#TO BE CLEAR NONE OF THIS IS A JOKE I COULD BE INTERPRETED AS SCREAMING BECAUSE I THINK I THOUGHT OF A FUNNY JOKE

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

I've just decided that the talking skeleton is not only a Jewish convert after connecting with their body's old life as a Jew but also a trans woman

Ok so for clarification, a Jewish man dies and is buried by loved ones. A necromancer uses his skeleton to create a minion, but the minion is for some reason or another eventually given a soul and free will, but is a completely separate consciousness from the original Jew. The skeleton feels bad about using someone else's corpse for their body, which probably leads to a whole Thing with suicidal ideation, but they eventually learn more about the Jew and they connect with him and his relationship with Judaism and they find reasons to continue to exist and eventually decide to convert to Judaism. Also! Although the original Jew was a cis man, the new soul turns out to be a woman, which she eventually figures out too.

I love her so much and I want to know more about her feelings about her identity what do you mean I have to make those feelings up myself I wanna talk to her

[stoopid-turtle]

Consuming Candies Pt 2: DD ❤️ GG and GG ❤️ DD

ALL FAKE. I'M MAKING SHIT UP FOR FUN. DON'T BELIEVE ME.

Intro post for this series

Once I convinced myself that DD and GG are some variety of gay, the rest is honestly not hard to conceive of. Two gay guys filming a BL adaption on a set that was open to same-sex relationships who got on really well...it's not hard to believe they'd "get together".

3. DD and GG had "a thing" around the time of the TU production. This could include the time period during filming and through the promo period. Actual timelines and details of the nature of the relationship are secondary.

If an actor and an actress hit it off as well as DD and GG did, it'd be easy for people to see that they were an item. For some reason, people struggle more to see that with two men (okay, I know the reasons, but I'm not getting into that here).

By the time I'd established 1 and 2, I'd seen enough bts and other footage to buy in to 3, as well, but here's the list of moments/candies that just nail it for me. It would be impossible for me to list out all the moments that simply scream "They're in a relationship!!!" because there's, just, a lot. So here's the short list, again, in order of most inarguable to more open to interpretation.

a) Old cow eats young grass.

That's it. That's the clip. There is no het explanation for that. I guess you could maybe claim DD was referring to GG liking younger women, but that doesn't flow with the rest of the conversation they're having. Especially with GG's comment about paying for new brake pads,

They did the gay together. More than just casually. They were an item at this time. Hands down. Case closed.

(Again, I'll get to the argument that this is all fabricated fanservice at another point)

b) The bts of DD getting into costume where he's quizzing the costume-jiejie about what GG said about him in an interview.

This is straight-up, cliche, 'shows up in freaking romance novels' behavior when you have a crush. Nobody's that concerned about what their friend is saying about them in interviews. You only care that much when you're trying to get a feel as to their feelings for you.

Also, the costume-jiejie is hilarious about it. Asking him about his response in an interview and then teasing him about not remembering what GG said about DD. She clearly has served as a sounding board for DD about his crush before, and she's amused and encouraging and teasing, all at the same time. Hats off, costume-jiejie.

c) Happy Camp moments: jealous!GG and the necklace.

I don't usually put much stock in the jealous GG/DD stories, but the instance with GG going grimdark as DD wriggled through the hole with another guy is just...again, I'm struggling to think of a context that would make sense that isn't "they are together and GG is jealous".

(I don't find jealousy cute, tbh, so I'm not jazzed about the moment. I don't know what was going on between them that led to that, but I'm glad they seemed to clear it up).

This leads to the other Happy Camp moment, seen only in fancams. The ox-head necklace that DD had been wearing scratched up his neck during the game. GG's stunned reaction to DD's injuries and his concern, plus clearly telling DD to take it off...none of this makes sense unless GG gave DD the jewelry.

Like, okay. I have a necklace my bff gave me, and I wear it a lot. It's really meaningful and sentimental. But if it were scratching up my neck, I'd take it off. If she were there while it was scratching up my neck, she'd joke about it and agree that I should take it off. She wouldn't look distraught.

My wife, on the other hand...

c) DDU's 11th anniversary episode

There's no way to describe this episode except that it really felt as if DD was having his new partner meet his fam. The fact that DDU stopped throwing women at DD after that speaks volumes.

From a), it's clear that their relationship was pretty serious (and extended after the end of filming), and having GG meet DD's DDU brothers is another indication of where their relationship was at. That's not a trivial thing.

d) GG's lack of chill during promo interviews.

I get the vibe that if they were in a relationship, GG was a lot more scared/nervous about it than DD was. He also had less experience with interviews and such. There are numerous moments where GG misunderstands, overreacts, or just acts weirdly during interviews that are hard to explain away.

- The "It's been a year" video, where DD points out that the camera is recording and GG balks at whatever he'd been saying. Cue the nervous laughter and whispered conversation between them. - The backwards pants interview question. - An interviewer asking him if being in a relationship means the end of his career (right after asking about his marriage plans--a question that made dd mad). - His weird denial of DD's waterfall story

In each case, something startles GG into a panicked silence. Then DD usually intervenes and so then GG has some nervous laughter.

Plainly, there's something he's afraid of being revealed in interviews. So much that he's seeing danger, even when it doesn't exist. Given the nature of the questions, we can see that the "thing" he's afraid of is

- him being in a relationship - something involving DD and him and a waterfall - and accidentally wearing someone else's clothes.

All involve DD. In all, DD is the one who relieves the panic and calms him down while smoothing over the interview.

It's not a leap to guess that he's in a relationship with DD that he's afraid people will find out. Sure, he'd want to hide a het relationship too, that makes sense. But then there's the pants question and the waterfall question. And the only way GG and DD's reaction to the question of whether being in a relationship would be the end of GG's career is if...GG and DD were in a relationship.

e) Hot pot.

Okay, this is where I start sounding crazy if I discuss this without prefacing with everything above ^^^. But the fact that their tastes in hot pot shifted over time to more align with each other is significant. I've read about the regional differences and how DD's sudden taste for spiciness could only really be attributable to GG, who's from an area with spicy hot pot.

This resonates with me, especially, because I was a hella picky eater when I met my wife. Like, embarrassingly picky. But then I met my wife, and she cooks and is a foodie and eventually, my palate just expanded. Now I'm a freaking foodie (and a vegetarian, like her), and our eating habits are pretty closely aligned.

Merging is real in longterm relationships. It looks like this. In my case, my wife demystified food for me with her cooking and likewise, it seems as if GG taught DD how to handle spicy stuff.

This wouldn't be significant on its own, but in conjunction with everything else *waves hands*...well, it's convincing to me.

In summary, it is blindingly obvious to me that they were a committed couple at some point after TU filmed and aired (when that commitment started is unclear, but I'm not gonna get into that here). Even after 227, it's clear that they're romantically together. I'm 100% convinced of this. Since I started drafting this, I've come across older mentions of (now gone) bts that just...there's no doubt. They weren't hiding it on set. They were just out there, exhausting everybody around them with their chaotic flirting/mating dances. It's insane and I love it.

4. DD and GG are still together.

Me: So I've been watching behind the scenes for The Untamed, and I think the two actors maybe had a thing? There's just...a lot going on there. My wife: Sounds gay. Me: I mean, some people seem convinced that they're still together because of shoes or something. That gets real out-there. But I definitely wouldn't be surprised if they had a thing during filming. My wife: (who only watched the show) I could see it. They had that chemistry.

(2 weeks later)

Me: Honey, I swear I sound crazy but I'm not. These two guys were totally together and I think they might still be together. My wife: Because of shoes? Me: I SWEAR I'M NOT CRAZY, HONEY, JUST BELIEVE ME My wife: Yes, dear. Their shoes make them gay. Me: *sobs*

When I first started dipping into things, I felt a great sadness watching older videos of them, because I'd heard that they weren't allowed to interact in public, that they probably didn't even talk to each other anymore, etc etc. YouTube's full of this, and the fans who say they're still together look, well, crazy.

It's easy to conclude they're not together anymore given that so much early evidence of their relationship is based on videos/audios. The bts, joint interviews, fan meetings, etc. We were spoiled with up-front and personal visuals of their dynamic. It's not a surprise that in the absence of that, most people just assume they don't talk or interact much anymore.

Not to mention, wandering in some years later, you get a massive dopamine hit with the bts and the promos and then there's a drop when you try to look for more recent stuff. When we could see it, their relationship seemed to alive. So real. So undeniable. But in the absence of that, the immediate instinct is to assume that lack of visibility = lack of existence.

But we have only ever seen a small slice of their lives, most of which has been selectively shown to us by them or by production companies. Both DD and GG have full lives when we're not around to see them. They each have their own career trajectories. They have vastly different hobbies and both of them have their own friend groups. We only get a glimpse of all of that, but that doesn't mean that's all there is. Especially now, when they're sharing fewer personal posts and China is cracking down on the entertainment industry.

No doubt, we only know the tiniest, most tailored portion of their personal lives these days. But back in 2019-2021, they were clearly together. Their relationship was clearly serious. They joke about shared financial decisions, get introduced to each other's on-screen and off-screen family, visit each other's set. Both of them seemed in it for the long haul.

Given that, I don't see why we should assume they have broken up just because we're years later and we don't get the joy of seeing them together anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think a break-up is impossible. Couples break up. Even couples that have been together for a while. Even couples who adore each other and try to make things work. It happens.

But there's no reason to assume that they're broken up just because we haven't seen them together recently.

I do have a couple "reasons", but this evidence won't convince anybody who doesn't believe they were ever a couple. It's only when you accept that, yeah, these 2 BL actors are actually gay and in a long-term relationship, that this seems reasonable.

a) The bone necklace.

I'm pretty well certain that the ox-head necklace was a gift from GG. The timing of the bone necklace's appearance, plus DD's attachment to it (similar to his attachment to the ox-head necklace), makes it a decent guess that the bone necklace was also a gift from GG.

We can kinda guess at the meaning. I've only seen one clip where GG has called DD gouzaizai, so I don't know if that's an actual "thing" between them. (though it's not outside the realm of possibility that they are influenced by bjyx fandom).

In any case, the bone necklace is still around. Still being worn. That's notable to me.

b) They could end this ship if they wanted to.

They have both had other pairings shut down. The fandom wars between turtles and solos is intense and causes disruption, something neither of them need. The solo fanbases are huge and it'd be a no-brainer to jettison the CPFs if you want to cut down on the type of fandom upset that gets unwanted government attention.

But they haven't.

They could have the supertopics shut down. DD could avoid being anywhere near the number 3. They could both dive into a bush rather than be around the color yellow or a turtle. DD could take a video of himself melting down the bone necklace or giving it to a pretty woman. They could starve the fandom.

But they haven't.

They keep around their gay CP, despite not publicly interacting with each other in years. They take down articles about them breaking up, pull down hot searches about them with actresses, and continue to feed the fandom with candy.

Most recently, GG went to work late on the days DD was out sick. That's not even an intentionally thrown candy. That's just us noticing a couple taking care of each other. If they weren't together, then GG, whose team certainly knows about DD being sick, could have avoided doing anything that would make it seem like he was involved with DD during that time.

But he didn't. Either their teams don't care about turtles, which seems difficult to believe given the conflicts that have arisen within the fandoms, or the teams (notably, gg and dd) want to keep turtles around. At this point, years past the point the show is out, years past the time the two have even been seen together, there's no rational business reason to hold on to the turtles.

That's not neutral. They're not keeping turtles engaged for economic reasons. They're not keeping turtles engaged just for shits and grins (the joke has run a little long for that). They're keeping turtles around because they're getting something of value from having us around.

Honestly, I think having a huge contingent of cpf cheerleaders is probably comforting when they aren't allowed to express their feelings for each other publicly. It's probably weird and sometimes probably intrusive, like most stuff with fans, but they still have millions of people who embrace them as a couple when they live in a country that is hostile to their relationship. Who in that situation wouldn't want to keep that?

In sum, I had to get past the "too good to be true" hurdle. The automatic dismissal of BL fangirl fantasies. I mean, BLs often market to those fantasies, so a healthy dose of skepticism seems reasonable. I don't honestly blame people for dismissing it when they only have a passing familiarity with the whole thing.

It took a lot for me to see past that, and to see that this is the one case (that I'm aware of) where the fantasy is real. I think it's notable that this "fantasy" doesn't actually look like the fanservice fantasy often served up in BLs. I mean, ggdd have their moments, but they're also snippy, jealous, possessive, lewd, awkward, and just plain weird sometimes. They're real and that's messy and that makes it even more real.

In the next part of this little series, I'll talk more about the fanservice question, plus fanfic, and The Timeline. That post requires more editing, so it probably won't go out until next week.

Just remember it's all fake and nothing I say is true.

[handlewcaare]

Who are you really, Gojo Satoru?

(⚠️⚠️⚠️Jujutsu Kaisen Spoilers ahead⚠️⚠️⚠️)

One of the key elements of mob psycho is that you are not the most important person. With all your special powers, your unique prowess with god and anime on your side, how great is that against learning how to do better in math? What about when you’re trying to woo a crush who’s already seen all your tricks?

That, in on its own, is the question Gojo Satoru has yet to answer for.

I can’t believe I’m doing a character analysis over this dumbass

If you’ve ever wondered a “what if Mob never had Reigen” scenario, Gojo is the closest example. This isn’t just evident in the way that he’s an absolute manchild with his powers because he feels like there will never be consequences to his actions, but the aspect that he cannot perceive his identity beyond “strength.”

The world of Shaman / the Society of Sorcerers all perceive someone by the value of their strength alone. It doesn’t matter if that person is intelligent, has stable moral groundings or is able to overcome the most extensive of trauma. What matters to them, in the end, is how strong you really are. This is what made Gojo valuable because he was born strong. He didn’t eat a wrinkly finger from a dead cursed spirit, nor did he build himself to achieve such strength; he was born with it and was constantly hunted by bounty hunters.

Imagine your parents saying that when you were born

Someone on Twitter did a psychoanalysis of Gojo and I couldn’t agree more that he was probably raised in the way “gifted kids” were; they had to always exceed their conservative / authoritarian parents’ expectations, if not they would be perceived as a disgrace to their family. It also clears up how Gojo turned out to be an absolute pompous brat later on.

Take that phrase: “When Gojo was born, the power of the world was altered” and compare that to someone like Mob, who was raised without a heavy expectation for shifting the entire foundation of ESP:

His father doesn’t do a comparison between espers, but rather how people waste away their lives without self-destructive indulgences like cigarettes.

From the day of his birth, Gojo became a practical poster child for said “limitless” potential. He wasn’t raised like Mob who just happened to have this great power, he was treated as if there was only one of him in the world (and there is!), but it mentally placed a child onto a pedestal and managed to severe his empathy to said “weak” links.

“Protect the weak” what, are we the fucking teen Titans now??

In the eyes of a teenage Satoru, caring for the weak is as annoying as babysitting screaming brats. The only reason as to why he would say that is because he lacked empathy for those who were perceived as weak. The reason as to why he didn’t understand them was that he wasn’t raised around them / raised to understand them. He isn’t going to a normal HS, he’s going to a Curse College Tech where everyone has powers—but none of them as powerful as him.

Mob’s middle school only has three known espers: Mob, Ritsu and Takenaka. Everyone else is either a kid, a member of the body improvement club, or they’re unimpressed with psychic powers.

That eventually leads up to where Gojo learned his valuable lesson from: Getou. The scene in which Getou leaves after he lost purpose in being a Shaman is the closest we’ve got to a question asked in Mp100. There’s many ways to interpret it, but Getou (and even Nanami) always felt like they were consistently shadowed by a man who could do anything—ANYTHING—as long as he gave it his all.

Gojo didn’t just get the Reigen talk that Mob did, he got the Reigen “you’re-an-adult-fighting-misguided-minors-with-superpowers-you’re-a-fucking-joke” talk.

It’s a parallel (not similar) to what we’ve seen in Mp100 where Reigen simply tells Mob to be a good person. Getou doesn’t tell Gojo to be good or terrible to others, he simply tells him that he could easily kill him if he tried. Yet, the question is what makes Gojo hesitate to end him there—as if being the strongest in a world that would sooner get rid of you once you lose your worth to it is meaningless if that is all you are.

Are you strong because you’re Kageyama Shigeo or are you Shigeo Kageyama because you’re strong?

This is what changes Gojo entirely, as he would sooner become a mentor for the next generation than to let his skin blister in the limelight longer than it has. However, the biggest factor that I’ve noticed about Gojo is that he doesn’t run away from the Shaman world afterward.

We don’t see Gojo in a Nanami-esque situation where he works as the wacky History teacher at some tiny highschool with unique powers. We don’t see him settle down with someone and have a family of his own, all while hiding his past to his children so he and his spouse can live comfortably. He, instead, wants to change the sorcery world from the inside-out because he doesn’t want his kids / the generations after him to become no better than the executives.

In a personal opinion, I think he still doesn’t know how to live without being a Shaman. Everything he does, he can do with just the right amount of elbow grease. He can literally become the prime minister, but it won’t give him a natural understanding of those he would mentor / massively shadow.

Watch your fucking profanity

In a twisted way, Gojo is trying to be what Getou would have been if he never defected. The only problem is that he’s not giving the next generation a broader insight of what lies beyond sorcerery. He doesn’t tell them that they have choices in life or informs them that they can astray from the tech. Instead, it’s borderline hypocritical where he expects the new generation to be able to change the world of sorcery without that insight. It only brings me, and even Gege, to ask this character:

How can you expect change if you, yourself, have never experienced it?

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

the last of my thoughts on the homecoming au, the au where maedhros and maglor are taken back to tirion at the end of the war of wrath and proceed to be relentlessly abused by elves more interested in them being ‘normal’ than happy. it’s pretty much exactly as dark as you’d expect from that description, lots of medical/caretaker abuse towards the mentally ill, just a horrible situation in general. one last time, @sunflowersupremes wrote the original au this is an extrapolation from, and @outofangband listened to me blather on about this for ages and contributed lots of ideas of their own. part 1 is here, part 2 is here. this the last part, it isn’t quite as intense as part 2, but it’s a lot more hopeless. also there’s some off-screen torture

on the first post i made about this au, i got some comments to the effect of ‘oh this will only last until person x bails them out’

there were several suggestions - fingon, nerdanel, any of the ainur. it seems like there are a lot of people who’d want to get maedhros and maglor out of this nightmare

seems. these aren’t necessarily my usual interpretations of their characters, but for the purposes of this au i can easily imagine a finrod who already bore a grudge over the whole letting-their-younger-brothers-steal-his-kingdom incident and subsequently heard the version of the nirnaeth where the fëanorians left everyone else to die. he is the only other person in the palace who knew beleriand, and he loathes them so viciously he can barely stand to look at them. they’re lucky he doesn’t do worse

i can easily imagine a nerdanel who was already having trouble processing what her husband and sons did at alqualondë when eärendil and elwing told her every awful thing they’d done since in the span of half an hour. she smashed all their statues, burned all their gifts, and curled up sobbing in a ruined house, wondering why she was such a terrible mother her children grew into demons

and this isn’t long after that, that wound is still fresh. whatever vain hopes she held that the boys she loved were somewhere in there are shattered when she sees them, and they’re talking and laughing just like they did when they were young

like nothing had happened. like nothing had changed. like the monsters had always been waiting patiently for their chance to strike

(they just didn’t want her to see the things they’d become)

i can easily imagine a fingon who is blazingly furious with maedhros over the later kinslayings. he spends most of their only meeting railing at maedhros, and the apologia his caretakers offer up only makes him angrier

so does the fact that maedhros won’t defend himself, won’t even raise his voice. does none of this matter to him? did it ever?

(it does. but maedhros knows what will happen if he yells at his cousin, and he is just so exhausted)

fingon is eventually asked to leave. maedhros’ minders tell him that if he can’t keep his temper around their patient, they’re going to have to cut off contact until maedhros is in a better mental state. fingon snaps that that’s just fine by him, and storms off into the city, trying to hold back his tears

the ainur, now, the ainur would definitely drag them out of the palace and haul them up to the máhanaxar. finarfin’s managed to get as much out of eönwë

what would happen to them after that, eönwë refuses to say. finarfin suspects he doesn’t know, and none of the valar will until they’ve had a chance to actually, like, hold a trial

even so, it becomes pretty obvious to finarfin fairly early on that the noldor simply can’t give the brothers the help they need. it’s plain to see that they’re very unhappy and they’re recovering slowly if at all. whatever the valar decide to do with them, odds are good they’d end up in some permutation of elf afterlife therapy, with well-practiced carers and the family they’ve lost. for their sake, and the sake of the people around them, handing them over to the valar would clearly be the best option

except finarfin doesn’t. he keeps his nephews in his palace, where they break things and make messes and generally give their caretakers constant headaches. when asked why, he always talks about the soul-deep terror on maglor’s face when he asked him not to give them to the valar

he’s not lying about that. but he does have other motives

there’s lots of suppositions in finarfin’s reasoning. there’s every chance the valar would throw them into the deepest depths of mandos until the second music. there’s every chance maedhros would choose to disappear into the woods and never trouble court again

but if the valar do decide to send them to lórien with no limits on their movement, and if maedhros does still harbour nelyafinwë’s political ambitions...

the closest finarfin has gotten to admitting it, even to himself, is saying that the noldor have enough problems right now, they don’t need a succession crisis on top of everything else. sometimes he’ll joke about not wanting maedhros to set up another functionally autonomous military government out in the wilderness

but it’s hard to deny that a maedhros, free to act, with his head screwed on straight, could potentially be the single biggest threat to finarfin’s crown

not that he doesn’t want his nephews to get better! it’s heartrending to see the pain they’re in, he sincerely wants to see them happy

he’d just prefer them to be happy in a way that's... convenient

maedhros and maglor’s contact with the outside world is kept to a strict minimum and heavily monitored when it does happen. they’re only allowed to visit the public parts of the palace when their caretakers know exactly who’s going to be there and if they can be trusted to not make a fuss about the brothers’ presence

it’s all in the interest of keeping the peace, you understand. maedhros’ followers are difficult to handle at the best of times, if they somehow got it into their heads that the last of their lords were being held captive in the palace...

well, finarfin says over tea. maitimo can see the wisdom in not provoking a civil war, can he not?

