vertigo to the rest of his body. Goro prefers brushing it off and focus on what matters: showing this guy he shouldn’t be too prideful. He’s just too smug about it all, and a handsome-looking asshole, and Goro will use the babysitting session to his advantage.

“Y’know, you need to stop lying through your damn teeth, douchebag.”

Jun doesn’t smirk back.

“You sound half-hearted. What’s wrong, Goro?” Only then does he smile, brighter than before, eyes looking through him (literally). “Are you tired of playing?”

“Playing what? This ain’t a game of chess, fuckhead. We’re not on VirtuaChess, in case you didn’t realize.”

He’s starting to fully comprehend why Yayoi was so insistent on having someone keep an eye on her stupid boyfriend.

“I’ve always thought this was all a little dance routine for us.” He coughs again. “You don’t seem to see this way.”

“Get real.”

“I’m being honest.” He clears his throat. “We had that big conversation last year, didn’t we? About how we weren’t so different, that we actually didn’t dislike each other.”

“You’re oddly mellow.”

“I’m tired.”

“Oh, so you can do something else than lie! Good to know.”

The asshole chuckles, but even that sounds lame and lazy. It’s almost insulting.

“What would I even be lying about?”

“Your health, you fuckin’ moron.” He bites on his lip, disgusted about what he’s about to say. “I can’t have you dying on my hands when Yayoi entrusted you with me. I don’t know what’s going in her head, that sounds like a shitty idea.”

Jun’s gaze hardens, sharp like a knife’s blade. Or, it’d be, if his eyes weren’t so glassy today, and he’s all weak. Everything about him is weak today and Goro hates it to a point that he can’t even put into fucking words.

“It would be none of your business, to be fair.” He clears his throat again. “It’s only mine to worry about. You can leave, I won’t mind. Yayoi won’t mind.”

“You’re really expecting me to leave now?”

“What’d be the point of you staying here? You don’t want to be here.”

“Come on, asshole, you’re sick. I’m an asshole, but not to that point.”

“Oh. Well, with how stubborn you are, I suppose I’m not convincing you of the opposite for a while, if ever.” He gets up, lets the room tilt around him for a moment (or at least it seems so, otherwise he just unplugged his own brain for a second). “My head hurts and my joints feel like creaky wooden planks. That cough is running me up the wall. All I want is my girlfriend.”

Oh. Well then.

“Well fuck, didn’t expect you to cough it up.”

“You sound like you don’t quite know what you want in life, to be fair.”

“Fuck off.” Goro brushes his hands against his lab coat. “Now that you’ve said it out loud, it’s not like I can let you to die in a fire of your own making. I refuse to take accountability for your fucking death.”

Jun laughs – to a point where he coughs out a lung.

“You’re a fucking moron,” Goro lets out as he walks to the desk, accidentally keeping his workmate from nosediving right to the floor.

“Heh, thanks,” Jun croaks out. “You can be quite funny when you want to.”

“I’m not being funny, I’m pissed because you’re a fucking idiot that lies through his teeth.”

“That makes the two of us, then.”

Fed up, Goro slides the guy’s arm around his shoulders and brings him to his own examination table.

“I don’t think you have the necessary qualifications to diagnose me,” Jun continues to joke, voice going downhill because he has no damned preservation instinct.

“I think you should just shut the fuck up.”

He scans the room around for the one thing that may get him to shut up.

“The thermometer is inside the top drawer of that small table,” the local doctor points said table, a metallic pathetic little thing, with his finger.

“Tsk, you know that whole place by heart?”

“Of course I do. It’s where I work. It’s me who installed everything and placed all of my tools.”

Goro takes the thing out. It looks… ordinary.

“Oh, that’s the wrong thing. That’s a rectal thermometer.”

“Why do you have such a thing, you fuckin’ idiot?!”

“It was there when I arrived. I’ve never used it.”

“Why is there, then? Why the fuck would you keep shit you don’t use? Are you fucking dumb?”

“I don’t know, I guess it just wouldn’t be the same without it. It’s like an artefact of this school. Who am I to displace it?”

“The hell you’re going on about?” Goro takes out another thermometer. “That one?”

“Yes, that’s the – mmh?!”

The thing beeps soon enough.

“Can’t you have warned me ahead?!”

“Knowing you, you’d have tried getting out of this, asshole.” Goro looks at it. “39 degrees. You really are a moron.”

“You’ve been saying that for over a year.”

“Then stop being one! Can’t be that hard.”

He sighs yet smiles.

“Doctors being terrible patients is a well-known thing for a reason.”

“So shut up and let me handle this.”

Jun shrugs.

“I admit defeat. But let me try to tell you how you’re supposed to.”

[scarlettohairdye]

What's up, I made a meme that I'm sure is extremely broad-audience and relatable

[starry-bi-sky]

my martha knight au in a nutshell:

Danny/Martha: see up here?