(he will not bring death to the blessed realm again. not even if his last baby brother is rotting away to a shell, not even if he’s being smothered to death from the inside out. he will not, he must not)

(if he did, there would truly be nothing left but the monster)

and then, one day, maglor gets the chance to escape

his minders aren’t paying much attention to him, he’s been a lot quieter since they put the gag on him. he’s small and fast and good at sneaking around, by the time they notice he’s missing he’s already found a way out of the palace

he jumps out of a third-floor window, bites down the pain, and runs. he clears the grounds and disappears into the city

he makes for - he doesn’t know where. subconsciously, he navigates towards the craft guild districts, where his family’s staunchest supporters always were

except the city’s changed a lot since he was last loose in it, and before he knows it, he’s completely lost. he wanders the streets half in a daze, his raw nerves unused to the bustle and noise of it all. wherever he goes, people stop and start and turn away

finally someone calls him over. ‘hey, you want that collar off your neck?’

it’s a smith of some sort, he can tell that much. they’re smiling, welcomingly and without pity. he’s rushing over to them, nodding his head, before he can even think about

the trouble is, maglor doesn’t remember the faces of most of the people he saw in beleriand, but they all remember him

the trouble is, this smith was at sirion

back in the palace, who gets access to the brothers is very strictly controlled. which isn’t to say that nobody tries to hurt them; finrod tends to put the worst spin on things when he’s asked for advice, there’s all kinds of minor acts of sabotage, and they come across innocuous-seeming harmful objects more often than mere chance would seem to allow

but even their caretakers can tell that letting desperate revenge-seekers get near the brothers wouldn’t be particularly conducive to whatever recovery they’re hoping for. anyone who might randomly come across maedhros or maglor in a hallway is intensely vetted for ulterior motives, and while this process isn’t airtight it does filter out the most obviously malicious

and outside of that bubble, none of that applies. the smith does take maglor’s gag off, purely to hear him scream

soon enough, the palace guard tracks him down. they take him back to the palace, where he’s bandaged up and comforted and then, as a special treat, allowed to see his brother

(they’re kept apart more often than not these days. being around maglor makes maedhros agitated, being around maedhros makes maglor sullen. they’re just more cooperative when they’re alone)

maglor does the same thing he’s done every time he’s seen his brother for the past year, which is immediately bury his face in maedhros’ chest and shudder. it takes him a moment to remember he can speak now

‘we’re trapped’ he whispers. ‘we’re trapped’

because he was screaming for what felt like hours, and nobody came to help. as he was being carried back to the palace, he saw the scorn and the disgust in the passers-by’s eyes

there’s nobody who will shelter them outside the palace. there’s nowhere on this continent they can go

and that - that’s the end, in a way. maedhros remains stubborn and ill-tempered, never quite letting them forget he doesn’t want to be here and doesn’t like what they’re doing, but the fight goes out of him. he does what they tell him just as biddably as he did before they took his brother’s voice

maglor, surprisingly, takes a turn for the better. he starts acting cheerful again, doing everything that’s asked of him with a smile and a wink. he’s making excellent progress, his minders tell finarfin

(they don’t tell him what maglor looks like when the mask starts to crack)

finarfin is very pleased to hear that one of his nephews is finally starting to recover! it’s been a long, painful journey, but it looks like it’s all at long last working out

to celebrate, he decides to give maglor a gift he’s been holding onto for a while

he calls maglor into his office. the tension in his posture is a bit worrying, but his expression is all makalaurë, a casual, mildly disrespectful grin. he swans into the room, flounces into a chair, and asks what his uncle wants

finarfin praises him for all the progress he’s been making, and hands him a letter

it’s from elros

the first line is ‘how are you doing, you old bastard?’ it calls him a kinslayer six different ways in the first three paragraphs. it asks him how many people he’s stabbed since he got back. it closes off by wishing him some fun loud arguments with maedhros

finarfin was a little concerned maglor still not might be in the right emotional state for it, but the tightness bleeds out of his nephew’s frame as he reads. a couple of times he even bursts into snickering that sounds more genuine than any sound he makes in court

he finishes reading with a truly relaxed smile on his face. then he freezes, and looks up at finarfin

in a tiny, quiet voice, so unlike the way he talks nowadays, he asks, ‘may i write a reply?’

finarfin hates to take the wind out of his sails, but maglor deserves to know. ‘that letter is centuries old. i’ve been holding onto it until you were ready to read it.’ he shuts his eyes. ‘i’m afraid elros passed some time ago’

maglor’s head drops. the letter in his hands begins to shake. little whimpers escape his trembling body. finarfin walks over, places a hand on his shoulder. ‘i’m sorry, we -’

that’s not whimpering, finarfin realises. those are growls. his nephew’s head snaps up, face twisted with rage

maglor tries to tear finarfin’s face off -

and that’s all i have. these headcanons have been exhausting to write, i’ll clean them up and put them on ao3 in a bit, but not now, if for no other reason than it’s 3am. again. i hope these weren’t too incoherent. going to try to unbanjax my sleep schedule now

[whumpwriterforlife]

Hello dear bean! Could I please have an order of Accidentally Hurt by Friend for the bthb please :3

Why, yes you could! Here is your order of Accidentally Hurt by Friend with our boy Nyx.

Accidentally Hurt by Friend

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius, Luche Lazarus, Pelna Khara & Libertus Ostium

Whumpee: Nyx Ulric

Word Count: 1848

Warnings: None? Violence, battle situations in a war

Can also be found on ao3 here

---

The smell of copper and smoke was strong in the air as Nyx warped around the battlefield, striking down MTs and daemonic insects wherever he could. He was starting to feel the burn in his muscles and the impending fatigue but he kept going. He had to. They were losing ground fast as more Imperial dropships arrived with more MTs and their pesky pet animals inside.

It was not the Saturday Nyx had hoped for.

“Crowe, what’s the status over there?” Nyx called into the comms as he landed from yet another warp to sink his kukris into the neck of an unsuspecting MT. It hissed and spasmed, miasma leaking out of it but Nyx paid no attention to it as he moved onto his next target.

“We are down two mages, we’re doing this as fast as we can!” Crowe’s strained voice hissed into the comms. “Five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes,” Nyx muttered under his breath. It was doable. Nyx gritted his teeth as he threw his kukri at a wide arc over a horde of ahriman to warp. A powerful lightning spell was enough to take down most of them, and those that stayed up were easily dispatched with a few well-placed kukris. There was a loud, almost deafening roar somewhere to Nyx’s left and he spun on his heels to see a behemoth being dropped from one of the ships, alongside with a couple of coeurls.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nyx groused, exasperation clear in his tone. “Luche, you seeing this shit?”

“I see it, Hero, I’m sending Pelna and a couple of others towards you,” Luche responded soon, as calm and collected as ever. “Don’t do anything stupid, you hear me?”

Nyx laughed at that, his lips twitching into a brief smirk as he sprinted towards the behemoth. “I would never.”

“I swear to Ramuh I will put your ass on gate duty for a month if you get yourself hurt doing something idiotic again Ulric,” Luche told him, his voice almost a growl.

Nyx rolled his eyes. “I won’t do anything too stupid, scout’s honor.”

“Don’t worry, Luche, I got his back,” Pelna’s voice crackled to life as he joined the conversation.

Nyx glanced around the battlefield and saw Pelna and three other glaives heading his way from the opposite direction. He gave them a quick wave before he threw himself into warp and at the behemoth, tuning out the rest of that conversation.

The behemoth was pissed.

Actually, pissed was a huge understatement, Nyx realized as he warped around the beast and barely avoided getting stomped on. He got in a few strikes here and there but he couldn’t land any critical hits, not with the way the beast kept moving and trying to snap him in half. Nyx did his best to keep his distance from the behemoth’s mouth because while it was full of razor sharp teeth that would shred him to pieces with ease, it also smelled foul enough for it to be a miracle that he was still standing after the first whiff of it. Nyx hid behind a large boulder to catch his breath for a moment.

“Need a hand, Hero?” Pelna asked from behind him.

“Shiva— Don’t sneak up on people like that!” Nyx exclaimed as he spun around to look at his friend. The behemoth growled somewhere on the other side of the boulder and Nyx interpreted that as the behemoth agreeing with him. “Are you trying to get yourself stabbed?”

Pelna chuckled softly as he peered at the behemoth from the corner of the boulder. “I wasn’t even being quiet, you need to pay more attention to your surroundings, Nyx.”

“I pay attention,” Nyx muttered under his breath as he moved to stand next to Pelna. “Where did you lose the three that were with you?”

“They went to take care of the coeurls,” Pelna told him as he procured daggers from the armiger.

Nyx nodded before stepping out of their cover. He gave Pelna a playful smile right as the behemoth spotted him and started rushing closer with an enraged roar. “You ready to take this thing down?”

“No theatrics,” Pelna shook his head at him. Nyx gave him a mock bow, hand over his heart before he was on the go again and heading for the behemoth. Pelna rolled his eyes and warped after him. “Show-off.”

The behemoth didn’t go down easily. It fought them tooth and nail, giving Nyx and Pelna a new variety of bruises and scrapes to complain about but after one set of kukris to the neck and another set of daggers to the spine, the beast finally went lax. Pelna dropped down to his knees, hands on the ground as he heaved breathlessly. Nyx wasn’t far behind, hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. A day of fighting in the frontlines had taken a toll on his body. He would crash so hard in his bunk when the day was over.

There was no break in sight for them yet, however, when a group of five or so MTs found them. Nyx groaned as he straightened back up and offered Pelna a hand to pull him back to his feet. He gave Pelna a tired smile as he flipped his kukri and prepared to warp. “Here we go again.”

Nyx materialized in front of the closest MT and stabbed the kukri through its chest plate. He was losing power behind his attacks. It wasn’t good. Nyx cursed as he ducked under a sword strike and sent a fire spell at the offending MT, taking it and the MT right next to it down. Nyx allowed himself a moment of satisfaction watching the MTs go down in flames before he warped to the fourth MT.

What Nyx failed to see was that Pelna was already there, his hands crackling with lightning magic. Nyx’s kukris sunk through weak spots in the MT’s armor. Pelna shouted his name, his voice tinted with panic, but by then it was too late and the lightning spell hit Nyx full force through the dissolving MT.

Nyx’s lips parted in a scream but only a strained groan came out as his muscles contracted with burning intensity that left him unable to breathe. The kukris slipped from his grasp as he hit the ground. His ears rang. The lightning spell burned, hot and ferocious as it ravaged through his body. It was the only thing he was aware of.

Then there were hands on him. Hands that forced him to uncurl and lie on his back. This time Nyx let out a ragged scream.

“Shit, Nyx!” Pelna’s voice had a panicked tint to it. There was a shuffling sound, followed by glass breaking. Nyx vaguely realized it was a potion as the pain faded the tiniest bit and he could gasp in a breath. “Nyx is down! I need some help here!”

Nyx made a pained noise in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered open. Pelna was crouched over him, one hand on Nyx’s chest and the other on the comms. His eyes were wide with worry, his hood pulled back to reveal his face. Nyx wanted to tell him he was okay but he was barely managing to get air into his lungs. Speaking was out of the question.

“Stay with me, Nyx, keep your eyes open,” Pelna told him. “Lib is coming, he has an elixir. Just hang on.”

Nyx gave a tiny nod, the most he managed with the way he was hurting. He felt like he was barely awake, like he could slip away at any moment but Pelna wanted him to hang on. So he tried. The elixir would help. Normal potions weren’t good for magic induced injuries, they just took off the edge, but elixir would help more. Nyx’s eyes slowly started sliding shut.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” Pelna exclaimed and patted Nyx on the cheek with maybe a little more force than necessary. “Eyes open, you hear me?”

“You suck,” Nyx wheezed as he squinted at Pelna, the words barely above a whisper.

Pelna let out a laugh, his hand shifting to squeeze Nyx’s shoulder reassuringly. “Love you too, Nyx.”

Nyx muttered an incoherent response that was lost as Libertus skidded to a stop next to them and broke the elixir over Nyx. Nyx’s eyes slid shut, a relieved groan leaving his lips as the elixir worked to heal the worst of his injuries. He could finally breathe again.

“What the hell happened?” Libertus demanded.

“I hit him with a lightning spell,” Pelna said, his voice marred with guilt. “I was trying to take out an MT but then Nyx warped right behind it and I couldn’t see him until it was too late.”

Nyx blindly reached for Pelna and after a moment found his arm. “It happens, we’re both tired and not at our best. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Pelna opened his mouth to reply but a rumbling sound from the sky drew their attention. They could see a mix of fire and lightning in the clouds, forming into a storm. Pelna shook his head softly and grabbed Nyx by the arm, pulling it over his shoulder. “Time to go, looks like the mages got the storm going.”

Nyx didn’t resist as Libertus moved in to support him from the other side and they pulled him to his feet. He could still feel the residual aches and pains from the lightning and the added support was most likely the only reason he didn’t end up crashing straight back down. Pelna and Libertus had to have been worried about him because they didn’t even crack jokes at how they had to support him.

They ended up waiting out the magic storm in some ruins before they made their way back to the base. It took them an hour to get back but at least the storm had taken care of the majority of the enemy. At the base, it didn’t take even a minute for Libertus and Pelna to drag Nyx into the infirmary and unceremoniously dump him onto one of the beds. Nyx had complained about it — of course he had, it was expected of him at this point — but he had been given no options. They didn’t leave him alone though, and even Crowe joined them after some time. Nyx wasn’t sure if they were worried or if they just stayed there to make sure he didn’t try to slip out unnoticed but he supposed it didn’t matter all that much in the end. He appreciated the company more than they knew.

When they eventually got home a few days later, Luche got Nyx and Pelna both two weeks on gate watch. It was his way of showing he had been concerned for them, and happy to have them both back in one piece. Or maybe he was just a huge jerk, Nyx couldn’t exactly brush that option aside.

[saphirered]

Lovely Caleb fic! Could I get a confession of love fix that involved Caleb kissing the hands of a bewildered reader?

Thank you for the request! I hope this is to your liking!

It’s rather late. Well, you think it is. It’s kind of difficult to tell in Rosohna’s eternal darkness. At least you were sure it’s been a long day. You find yourself wandering the halls of the Xhorhaus. The last few months have been crazy, hectic and you’d have to admit your life has been turned upside down but you wouldn’t change if for the world. You found friends, family even. Reminiscing you find your mind gravitate towards fond memories of your favourite wizard. Dragging him along on a little shopping spree for spell components, the excited rants he goes on when you ask for his advise on this new spell you found, the talks about nothing when you shared a watch, holding his hand while Yasha shaved his beard with her sword, giggling about a little prank you played on a very grumpy looking halfling shopkeeper in Zadash, drunken nights sharing a bottle after a successful job completed, him falling asleep with his head on your shoulder, caring for each other’s injuries, the rare dance in the tavern…

Not as insightful as Caduceus may be but you weren’t blind either. It’s clear Caleb seems more comfortable around you than anyone save for Nott maybe, a different kind of comfort still. You’ve been consciously picking up on a shift in his behaviour for a while now. Your favorite wizard has been getting closer and more affectionate towards you but you’ve known him for a while now and you can’t help but pick up on this. His recent shift in behavior gave you butterflies in your stomach, something more than friendship but you didn’t feel it was the right time to tell him how you feel. Besides, what his feelings don’t extend beyond care right? This is no different than his relationship with Beau or Nott. Love is a strong term and one you may not hand out so freely but you know yourself well enough these feelings you’re experiencing are love. You just don’t want to ruin your friendship because he’s not ready, not comfortable or doesn’t reciprocate your feelings in the same way after all. Caleb has come out of his shell and made so much progress, growing more comfortable and open around you and that’s extending to those around him too. You don’t want him to crawl back into that shell again. You value him more than that.

Quietly you get some dried herbs from a sleeping Caduceus’ stash and wander into the kitchen to make some tea. You’re pretty sure you’re the only one still awake as everyone was quite exhausted after your return. Trying to start a flame to boil the water proved more difficult than you had hoped. Growing frustrated with the flint and steel you slam them on the counter a little too hard. You cringe squeezing your eyes tight shut and listen. Okay… seems like no one woke up from that. You glare at the kettle half the mind to toss it out of the window. Stupid tea. Stupid fire. You take a breather leaning your head against one of the shelves above the counter.

“It looks like we had the same idea.” You almost jump out of your skin quickly covering your mouth to prevent a scream to escape from your lips. You see a bleary eyed Caleb looking about as disheveled as expected standing in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Don’t scare me like that you idiot!” You toss a towel at him. It hits, draping over one shoulder and he just gives you a ‘really?’ expression as you feel the blood rush from the scare fade. 

“You’re having trouble, ja?” He says more than asks referring to the still cold kettle. 

“You have to make me feel worse about not being able to get a flame going to brew some tea?” You say in jest as you grab another cup for him. Caleb walks over taking your spot and with a snap of the fingers the flame is lit. 

“It is not that difficult.” He jokes back fully aware that your expertise lays not with fire magic. You have many other talents, he’s told you so himself many times praising you for them. You grab the towel draped over his shoulder, fold it neatly and put it back on the counter. 

“Your help is appreciated oh grand master magician.” You give him a side hug which he returns wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you wait for the water to boil. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask watching drops of condensation build up on the outside of the kettle. 

“Ah, no. Uh, wandering thoughts.” Caleb sounds like he’s only half paying attention. Wandering thoughts indeed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer as the kettle starts whistling and you remove it from the heat before it gets too loud and begin preparing the teapot. You take a step closer to the counter, Caleb’s hand falling from your shoulder to your lower back. 

“I… uh-“ He hesitates and you swear when you look over your shoulder for just a second you can see a slight blush creep up his cheeks. 

“Caleb, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He manages to get out a ‘yes’ under his breath so you grab a tray, put the teacups and saucers, the teapot and grab some biscuits from a jar hidden behind the vast array of herbs and spices to avoid a certain Tiefling from claiming them all. Balancing the tray on one hand you turn around and grab his hand, guiding him along into the living room. You put the tray on the table and make Caleb sit down on the couch as you sit down next to him. You can see him take a deep breath and he refuses to meet your eye. Though, that’s not entirely out of character for the wizard so you give him time and space as you pour the tea in each of your cups. With a wave of your hand you cool the hot water to a less scalding but still warm level. 

“I know. But in this case I don’t know if that makes this any easier.” You frown and grab his hands in yours. Almost absentmindedly he begins drawing circles on the back of your palms with this thumbs. While he won’t look at you you can see he’s trying to find the words.

“Should I be worried?” Many questions rush through your head. Was everything alright? Did something happen? 

“No. No. No need to worry.” He musters a quick half smile before it disappears. You hated seeing him like this. So much conflict and inner turmoil. You give his hands a soft squeeze. Whatever this is it must bother him a lot if he’s so affected by it!

“It’s alright. Take however long you need. I’m here for you no matter what.” He takes a deep breath as you finish your sentence. 

“I’ve had some revelations lately and I’ve tried so hard to push them away, deny them or hoping that maybe I was interpreting them wrong but I can no longer just brush them aside. I don’t think it’s fair…” Another deep breath.

“What’s not fair to who?” 

“This. All of it. What I’m doing. It’s not fair to you.” He has trouble forming a sentence. 

“Slowly. Just keep breathing.” You try to calm him down.

“It’s not fair that I freely take your comfort, affection, kindness and even companionship. I’m afraid my actions in return, they do not come from friendship but selfish motives instead. I don’t want this to end but I cannot treat my own actions as rooted from friendship when they are not.” He scrambles on stumbling every few words and you try to make sense of his words but you’ve known him longer than today so you get where he’s going. 

“Caleb…” You begin but he cuts you off.

“No, no I need you to hear this before I cower back and lose the courage to do this. You are heaven sent. You are patient and kind and every time you smile at me I feel my heart skip a beat. Every hug, touch or kiss feels like the warmth of the sun after endless winter. I thought perhaps I felt this way because this is who you are and what you do; making the lives of those you care about brighter where you can. I know you care about me as you’ve reminded me many a time, and I care about you a lot, but I do not think it ends with just care. My realisation showed me that you’ve brought about a feeling I thought myself no longer capable off; love.” He pulls your hands close to his chest. You’re bewilder, confused at this open confession but above all surprised he so openly confides in you. You think hard taking in every word.

“So I think it’s unfair to you when for me this kindness and affection from my side will always be out of love and I cannot in good conscious give you my love when you do not want it. I cannot ask you to feel the same but I also don’t think me returning your kindness and affection can ever be anything other than love. So please, I don’t want what we have, our friendship to end but I don’t want to take what you don’t have to give me…” 

“Caleb, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” You watch as his shoulders slump. So insecure when it comes to other’s feelings and opinions of him it hurts you every time he sells himself short. You look for the right words yourself. If he can muster up the courage then so can you!

“You can be so blinded by your own thoughts and insecurities you don’t even consider the fact that I feel the same.” He finally looks at you wide eyed freezing in place for a second.

“You underestimate your ability to be loved and if I can prove you different, if you will let me prove you different I will.” Caleb scans your face for any sense of insincerity, deceit or even jest but he finds none. He takes a minute but eventually pulls your hands to his lips pressing a long soft kiss to the backs. 

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this but you truly are a light in the darkness.” He kisses the backs of your hands again. 

“You were you; all you ever need to be.” You shift leaning into his side, head against his shoulder and his arm wrapping around you. Intertwining your fingers with his at your waist you grasp his other hand and bring it to your lips. That small kiss right where his wrist meets his palm makes him melt. He leans back on the couch pulling you with in a slouched relaxed position. If only the rest of the Nein could see you now. They’d go crazy… 

[hoboal87]

The One with the Baby in the Impala

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen

Word Count: 900+

Summary: The Winchesters bring home their newest addition.

Warnings: Fluff (it’s gross), like one cuss word?

A/N: I do not know sign language, or anyone who is Deaf/Hard of Hearing, please do not take offense if I’m interpreting anything incorrectly.

A/N 2: written for @smol-and-grumpy​‘s SuperFriends Challenge

No beta, all mistakes are my own. 

"Y'know, you can go the speed limit," you laugh sleepily from the back seat, hand gently resting on the baby carrier. Your husband grumbles from the driver's seat, you hear your best friend and brother-in-law let out a snicker.  

You can feel the green eyes playfully glaring at you through the rearview mirror. Sam remarking that an old lady on a scooter just passed you, and you have to stifle your own laugh. Eileen is sitting on the other side of the car seat, cooing at your newborn, her hand splayed on her own growing bump. She catches you mid-laugh sending you a questioning look, and you do your best to explain Sam’s joke, hating that she was unintentionally being left out. ‘Extra slow,’ you sign to the best of your ability, ‘turtle moves faster.’ Eileen giggles causing Sam to turn around, you swear you can actually see him falling even more in love with her.

“Oh, and you think Sammy’s gonna be any better?” Dean huffs, and you roll your eyes at him. “At least our kid won’t be living on rabbit food his whole life.” You do your best to interpret, knowing that Eileen doesn’t have a clear view of Dean’s face. 

“Y’know a healthier diet–” Sam tries, but you all know Dean isn’t gonna have it.

“It's bad enough you got the girls eating that health food crap, you ain’t gonna get me too. All Y/N’s wanted for the last month is a double bacon cheeseburger, Eileen too, and all they have to do is say the word and I’m gettin’ them both the greasiest burgers I can find.”

There’s a look of absolute betrayal written on Sam’s face as he turns around to eye you and Eileen. You smile shyly, and shrug your shoulders. 

“A girl can only take so much broccoli and kale, Sam,” you offer. “It was for the baby, but now that he’s here…” You promised Eileen solidarity over a half-gallon of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream a week ago, knowing that Sam wouldn’t let either of you off of his ever-growing health food kick. You had dealt with it your whole pregnancy, and Eileen still had a few more weeks to go, as much as you hated it, it was only fair. “Make you a deal, if you cook it, I’ll eat it, same goes for Dean. But you gotta let us have some junk food every once in a while.” 

Eileen looks relieved at your compromise. Sam could in no way force her to do anything, but all he had to do was give her his signature puppy dog eyes, and she would cave. You turn your attention back to baby Bobby, hoping that the rumble of the Impala would keep him asleep until you got back to the Bunker. No such luck. You’d read that car rides were supposed to calm babies, lull them to sleep, but you’d already been in the car far too long. It should’ve only taken thirty minutes to get back home from the hospital, but with the way Dean was currently driving, ten miles under the speed limit, stopping at every yellow light, it’s already approaching forty-five minutes. Bobby’s eyes opened first, they were still mostly gray with small specs of green taking in his surroundings.

You lean forward, smiling widely at you son, sandy blonde hair sticking out from the blue beanie. You couldn’t believe how much hair he already had, and the image of Sam and Eileen’s daughter's head being covered in chestnut locks made you laugh to yourself. Bobby squirms in the carrier, letting out a small huff, and smacking his lips. You can see that it’s only a matter of a few minutes before little Bobby’s screams will be filling the small space. He’s hungry or maybe he needs a diaper change? Either way, it’s not something you can do in the back seat off the Impala. 

“Uh, De?” You keep your voice as light as you can, and he responds with a grunt. “You should step on it already.” 

“No way, kid,” he shakes his head. “I ain’t going any faster. We got precious cargo in the back seat.” 

Your heart flutters at Dean’s words. Neither of you ever thought kids were in the cards for you, a hunter’s life was no way for a kid to grow up. You know Sam and Eileen had felt the same way, and when Billie’s plan succeeded, you weren’t surprised when they announced not even a month after you that they were also expecting. With Chuck and Amara both gone, Jack was running Heaven with Cas at his side, all of you had semi-retired. Sam and Dean were still working the occasional hunt, Eileen joining them, but you were done, opting to help with research and training the next generation of hunters. 

Eileen continued to hunt throughout the first few months of her pregnancy, none of you could’ve stopped her even if you wanted to. It wasn’t until she was almost hurt that she decided to temporarily stop hunting, though you expect once baby Deanna is born, she and Sam will fully retire. 

Bobby stirs again, and you can see the tears welling in his eyes, you’re running out of time and fast. You lean forward as Eileen makes her own attempt to stop the waterworks before they happen. 

“Well, your son is gonna have a break down soon if we don’t get him outta this damn car seat.”

Dean doesn’t have a chance to respond as Bobby’s high-pitched cries fill the space of the Impala.

[miraculous-anna]

Opposite Day (Or DuPont’s Worst Nightmare) Part 2: electric boogaloo

Hello Everyone!! The title is a joke, i promise! I saw a chance, and i took it lol. Anyway, In this part, we’ll be focusing on Lila a little bit, and the class focusing on everything Marinette said to them, and having a couple heart to hearts :) Just an FYI, the taglist is still open! And if you wanna be tagged, send me an ask and i’ll put you on the list! 

Just a tip lmao: To really get a feel on how i interpret the mood of this chapter i recommend listening to this piano cover of knee socks by Arctic Monkeys, it made me cry :,)

Okay, on to the story! 

___________

Original Post  /  Previous  /  Next  /  Masterlist 

Footsteps echoed through the halls of DuPont Highschool, going straight towards the bathrooms. I have to make this right! She has to still be there! I have to apologize, come clean, tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to go this far. But i was too stubborn, I let it get out of hand.  

Lila raced to the bathroom, only find it was empty. “Dammit! Of course it’s empty!” She cursed, closing the door and going back down the hallway. Lila grabbed her phone, checking the time, and decided on another idea. Perfect, I can’t back out of it this way. 

 Lila ran towards the library, her backpack slung over her shoulders. Finding a table in the library, Lila sat down, and dug out her notebook. Picking out a pencil, she flipped open a page and got to writing. I have to explain, I need her to understand, and fast. 

After a good 30 minutes of writing, Lila grabbed her things, racing towards the front of the school. Sprinting down the steps, she ran toward the cross walk to get to the side of the road, and after looking both ways, ran towards a very familiar and well known building. With determination in her eyes, She pushed open the door, hearing the bell jingle, alerting an older woman of her presence. The older woman smiled, and greeted her. Lila noticed the bakery was very empty at the moment. 

“How can i help you, dear?” The woman asked, walking away from the counter. Lila took that as a sign to walk towards her. Walking up to her, with around 6ft between them, Lila took a deep breath.

Suddenly feeling nervous, her mouth goes dry. “Uhm, excuse me..” Lila’s words got caught in throat before the guilt came crawling back in waves. She swallowed, and repeated herself. “Excuse me, ma’am? I.. I need to speak to you.” The woman tilts her head in confusion, a smile still present on her face. “Well, of course, what is it? I’m Sabine, by the way.” 

Lila would be lying if she said she wasn’t shocked that Sabine, Marinette’s mother, didn’t recognize her. Surely, Marinette had told her parents about Lila? Just how much was she keeping to herself? 

With a shake of her head, Lila decided to say her name. “I’m Lila, Marinette’s..” Lila cleared her throat. “Uhm.. Marinette’s classmate. I need you to give this to her, later tonight. Please, after school is over, and she’s home.” Handing a letter to her, Lila balled her fists at her sides. Straightening her posture, Lila looked Sabine in the eyes, and said, as confident as she could manage, “I made some mistakes, and my apology is in that letter. I need her to read it at exactly the right moment. Your daughter didn’t deserve any of the things that happened. I’d appreciate it, if you’d comply with my request.” Finishing her plead, Lila took a deep breath, and blinked repeatedly to rid of the tears, and the burning sensation behind her eyelids. 

“Of course! I’ll give this to her tonight. I’m glad you’re coming clean, Lila. It’s very mature of you. Would you like something from the bakery?” Sabine tucked the letter away in her apron, and gestured towards the glass cases showing the baked goods they had on display.”Uh,” Lila started, reaching into her pocket. Feeling her money pouch with her allowance she kept hid, She nodded her head. “Yes, please. Question, though.” 

‘Yes, Lila?” Sabine asked, smiling again. “Which ones did Marinette make?” Lila scanned the room, searching for the macaroons the baker’s daughter was famous among the class for bringing. Sabine pointed towards different colored macaroons and chocolate covered croissants in a display cased with a sign on it called, “Marinette’s specialty baked sweets!”

Pulling out her pouch, Lila remembered just how much was in the pouch, and asked for as much as what was in there could get her. Sabine looked shocked, once again. “Are you sure, this is a lot.” Nodding her head, Lila pleaded for the second time that day. “Please, please make sure that money reaches Marinette. Consider this apart of my apology. It’s the least I could do, honestly.” Nodding her head, Sabine accepted the money, and assured the girl the money would reach her daughter. 

Leaving the bakery with goods in hand(s), Lila sighed, hoping her plan would work. I just hope I don’t try to back out of this when i’m back to normal, I can’t afford to. 

_____

Sighing, Alya scratched her head. Nino looked over at her, “Something wrong, Alya?” Messing with her hair, Alya groaned, “No, Nino, everything’s peachy!” “Sorry, Alys, dumb question.” Nino said, sheepishly. “It’s fine, i just can’t stop thinking about everything Marinette said.” Alya confessed, alerting the rest of the class. “Honestly, none of us can. What she said really hurt, but she did bring up a few good points.”  

“Oh, really? Like what, Nino?” Alya glared, crossing her arms. “Well, We did ignore her for the past month in favor of Lila...” Rose pitched in, sadly. “Yeah, and she doesn’t like Adrien, definitely. I’ve been hanging out with him all month, frequently, and she hasn’t talked, texted, even seen Adrien all month.” Nino explained, He shrugged, “ He even complained how everyone but Marinette talks to him. He says he doesn’t know what he did, but he thinks she’s been avoiding him.” 

“Where is he, anyway?” Alix asked, noticing the resident “sunshine boy” wasn’t present. “It IS lunchtime, Alix. His dad probably wanted him home or something.” Ivan replied, shrugging his shoulders. Alya placed her head in her hands, clearly frustrated. “I don’t get it. Am I a tabloid reporter? Surely, everything Lila says is the truth! She wouldn’t lie like that.” Mostly everyone was murmuring among themselves, mostly agreeing with her. 

“If you think Lila wouldn’t lie, then what about Marinette?” 

Silence. Alya surveyed the room. Who had said that? She spotted Nathaniel in the back, staring right at her. He spoke again. “Why is Marinette different then Lila? We’ve known her longer  than Lila, she’s never given us reason to doubt her before, and Marinette hates liars just as much as Ladybug hates Hawkmoth.” Nathaniel continued to stare right at Alya, knowing she was one of the main accusers, if not the only one. “Well, you know Marinette acts crazy and kinda stalker-like when she gets jealous-” Alya tried to explain. 

“But who is she jealous of? You heard her scream it right in your face. She isn’t jealous of Lila, so yeah, Alya, why would Marinette lie? Did you even check if Lila was telling the truth?” Alix, of all people had decided to speak up. She narrowed her eyes at Alya, deciding to perch like a gargoyle on her desk. Everyone had to admit, it was slightly intimidating.

“Alix? Why are you defending her? I mean, we get Nathaniel, he liked her at one point, but you?” Kim asked, shocked, and very confused. "Because I realized Lila's lies were hurting Marinette a couple weeks ago. Dont you remember? I stopped hanging out with the girls whenever Lila was there." Alix explained, rolling her eyes. Before anyone could say anything to Alix, someone walked in.

In all her glory, there stood Lila.

The class was silent, as they watched her walk to the middle of the room. "I need to speak to all of you, and it's important that you listen to what I have to say while my personality is reversed."

Everyone murmured in shock. Lila knew she was acting different? Everyone quieted back down, and Lila started speaking again. "Over the past month, since I came back, I've been lying to you all. I said that I did all these great things, met all these people, went places. But I lied."

Lila spoke before anyone could say anything in response. "Before you assume why I did these things, I want you to know, that I didn't do them cause I wanted friends, its an entirely different reason that I'm not gonna tell you, until I tell Marinette, cause she deserves to know the truth first. After everything I've done," Lila continued her monologue, taking a deep breath. "Of course, it still doesn't excuse my actions for lying, but one thing I don't get, is why you all believed me. I've been to 5 different schools, counting this one, and none of them except you ever believed my lies. I don't get it."

“Well, we accept your apology Lila. We’re glad you came clean.” Alya spoke up, finally. It was clear she was taking this whole thing the hardest. “Wait, then we really did hate Marinette for no reason!” Mylene cried, her hands flying up to her mouth. Rose gasped, and teared up. “You’re right, oh no..” Juleka hugged Rose, who was now crying. 

“I don’t get that either. Yes, I was hard on her, but i never expected you to believe Marinette, the class president, the goody-two-shoes of this school would bully me.” Lila spoke up again. “At least you know what you did.” 

And with that, she left. Where, no one knew.

“We have to apologize to her. Immediately.” Alya cried, running out of the classroom, desperate to find her ex-best friend. The girls of the class ran after her, minus Alix. “You guys can apologize to her once the girls are done. I feel like bombarding her at once will be a bad idea. The girls ran out before I could say anything to them.” Alix sighed, jumping down from her desk. Holding her hands behind her head, she walked out with Nathaniel beside her. 

____ 

Arriving at the bakery, Alya opened the bakery door, and the rest of the girls present followed after. “Mlle. Cheng! Where’s Marinette? We need to speak to her, like right now!” Alya pleaded, her words coming out in a frenzy, and very rushed. Sabine looked slightly shocked, and surprised. “I’m afraid Marinette hasn’t been home since this morning, girls. She told me she wasn’t going to be home for lunch because she was meeting up with a friend of hers. I’m sorry, girls.” Sabine gave them a pitying look, turning away to tend to the customer in front of her. “Dammit! Where could she be?” Alya groaned, leaving the bakery with everyone following behind her. “Who knows? Wait, she mentioned a friend?” Rose asked. Everyone nodded, before Rose turned to Juleka. “What about your brother?! They’re friends, aren’t they? You did mention they hang out a lot!” Rose squealed excitedly, as Juleka nodded. Alya grabbed Rose’s shoulders and shook them excitedly, exclaiming, “Rose! You’re a genius!” 

“Look! It’s Ladybug!” A bystander cried, pointing to the sky. Everyone watched in admiration and awe as the spotted heroine swung over the city, her feline partner not far behind her. 

______

Welp, that’s it for this chapter!! Hope you guys enjoyed it! Remember, if you wanna be tagged, just send me an ask, and i’ll get right to it! :) 

Also! If you have any questions about the stories, me, or anything in general, feel free to ask! I love hearing from you guys, It makes me extremely happy! I’ll be happy to answer anything.

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[fonulyn]

I need to scream about RE ID bc like. Did I enjoy it? Yeah, I did. Was it. Just wrapped up way too nicely and quickly? Also yeah. I was a little disappointed by it tho, like the length, and the flashback scenes weren't as clear as I think they should have been? Like I understood what was happening, but it took me a little too much brain power to like keep up with what was and wasn't a flashback lmao

Also I wanna say, I get wanting to keep Jun See alive but god, that did not look fun. Just let him die, dude, no one wants to live like that, smh.

Thank god they kept Leon's one liners tho, like thank you for that at least lol also Claire, my GIRL, I love her holy shit. Honestly she was amazing, like, just perfect. Not sure why she has a gun in the promotional poster, bc she just. Never has a gun throughout the entire show, I don't think? Also can we talk about how she took that guy down with that lamp, and then hopped on top of him just fucking ready to continue to beat the shit out of him? Chris would be so proud 🥲

Okay also, I saw what you said with that flirting scene, and I agree that it seemed like Leon was trying to lighten the mood, but it so didn't need to be put in there at all @ the writers. Like this show could have gotten away with no romance, or just that one moment near the end with Claire and Leon (which, I don't ship them much, and that moment at the v end where she was like "are you ever gonna stop treating me like a kid?" And he responded with "probably not" or whatever kind of ruined whatever was shown earlier? Like it feels like she's had that convo with Chris before too, so I'm like hm no don't imply romance and then imply that he treats her like a little kid every time they run into each other, now it's weird lol) and been fine. None of the story was contingent on any kind of romance between anyone.

Now with that said, can I just say Patrick absolutely wanted to suck Leon's dick? Like he was smitten, and I bet you they at least fuck after all this is said and done, if not date for a short period of time. I thought they were gonna kill Patrick off, I'm glad they didn't tho, he was v wholesome lol.

Also I wanna mention that every serious moment (save a small handful) I just. I couldn't take it seriously, it was too over the top. Acid? Really? That's the self destruct measure? Slowly rising acid? I dunno, that doesn't seem quite right to me, I don't think that's how it works lol

Honestly they should have just made this into a new movie, bc making it a series implies more to follow and in general a longer narrative, but these eps were barely 20 minutes each, so there's almost no point splitting it like that. Did I enjoy myself? Yeah, I always do when Leon is involved, but it could have been so much better.

Also the silly little shipper in me is kind of desperate for more interaction between Chris and Leon, bc as far as I'm aware it's just RE6, RE vendetta, and RE ID (and I think the person who told Chris to save Claire in either code x or Veronica was Leon? Not 100% about that tho lol) where they actually interact with each other, and considering that they're the two main characters of the franchise, they should probably meet up more? Idk, that's just my gay ass hoping for more Chreon content lmao but still.

ANYWAYS yeah, I would rate the show like a 7.5/10? It wasn't amazing but it wasn't garbage, either. Probably my least favorite of the four animated movies tbh, but I will take the Leon content, thank you Capcom. Also it was interesting to see Leon around the time following/around RE4 and RE degeneration, I thought, I dunno.

oh boy I agree 100% it was wrapped up way too quickly in the end. like killing Jason? by just dropping him in the acid? it was way too simple and easy if you ask me. and like, why didn't he yeet Leon into the acid when he had him by the throat? him not killing Leon makes zero sense to me??

asdfg yeah I get they weren't ready to let Jun See go, but I bet Jun See really would've preferred to go...

I am so happy that they kept the one liners!! Leon felt very, very in character which I loved so much. I was afraid they'd tone it down or make him super serious or so, and it was such a relief they didn't. he was so eager to help and so goddamn kind to everyone I don't know if my heart can even handle it ;;;;;

also Claire!! so badass!! I loved the part where she attacked the guy with the lamp (yes Chris would be super proud haha) and THE HEADBUTT seriously, one of the top highlights of the entire series :'D

(but honestly this is gonna get long i'mma gonna hit that read more here)

and the flirting scene, I do think they could've left it out entirely and it felt a little strong-armed in. but I'm trying to look at the silver lining? Leon was super goddamn adorable in it, like, so cute it hurts :'D and Shen May didn't seem bothered really, it was more this joking thing between them. so while yes, it was unnecessary, i'm focusing on the joking feel of it and choosing to interpret it as such :'D

also, can I just say, the "romantic moment" with Claire and Leon near the end didn't feel very romantic to me? I know it's a romcom cliché (or at least a fanfic cliché lmao) how they ended up in a pile after the rescue but ...it didn't scream romance to me? although I do kind of like the pairing! (not a top fave but a cute one)

and yes, the whole "when are you gonna stop treating me like a kid?" "probably never" felt SO much like a sibling moment!! such big brother energy from Leon, and I don't know, that made me super duper happy?? I want them to be friends. I neeeed them to be friends gdi. which is why I am unhappy with how mad Claire seemed to be at Leon in the end and how they left it off like they did. I am hoping that it sets things up for a second season? and they for whatever reason need them on kind of the opposing sides at first? because otherwise it makes no sense to me for her to be that disappointed in him. in Degeneration they already establish they work in different ways towards the same goal, and for that to do a 180 now feels... like a disservice to the characters? idk?

lmaooooo but yes Patrick 100% wanted to suck Leon's dick he didn't even try to be subtle about it :'D idk I would've wanted Patrick to have more depth and screentime too, i so wish they would've made it a longer series and given the characters more development. because I liked pretty much all of the new characters they introduced! but it feels none of them reached their actual potential!

then again that is kind of the whole deal with resident evil in general, they set up awesome characters and end up wasting them half of the time :'D guess i shouldn't be surprised.

THE SLOWLY RISING ACID PISSED ME OFF lmaooo c'mon!! it doesn't seem like a good self destruct measure. especially since ...you'd need different acid to dissolve organic matter and to dissolve inorganic matter if we're being nitpicky. and how would it be plausible for them to store enough of it safely to even do this?? they should've just detonated the whole place and blown it to smithereens or something, the acid was. stupid.

i agree, it feels like a movie. but I think @tirsynni is probably right when saying that it was sort of a test run to see if they should make more? which I am so hoping for. because even with the complaints I have of this, I DID enjoy it, a lot!! and I do want more! and maybe this time we get Claire and Leon actually working together for more than fifteen seconds! :'D

also I definitely would not say no to more Chris and Leon interactions. (yes it was Leon who told Chris to save Claire :) at least that) it... in general makes no sense to me how capcom seems to think friendships work? like how Sherry is all "Leon and Claire are my best friends" and then they imply they haven't met in years? if not more? idek it's. weird. it's like their characters go into storage containers in between their missions to be stored away so they can't even accidentally have personal lives or friendships or anything. weird.

(what I said about having amazing characters and ending up wasting their potential? yeah)

for me, personally, it's... well, my score for the show would depend on whether I just focus on the characterizations and what I liked, or if I try to actually take the plot and all into account too :'D but I did like this more than Degeneration! already the fact that Leon has actual facial expressions is enough to put it way above that one. (and for the record, I don't hate Degeneration either, I do like it, but... Leon is such a cardboard cutout with zero personality in it, it's super frustrating)

idk I think I need to still process this a bit to see how I will like it in the end :'D there are things i'm super hyped about in it, and things i'm disappointed in, let's see how they'll weigh in the overall experience eventually.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #4: like a best friend

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- have to read first

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: You and Taehyung run into his infamous cheating ex, only for him to introduce you as his current girlfriend. As you play along with his narrative, you can’t help but feel insecure and jealous.