Danny/Martha: *taps skull*

Danny/Martha: intense psychological damage

-----------

Danny/Martha: *upon finding out she's pregnant*

Danny/Martha: oh my god i cant be a mom, I'm fifteen and homeless--

Danny/Martha: im going to be a terrible mother--

Danny/Martha: i live in a cAR--

Danny/Martha: what if the baby inherits my powers? Oh no--

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

Danny/Martha post giving birth: i've only had Bruce for a minute and a half but if anything were to happen to him i won't even need to fuse with Vlad, I'm razing this goddamn planet to the ground myself

Danny, to Baby Bruce: you are the last remaining thread of my sanity. I'm going to give you the world :)

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

Danny/Martha prior to getting pregnant: Fuck it, if everything in my life has led to this moment, i'm allowed to make one stupid decision. I'm getting drunk and getting laid

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

Danny/Martha while Bruce was a toddler: i swear to fucking god i am going to kill the next person who talks to me--

Bruce: hi mommy!! i brought you something!!!

Danny/Martha, immediately flipping on a dime: hi baby!! what do you have?

Bruce, a weird child like his mother: a spider :)

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

Danny/Martha, talking to Falcone after he made an unsavory comment at her and Bruce: If you ever come near me or my son again, I will dig up your shithead father's corpse and make you eat his skin.

Danny/Martha: do you understand me

Falcone:... crystal, ma'am

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

Danny/Martha new in Gotham: *getting mugged*

Danny/Martha: *grabs man's arm*

Danny/Martha: I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF LIKE A TWIG, FUCK BOY, DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH--

(she then proceeds to terrorize Gotham's night life for the next extended period of time, mostly unintentionally)

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

Danny/Martha: Danny Fenton?? No. you must be mistaken, my name is Martha Knight.

Danny/Martha: this here is my littlest knight, Bruce.

Danny/Martha: I made him all by myself :]

[katich-pigeon]

[sophsun1]

Interview With The Vampire – 2.07: I Could Not Prevent It

[mellosdrawings]

What's that? I finally took the time to make an actual character sheet for my Yuusona?

Yuu

17 years old, 1st year

They/them, probably on the aro/ace spectrum though they never really thought about it (they do get weird when people show interest in them)

Half Japanese half french

Probably has some flavor of AuDHD

Back home: Before they were kidnapped forcefully moved to Twisted Wonderland, they were the main caretaker of four younger siblings while their parents were busy working. One of their main worry now is whether their siblings are doing alright without them. Their deepest wish is to at least be able to phone call their family to reassure them that they are ok.

Personality: They usually prefer to stand to the side and observe rather than talk and engage with others. They tend to be very prudent with their actions, up until their patience runs out. They're actually pretty perceptive and great at reading others, they just keep everything to themself without realizing.

They make up their absence of magic with their fists and wits. People tend to underestimate them due to their size and quiet demeanor, but they can be vicious and ruthless when push comes to shove. They are not very expressive physically.

At school: Yuu has a terrible focus so they struggle a lot, even when the subject interests them. They are very fond of History of Magic but also hates it because learning a whole world's history in a few months only is a nightmare and a half. They also hate flying with a passion since they are scared of heights. If they could choose a club, Yuu would go for photography and/or filming.

At Ramshackle: Yuu cleans the dorm as a past time, it keeps their body moving while they're thinking about what problem they currently have. They hate cooking though, so when the cafeteria isn't accessible they try to cram themselves in whichever dorm will have them to enjoy someone else's cooking. They aren't very time savvy so they and Grim keep leaving late in the mornings.

Relationships (with Housewardens/OB)

Yuu has a soft spot for Riddle. Unless it's some rule they find completely nonsensical they tend to do whatever Riddle asks. Whenever Yuu comes to class with a clean uniform, it's because Riddle was around to correct their appearance.

Yuu and Leona's relationship is peak siblinghood. Once Yuu figures out that Leona won't act on (half of) his threats, it's over for him. He's one of the first Yuu comes to when they have a problem.

Yuu and Azul regularly try to outsmart each other. At first their interest with Azul is very transactional since he can help with everything Crowley can't be bothered to do (ie give Yuu an actual legal presence in this world) but since they have somewhat similar mindsets they end up getting along very well.

Yuu values Kalim's presence a lot. He's one of the rare pure hearted people at school so Yuu doesn't have to be hyper vigilant around him. It's a breath of fresh air. He is a bit too active for Yuu though, so they tire very fast around him.

"It takes one liar to know another" would be Jamil and Yuu's relationship starter. They had weird vibes from each other from the very start but Jamil did end up underestimating Yuu. Yuu is obsessed with Jamil's hair and regularly takes pictures of him.

Yuu is kinda scared of Vil (in a good way). If they were a tad more outgoing they'd be asking Vil to pose for their camera 24/7. Instead they quietly worship him.

If Yuu could, they'd adopt Idia (and Ortho). Yuu tends to miss their siblings all the time so they get a bit emotional around them both.

Yuu loves to observe Malleus. He's some kind of very strange entity that they can't get enough of and they don't understand half of what he talks about which tickles their curiosity a lot.

Yuu treats Grim like their own cat and plushie. They hold him in their arm as much as possible (until Grim gets tired of it and wanders off somewhere else) because it reassures them. They do fight a lot, a bit like siblings, but they also look out for the other all the time. Yuu sometimes agree to cook for Grim despite hating it.

Relationships (the less fun kind):

Since they're in a world they don't know with students who try to kill them every couple months, Yuu is very defensive in how they approach relationships. Everything starts as transactional and about how "useful" someone can be to keep around. They try to keep even the people they don't really get along with close for this reason.

They are actually very emotional (despite not showing it) so their heart takes precedence over their brain eventually. Despite not being particularly proactive they do go out of their way to help the ones they're close to.