Genre: drabble, very fluffy, angst, f2l, bit of fake dating

Warnings: typical emotional constipation from these two, jealous!oc, heartbreakingly boyfriend!taehyung, indirect confession that they’re both unaware of lol

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Oh look, more jealousy? Are we even surprised at this point?? Requested by my little muffin @taexxxiiaa. Sorry to all the Heatwave fans for this constant torture of unresolved feelings. 

.

Taehyung has a habit of stuffing his face with too much food and consequently eating in pout. As he is doing right now. You watch him merrily wolf down another soy sauce-dipped slice of raw salmon and stack the miniature plate with the rest of his conquests. It’s his sixth plate.

When he’d first shown you the email he received for ‘all you can eat' sushi, your response was a firm “No.” You’re not even a fan of seafood in general, let alone raw fish. But Taehyung was persistent, insisting on what a bargain it is and how it’s sushi season right now. Sushi season, what bullshit. Another “No.” Yet when Taehyung has his eyes set on something, especially when it comes to food, there’s little that can stop him. He knows how to use his assets - batting is lashes, huffing like a baby, nuzzling into your neck - until you finally let out a defeated sigh.

So here you are, plotting how best to sneak in some wasabi into his food. This wimp has a full on breakdown at the slightest taste of spice, you can just envision his face when the wasabi burns up his nostrils and through to his ears.

That will teach him not to drag you out to sushi again.

“Why aren’t you eating your udon?” Taehyung’s eyes are wide and innocent, unsuspecting of your mischievou scheme. “Too hot?”

“Yeah, don’t want to burn my tongue.” You stir your steaming noodles, smiling to yourself.

The two of you had managed to secure a four-person booth due to his non-stop nagging to come early to avoid the queue. The restaurant is now bustling with customers and stressed waiters, the smell of Japanese food infused in the warm air. You’re both sat on one couch, while sat across you is another couple who are just finishing with their lunch. This arrangement is due to the busy demand of the restaurant, squeezing in however many impatient hungry people as they can. Though you didn’t have a problem with sharing a booth with strangers at first, Taehyung’s ravenous gorging of sushi after sushi has made you particularly self conscious.

As soon as the couple leave after paying their bill, you turn to hiss at Taehyung. “Why are you eating like that?”

“Like what?” His words are barely audible with his mouth full. “Are you gonna eat your udon or not? I can help you out if you can’t finish the whole thing.”

Ah, there it is, his infamous line - I can help you out if you can’t finish the whole thing.

Honestly, his appetite is abominable.

“Order your own udon!” You begin eating your noodles to prove that you are hungry, and you will finish the whole thing.

Taehyung tucks his hair behind his ear (you’ve recently noticed that his ears are abnormally big, which you guess explains the massive dick). Just a few days ago, you had managed to convince him to get a perm. The main selling point was: ‘all the bitches will go crazy for it, trust me’. Bitches being you.  And indeed, all the bitches are crazy for it. In the timespan at which you’ve been in this restaurant alone, you’ve caught almost every single girl checking him out, eyes flickering too often towards your booth for it to be coincidental.

When their eyes fell onto you, you would smile at them politely, yet to your surprise, they’d wear a sour expression and ignore your courtesy. You soon realised that they think you’re Taehyung’s girlfriend. Girlfriend! The thought had made you shudder and scoot further away from him.

“Nah, I need to save room for the sushi, baby.” He pats his stomach that remains annoyingly flat despite his feasting. “I need to pee, I’ll be right back. Can you order some more California Rolls and the Dragon Roll please? Oh, actually, and one more Soft Shell Crab Roll and a Tempura Shrimp as well please?”

You glare hard at his back as he scuttles out the booth and hurries to the toilet. Stupid dork. It’s only noon and he has already eaten a whole day’s worth of food. He’s going to end up vomiting his guts out if he keeps at this rate.

Still, you wave the waiter over and place his order for him. The waiter’s kind of cute, he’s got that soft wholesome look, the kind of boy you bring home to your parents. You wonder why he’s avoiding your eye and not slipping you his number. You hope it’s not because he thinks you’re with Taehyung.

A new pair of customers are being ushered to your booth across from you to replace the departed couple; it’s two pleasant looking girls this time, chatting away in blithe. This time, they reciprocate your smile with nods of their own.

Taehyung returns from the bathroom shortly, yet as he approaches your booth, he halts in his step so abruptly that you spin to face him.

“Ryujin?” The shock in his voice is unmistakable. His eyes are locked on one of the girls that’s just arrived opposite you. Static.

“Taehyung?” She gasps, returning the same surprise, pupils widening.

Ryujin? Taehyung’s never mentioned a Ryujin to you before? Who is she?

Taehyung’s face is stoic, completely stripped of its normal cheeriness. Lips pressed in a thin line, jaw screwed firmly shut. Shit… You turn to assess the girl, digging through your memory for a Ryujin, yet failing. Who the hell is she to have Taehyung react in such a way? If she were just a friend, he’d be rushing over to greet her. If she were someone he slept with, he’d subtly acknowledge her but make no big deal out of it.

Instead, he’s clenching his fists, feet planted an arm’s length away from your table.

You clear your throat, snapping him out of his trance. “You know each other?”

Finally, he glances over at you for the first time in what feels like ages. And right away, you see the disorientation in his eyes. Taehyung slowly makes his way back into the booth, sliding in beside you until your legs touch.

“Yeah, she’s my ex girlfriend.”

Oh.

Oh.

That cheating bitch.

If it weren’t for the firm hand placed quickly on your thigh as if he’d known you’d react in such manner, you would have leapt up and started screaming at her. The anger is rushing to your head all at once. You’re struggling not to chuck the stack of plates at her face.

So this is the girl who had broken Taehyung’s heart. This is the girl who gave Taehyung trust issues. But also, this is the girl who lead to you and Taehyung meeting. In every way you look at it, she is the reason why you’re in each other’s lives in the first place. So you guess you owe her a thank you after you throw a drink at her.

Taehyung doesn’t speak much about her, or at all. It’s been years since their relationship anyway, and since all his ties to her have been cut, it makes perfect sense that he’s forgotten about her. Even at the beginning, he was adamant about not thinking about her, he said it had hurt too much to even say her name. And so you were always careful about not bringing the topic up in conversation; it was none of your business anyway, it wasn’t relevant to his life anymore. There were occasional jokes here and there, but only ever made by him, and even still, you could sense the underlying hurt.

“Taehyung, it’s been so long…” Her attention was utterly transfixed on Taehyung. You might as well have been a cardboard cutout for all that matters, she wouldn’t have noticed anyway. But it must be bewildering to run into your ex who you cheated on like this. Anyone would be thrown off.

What are the chances that, not only did you come to the same all-you-can-eat-sushi place, but have also been sat on the same booth? Just your luck.

Your eyes wander back to Taehyung, fearing for his current state of mind. Your roommate is an emotional guy, as much as he likes to mask it in ridiculous humour. It would not surprise you if he just stands up and leave right now, even with his food on its way. Yet his features are calm, unbothered, his initial surprise melting away to neutrality.

“Hm… Yeah.” He doesn’t ask how she fares as she’d expected, you can see the disappointed drop in her face at his apathetic souciance. Then he turns to you. “Did you order the stuff?”

Unsure of how to interpret his sudden maturity, you just nod slowly. Quiet Taehyung is scary…

Disregarding her friend’s apparent discomfort, Ryujin presses on. “It must have been, what, more than two years now? How are you?”

Why can’t this bitch take a hint? Just shut the fuck up and order your fucking sushi. Leave him alone.

But Taehyung remains unmoved. While you are the one quietly fuming in the corner. Sensing your aggravation, he brushes his thumb on your thigh soothingly. When you lock eyes again, you’re stunned to find him completely at ease, the corner of his mouth even perking up to reassure you that he’s fine.

“I’m doing well actually.” Ryujin frowns again at his short answer. You think she’s going to give up now, but then she continues.

“You look good.” You tense. Oh don’t she dare... “I’m not doing too bad myself, I-”

Just then, the waiter cuts off the monologue she was headed towards as he brings over the plates of food you’d ordered for Taehyung. His eyes immediately flash in excitement, resuming his usual childish manner as he peels his hand from your leg and snatches his chopsticks.

“Can I get anything for you two ladies?” The waiter asks Ryujin and her companion, whose face appears flushed from the awkwardness of this situation. Ryujin, evidently annoyed by the interruption, proceeds to order.

While her attention is diverted, you quickly take this opportunity to mouth to Taehyung, “you okay?”

Striking you with an honest smile as he swallows his sushi, he nods. “Yeah, don’t worry, completely fine. Eat your udon, or it’ll get cold.” His voice is hushed, and you don’t know why you get startled when he leans closer to whisper to you.

Not entirely convinced, it’s your turn to pat his leg, almost subconsciously, as if to make sure that this really is Taehyung, your Taehyung. How is he this calm right now? Well, he’s always been a silent sulker when he’s mad, but… He doesn’t even seem one bit troubled by the sudden appearance of his ex. Not even that eyebrow twitch he gets when he’s annoyed. And in the meantime, you’re silently plotting how to magically get wasabi in this bitch’s eye.

When the waiter leaves, Ryujin turns back to Taehyung once again, scanning his ethereal features and beautifully curled long hair. No doubt regretting her shitty decision of infidelity when they were together. Finally, her eyes flicker over to you, for the first time since Taehyung’s arrival. “So who’s thi-”

“Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You choke so hard on the fat noodle you are slurping that some of the savoury broth goes up your nose. Wheezing and spluttering for air like a cat choking on a hairball, you feel all your blood rush to your reddening face, both from the lack of air and the embarrassment. Taehyung’s careless whacks between your shoulder blades isn’t helping at all. Only after downing the whole cup of green tea does your coughing finally subside.

“You okay, babe?” Taehyung realises his smacks on your back are too harsh to be boyfriend-like, so he eases it into gentle rubs. But the concern in his large brown irises are genuine nonetheless.

You glare at him. Long, hard. Before nodding and flashing him a sickly-sweet smile. Oh boy, is he going to get kicked in the ass later for putting you up to this. He seems to see the dangerous flare of your nostrils, a warning sign that he has really, most fucking definitely, made the wrong move. He gulps and smiles back nervously.

Girlfriend? Girlfriend?!

What the fuck is he playing at right now? Why did he have to lie to her like that? Is he trying to make her jealous? Or just act like he’s moved on just fine without her? You clamp your mouth shut to prevent any angry words from tumbling out. There’s nothing to do but to play along right now - there’s an enemy to face.

“Oh right, girlfriend…” Ryujin says so softly that you almost feel bad for her before remembering that this is her own doing. “I guess that must be why you haven’t replied to my text asking you to meet up then… Right?”

At that, your entire body goes rigid.

She- Does that mean- Wh-

You look over at Taehyung, mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. Ryujin has been texting Taehyung. And he hasn’t mentioned a word about it to you. Although it really shouldn’t affect you so much, it feels like a stab of betrayal.

His lips are pursed again, as he gazes up at her reluctantly. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Then his arm circles around your back and pulls you into him, fingers gripping your waist in a display of possession. At the unforeseen momentum, and still in your state of shock, your frame falls feebly into his chest. Your heart leaps to your throat. You don’t understand why but… your cheeks feel hot.

His arm, around you. His hand, holding your side. His neck, pressed on your forehead.

You’re hyper aware of everywhere he is touching you. Why, all of a sudden?

“Oh okay, um, I really wish you all the best…” Ryujin mumbles, no longer looking at you and Taehyung anymore, not sounding one bit like she means what she’s saying. Her friend beside her has resorted to scrolling through her phone at this point, cringing from this awkward exchange.

“Thanks, Ryujin. I’m really happy - never been happier in my life, in fact.” The vibration of Taehyung’s Adam’s apple reverberates into you as he tugs you even closer, arm fastened around your middle. You struggle for room, bending your neck to peer up at him from your squished position.

He’s grinning radiantly at you, and at your wide-eyed confused expression, he can’t help but lean down to press his lush warm lips onto your forehead.

You blink.

Truly, you think your brain has stopped functioning. What is going on?

He’s definitely doing this to make Ryujin jealous. That is the only plausible explanation. It makes your chest clench in bitterness. Why does he still care what she thinks? This is completely unnecessary. Does he still care about her?

And why didn’t he tell you that she was texting him?

What has she been telling him?

All this doubt, this uncertainty, manifests into a suffocating lump in your throat. You have always been completely open and honest with each other about every aspect of your lives - family, friends, work, grades, relationships, sex. Not that he owes it to you to tell you everything, but you’d just thought that it was how things worked between you. What else is he hiding from you?

But at the same time, your focus can’t stray from the way he is holding you, and the confidence in his tone. How certain and sincere he sounded. And how he pecked you so casually in public, in front of everyone. Your stomach feels funny.

As you resume your eating, you stay quiet, thinking. On the other hand, Taehyung is quiet due to fact that he has no room to speak in between engulfing California Roll after California Roll. Happily humming under his breath as he chews. The waiter returns with a tray of food Ryujin and her friend had ordered. “Here you go, would you like some green tea?”

“Oo, can you fill mine up too please.” You hastily pass him your empty ceramic cup.

“Of course. Be careful, the tea is very ho-” Just as he warns you while he refills your cup, he over-tips the pot and sends scalding tea all over your hand.

“Ow!” Quickly drawing back your boiled hand out of instinct, you yelp out in pain. Fumbling over his sorry, I’m so so sorry’s, the waiter bows his deeply apologetically, scurrying to clean up the steaming spilled liquid in a panic.

“Mate, watch out!” Taehyung sits up immediately, scrambling to wipe your soaked hand with tissues. The glare he throws the waiter could cut through glass. “Are you okay?” The concern clouding his eyes when he faces you floods your veins with a security.

“Yeah… Don’t worry, it’s just a burn.” You watch him examine your hand intently as if it’s some ancient priceless artefact that could shatter from a poke; you’ve noticed lately that he tends to do this when you’re injured. With his fringe frizzed over his forehead, lips puckered in concentration as he caress over your pink tender skin, you are helpless and unmoving. Staring at him.

“Are you sure? It’s getting kind of red…” He refuses to let your hand go. Your fingers scorch under his touch and it’s not from the tea.

“Yeah, baby, I’m fine.” Taehyung’s head whips up instantly at the way you address him. Confused for a good second, before realising that it is to play along with the fake girlfriend narrative.

Right…

Reluctantly, he lets you pull your hand out of his clutch, and only when you pick up your chopsticks to prove to him that it’s only a minor injury does he resign in his coddling and return to his food. As you glance up, you notice Ryujin’s blazing glower at your direction. You quickly look away.

In the presence of his cheating ex-girlfriend, you two no longer feel at ease to banter away as normal. You aren’t even at the liberation to have a regular conversation without her listening in on everything. So the meal passes rather wordlessly.

However, the silence births a different kind of interaction between you and Taehyung. You can’t tell if it’s just for show, or due to his innate affectionate nature, but he suddenly feels the need to display his love for skinship. Under the table, his hand once again strays to the land of your thighs, gently stroking. When you shoot him a warning glare, lest he gets any vulgar ideas, you find that he possesses no lustful intent at all. Just pure fondness for you.

Something inside you softens. You’re starting to think that he isn’t acting out of spite against Ryujin, but rather simply enjoying your company as usual.

But you know what? Screw that bitch. Not once, to your knowledge, did she apologise to Taehyung when she’s had two years to own up to her mistakes. Not until now, of all times. She deserves to get riled up.

“Taehyung-ie, can I have a bite of your shrimp?” You smile at your pretend-boyfriend sweetly. He gives you a perplexed look that says: But I thought you hate shrimp? before he clocks on with your intention.

“Of course, baby.” And without fail, just like a scene straight from a drama, he picks up the tempura shrimp and feeds it to you, eyes crescent in mirth as you open up and take a mouthful like a hungry little child. You feel a crumb flake away onto your chin, yet before you can wipe it away, Taehyung reaches it first. Chuckling, he sweeps the small speck into your mouth. But not without the slightest, most fleeting, brush of his thumb against your tongue.

The action feels… intimate. Like weirdly intimate, even for you and Taehyung’s dynamic.

Why does your breath keep hitching?

Perhaps after a second too long, you conjure a giggle in response, attentive of Ryujin’s gawk in your periphery. “Thanks, love.” The syrup in your voice is sickly sweet. God, even you want to barf.

“You’re too adorable, honey buns.” Taehyung cups your face in one hand, fingers digging into your squishy cheeks as he shakes you. Your smile drops. Adorable? Honey buns? HoNEy bUnS? Kim Taehyung is so dead.

But before you could kick him in the shin under the table, he leans in and plants his lips on yours. Soft, supple.

Oh.

Just as you think it’s only meant to be a peck, he deepens the kiss, his plump pink mouth gliding over yours smoothly. Anyone who sees would know that you’re accustomed to such action with each other from the natural comfortable manner of your kiss. Anyone could tell that you’re used to each other’s lips.

You pull away abruptly when you become conscious of many’s attention on you. With your face so near his, all you can see is how his lips draw into a smirk.

It’s unusual for you two to kiss outside of a sexual context. Because why would you? Friends don’t kiss each other unless they’re: A) dating, or B) banging. And especially in the past few weeks, you’ve been progressively kissing each other less, even during sex. Almost as if you’ve both realised how intimate it is, and all the romantic connotations that come with it.

Yet here he is, kissing you so openly in public.

Yeah, it’s just for show for his ex. But it’s still…

You don’t know.

.

After Taehyung had finally eaten to his heart’s content, the two of you had gone to study in the library. Ryujin wore a sour face in the entire duration of the meal, and you would hear low grunts of irritation from her direction. You practically felt her venomous glare on the back of your head as you were leaving the restaurant. Acting has never been your strong suit, but even you’ll admit that the two of you are putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

You’ve been quiet, you know. It’s because of that bitter taste in the back of your throat that you still can’t get rid of at the thought that Taehyung might still care about Ryujin. Why else would he lie to her and say that you’re his girlfriend if not to get a reaction out of her?

But more so, why does it bother you so much? You wish you don’t care this much for this stupid sushi-demolisher who doesn’t deserve your time and efforts. He’s probably thinking about his next meal again while you’re here lamenting over your weird feelings.

So you keep your mouth shut throughout your study session, brewing in your acrid thoughts.

Taehyung watches you nibble at the end of your pen. How is he supposed to focus on his coursework when you’ve got that pouty expression? And since when did you not take every chance you get to take the piss out of him? He wonders what’s going on in your head.

Seeing Ryujin had been a shock, a blast from the past. It hadn’t bothered him too much to be honest, he simply doesn’t care about her anymore. A few days ago, she had sent him a message out of the blue. Out of politeness, he’d responded but kept his replies brief; it was difficult to decipher her intention at first, but it soon revealed itself. Apparently, her and Jimin went on to date for a while - good on them, Taehyung truly could not give fewer shits anymore. But their relationship deteriorated due to their incompatibility, which was predictable knowing them both. It was when she started showing interest in Taehyung, apologising and kissing his ass about how good he was to her that he decided to stop answering.

The thought of getting back with her gave him shivers.

Your reaction to Ryujin back there wasn’t unexpected at all, of course you weren’t going to react mildly to his ex. Taehyung is lucky you didn’t ‘accidentally’ spill soy sauce onto her, or start yelling at her about faithfulness and morality. Your wrath towards her actually kind of warms his heart…

You aren’t one to talk about your feelings openly, but your actions definitely speak volumes about how much you care about him.

Taehyung smiles to himself.

There is so much loyalty between the two of you, complete trust and devotion. At the end of the day, no matter what goes on between you when you’re horny fuckers, you’re best friends above all else. Fighters for each other.

Your journey back home was also rather mute, consisting of him prodding you with jokes and teases, and you putting on a half-hearted smile. Maybe you’re annoyed at him for putting you on the spot and leaving you with no choice but to cooperate as his pretend girlfriend. All this relationship-y commitment-y crap repels the shit out of you. Basically the bane of your existence.

He probably shouldn’t have kissed and coddled you that much in front of Ryujin. You detest PDA like it’s some scandalous taboo, despite being the freakiest girl he knows in the sheets. But hey, you guys had to make it convincing and believable...

Yup, the more Taehyung thinks about it, the more he’s sure you’re annoyed (or even scared off) about the fake dating thing.

“You’re quiet for someone who just met her supposed archnemesis. I thought you’d be going on and on about what a bitch she is.” He glances at your sullen side profile for the hundredth time during your commute home.

“I don’t know, not it a great mood I guess? Probably just tired.” You mumble, searching for your keys in your coat pocket. The weather is getting cold these days; Taehyung knows your fingers are very prone to freezing, especially with your refusal of wearing gloves because ‘they’re ugly’ nor would you keep your hands in your pockets because ‘it’s a safety hazard incase you trip over’.

He gets a strangely overwhelming urge to hold your hands every time he sees you wiggling your fingers to warm them up. Hmm.

Wordlessly, you enter the house with him trailing behind you. He watches your moody steps from behind as you remove your shoes and head inside. Why can’t you just tell him what you’re thinking?

With a great sigh, Taehyung slumps onto the couch, focus still on you hanging your coat on the rack and tossing your keys into the holder on the shelf. “Hey.”

You turn, regarding his wide manspread with piqued interest. “What?”

“Come here, baby, sit on my lap.” He pats the top of his thighs in beckoning. Sometimes it’s like trying to get a stray cat to come to him.

Your eyes widen at his request. But very reluctantly, you stroll towards him until you’re standing between his extended legs. “Why are you calling me baby, we’re not pretending to be dating anymore.”

Taehyung stiffens as he senses the acrimony in your tone. So this is about the girlfriend thing? It’s a risky move but he sits up and pulls you in by the back of your thighs until you have no choice but to succumb to falling onto his hips. Lips still in a tight line, your limbs come around him to hold yourself upright. In order to prevent you from escaping, Taehyung encloses his arms around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. He tries not to think about how your crotch is directly on his right now.

“Why you sad?” He looks up at you, your eyes unreadable as always. Heat from your exhale fans his forehead.

“I don’t know. Nan molla.” You shrug and do that face scrunch thing you do whenever you’re unsure that he loves. It makes you look so cute.

“Hey…” Taehyung nudges your cheek with his nose in an attempt to get you to look at him. You have a habit of avoiding eye contact, and he knows it’s stems from the intimacy issue. “What’s up, honey buns?”

“Honey buns again? Seriously?” You jerk away from him like he insulted your mother or something.

“Well, since I can’t call you baby, honey buns it is.” His chest vibrates with his deep rumbling laughter, pleased with himself to see the slightest hint of a smile finally beginning to appear on you.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. Fine, just stick with baby, I swear…” You thump him on the back, yet your stone cold exterior now being invaded by a spark of humour.

“Good. Now tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

You’re quiet for a good few seconds, contemplating. Your legs around his torso tense, you bite your lip hesitantly. Come on, just talk to me, he wishes.

“Do you still… care about her?” Voice so soft that even he struggles to hear you this close.

“What? Ryujin?” Oh, so this is about her. Taehyung knew you hated her, but never thought that you would feel… insecure? Jealous, even? “Of course not. I don’t give a single fuck about her.” At his answer, you let out the breath you’ve been holding. A breath of relief? “But you clearly seem to care too much about her.”

“I- I do not!” In a tone of disbelief, you scorn. “I just- She’s not the one I care about.”

Fuck, you’re being too cute right now.

Taehyung pecks at your chin, unable to contain his affection anymore. You continue, “Plus, why didn’t you tell me she was talking to you again? Friends tell each other this sort of thing. I always tell you everything…”

The worry on your face is truly so endearing, he feels his chest constrict.

“I didn’t mention it because that’s how little I care. She is honestly so insignificant to me right now, I could not even be bothered to waste my breath bringing it up. Yes, she meant a lot to me for a period of my life. But. That was a long time ago. I’ve moved on, no thanks to you, remember?” Your eyes gradually dare loiter up his face. “You silly sausage.”

“But-” You’re pouting again. You need to stop pouting or he won’t be able to control himself, dammit. “Why did you lie and say I’m your girlfriend then, if you weren’t doing it to make her jealous.”

Taehyung blinks. Well… Um, about that... He didn’t want to have to explain it to you but...

“It just slipped out.”

Your turn to blink vacantly. Taehyung feels blood tinting his cheeks under your gaze. Even he doesn’t know why he said it back then. It just kind of… rolled off his tongue. Should he be worried? Yeah, he should definitely be worried.

When you still fail to say anything, he hurriedly asks, “Are you mad?”

“N-No. Why would I be mad?” The way your arm slides down his neck to brush pass his chest leaves his skin tingling. He pulls your legs closer around him, hand unintentionally trailing to your rear.

“I don’t know, you just hate that kind of lovey-dovey stuff. Just figured that you’d be annoyed that I forced you to act like my girlfriend.”

“Well, I was a bit annoyed… It’s not just me, you hate that kind of lovey-dovey stuff too!” Well, not exactly accurate, but Taehyung decides not to correct you. “But did you see her face?” Your tone begins to lighten. Remembering the acerbity tainting Ryujin’s features brings you amusement.

“She looked like she was going to murder someone.” You both laugh.

“She was thirsting over you like a hound, Jesus Christ. It’s because of your perm, trust me.” Grinning, you twirl his curly fringe around your fingers. You seem to do that quite often since he got the new hairstyle.

“Wow, you really like my perm that much?” He fishes, failing to control his forming smirk. You like to give him shit about his ego, yet no one strokes it more than you do.

“No comment.” You can’t contain your radiant smile either. Taehyung makes a mental note to keep the perm.

Seeing your mood lifted makes Taehyung feel much better, safer. His arms run up your back, and he feels you shudder under his touch. You fit into his embrace so well; it’s difficult to not hug you close to him every chance he gets nowadays. There’s a dull ache in the back of his neck from craning up to look at you for too long, but he doesn’t mind it. Your fingers fall from his hair, tracing his jaw frivolously, mindlessly. It leaves an unwarranted tremble within him.

“Look, there’s absolutely nothing for you to mull about in that overthinking head of yours. I don’t even remember Ryujin’s last name if I’m being honest with you. She lost me the moment she broke my heart, and I’ll never even remotely consider getting back with her. Ever. I promise.

“So don’t act all jealous and sulky just ‘cause you misunderstood. You’re my best girl. You’ll always be my best, favourite and only girl, understand? I, Kim Taehyung, belong to you, Y/N Y/L/N. Period.” The smile of satisfaction tells him everything. You’re not as hard to please as you appear to be. “I’m yours, happy?”

“Happy.” Fuck, Taehyung’s heart is going to explode from the joyous beam growing at your lips.

“Good, because she means nothing to me at all. But you, Ms. Needy-But-I-Won’t-Admit-It? You mean everything to me. Everything.” He bounces you on his lap for emphasis, eliciting another buoyant giggle from you.

Then you do something that you don’t normally do.

You kiss him - passionately and ardently. Fingers surfing the waves of his hair, you readjust your straddling position on top of him to minimise the distance. Taehyung feels all reason in his head incrementally ebbing away. You shouldn’t be kissing, you really shouldn’t. It’s not normal to make out with your best friend. But fuck the rules. Taehyung doesn’t want to stop kissing you right now, his silly adorable honey buns.

“Just admit it. You love me.” He taunts between breaths. You freeze at Taehyung’s words. Completely freeze on his lap, hand dangling from his face, as if you’ve been shot. “Like a best friend.” You deflate, evident relief at the joke.

Taehyung has to restrain from laughing out loud. God, you’re such an easy target. The second anything one step further from platonism is suggested, you act like you’re going to pack your bags and run for the hills. But here you are, kissing him and acting all possessive. He enjoys the irony.

“Yeah I love you. Like a best friend.” You flick the tip of his nose in reprimand for his teasing.

“Good because I love you too. Like a best friend.” He holds you tight against him, proceeding to blow raspberries in your neck.

Maybe even more, he wonders.

.

27/11/19

© Copyright 2019

.

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae

[subject-v]

A lesson in diplomacy (whumptober 5)

Five is punished for stealing.

TW: death, branding, blood, restraint, forced to watch, ableist language

“Wake up!”

I jerk upright, shoving hair out of my eyes, expecting to see it day outside because surely if Dex is here, in the servant quarters, I’ve slept until noon, but I can barely see by the flickering torchlight. He sets his torch in a sconce on the wall and drops something, no, someone, a body, with long hair and a ragged skirt. She grunts as she hits the ground, unable to catch herself. Ari rushes to her side to help her up but I remain frozen in place as she lifts her head: Amira. Why is Dex upset with Amira? She’s always done everything he’s asked of her.

“I have a simple question,” Dex says, leaning against the doorframe to block our only exit. “Who stole the cipher from my office?”

My stupid human brain still struggles to interpret sounds as a form of communication and I stumble over two words: cipher and office. Office is where he works and cipher is… oh. The paper I took off his desk, the one with the jumbled letters that were so fun to put back in order. I’d overheard him call it unbreakable with a group of senators, but it was a one-to-one substitution, easily broken with a little frequency analysis using books from his library. I’d solved it in about a decan and I couldn’t even read.

“Don’t look so terrified, Nike.” With no apparent effort, Dex leans forward and curls his fingers through Amira’s hair, pulling her back to her knees. “I know you’re too much of a simpleton for this. You three, however.” He flicks a finger at the other indentureds: Ari, Ermes, and Hesita, all of whom find reason to look elsewhere. “Only servants had access to the room since it went missing. Énas assures me it wasn’t one of the paid servants, so it was one of you.” A knife appears in his hands, a long, curved one with a terrible sharp point that he plants on Amira’s cheek, making her tremble, making her cry, and if I didn’t know from experience that nothing in my physical capacity could overpower Dex, I would jump at him then and there for scaring her. “Well?” A rivulet of blood rolls down her cheek.

“Sir,” Hesita begins. “I would never steal from you.”

“It’s not merely theft,” he says idly. “That cipher was a message from the rebels.” A small gasp goes up around the room, so whatever this rebel word is, I assume I want no association with it. “Whoever took it is a traitor and shall be treated as such.” He smiles, not the smile I’ve seen him use with other important people when he wants them to like him, the sort he flashed my way the first day we met, when being in a human body was still so new and unbearable and he’d seen the helplessness written all over my face. We were, I realized, helpless. None of us will leave this room alive but through his mercy. “Ari, perhaps?”

When he faces her, she ducks her head, just like Amira taught me to do. If you challenge him, he will try to break you, she’d said. Don’t give him reason to. “S-sir, I’m not a rebel.”

“They do love sending cute little things like you to my household. Did they give you that scar themselves, thinking it would make me less likely to abuse you? Ha!”

Ari’s chin is shaking. “I-I’m not-”

Dex waves her protestation aside. “They’ll elicit a proper confession at the Keep. Until then.” He plucks something off the wall behind him, a long metal stick like the one I use to tend his fires, and the one he once used to beat me when I let a fire burn too low, except this one has a shape on the end, an interlocking spiral made of wrought metal, and it makes Ari fall to her knees.

“Please don’t brand me, sir. I’m not a ciphramancer. I’ll do anything, please. It’s…” She takes  a deep breath. “Nike hides something in their shirt. Paper. Please, sir, it wasn’t me.”

I frown when she points at me but I’ve broken the cipher and I’m not a rebel or a ciphramancer, whatever those are, so Dex can’t be mad at me. Really, I’ve helped him, by solving it. Maybe he’ll see how good I am at this and stop making me do all his laundry. I remember to vibrate my neck as I exhale and say, “I. Have it.” Then, even though esses always get stuck under my tongue, I add, “S-sir,” because he looks like he’s in a bad mood.

Dex raises an eyebrow. “I’m not in a joking mood, Nike.”

I pull the paper—cipher on the one side, decrypted version on the other—out of my tunic and hand it to him.

He is, for the first time since I’ve arrived here, dumbfounded. Gobsmacked, even. “Are you-you’re a rebel?” He forgets to keep holding Amira up and she collapses to her shoulder, her bound hands wriggling behind her back. “Nike?”

Ari has a gleam in her eye as she ducks her head. Wait a minute, I know that one. Relieved? Why is she-

Dex slams me into the wall behind me, his arm flat across my neck. “I refuse to believe you’re a ciphramancer.” My eyes bug out of my head, I kick dangling feet, trying to speak, tell him I can’t breathe, but he drops me the next second anyway. “Hesita, Ermes, leave us. Ari, get my son and my riding crop.”

They all flee, except Amira, whose legs are tied together with thick rope, and even before she looks up at me with those big, sad, disappointed eyes, I realize I may have made a mistake here. I clear my throat. “I can.” What’s the word? “Help. You.”

Dex laughs. “You will, Nike. But first, Cassian?”

Cassian has only just arrived but he already looks miserable, which is his default state, as far as I can tell. He lets Ari hide behind him as he steps forward, all six feet of him. “Yes, sir?”

This always confuses me. My understanding of human social politics is that people fear pain and so power comes through the ability to inflict it. I have to wash and dry Dex’s clothes because he can hit me and I can’t hit him, but Cassian is wider and taller than Dex and he still always defers to him in these sorts of situations, even though he clearly doesn’t want to be here. What’s up with that?

“She will be going to the Keep. Get the necessary supplies and contact a guard.”

Cassian swallows heavily. “Yes, sir.”

“Ari, out of curiosity, how long did you know Nike had the cipher?”

Ari has nowhere to hide anymore and presses her lips together. “Sir, I assumed you told her to have it. I’m sorry.”

“You will be. Take off your shirt.”

Could I slip out, if I ran fast? No, Amira’s body is in the way. I opt to crouch in my corner instead. If I’m small enough, he might forget me, and he does seem excited as he beats Ari’s back purple with the riding crop, pausing after each blow so she can choke out a number.

Is he going to do that to me next? My hand goes to my back, worried. He whipped me, once. This will hurt less, right? But in my mind, it hurts more. A great anvil settles on my chest, pressing down until I can barely breathe, and then when Cassian returns, he’s holding rope and other things I don’t even recognize. If Ari deserves this punishment for the crime of hiding my crime, what the hells are they going to do me?

The knife? Dex’s sword? Something worse? Cassian shoves the brand into the brazier on the far wall, rustling the coals against one another, and my stomach drops. Do they-are they going to make me touch the fire?

Tears spill into my eyes, making Dex laugh as he shoos Ari out of the room. Instead of falling on me though—I want him to, even as I cannot stand the thought, because at least once the pain starts, I know how bad it will be—he drags Amira to the wall by the back of her shirt. “Put those on,” he orders, kicking at a set of manacles. He flicks Amira’s chin up with the riding crop. “Do it or I’ll hurt her.”

I snatch them closer and fit them over my wrists, but they’re so big, they fall to my elbows. Cassian moves forward to tighten them, then tugs at the chain, looking at Dex to make sure he approves. I wish I had the words to ask him to help me, instead of Dex. Neither of us like Dex and with his size, we could probably take him, even though he is holding that riding crop. He treated me so well last night, feeding me, telling me stories about Marius. Isn’t he supposed to like me?

Maybe he can see this urge in my eyes because he looks away quickly.

“Pull down the shirt.”

Cassian’s hands are hot against the skin of my back. “Kneel, please,” he whispers. I don’t understand. Why? Why must I? What was my crime?

“I helped,” I manage to say.

“Kneel,” he repeats. “Please, Nike.”

I kneel and he presses my cheek into the cold stone wall. Someone stirs the embers and a moan escapes my mouth—mistake. “Yes, Nike, perhaps you should’ve considered how much this would hurt before you crossed me.”

The strength comes from nowhere but suddenly, I’m struggling, pressing against Cassian’s hands on my shoulders, trying to stand, and his grip tightens. “I don’t want-”

I hear it before I feel it. A sizzle, like meat on the grill. A hiss.

Then-

Gods. Someone screams, not me, even though it’s my vocal cords vibrating, because this is not a sound I could ever make. It echoes in the small room, cracks, warbles, louder than I’ve ever made, and when I run out of breath the pain is still there, pressed hard against my back. I smell something burning, then realize it’s me. I’m burning.

Even when Dex steps back, the pain doesn’t diminish, and Cassian allowing my shirt to fall back into place makes it worse. I drop to hands and knees, the chains rattling, my back keening. Dex props the brand against the wall and I almost sob because that means we’re done, this is it. I can survive this. I can-I can do this.

“Look up.” I struggle to obey. “She begged for me to spare you, you know that?” Dex taps the riding crop against Amira’s cheek, which is stained wet. “My original idea was to skin you in front of Ari until she confessed, but Amira begged me to use her instead. Isn’t that touching?”

Amira’s shoulders shake.

“I assume you feel something for her as well.” He punches her, even though she is already lying on the ground and bound and helpless, he punches her so hard, her head slams into the wall with a horrid crack and blood pours from her mouth and splatters across her grey hair. I flinch, reach out to her, forget about the chains, half fall. “As I thought. Let this be a lesson then: your beloved rebels will always hurt people more than they help.”  He kneels, strokes her hair, and slides his knife between her ribs.

I’m too weak to cry out as she babbles, as he lets her go, as she falls. Too weak to pull away from her spreading blood as it stains my skirt and skin. Too weak to struggle as Cassian lifts me up, avoiding the raw wound on my back, and carries me outside, and between the searing pain on my back and the terror in my chest, all I can find myself thinking is that he promised. He said if I obeyed he wouldn’t hurt her, and he hurt her, he killed her, she taught me to speak and he killed her, she’s dead and I wish I were too because it hurts more than I can comprehend.

As Cassian hands me to someone outside dressed all in grey, I manage to lift my head, look Dex in the eye, and though I cannot remember how to speak, I think he understands the look in my eyes because he ruffles my hair with a rueful smile. “I know, I lied. Don’t worry, better dead than where you’re going.”

[wisteria-lodge]

Character Analysis - Sorting Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

a quick note on why I’m moving away from the HP terminology

So @sortinghatchats is brilliant. Absolutely my favorite character (and person!) analysis system. Instead of one house, you get two - a PRIMARY (your motivation, why you do things), and a SECONDARY (your toolbox, how you get things done.) A very stripped down refresher --

IDEALIST PRIMARY Lion/Gryffindor - I do what I feel is right. (MORAL) Bird/Ravenclaw - I do what I decide is correct. (LOGICAL) LOYALIST PRIMARY Badger/Hufflepuff - I do what helps my community (PEOPLE MATTER) Snake/Slytherin - I do what helps me/my inner circle (MY PEOPLE MATTER)

IMPROVISATIONAL SECONDARY Lion/Gryffindor- Charge! React! Smash the system! Snake/Slytherin- Transform, adapt, find the loophole. BUILT SECONDARY Bird/Ravenclaw - Plan, make tools, gather information. Badger/Hufflepuff - Community-build, caretake, call in favors.

Now let’s talk Sherlock Holmes!!!

***

Mycroft Holmes has a terrifying Bird secondary. He knows everything. He sees everything. He holds all the information in his head, all the time, and can tell you exactly how it connects. “Spymaster Mycroft” didn’t become proper fanon until 1970: in the books he’s more like a human computer, or a Mentat from Dune. This man is incapable of improvising. He hates casual conversation, hates changing his routine, just wants to sit and process and plan. He is the cartoon version of a Bird secondary.  

Mycroft is so insanely ‘big picture’ that he barely notices specific individuals. He’s off in in the corner thinking about currency regulation and the situation in Siam. In “The Greek Interpreter” he hears about a woman who might be starving to death… and sort of vaguely puts it on his to-do list. Sherlock ends up handling it.

You could make a case for either a Bird or Lion primary. But I’m going with Lion. Mycroft values instinct like Lions do (”All my instincts are against this explanation.”) And Sherlock describes him as someone who “would rather be considered wrong than take the trouble to prove himself right.” This is teasing, but it’s a joke about a Lion who just sort of feels the answer, not a Bird who needs a reason to be correct. Mycroft’s Cause, the one we see him respond to emotionally, is the smooth functioning of his world. He has a little pocket carved out for his brother, but if he had to choose between the country that he embodies and Sherlock Holmes’ well-being, it’d be England every time.

Knowing that Mycroft has that much power but doesn’t care about individual people makes Sherlock... uncomfortable. It takes him a while to even mention his brother to Watson. And then he lies about how important Mycroft’s job is. Thematically, this where Moriarty comes in. James Moriarty – the older genius hiding deep in the establishment, running a criminal empire from behind a tenured professorship, never getting his hands dirty – is Dark Mycroft. Because Sherlock is pretty sure his brother is one of the good guys. He’s pretty sure Mycroft isn’t going to break bad and go full-on ‘ends justify the means’ supervillain.

But… like… he could.

Sherlock Holmes is also defined by his Bird secondary. His deductions, data, knowledge of crime – it’s his loudest trait. But it’s a model. He tells us it’s a model. This “habit of observation and inference which I formed into a system” is something he built – and honestly, he probably built it for Mycroft. The Holmes brothers don’t do conversations, they have deduction games. Sherlock never wins, but at least he plays on Mycroft’s level.

(Everything about Sherlock Holmes makes more sense when you think about Mycroft. Like the “brain-attic” metaphor. How did Sherlock get this idea that there’s some fast-approaching limit to the actual pieces of information he can fit in his head at once? Because he knows someone with far, far greater processing power).

Underneath this logical Bird secondary model, Sherlock Holmes has something that looks a lot more Snake He’s moody and mercurial. He improvises on the violin to help himself think. He loves acting. He loves disguises. He crushes on Irene Adler because their Snake secondaries have so much fun playing together. And when it’s important, Holmes goes full-on Snake. Need to get Watson away from Moriarty? Better forge a letter sending him on a fake errand.

And as far as primaries go...  he’s a Badger. Sherlock Holmes cares about people. Oh wow does he care about people. If he doesn’t protect his client, it’s not a win – even if he solved the case with some brilliant bit of detection. He despises blackmailers, because they destroy lives in a cold, impersonal way. (At least murderers care.) He doesn’t mean to upset people with his deductions, and apologizes when he gets too coldly Bird: “Pray accept my apologies. Viewing the matter as an abstract problem, I had a forgotten how personal and painful a thing it might be to you.” When Watson talks about the “depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask,” Holmes is thirty seconds away from going vigilante killer because somebody hurt John Watson.

But the feeling isn’t just Watson-centric. Holmes doesn’t require Watson at his side the way a Snake would, because as long as he knows Watson is safe and happy, he is content. Holmes need-bases. It’s important that he works for people who need him. He generally dislikes working for the rich or upper-class (Soviet Russian Sherlock Holmes was totally a thing, they didn’t have to change much). He also has a *real* problem with overworking himself, which is very much a Badger primary and not Snake primary thing to do

He even community-builds. His Baker Street Irregulars, his connections over at Scotland yard, his tribe of interesting contacts and informants. Holmes values community. To him, community = safe. He loves London, but isolated rural areas makes him nervous:

“[in London] there is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbors, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going... But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields… think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser.”

And don’t get me wrong. Holmes loves his double Bird armor. It makes him feel powerful, and hides the fact that he cares so damn much. He likes to pretend he doesn’t: to care is to be weak, ineffective, and untrustworthy. (Mycroft is probably to blame for this bit of thinking too.) But Sherlock Holmes is still able to take off his Bird. He takes it off around Watson. 

Dr. John Watson is a bright charging Lion secondary who is completely incapable of telling a lie. He’s ex-military. He’s Holmes’ muscle/backup. He’s got a gambling problem. And the thing about Holmes and Watson’s dynamic is that while Holmes calls the shots about 90% percent of the time, when it’s important – Watson goes full unstoppable-force Lion. And Holmes just buckles.

“Well, I don’t like it ; but I suppose it must be,” said I. “When do we start?” “You are not coming.” “Then you are not going,” said I. “I give you my word of honor – and I never broke it in my life – that I will take a cab straight to the police station and give you away unless you let me share this adventure with you” “You can’t help me.” “How do you know that? You can’t tell what may happen. Anyway, my resolution is taken.” Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so.”

Watson’s absolutely a Lion Primary too. First going into medicine, then joining the army even when that’s not the best career move? At the beginning of A Study in Scarlet, Watson is in terrible shape. Can’t sleep. Can’t stand loud noises. He’s “spending such money as I had considerably more freely than I ought.” But it’s not so much the PTSD as it is the the lack of purpose that’s getting to him. He talks a lot about his “meaningless existence” and how how “objectiveless was my life.” That’s a hurting, burned Lion, without a Cause.

And then Sherlock Holmes stumbles in. Overnight Watson’s life has meaning. He is going to help Holmes bring criminals to justice. He is going to make sure Holmes gets the recognition he deserves. And he’s going to get him clean. (ACD gets massive kudos for being against recreational cocaine and morphine use). The things Watson loves about Holmes, things like his “high sense of professional honor” – those are things that get under the skin of a Lion Primary. This is a guy with pictures of abolitionist preachers framed on his wall. John Watson’s not subtle. 

“You don’t mind breaking the law?” [said Holmes] “Not in the least.” “Nor running a chance of arrest?” “Not in a good cause.” “Oh, the cause is excellent!” “Then I am your man.”

And of course, Holmes got lucky in Watson too. Holmes is a Loyalist primary who distrusts other Loyalist primaries – you can’t really blame him, he comes across so many repulsive ones in his day job. (Interestingly, the handful of times Holmes absolutely misreads a motive – “Yellow Face,” “Missing Three-Quarter,” “Scandal in Bohemia” – it’s because he’s going up against a Loyalist primary who is using their powers for good.) 

But Watson is a trustworthy, dependable, predicable, honorable, Idealist who can  look like a Loyalist because his Cause is so focused on one person. So Holmes can be secure in his doctor’s devotion while also getting to lean on the instincts of someone just unflinchingly moral.

tl;dr

Mycroft Holmes – Lion Bird. An extremely big picture Lion whose Cause involves keeping England together. He’s the light-side counterpart of Professor Moriarty.

Sherlock Holmes – Badger Snake. Builds a loud Double Bird model, partly for pleasure, partly have a relationship with his brother, and partly because dealing with so many low-life Loyalist primaries makes him distrust those instincts in himself.

Dr. John Watson - Double Lion. When we meet him he’s pretty burned, due to his twin Causes of Queen and Country not really working out. Luckily, he meets Sherlock Holmes, and finds a new Cause in him.

[okimargarvez]

PUSH TO THE LIMITS

Original title: Push to the limits.

Prompt: post 12x7, Luke tries to make amends.

Warning: none.

Genre: romantic, funny.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Jennifer Jareau.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 63 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘🎵.

Song mentioned: Perdono, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

PUSH TO THE LIMITS

He remains motionless staring at her as she screams at him, before leaving the room, not without having thrown him one last sharp look. The others giggle, arguing over who won the bet, but he just can't concentrate and, with a certain (fatal) delay, comes out in turn, trying to figure out where she may have gone. -Garcia!- he calls her, obviously not getting an answer. -Garcia!- he tries again, not wanting to give up. He straightens his ears, striving to pick up any noise. Nothing. His feet lead him to the IT department. And it is from the corridor that he sees a colored stain running towards the elevators. – Garcia, wait, Garcia!- as soon as the woman hears him, she changes direction, preferring the stairs. Despite her heels she proceeds quickly and safely. He chases her until he reaches the terrace. She is very close to the edge (too much for him), she seems to be looking towards the void. He reaches her walking slowly, step by step, fearing to be able to scare her and cause a far more serious tragedy. -Garcia...- he repeats, when he is a few inches from her. He flanks it and notices tears in the corners of her eyes. It is not really the first time that he sees her in this state; he especially thinks back to the day they discovered that Scratch had threatened Jack, forcing Hotch to resign. This doesn’t make this situation more bearable.

Suddenly, after a good minute of silence, Garcia whirls towards him, with such impetus as to risk unbalancing herself. -What do you want? What else do you want, aren't you satisfied with what you did?- she asks, half screaming and half broken. If at other times she had only pretended to hate him and forced the discomfort she felt when he was around, now she is not simulating at all. -Do you want to make fun of me a little longer?- she slings the last question, naturally rhetorical; then the woman begins to ignore him again, deliberately pretending that he doesn’t exist, that he is not present. But those salty drops are still there, immobile. She has no intention of crying, much less with that infamous being. She will not grant him such honor, to see such an intimate part of her soul.

And the man understands it perfectly. He remains silent, contenting himself with breathing her air, sharing the same space. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye so as not to disturb her too much. He observes all her nuances. The geometries of her dress, for once not particularly low-cut. The fake flower in her hair. Her face red with anger. The slight trembling of the lower lip. After about ten minutes he decides to venture an attempt. -Garcia, I...- he realizes he is babbling, that he looks like a real idiot and doesn’t believe that this can help him win back her graces. He takes a long, deep breath. - I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd take it so badly.- he finally manages to say, not trying at all to disguise his displeasure.

Instead of turning around as suddenly as she did earlier, she prefers to keep looking at the horizon. -And how should I react?- her tone is strangely low, a little lower and he wouldn't be able to hear it. But it is not even a whisper. It doesn't sound like a question and maybe it isn't. -My friends, whom I regard as my family, took advantage of my vulnerability to make fun of me.- if ever there was a way to make him feel even more guilty, even more like shit... she found it. He focuses on every single word, on each of her choices. He has always known that the BAU is different from the other teams, and certainly from his previous one, since Phil is gone, at least. But it is a term above all that hit the mind of the SSA in training. Vulnerability. As if he hadn’t already noticed this characteristic of his! And was it not perhaps an extra element that attracted him towards her, fatally? Wasn't it going to tease his innate sense of protection exactly, his aspiration to play the hero, the knight in shiny armor, with lots of tights?

He realizes that he has been silent for a century, conversing with himself. He is used to doing it, to being his only interlocutor (if he doesn't consider Roxy), but he will have to change his attitude. Now he is part of a team. Of a group. - I don't think...- he says, but Garcia doesn’t even grant him this grace. She turns slowly, raising one of her splendid, very clear hands, with her palm and her fingers extended.

-Shut up.- she says, but her gaze is much sharper than her voice. She is slowly turning off, like a burned-out light bulb. It is an image that Luke doesn’t particularly like, but finds confirmation in her subsequent sentences and in her shaky and deeply desperate tone. -I just want to be able to stay alone for a moment. To reflect.- she voluntarily chooses to seek and find the eyes of the man, before concluding. -Maybe I'm doing something wrong.- she will also be naive, but she is the undisputed genius of her field. How to make the two things fit together? Because she knows, when she wants to, what to say to get a certain effect.

Agent Alvez swallows, failing to try not to be surprised. -You will not want to leave the BAU.- his fear turns into possibility coming out of his mouth. She hadn't really considered it, but she does it now. Luke curses himself for the umpteenth time in less than a quarter of an hour.

Penelope looks away again and shrugs. -I don’t know.- the thing that scares him the most is to understand that she is not lying at all, nor making fun of him. Although he is not that far away, he gets even closer, as far as he can before she rejects him badly. He feels the need to reach out and touch her arm, shoulder, fingers, something. He needs contact with her, not that this is also new. The more she tries to avoid him, the more he is attracted to her. Certainly, it is only one of his self-defeating pastimes, or...

When he is about to reach the goal, i.e. touch her arm (he has decided that it is the least ambiguous part of her body, the friendliest, even if the two of them aren’t friends), the blonde looks at him and he stops. -Hey, no, don't joke about this.- it sounds like a plea, even if it wanted to be a joke, with the aim of getting a smile or at least a pitiful laugh. But she interprets it in a completely different way.

She raises an eyebrow seductively (probably not aiming at this second effect) and scrutinizes him with a stern but also amused air. -Why, are there things you think you shouldn't joke about?- Luke opens his mouth to reply, then realizes that the best choice is to genuflect and beg forgiveness.

He raises both hands like a suspect in arrest. -Touché - she just nods, with a dry gesture of her chin. -I beg your pardon, Garcia, I didn't want to make you feel bad, but...- he uses the puppy look, the big eyes, the tilted head, the tight lips. She couldn’t resist him, the first time he exploited it, to save himself from the accusation of being a liar and that he didn’t like her gifts (this was the real lie! How could he not ever get excited about whatever she had donated to him?).

But today he is decidedly less fortunate. -But you did it anyway, and you ruined everything!- perhaps noticing their closeness, Garcia pushes him away, only to move (with extreme relief from the man, who is trying to recover from that sudden contact) in a safer area of the terrace.

He follows her, of course. -What do you mean?- he asks, while fearing to know the answer.

Penelope pleases him with a smile that has nothing sweet about it. -After discovering that Roxy is a dog and after seeing that you aren’t so bad as a company at O'Keefe, I had decided to treat you better.- she reveals, simply, disregarding the increasingly shocked expression of the colleague. -I thought we were becoming friends, but you stabbed me in the back!- another accusation and another push. Only for a hair he can't hold her hand on his chest.

Luke shakes his head, trying to catch her eye again. -I, no, I...- but her face leaves no room for doubt.

-I'm not interested in your apologies.- she says and he catches both senses of that sentence. -You sided with the others!- he doesn’t reply anything, because he knows she is right. -You chose them instead of me. You don't deserve my friendship.- she deduces, widening her arms, like a judge who issues a sentence of death, implacable. And that's when Agent Alvez realizes he has no choice but to make a move, the one he never would have considered, probably not even in a thousand years, if things had gone differently. But he cannot afford to lose the little he has laboriously earned.

He looks at her in a strange, different, new way. Original. -And if that's not enough, for me?- he asks her, gradually reducing the inches of air that separate him from her. Penelope opens her eyes for a moment, forgetting the subject of their conversation. He always liked to put her in trouble, but this time his intentions are very different.

-What are you talking about?- he watches her pupils dilate while he makes another step. -Stop there where you are.- she intimates him, but fails to sound very authoritarian, so he doesn’t listen to her. -You're too close.- she says the last sentence in a lower voice, because the man is almost completely bent over her.

He turns a few degrees so he can whisper in her ear. -I mean if it's not enough to be your friend.- ok, this time he really said it. Now he can't go back and doesn't intend to do it. He doesn't want to believe that Garcia's attitude towards him is only due to the fact that he took the place of her best friend. Or maybe he needs to think that behind there is more to find enough courage.

However, she chooses to suddenly return naive. -And what the hell would you like to be?- she stutters, overlapping words, but unable to break eye contact and hating herself deeply for this. If he had been less attractive, would it have been so difficult anyway? She doubts it. -Why the hell do you care so much about what I think of you?- she bursts out and finally she has made the right question.

Luke chuckles, impressed by her innocence as much as by her job skills. -Don't you really get it, Garcia?- her big eyes are enough for an answer. -I like you, I have a crush on you, that's why I 'sided' with the rest of the team, as you say.- he feels his heart beating like the one of a teenager in a movie. He almost certainly also has sweaty hands. The blonde remains silent, so he adds some more details. -To provoke you, as you do with me.- even if, thinking back, he understood that he had started this, not she. -I thought it was just an innocent game...- Penelope seems to believe him for about two seconds, then bursts into a resounding laughter, which however doesn't seem at all joyful, but bears traces of bitterness and sadness.

She claps her hands in a theatrical way, even managing to take a few steps away from him. -Congratulations, really credible! You're getting better at telling lies, but if you think I'm stupid enough to fall into the same trap twice...- she shakes her head. Those tears at the corners of her eyes finally hover in the air. -You have a worse opinion of me than I thought.- she concludes, revealing herself once again able to identify precisely the thing that will hurt him most.

Now that he has freed himself of this enormous weight (to think that it is only a few months, but it seems to him much longer, like his whole life), he cannot conceive the idea that she can think that he is a liar, that he could joke about a similar topic, which can be so petty. -I'm not lying, it's the truth!- he almost shouts, grabbing his own head to avoid doing something more reckless. -I like you a lot, I don't see what I could earn to make you believe it.- after this last sentence, however, he looks directly into her eyes. Anyone knows that it is very difficult to simulate a feeling while maintaining eye contact. Penelope seems to think of that, she seems uncertain, she approaches him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

And in front of the man's shocked look, she begins to search him. -You certainly have something on you, maybe not a bug wire, at least a tape recorder...- her hands run down his chest, covered only by a light gray shirt, and stopping just before the belt. Then she comes to her senses and understands what she risked doing. But now it's late. Taking advantage of her sudden loss, Luke has brought her closer to him and now holds her firmly by the shoulders.

-Garcia, look into my eyes, and you will understand that I am sincere.- the man's hands rise up to her neck, causing her to shiver (not only because of their glacial temperature), finally lingering on her face, barely caressing her cheeks. She obeys him for a few seconds, so she manages to look away with difficulty.

-No, I can’t.- she detaches herself from him, violently. Unable to conceive how she could allow him to touch her in such an intimate way. -You could have thought of a more credible one excuse and I didn't think you would be able to go that far.- she comments, finding her own safety or at least a semblance of it, as soon as she is distant from him. -Even playing with feelings... Maybe I should really ponder a transfer.- Luke is not considered the best hunter of men of the FBI undeservedly. He takes very little to capture her.

-NO!- this time he's really screaming. He tries to calm himself, to think lucidly. -No, not for my fault.- he really is a good actor, no doubt. It would be really too easy to fall into those brown eyes, to get carried away by the current down and down... -Let me prove that it's all true.- he pleads her. His hands are on her again, with his thumb he touches her neck, while with his other fingers her face.

She tries to ignore the feelings that this contact causes. -And how are you going to do?- her eyes are wide open as she watches him bend over her and trying to bring her face closer to his, as if he wanted (and it seems so) to kiss her. She waits that Luke is a few millimeters before stopping him, with some satisfaction. Or maybe, most likely, she had to struggle hard to do it. -Huh, no, even if you weren't a liar, I wouldn't make things so easy for you.- she tells him, but in her tone there is new malice and this is enough to reassure him. -If you really like me, you'll have to work a lot.- not bad, since he had already taken it into account. He is annoyed enough to have been interrupted so close to the goal, but... if she is giving him a chance, this is what matters. -Do you think it's worth it?- she asks, crossing her arms, almost certainly expecting a no.

Luke, however, disappoints or surprises her, depending on your point of view. -Yup.- he answers, decided as he has rarely been in his life, above all about personal relationships. -Absolutely.- he adds, to make matters worse.

She shrugs. -Happy for you. If the road was uphill before, now you can consider it directly a wall.- she makes it clear however. That grimace on her red mouth. He will be able to taste it, to discover what it tastes like. If it was the last thing he will do. -A very slippery wall.- she adds, with a wink. -It's easy to fall and get hurt...- now she seems serious, she seems to want to suggest something to him, but he doesn't know her long-term relationship history: he can't know that she refused two marriage proposals, that she has problems too only to think of living with a man who is also convinced she loves. That from that point of view she is no less solitary than he. Sergio is enough.

Of course, he can't know (JJ wouldn't have talked to him about it), but he seems to sense it, getting closer to the solution. -I'll be careful.- he proclaims, as if he were about to leave on a mission, get on the jet. -I’ll conquer the lost land.- he says, resolutely, trying to convince at least her, if not himself.

He gets a hearty laugh in return. -Well, they say that self-confidence is everything to achieve a goal.- he nods. -But to regain mine, it would take a miracle.- Luke is not discouraged.

-I believe in miracles.- he promptly replies. And it's not a lie. There are many things of his faith that he doesn’t fully share, which cause him internal conflicts. But not this one.

-Good for you.- she says. -Now, go away. And, Newbie, tell the others that I am very disappointed by everyone.- it's so nice to hear that nickname again without nuances of real disappointment.

He nods before leaving. -I will do it. –

 And Luke keeps his implicit promise. During the next two weeks both the office and the home of the computer technician Garcia become places frequented by express couriers of all types, florists and pastry shop clerks. The man slightly distorts the classics, the romantic clichés, preferring live plants of the most disparate species to the bouquets of real flowers, desserts from all over the world to the chocolates in a heart-shaped box, puppets with recording personalized messages instead of cinematographic declarations; and hearing his unique voice, deep and fret, making certain statements… it’s different anyway. But it's not enough.

Penelope doesn’t reply to any of the gifts and only when one evening, returning from a case, he stops her to get a response, she deigns to consider him. -It’s all you can do?- she replies with a question, dismissing all his efforts and leaving him partially sad, but also too stubborn to give up on the first attempt.

She doesn't expect that he can do anything right that evening. Nor that he can go that far. When the first notes of classical guitar begin to spread in the air, she doesn’t suspect that this may have anything to do with her. But then he starts singing. Forgive me... if what is done is done, but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact I ask... your forgiveness... what is done is done but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact... I ask your forgiveness... At first, she is so shocked that she doesn't even have the strength to look out of the window is to verify if it is not by chance, that her brain shows signs of imbalance. Luke cannot be in the courtyard where her apartment is located, to serenade her, like a medieval minstrel. Even if it's a pretty retro thing, something that suits him. With this joy that hugs my heart, four days from Christmas... a mixture of enchantment and pain, I think back to when I hurt someone, and there are so many people, good pretexts, always too few. Between desires, labyrinths and fires, I begin a new year by asking... She should have imagined, however, that he would sing so good. She doesn’t know where this kind of thought comes from, why she is so convinced of it, since she has never thought about it before. She sighs, resigning herself to the need to control. She spies from behind the curtain, but he notices however that he has managed to capture her attention and continues much more determined and with a smile on his lips. Forgive me... if what is done is done, but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact I ask... your forgiveness... what is done is done but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact... I ask your forgiveness... It is undoubtedly thanks to his vocal talents if none of the Garcia's neighbors throws a bucket of water at him (or worse), drops a vase on his head or simply shouts at him to dislodge. And maybe even the fact that it's not yet eleven o'clock and her neighborhood is a fairly populated until late. To say that I feel good with you is little, to say that I feel bad with you is a game, a mixture of truce and revolution, I think it's a good opportunity, with this magic... of Christmas, to remember... how special you are, amid the contradictions and your faults, I still try to want you… She shakes her head, thinking that there are still months left to think about pulling the tree out of the box in which she put it. She laughs, but her is a sweet laugh and no one misses those nuances. She feels she has become the center of general interest; the way in which Luke is looking at her as he sings and plays has left no room for any doubt about the addressee of his stornello. Forgive me... if what is done is done, but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact I ask... your forgiveness... what is done is done but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact... I ask your forgiveness... But he himself claimed not to just want her friendship, but something more. And this is also clear to all those present, who wonder who that young man is and where dear Penelope may have known him. A good part recalls another kind of evening and another kind of companion; the sirens and the lights of the ambulance, the cries of the paramedics. But this one seems a good guy and certainly cannot have bad intentions. Besides the fact that his gesture would have a lot of witnesses. Here winter is not afraid, I got some without you... here anger is without measure, but without you... I don’t know and the night dances alone, but without you I will not dance... captain, knock down the walls with me, that by myself I won't make it... That reference in particular hits her straight to the heart and his wink gives her the suspicion that it was precisely for that sentence if he decided to dedicate this song to her, instead of another, and not for the refrain, which also repeats endlessly what he had already said and pleaded in a completely different way. I ask your forgiveness, if what is done is done, but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know I’m like, in fact... I ask your forgiveness... Penelope wonders if this song will ever end, not that she minds, far from it, if she really has to be sincere... but to the pleasure and that boost to her self-esteem, embarrassment and blush on her cheeks should be added. Didn't she always want a man to make such a crazy gesture just for her? Didn't she always say that she wasn't the kind of woman that men write songs for? It seems like a century has passed since that time. If what is done is done, but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact I ask... your forgiveness... what is done is done but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact... I… She is concentrated now on his hands, on the way he uses the pick, how he caresses the ropes, and finds herself wondering what else he would be able to do with those fingers. And if maybe they can play something together, one day, she with the clarinet and him with... She shakes her head to get out of her own fantasy. I ask your forgiveness… if what is done is done, but I ask your forgiveness, give me a smile, I offer you a rose, on this friendship new peace comes, because I know what I’m like, in fact I ask... forgiveness... sorry… rose… comes… When the last notes echo in the evening, everyone understands that the performance has ended. Spontaneous applauses start from all the windows except from the only one that really interests him. Luke bows, thanking the improvised audience. When he raises his head, those windows have closed completely. Behind the curtains, the blonde begins to convince herself that he is really interested for her. Better late than never. But it's still not enough.

 A few days go by without any new surprise and the woman seriously begins to fear that he's get tired of her, of her coldness and her too high claims. She doesn't suspect in the slightest that in reality Luke is using his knowledge in quality of ex-fugitives team Agent. For now, he has limited himself to doing what all women are supposed to want. But Garcia is not all women. He deduces that this was his mistake and remedies it.

With her mind half occupied by the current case and the other part by mulling over her own stupidity (she could at least find out what kind of kisser the Newbie was, if she had been just a smarter pinch), Penelope crosses the threshold of her office and finds a note in front of the main screen. Her heart recognizes his calligraphy well before her eyes. Look in the refrigerator, second shelf on the right. Although she might well wait, since it's too early to eat, she almost runs to find out what's in store for her this time. And in an instant, she forgot all the fears of having pushed her luck. The dining area is deserted. She opens the door and sees what looks like a pan covered with silver paper. And another piece of paper. I made Lasagna. All vegetarian. And a little face that winks, hand-drawn. Without realizing it, she caresses it with her thumb. At the same time, she chuckles, definitely impressed. Then she realizes, she feels that someone is watching her. She turns and Alvez is there. How did he get so close to her without she can hear the steps? Damn profilers and hunters of men!

For a moment they simply remain stare at each other, saying nothing. It is clear that he is challenging her to find a way to ruine his gesture. And she accepts. -Nice, but still a little bit.- she comments, crossing her arms. Luke can't hide a grimace of frustration. -I told you it would be tough.- she continues, in a much more serious tone, trying perhaps to justify herself, when instead she would simply like to invite him to share those Lasagna (which she hasn't even seen or tasted yet, it could be very disgusting, but sometimes the thought is really enough, isn't it?). -Do you want to give up?- and that's when the man does something really completely unexpected and out of every script. He comes so close to her that he almost touches her breast with his forearm.

And the way he looks at her. It should be judged illegal, at least in some countries, at least in Virginia. He shakes his head, in an authoritarian way, only letting her see what the unsubs and the fugitives feel during an interrogation or a capture. -Never.- but he doesn’t do just that. He caresses her cheek with a decidedly determined act that she, puzzled, finds herself closing her eyes to better enjoy that gesture. But she opens them up to his next statement. -You'll be mine, Penelope, and when that happens, you won't be able to stand on your legs, how much they'll shaking.- she opens her mouth, understanding that any reply would be useless. And indeed, he is right, because her knees are already starting to have problems (and not just her knees). However, she hides her excitement behind a mischievous and at the same time strange smile. Placing a hand on his sculptural chest she pushes him away just enough to get back to the office. With the note tight in the left hand.

 By now she has lost control, the situation, with a man so courtly in such a shameless way, is too stimulating for him to be able to put a stop to it. If it had been Kevin or Sam, in his place, surely, she would have already given up. But every time she ends up looking at Luke in the eye, she wonders how far they can go, she denies him the satisfaction and he has understood it. The fact that he is not ashamed at all to show his interest in front of the whole world and above all in front of their colleagues... it's just one more reason to let the game continue for a while longer. From O'Keefe, for example, there is not a single evening that he doesn’t offer to pay her cocktails (only to her) and also covers her with another kind of attention, so as to push more than a guy to give up in order to flirt with that shapely blonde at the right point (she naturally doesn't even realize it, too busy to restrain herself, but nothing escapes him). Above all it is again the way in which he looks at her, exaggeratedly shameless, that exasperate and amuse their friends.

-If you keep act in this way, we'll have to censor you, Luke.- Rossi complains on one of these occasions. But Penelope doesn't just enjoy free cocktails and looks back at him. She plays her part in this kind of performance. She makes him go crazy with every known or not known method. She flirts with strangers, albeit in a decidedly innocent way, compared to when she plays with him, even before all this started. This is why some people got a fantasy, but then they notice how he shakes her hand on her hips and give up, believing that they have dreamed everything. Many times, after having returned to her place, the blonde is in fact instantly captured by her colleague, always sitting next to her, who whispers threats that seem anything but frightening, such as: -You will pay for each of these actions.- but she, lingering in the same way and making him believe every time that she was about to bite his lobe or grab his lips, merely laughs, filling his ear canals with the sound of her giggling.

And moving away, at all intimidate, at the same time removing his hand from her, she replies always the same in a low voice, but not too much. -First you have to catch me.- that answer which, despite so many repetitions by now would have become banal, silences him all the time.

 She couldn’t say that it was her friend who wanted to bring up the topic, because she was the first to let it out. Just a hint, the only evening he hasn't arrived yet and the rest of the table is occupied in an animated discussion of the criteria for awarding the Oscars. -Then... you have nothing to say to me?- well before she mentions it explicitly, she has already got the point. -You and Luke...- in another era she would probably deny, she would reject, she would say to her friend she is a visionary. Not in this one.

Watching the chair next to her (empty), she leaves the river of her emotions flow out. - Do you remember when you all sucked, and he too? He followed me to the terrace and at one point... he said he had a crush on me.- a smile of pure affection, satisfaction (I knew it!) and joy paints the lips of the other blonde. -I didn't believe him, but... now...- they nod simultaneously. -I'm afraid that I’m exaggerating. He will soon tire of trying to conquer me.- the fact she said even this last part is what makes her proud of herself.

It's up to JJ to express her thought. -Do you want my opinion?- she doesn’t wait for an answer. -This can’t happen. I did the same with Will, at the beginning... I was a little cold.- she chuckles, thinking back to those moments with nostalgia, but at the same time happy about the here and now. -You know, In love’s war, he who flieth is conqueror.- she winks at her. Then, she suddenly turns serious. -That's not what you should worry about, in my opinion.- she adds, looking over her shoulder.

Penelope knows that Luke has arrived and probably he is standing at the counter to make the first orders. -What, then?- she asks. There is no room for shyness and pride.

-You have to think about all the time you will waste, just to act like teenagers.- she replies promptly, sensing the course of her friend's thoughts. -When, in short...- she shrugs and almost seems to blush. But she wouldn’t be able to swear it -...you could live and find out how it is.- she understood what JJ meant, but she has no way to reply, because he is there, the chair is no longer empty, his hand brushes by chance (yeah, right for this) her knee while he is settling.

 And despite all those fine words, spending so many nights repeating that JJ was right, another month passes, during which he alternates the actual courtship with explicit and clear requests for a full-fledged appointment, which she declines every time, cursing herself like the crocodile after eating too much. Her only excuse is that he hasn't done enough yet, but she knows that it ceased to make sense long ago.

Garcia then reaches another, different conclusion: what she really expects is, masochistically, to see him finally losing interest in her, so she can consider herself a fool and be able to do it, later thanks to the passing of time that erases and obscures everything, convincing herself that in reality he never felt anything for her.

A sea of shit that fortunately crashes against the rocks of Luke's stubbornness, which fails to consider sporadic touches at the bar as real progress. But he still has an ace up his sleeve. The winning card. He wonders why he waited so long to do it.

 He is forced to talk to Emily. Leaving everything to chance would mean risking compromising the plan. He waits patiently (patience has always been one of his main qualities) that there are no cases. And finally, that day comes. He waits for her to go to the bathroom, for take his gift to the bat-cave. He stays hidden at the end of the corridor, watching her returning to the office. He hears her scream and realizes that maybe this time the job is really done.

Inside, Penelope tries to censure her joy by pressing her hands over her mouth. Roxy, beautiful as always, is covering her with kisses. But it doesn't take long to notice that there is ticket rolled up and stuck in her collar. The more she reads it, the stronger her heart beats. Forgive the fool of my master. He didn't want to hurt you, but you know, human beings (especially males) are so foolish! He always liked to hunt, but without weapons. Because of this pursuit he no longer has a crush on you. Now he is sure he is in love. Please give him a chance so we can see each other more often. I miss you! Rox. And it is not the third-party declaration that causes her to collapse definitively. No, it's that paw print as a signature. She fears to burst into tears. She takes long breaths to calm herself.

Now she has discovered her breaking point and doesn’t care a damn she will never know which of Luke would have been. Hearing only silence, the man dares to enter. -Then?- he asks, even though he knows how to read her expression perfectly.

She wants to show herself a little distant. -All right, Alvez, I'll go out with you. But, mind, this means nothing.- she likes to play as precious thing, and he will let her do it, because she is. She is the most precious jewel that he never would have aspired even to contemplate.

He takes her hand, helping her to get up. -It may turn into one later.- he declares, bending down to kiss her cheek. He would never have wasted their first kiss at such a time, however important it's for him.

 The evening of the date comes. Penelope keeps to repeat in front of the mirror that it is nothing; Luke tries to explain to Roxy why all depends from this, but she already knows it. The message arrives on time; she can't make her heart beat regularly. She goes down, risking killing herself, on the stairs, unable to wait for the elevator. When she sees him, so beautiful and knowing that it is her merit, because it is for her if he has dressed like this, that he has chosen every single damn detail, she can no longer play the part of the detached and disinterested.

Penelope expects him to take her to dinner somewhere. Even the time is quite compatible with this hypothesis. But she is wrong. When she sees the silhouette of the building and recognizes its profile, when he parks right there, she is incredulous. He will also be a profiler, a hunter, but how the hell did he find that this was her favorite theater and that she dreamed of going there all her life?

He opens the door for her; he touches her hand every so often, caressing her fingers in a sweet and sensual, delicate and possessive way; he looks at her in that way but also in a new one. If they had just played until recently, he is now doing damn seriously. How can he be single for years (did this information been picked up long before all this started)? Then the concert begins, where the clarinet is the absolute protagonist, needless to say.

He speaks only once, whispering something that completely contrasts with the serious and prim atmosphere. -I can't wait to show you my fingering techniques, chica.- she swallows, not answering. Fearing her own reply.

Towards the end her stomach starts gurgling in protest. With red hands for long applause he leads her to the exit, opens the door again, does the same when they arrive at the next stop, helps her to sit at the table. He wants to make her feel the most desired and important woman on the planet with a thousand small attentions and almost never taking his eyes off her. Penelope stops noticing her own red cheeks. It has now become her dominant color. She is still along the way to convince herself that this is really happening. At the time of ordering, she lets him speak only, not feeling at all overwhelmed, but rather enjoying seeing how well he knows her.

All exclusively vegetarian. And, after paying the bill, he opens his mouth again to say something that gives her the final thrust. -I could easily get used to this diet.- she is still thinking about it, wondering if it could be serious or if it was a simple provocation that she had misunderstood, while they are walking with Roxy, in the calm of the evening. He stops, breaking the silence at the same time. -If you just give me the chance, this would be our typical evening even in ten years. I don't want a conquest of a night and I know that passion would never fade, don't ask why I know, it's just like that.- he speaks freely, even if she would never have stopped him because... she wants to see how far he gets. -I would never take you for granted, nor stop courting you, I would conquer you every day.- perhaps he would have added more, but she bursts.

She throws her arms around his neck. -Fuck, Luke.- game over. He won the match.

But he lingers a moment longer. -Penelope, can I kiss you?- it's not a provocation, he's fucking sincere.

She tilts her head. -Yes, you can, Newbie.- but he hesitates too much, just a second too long. Penelope, who certainly doesn’t count the calmness between her main qualities, drags him against her, kissing him as if there were no tomorrow. Surely her patience threshold is less than Luke's, but... now they both care very little about it.

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TAGS: @martinab26   @thinitta  @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan  @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk  @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter  @symphonyashley​ @jess-the-introvert​ @veronicafiore88​ @kofforever​ @myhollyhanna23​shadowystudentcroissantpickle

[likeshipsonthesea]

how you made me feel

...hello. so. remember two months ago when i fulfilled a prompt from a list, “I could never forget you,” and dumped, like, a whole bunch of nurseydex graduation feels on everyone’s laps and just, like,, sprinted away?? well the sequel i promised is now here. (to any who haven’t read the first part, it’s like kind of necessary)

my apologies for the long gap between then and now. i’ve been having weird writer’s block recently, where i can write but then halfway through i get doubts and think the whole thing is shitty and stop.. so i;ve started a whole bunch of things but finished none, and this is the first substantial thing i’ve finished in a while, and while it’s not, like, monumental, it feels like a lot to me right now :)

AND me finishing this was due in no small part to @rhysiana​ who beta’d this and helped me feel confident in writing again.. so thanks :))

no warnings for this (i know, a surprise for me, right?) but thought i’d tell y’all that the title is from a maya angelou quote that i repurposed a little.. now without further ado, here’s the sequel

         It’s not the type of place Dex would pick to spend an afternoon. It’s not even the sort of place Dex would spend a five-minute break, if given the option. Coffee houses make Dex feel on edge. The thick, rich smell makes him nauseous, gives him a headache like long car rides do. He’s always gotten carsick on long drives—that is, if he’s not the one driving. The lack of control makes him sick, he thinks, or that’s how he imagines Nursey would put it, if Dex ever told him about it.

         Dex stares up at the menu board above the counter. The drinks are all named with literature-themed puns and their descriptions—the fancy type of coffee, the origin of each individual bean—doesn’t clarify anything. Dex sways slightly and glances out the window of the shop.

         It’s still pouring. He still doesn’t have an umbrella and his apartment is still too many blocks away to run, risk the wetness seeping through his bag and reaching his laptop. He sighs into the coffee-laden air and swallows, turning back to the counter.

         It’s his turn.

         “Um, hi.” Dex smiles awkwardly at the barista, who smiles back, big and blank. “Do you have, like, regular coffee?”

         The barista winces and tries to stifle it, and Dex opens his mouth to apologize, instinctive, when he hears a heavy, incredulous utterance of his name.

         Dex turns, the chill running through him completely unrelated to his soaking clothes, and—yes. It’s him.

 *~*

           A summer rain in New York is a heady thing.

         The sweet, cool weather smothers the hot asphalt roads in steam that clings, heavy and metallic, on the back of Nursey’s tongue. A rain in the city is an inconvenience—those that walk are forced into cabs, subways, packing everything too full of frustration and humidity. The streets are barer, eerily. Nursey stands in a thundering cityscape, utterly and intoxicatingly alone. There are two things Nursey thinks could clear a city street—rain or the apocalypse.

         The rain around him, then, is to him the reminder that the world has not ended yet. It makes his blood surge in that desperate kind of way, that want to live kind of way. It pushes him, jittery, as he runs down the empty street, feet pounding against the sidewalk in slapping splashes of water. His hair is ruined, a mop of unmanageable curls that drifts into his eyes, sends water cascading down his forehead, lets raindrops cling to his eyelashes, clumping, blinding. The smart button-down stretched across his shoulders is freezing and drenched, tight like a second skin and peeling. His shoes, and the socks inside, squish with each pounding step and he knows—in that inevitable way that tends to send him into anxiety attacks—that he will be unbearably uncomfortable when he reaches the coffee house and he is then the only soaking thing there.

         Even with all that, though, Nursey grins as he sprints.

         What a thing it is to be one with the world around you. The raindrops against his skin, cold and [cloying], are the same ones shuddering all around him, and even as Nursey’s body recoils at the drowning, it knows in that way all natural things do that it is simply returning to something it was, once, or will be, one day. It’s a comfort that does not know its own name—a comfort older than its name, even.

         And for moments, as he runs through the streets on the familiar path to his favorite coffee place, Nursey feels home like he hasn’t since the day he stepped off campus for the last time.

         Even the ache of knowing it is fleeting can’t touch him, now.

 *~*~*

           The coffee cup in his hands burns. Dex juggles it between his left and right, holding it in each until it hurts more than he can handle.

         He could leave. It’s a fleeting, foolish thought. The door is there and his feet work and, yes, even the rain seems to be mellowing in the wake of this monumental shift, but none of that means that Dex can actually walk away. For one, Dex doubts Nursey would let him. For another, it’d been hard enough to do it—to leave Nursey—the first time. Dex doesn’t want to see if he can do it again.

         Nursey orders. Dex watches for a lack of anything else to do. The barista writes Nursey’s name, Derek, on a cup, then works out Nursey’s change. She holds out a few coins and Nursey takes them quickly, dropping two in his rush. He hurries to pick them up and smiles in that charming, self-deprecating way. Dex used to think it was put-on, one of those things rich people learned, like dining etiquette or handshakes, that kept them above the rest, above Dex. He doesn’t remember when he figured out that it was one of Nursey’s more honest reactions, that smile.

         Dex’s fingers twitch against the coffee cup, burning.

 *~*~*

           The coffee shop is warm in a grounding, shocking way. Nursey has come to be familiar with the place, enough that the judging looks he receives from its dry patrons can be interpreted as the confusion of visitors who will be gone soon anyway.

         It is not quite Annie’s, but then again, most things here are not quite Samwell. Even the rain outside, though liberating, is not New England rain. A rain in New England is less heady. It does not distract, fleetingly, but awakens. A New England rain, thick and clean, characterized by dew-drenched grasses and shuddering, screaming trees, it is a wholly sobering thing. Late-spring rains, the ones caught between winter and summer like the unsure smile following silence but before the laughter. Post-playoffs rain, when the seasons were dictated by nature once again, when life stopped happening between game days and practices and plays, when life just started happening, once again. When bare skin in shadowy spring sunshine made the need to touch all that more insistent. When flower petals tucked around edges of yards and landscapes, behind ears for jokes and softness, made for contrasting reminders of the winter preceding it. When possibility was perched on the edge of every blade of grass, twined within the tunes of birds, newly home, all a reminder that things will change, always change, and sometimes that can be good, too.

         This is what Nursey tells himself, has been telling himself, when he steps into the coffee shop, since he came home to this foreign place.

         He takes a deep breath and sighs against the not-quite-right. He steps up to the line, musing to himself over which drink he should order today, when the voice, “Um, hi,” shudders through the world like the right kind of rain and Nursey’s heartbeat—too fast like the endless rush of people through his streets—for a brief moment, settles.

 *~*~*

           Nursey turns from the counter with his drink, still smiling. It’s duller, this smile, more conscious than Dex would prefer. “The good table is open,” he says, gesturing with his cup. Dex follows the direction to a circular two-seater by the window, squished between a bookshelf and a decorative wall. Dex takes a seat in one of the cushy armchairs, lower than he likes, and understands instantly why Nursey deems this table “good.”

         The coffee shop chatter dims the moment they sit, and Nursey’s smile twitches a bit wider, honest, in response.

         “So,” he says, and takes a sip from his drink so he can raise his eyebrows at Dex over the rim. Dex looks away, drumming his fingers on the lid of his own drink. “You’re in New York.”

         Dex wishes they were in a place, still, where he could just nod and Nursey wouldn’t push any more than that. (Quietly, though, he really, really doesn’t.)

         “Yeah, uh. I—I work here.”

         Dex doesn’t look at Nursey’s face, where he knows eyebrows are rising impossibly high.

         “You work here?”

         Nod.

         “How long?”

         Clench jaw.

         “…oh.”

 *~*~*

           It’s difficult, has been difficult, to be himself in this place. In the city, Nursey’s skin is itchy, tight and ill-fitting, and his steps are heavier, like each forward movement simply increases the distance between the safe person he used to be and the stranger he seemingly must become. Calls with the team make it easier. Facetimes with Chowder and Dex as Nursey hangs upside down on his bed, hoping it isn’t too obvious the way his eyes lock onto the screen in spreads of constellation-tan freckles. With the pixelated gaze of his two closest friends focused on him, smiling, even from hundreds of miles away, he felt settled, comfortable. Home.

         Now, with Dex watching, that familiarity returns to his fingertips—if, unfortunately, in the form of his typical clumsiness. He fumbles his coffee order, stuttering, and drops the cold coins the barista hands him, his body suddenly warm from the cold. The raindrops dripping against his skin are hot, confusingly, and he doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that it is Dex’s gaze making them so.

         Dex waits, seemingly patient, and Nursey worries at the change until he notices the way Dex shifts his cup from hand to hand after a handful of blinks, the way his body sways with the movement. As an editor, it’s probably worrying that Dex has been the easiest thing for Nursey to read since he came to this city. Maybe, he thinks, as he collects his drink, it’s the writers’ fault, and not his.

         Then again, he thinks, falling into step behind Dex, an impossible standard is hardly fair.

 *~*~*

           Nursey says nothing for a long while.

         Dex, greedy, grasping, stares unrestrained. He didn’t know how much he missed this, wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, until now. Nursey eyelashes, drying but still glistening, flutter against the dampness of his cheeks. Green, bright eyes, like all the good parts of Maine Dex wants to remember. The softness of his ears, hidden under sodden curls, the hard lines of his neck, his shoulders. He’s been working out since he left, Dex can tell, but nothing like the routines they had at Samwell. And after the heavy playoff season, after the summer sun, Nursey looks smaller, calmer. More at ease.

         This is what I wanted, Dex thinks, breaking. I wanted him to be happy without me.

         Even without speaking the words, the familiar bitter taste of a lie sits heavy on his tongue.

 *~*~*

           Nursey doesn’t know what to do with this.

         With Dex, sitting here all sun-soft and freckly, real and in person and absolutely way too much. With the fact that he’s been here, been within seeing distance, visiting distance, for almost two months, and he said nothing about it. With the part of himself—the aching, lovely, desperate part of himself—that doesn’t even seem to care, wants to reach out and hold and pull comfort from regardless of mistruths or omissions.

         “Why?” he finds himself asking, without quite knowing if he wants the answer.

         Dex’s eyelids flutter momentarily, the way they do when he’s wondering whether or not to be an asshole, and Nursey loves it—missed it too much not too—and wants to curse, yell, something, because Dex didn’t want to see him, has been here in this foreign place and didn’t want Nursey as much as Nursey has wanted him and—and he’s going to be a dick about it?

         “Dex.” Nursey swallows, fingers pressing too hard against the paper cup. “Why did you—why didn’t you—”

         “Nursey.” Dex’s lips flatten. He’s decided, it seems, and Nursey exhales, slow, thankful. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he says, and going by how he doesn’t look up from the table, he knows that is a shit excuse. “I—I don’t know how to—it wasn’t you. Well. Sort of. I…”

         Nursey waits. Dex has taught him a kind of patience he didn’t think he could have. A kind where his hands do not shake, his shoulders do not tighten. When the waiting isn’t worrisome, because the result—long-awaited and slow-coming as it is—will be worth it, must be worth it, because Dex does not know how to leave expectations unfulfilled. Good expectations, that is. Dex is the smile at the end of a good play, the laughter after a clever chirp, the summation of four years of growth, both a constant reminder pushing for the best and the monument to the work it took to be better. Dex is what Nursey has learned to wait for, for better or for worse, and he realizes as he waits that this is the thing that’s been missing since he got to New York.

         Someone who knows what he came from, someone who can appreciate the progress, someone who loved all of it and will continue to do so, no matter what.

         “Your life here,” Dex says, and Nursey’s too-quick heart suddenly doesn’t care what he’s about to say. “I don’t fit.”

         “Bullshit.” Nursey’s mama always told him his quick tongue would get him in trouble one day, and that was before he sorted his body out enough for his mouth to work along with his mind. He’s ruined, now, Nursey thinks, watching Dex’s lips part into a pretty pink ‘O’. Dex is in New York, Nursey thinks, delirious. Dex is here.

         “Really,” Dex continues, because he’s nothing if not the stubborn, snarky ginger Nursey met on Taddy Tour, and fuck, Nursey missed him. “You—you’re supposed to be a fancy New York writer, with friends who read, like, interesting novels, and travel to places I don’t even know the names of, and you go to weird hipster places like—like this—” he gestures all about himself, absurdly insistent and frowning all wrinkled up and Nursey can’t help the smile pulling his lips apart, because it’s ridiculous, and Dex is ridiculous, and he’s here— “I feel like you’re not listening to me,” Dex says, mildly deflated, pouting a bit but mostly just annoyed, and the laugh bursts from Nursey’s tongue, sweet.

         “I’m totally not, dude, wow. First of all, this place? Not hipster. You want hipster, go to Totally Caff’d two blocks over. That place is hipster. Second?” The smile feels too wide and Dex is staring at him like he’s crazy and everything feels right in a way that would be worrying if it was their frog year, or Nursey liked himself a little less, or Dex wasn’t the bright ginger ball of change and assurance and perfection that he is now. “Just so we’re clear, my life is always better when you’re in it. And third,” Nursey says, barreling on doggedly even as the lovely pink embarrassment flush floods Dex’s freckle-tan face, “you are the most ridiculous person I have ever met.”

         Dex blinks, sighs, and—after a moment—says, “Frustrating but probably true.”

         “Most def true,” Nursey says, just because it makes Dex’s nose wrinkle the way it always does when Nursey uses bad slang. “Now come on, Dexy-do.” Nursey stands from the table and the coffee-house chatter floods in, but he hardly pays it any mind because Dex stands up without hesitation even with the adorable confusion on his face. “We’re going to go on a walk,” Nursey says, reaching out to take Dex’s hand (prompting a darker, lovelier shade of pink to overtake his face), “and catch up.”

         Dex, delightfully, lets himself be led out of the coffee shop into the freshly washed world. Nursey’s shoes squish, wet, against the sodden sidewalk, and Dex still has this dazed look on his face—though it is distinctly pleased. The air is warm, and damp, and unquestionably, wonderfully new.

[theaceace]

because I can’t seem to make my words do the writey thing, here’s a bulletpoint fic of IT chapter 2 fix-it that I will never ever finish

the losers start to thin out of Derry as teenagers - Bev leaves first to live with her aunt, then Ben when his dad’s job relocates them, then Bill when it becomes clear that his parents are trying to escape Georgie’s memory, then Eddie when his mother decides that Derry just isn’t a safe enough place to be raising a teenager anymore, leaving just Stan, Richie, and Mike in town

at first they could write off the others losing touch - Bev wrote a couple of times, but none of them blamed her for throwing herself into her new life. Ben moved around a lot with his dad’s job, they were bound to lose touch at some point right? But then Bill and Eddie, who have been Losers as long as they can remember don’t write, or call. Mike and Stan figure out pretty quickly that there’s something Going On, and Richie gets on board once he’s through being dramatic (and genuinely hurt) about it

so Stan and Richie know that something happens when people leave Derry. Mike is already planning to stay behind, ostensibly to look after the farm when his grandfather eventually passes away, but they all know it’s really to keep an eye out for It. Naturally Richie, who had been taunted with missing posters of himself, is terrified of being forgotten, but also

he remembers the way Stan had screamed when they saved him from the woman, screamed that they had left him, that they weren’t his friends, and like fuck is he going to let Stan feel like that again

Richie follows Stan to college, and although they quickly forget any actual details of their childhood/how they met/any other friends, they’ve managed to cling to each other tight enough to know that they’re best friends

(should best friends have funny stories and inside jokes, and actually know how long they’ve been friends? yes probably. does this matter to either of them? absolutely fuckin’ not)

so they relearn their friendship from the ground up, including Richie giving a different and increasingly ridiculous version of how they met everytime someone asks, finding nicknames that they don’t remember but are so familiar they must be old, just generally supporting and loving each other

and yes, Richie absolutely comes out to Stan, both as a teenager and again as an adult because he doesn’t remember doing it the first time (I lean towards gay Richie as opposed to bi, just because I’ve only watched the films and not read the book, and that was more the way I interpreted it)

Richie drops out of college fairly early on - he’s intelligent, but he struggles with the way college is structured, and can’t focus well enough on the taught subjects or complete assignments to save his live (me, projecting? I don’t know what you mean) and works part time at a radio station, part time at a bar, as well as doing open-mic stand up

Patty 100% comes to one of Richie’s shows and heckles the ever loving fuck out of him, and he immediately is like ‘I must introduce her to Stan’. They (Richie and Patty) get on like a house on fire, and he is very insistent that Stan has to marry her, because she’s perfect but Richie is tragically Too Gay, and you’re bi so take one for the team Stan the Man!

Stan is infuriated when he realises Richie’s best man speech will effectively be him patting himself on the back

all this love and support results in Richie coming out earlier than in canon, because whatever else happens he knows Stan and Patty are there for him. It goes better than expected, and Richie is free to write at least some of his own jokes, even if he still has weird bursts of panic over it from time to time

(on a related note - for added angst, Richie has occasional flashes of things that might be memories or dreams, but are traumatising either way. the main one being a boy with unclear features but wild, terrified eyes screaming at Richie not to fucking touch him. no context, so yeah that didn’t help with the internalised homophobia)

what this is all building to is that Stan and Patty are at Richie’s show when Mike calls. Stan remembers the most, but Richie catches up a lot faster than in canon when Stan is there panicking 

Patty, who is a certified bamf in this verse, flat-out lies to Richie’s manager as she hustles them both outta there because something is very clearly wrong. They’re clinging to each other and won’t even let go long enough to get in on opposite sides of the car. She eventually manages to drag the truth (or some of it anyway) out of them, and although not a single one of them actually wants to go to Derry, they all pack up and leave together because like fuck would Richie let Stan out of his sight after his panicked mutterings of ‘taking himself off the board’

Patty doesn’t go along to the restaurant to meet up, because it seems like a bit of an exclusive thing, and they don’t bump into anyone at the townhouse before going, 

(at least one of the Losers, preferably Eddie, assumes that Richie and Stan are married, which Richie thinks is the funniest thing ever and immediately texts Patty because she will agree it’s hilarious. Stan makes a face like he’s just bitten a lemon, but it absolutely becomes A Thing)

most of the events occur as in the film, but with 300% more common sense because Stan is there as well as Patty, who - though not a Loser - is an absolute blessing

yes this fic would definitely pass the bechdel test Patty and Bev would click

Pennywise would have to find some new material to taunt Richie with, because that ‘dirty little secret’ thing? Not gonna work so well this time pal

beyond that, my notes for this fic are effectively ‘nobody is cishet, Patty is a Loser now, everyone lives (except Georgie RIP) no gays are buried and Eddie and Richie actually get together like they fuckin’ deserve’

Thank u for coming to my TED talk

[franklyshipping]

True Happiness Needs No Sound ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

Thiiiiis is a lovely prompt from the snazzy @petunia9402 who is always so lovely on the blog and their prompt is an AWESOME one! This is set with the interpretation that Jameson Jackson has no voice at all btw....LET'S DO THIS!

Jameson Jackson, I'm very sorry to say, was not smiling. Nor had he smiled all day. Jamie was the sort of guy who usually wasn't troubled or self-conscious about himself because he had so many loving people around him who loved and appreciated every single part of him...but lately....Jamie hadn't been feeling it. The Septics were a rowdy bunch, always cracking jokes to make each other laugh, always rough-housing, tickling, playing, all that awesome stuff....but none of that stuff had really seemed to extend to Jamie recently.

The only time Jamie seemed to hear jokes was when he happened to be in the room when they were being told....no-one actively tried to make him laugh with humour. No-one tried to wrestle with him, tickle him, play with him...and Jamie knew why. Jamie couldn't laugh, he couldn't make one single sound. Why waste jokes when you're not going to get a reaction? It was pointless. HE was pointless. That was how Jameson Jackson felt. He was upset, sour, and attempting to cope by gripping a blanket so hard that his knuckles turned white. He couldn't even scream to let his emotions out.

Thankfully....that was when our hero dropped in. Jamie was curled up on the couch in the living room, aimlessly looking at a wall in a dazed manner. That was how Chase Brody found him. Chase grinned as he spotted the dapper gentleman, and immediately sunk down next to him on the couch, rubbing shoulders with him in a true bro fashion.

'What's cookin' in Jameson land?'

Jamie....didn't react in the way Chase expected. Instead of a cheery smile, a playful shove, or an excitably signed sentence, all Jamie exhibited was a light shrug and brief sign.

'Nothing.'

Chase, obviously, was immediately concerned, especially since Jamie hadn't even turned to look at him. Chase sat up straighter and tentatively placed his hand on Jamie's back, leaning in a little to try and see his face to see if he could maybe analyse what was wrong with the sweet guy.

'Hey....buddy you know you can tell me anything....'

Chase spoke softly, making sure his reassuring smile stayed on his lips. Now, in Jamie's mind he would have ideally wanted to be strong. He liked to think he would have been able to tough this sort of thing out like the others do when they pretend that they're not upset....but he couldn't. Jamie just burst into sad, silent tears.

'Everything's just pointless. I'm pointless!'

Jamie's hands looked like they were almost spasming with how shaky his signing was, and Chase hurried to envelop the man in a hug because Chase knew that Jamie needed it if he was going to feel safe enough to reveal what was going on. Chase took a moment to stow away his shock for now as he stroked Jamie's hair, whispering to him gently.

'Hey, hey why would you think that huh? You're a septic, how could you ever think that you were pointless?'

Jamie was shaking his head as he sobbed and sobbed in silence. The only sound that was in the room was Jamie's frantic, jittery panting as he signed.

'How can I be one of you? How can I be a septic when everything about you all revolves around happiness and laughter? I can't do any of that Chase, I can't be like that with any of you! I can't laugh with you, so why should you all even bother with me?'

....Chase was nearly on the verge of tears. Chase's mind was racing with questions. Had someone put these ideas in Jamie's head? Had he and the others accidently excluded him from things without realising? How long had Jamie been feeling like this? Chase's blood ran cold as he wondered how many times Jamie might have been bawling his eyes out while they were just in the next room....oblivious. No. NO. Chase was not having it. Chase cupped one of Jamie's cheeks and shifted a little, so he could look at the shivering, upset man properly as he brought out the voice of the loving dad that he was.

'Now you listen here. Being able to laugh is NOT a requirement to be one of us, being able to laugh isn't a requirement for ANYTHING. We love you so damn much and you bring us happiness just by existing....'

Chase trailed off, making sure that Jamie was still close and embraced as he gave the younger man time to process what Chase was saying; Chase knew better than anyone that it took so much longer to process words in your brain when you feel like crap. Jamie though, much to Chase's relief, started to pant less and less, bit by bit....he was just starting to calm down from it all, just a little. Chase smiled warmly, and murmured with a smile.

'....besides, I know I don't need to hear a laugh from you to know when my humour is tickling you in all the right places!'

Chase took the opportunity to lightly pinch Jamie's cheeks with a fond smile, and to Chase's delight, Jamie blushed and bapped at him; he was even hiding a little smile as he signed.

'Your jokes are awful....'

Jamie looked up at Chase softly, and let him see his little smile, just so that Chase knew he was only in jest. Chase, of course, let out quite the indignant gasp at this apparent rudeness!

'Well....that's just because I save my best material for special occasions! I'll give you one of my best jokes to prove it!'

Chase replied matter-of-factly, before clearing his throat with the greatest amount of exaggeration that he could possibly muster.

'The best joke, in the entire world actually, iiiis....'

Jamie had one of his eyebrows raised a little, especially when Chase trailed off and paused for dramatic effect whilst waggling his eyebrows comically. Then, Chase smirked and did snazzy finger-guns as he delivered his punch-line.

'Anti's dress sense!'

Jamie was biting down hard on his bottom lip. Why? Because it was taking every single ounce of willpower Jamie had inside him not to break out into a grin and shake with laughter at how amazing that joke was, as well as at how utterly bold and brave it was! Luckily Jamie managed to cover his mouth and stop any mirth....but he couldn't stop that bright smile of his; he couldn't help it, Chase always made him smile.

'Ohhhh what's this? Was that, I daresay, a smiiiiile?'

Chase gasped as he cooed, giggling in victory at seeing Jamie trying to cover up his evident happier mood. Jamie shook his head in defiance at Chase....but Chase wasn't going to let that smile go. He inched especially close to Jamie, a grin in place as he growled goofily.

'You'd better show me that smile....or I'll make you!'

Chase made his hands into claws and playfully wiggled his fingers....but what he didn't expect was for Jamie's smile to fade and for his face to fall into a frown; Jamie's melancholy had come back, and Chase stuttered frantically, endeavouring to see what was wrong and how he could fix it.

'....d-did I say something wrong?'

Chase lowered his hands as nerves bubbled in him....but he let out a light sigh of relief when Jamie shook his head....but then he felt like he was being punched in the gut as he interpreted what Jamie signed next.

'....the only point of tickling is to make someone laugh. You're wasting it on me.'

....first off, Chase made a mental note to find out who the fuck provided the first spark that caused this mentality to develop inside Jamie. For now though, Chase took a breath. He was here for Jamie, and he was damn well going to show it!

'Well, I'm sorry but you'll have to say something better that THAT if you don't want the tickles! Oh, plus you're wrong.'

Chase's voice was so strong and resolute, that it took the melancholic Jamie off guard and made him blink up at Chase in surprise; he didn't know Chase had that much assertiveness in him! Now, with Jamie focusing on letting the words start to sink in, that meant he didn't move to stop Chase when he lightly straddled the pondering man.

'Tickling is about trust, bonding....'

Jamie blinked and looked up at Chase, his next words bringing him back to reality....and causing to develop a sweet, wobbly smile. Jamie knew that Chase was too much of a lazy, silly man to even contemplate lying to someone about something, so he knew that Chase meant every word he said. Plus, with Jamie having developed a smile once more and looking much less melancholy....only one thought was in Chase's mind. He had to keep Jamie like this for eternity. So, Chase grinned, growled, and readied his fingers.

'....and giving those you love an absolute wrecking when they need it most.'

Chase snickered and struck, and struck well. As soon as those scratching fingers of his found Jamie's tummy, Jamie was done for. All he could do was grin and wiggle from side to side as his chest shook with sweet mirth; plus he had the most precious dimples you have ever seen on a person. Jamie was also gazing up at Chase pleadingly as he signed at a rather fast pace....he was frantic....because Jamie knew that Chase knew ALL of his tickle spots. 

'But I don't need it I don't I don't I don't!'

Chase giggled fondly down at Jamie, enjoying scratching the man's soft belly as those dimples just got deeper and deeper.

'What do you mean you don't need it? You already look so much happier now, especially with those pretty diiiiimples!'

Chase crooned, squishing the flesh of Jamie's belly playfully; this of course made a) Jamie sign even MORE frantically, and b) hurry to cover his face which was slowly becoming the most delightful dark pink colour.

'I don't have dimples, you have no proof!'

Ahh, that sweet, sweet defiant denial.  At seeing Jamie try to hide himself and try to LIE of all things, this made Chase gasp in utter shock that Jamie would express such dishonest evasion! So of course, he promptly scribbled into Jamie's belly and put on a rather authoritative voice.

'Oh you'd better lower those hands right now mister, or things are gonna get muuuuch worse.....'

Jamie's eyes widened at the more intense tickling, and he arched his back and tossed his head as a result of it all; Chase's fingers were digging in SO much, it was evil! However....Jamie did not, even for a second, move his hands from his mouth; even though the tickling was so bad, Jamie managed the tiniest of glares in Chase's direction. Chase smirked....because oh how he'd hoped for that reaction.

'Fine, if that's how you wanna play....'

Chase purred, letting his hands drift away from Jamie's belly for a few moments, allowing the man to cutely huff and catch his breath. No seriously, every little huff of an inhale or an exhale that Jamie exhibited was so cute that it would have made a rocky cliff aww. Of course though, that bliss of recovery couldn't last forever; Jamie soon realised that when he felt Chase's fingers....splaying over the tops of his thighs.

'No not there Chase please, look I did what you wanted, look!'

Jamie revealed his flustered grin as he signed at fast as he could, gazing at Chase imploringly the whole time because dammit his thighs were so damn ticklish! Of course, Jamie reasoned that because now he'd done what Chase had asked, he'd get mercy, right? Yeah uh....Chase's malevolent smirk currently suggested otherwise as his fingertips kept splaying over Jamie's tense thigh muscles.

'Mmmm, yeah you did....but unfortunately, you took waaay too long to obey me....and now you must be punished!'

Chase then promptly set about pinching the soft flesh of Jamie's thighs, which as you can imagine, prompted quite the reaction from the sweet, sensitive man. Jamie literally started assaulting the couch as his mouth opened wide, and his whole torso was quivering with all his cute mirth!

'Awww look at these tickly squishy thiiiighs!'

Chase's teasing did not help. Yes, Jamie was well aware that he had rather squishy and sensitive thighs but he CERTAINLY didn't need to have it pointed out to him by a meanie tickler! Jamie was tugging at his legs as he gazed at Chase with flustered, watery eyes.

'Shut up shut up!'

Chase giggled fondly at Jamie, gosh he was probably one of the cutest people on the planet. Chase loved seeing how wild Jamie got physically; if he was Jackie's side-kick, all the hero would have to do is poke or squeeze him and get him to flail and knock out all the villains that way! Talking of squeezing, Chase was now rather enjoying doing that to Jamie's poor thighs.

'Or what? You'll keep smiling handsomely at me?'

Chase smugly retorted, snickering at Jamie's sweet red face and sweet bright smile-....and sweet snorts? Oh yeah, that's right people. Jamie had started snorting, a sound which didn't require the involvement of vocal chords; of course, this was something else that Chase decided he must gasp dramatically at, I mean, what kind of playful tickler would he be if he didn't?!

'Ohhh, you intend to snort at me! Well, frankly that just makes me want to tickle you even more!'

Chase grinned as he scribbled over Jamie's thighs, delighting in the torrent of snorts he got in return from his sweet little tickle victim; said victim ended up struggling harder and signing faster.

'No you can't make me snort, I sound dumb!'

Jamie pouted up at Chase amidst his reply, he didn't see how sounding like an undignified pig was anything close to a good thing! Chase of course was VERY quick to disagree with this notion.

'Actually, you sound and look very precious and happy!'

.....I personally love it when someone says something just that little bit more meaningful out of nowhere, and it just really catches you off guard but in the loveliest way. It certainly caught Jamie off guard. Jamie developed a wobbly, happy smile, sniffling and gasping as Chase let him catch his breath for a little bit. Chase then just took the opportunity to just....enjoy looking at Jamie, seeing all the colour in his cheeks, his persistent smile, his jittery chest; he was too adorable.

'You really think that?'

Chase blinked when he saw Jamie slowly sign to him with imploring eyes, and Chase didn't hesitate to nod and grin....whilst subtly shuffling his way down to Jamie's shins so he could ''casually'' rest on them.

'Oh I do....it's so cute how your chest quivers, and how your dimples make your cheeks look even more pinchable....and how your eyes widen when you know the tickling is about to start....'

Chase purred softly, and at first Jamie felt so warmed and giddy at the sweet compliments....but then the happy butterflies in his system started to get more and more active as Jamie listened more. He realised...that Chase was not done. As if on cue too, when he felt a single finger swipe up one of his bare feet, Jamie's eyes widened.

'Wait no wait not my feet you know I can't handle it! I might cry!'

Jamie signed frantically, clinging to the weak hope of Chase maybe having mercy....but ah, that wasn't going to happen. Chase of course awed at Jamie at how sweet and flustered he was....before smirking and setting about scratching up and down BOTH of Jamie's pale soles.

'Awwww don't worry, that's what tissues are for!'

Jamie's reaction was gorgeous. His mouth opened as wide as it could go as the sensitive man arched his back, thumping the couch as his mind raced with shock at how ruthless Chase was being! This was Jamie's equivalent of screaming, his feet were hands down his worst tickle spot, so Jamie did the only thing he could do. He begged.

'NO PLEASE NO NO PLEASE CHASE! MEANIE! YOU MEANIE!'

Jamie scrunched his feet as his pleading signs made Chase giggle fondly, but Chase only set about scratching deep into Jamie's wrinkles as he cooed.

'If you think scrunching up these pretty feet will save you then you are soooo wrong....'

The hardened scratching made Jamie let out a spontaneous snort, before his form just shivered and jumped with his silent hiccups of laughter. It was a rather a precious sight to behold, and Jamie's hands were practically a blur at this point too.

'I'M GOING TO GET YOU BACK FOR THIS!'

Poor Jamie, he was so overcome by the tickles that his brain somehow thought a threat was a good idea! Chase raised an amused eyebrow down at the red-faced thrashing man, and mercilessly scratched under Jamie's toes as he chuckled.

'Oh yeah? You and what ler mood, hm?'

Oh yeah, Chase went there. Poor Jamie was so embarrassed amidst his mirth as Chase brought up the implicit truth of the fact that Jamie could have easily sat up and grabbed Chase's hands at any time....but he was too happy. He was too happy at being tickled and cheered up to make it stop.

'PLEASE! NO MORE! CHASE, MY FEET CHASE!'

Under other circumstances, Jamie would have retorted against Chase's words, but with all the tickling he could only focus on trying to sign coherently. Jamie had little tears trickling from the corners of his eyes, and was weeping with silent laughter....as Chase merely snickered.

'Mmm, they are lovely and soft feet you have here....'

Chase's scratching fingertips never left the undersides of Jamie's poor toes, and by now the poor dapper man had tears really streaming down his face. Of course though, Chase wasn't going to torture him forever.

'MERCY! MERCY! MERCY!'

That was the word that Chase needed to see. He grinned and relented, sliding off Jamie's legs and crawling up to him so he could envelop Jamie in a warm hug; he wasn't completely cruel! Chase chuckled affectionately as he ran his fingers through Jamie's hair, smiling when he felt the panting man snuggle close. He produced a tissue from his back pocket and lightly dabbed at Jamie's cheeks and eyes, whilst murmuring in a soft voice.

'....s-sorry if I, heh, got a little intense on you kid....I just wanted you, well, needed, you to know that we love you so damn much. No matter what you can and can't do, that doesn't stop you being one of us. The best one of us to be honest.'

....honestly, those words alone could have sent Jamie weeping for a good ten years. He didn't though. Jamie gazed up at Chase with watery eyes and a wobbly smile....he felt so damn happy and loved and looked after.

'I love you dad.'

....aaand now Chase was also tearing up, damn you Jamie for making the whole thing even MORE heart-warming! Chase grinned and ruffled Jamie's hair, pulling him closer as he gave him the strongest, most loving hug that he could muster.

'Love you too kid.'

Jamie let out a soft, happy sniffle at Chase's reply....and then let out quite a few more silent giggles since Chase had decided to take it upon himself to mess up Jamie's hair every few seconds for the foreseeable future. Well, that's a good, loving dad for you.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DIIIID WOOOOP LUV YOUS XX