#add dan's pain and bothers

[dnpsuck]

thought of amazingphil and dropped to my knees in sobs

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 45

PREV

Renee Walker stands next to two of her best friends in the entire world holding up a hand drawn sign. There's an, admittedly crudely drawn, Fox on the sign that Allison had made up.

Renee had seen it and smiled from across the airport as she made her way over to where Dan and Allison were standing waiting for everyone to come. The team had managed to coordinate their flights to land all within about two hours of one another and Allison had exactly zero desire to go back and forth from the airport so her driver was waiting out at a nearby cellphone lot to come and get them once everyone was there.

"Is it nice having a driver again?" Dan asks Allison.

"I sometimes miss driving around in my car but it's a lot easier to do my makeup with him driving." she says with a shrug as they continue to catch up. Renee is holding up the sign since Allison had complained that she had lost so much of the muscle she had previously had.

"Yeah, New York City seems like a major pain in the ass to drive in too." Dan agrees as her phone buzzes. She pulls out her phone and looks at it before a huge smile fills her face, one that means she's talking to Matt, "Oh! They just landed!" Dan says confirming Renee's suspicions.

Allison looks at her watch, "Wow, 20 minutes early. They must have gotten through boarding quickly." she comments.

"Or some good tailwind." Renee offers.

"When are Neil and Andrew due up?" Dan asks looking at Renee who smiles back at her friend.

"Andrew said they're going to take a break halfway here so they'll be here tomorrow morning." Renee says.

"Get it Neil." Allison nods and it had been a wonderful thing last year to watch Andrew and Allison make peace with one another. Their mutual desire to dress Neil up a bridge towards....maybe not friendship but camaraderie.

It warms Renee's heart to see her friends get along.

"The plane got tailwind, Neil's getting tail." Dan jokes.

"I'm looking forward to meeting the new kid that I've heard about." Renee says gently moving the topic on from their friends getting together. It didn't bother her at all, but she knew that Andrew would prefer no one talk about what he and Neil got up to.

"Oh! Yeah, uh..." Dan visibly buffers.

"Dan, you're the only one of us that's met the kid. His name's Smith." Allison says with eyebrows raised in judgement.

"Look, when Coach and I went to recruit the kid my brain was like 90% on the fact that I needed to go to my interview." Dan defends herself.

"So he wasn't that memorable for you?" Allison asks.

"Yeah, I'm surprised that he's getting along so well with the guys." Dan says. "Getting stabbed over Thanksgiving feels more like a Neil move than the quiet kid Coach and I met." she adds.

That had been an interesting phone call from Andrew. Renee hadn't even realized that she had become Natalie describing the best way to get rid of the body until Andrew had clarified that it'd been an accident and Smith was alive. Renee had been a little ashamed.

She was excited to meet the kid who Andrew had spoken to her about. Glad that their strange found family was growing just a little bit bigger.

They wait around continuing to talk about plans for the break together. Allison wants to go shopping and she wants to do it once Neil and Andrew are back. Dan wants to skate at the Rockefeller center. Renee would love it if they could do Christmas Eve Mass.

They're sure that Kevin is going to want to check out an Exy game. They're mostly sure that Matt will want to check out the LEGO store in downtown manhattan and that Aaron will be as excited for that as Matt is but pretending not to be. Nicky wants to catch a drag show and has made it clear that he will be going regardless of what anyone else wants to do. Andrew and Neil will probably just want to be alone when they have the chance though Neil had expressed some prior interest in the EXITES superstore and Andrew will more than likely enjoy the day Allison has planned to go shopping since she wants to update Neil's wardrobe.

The new kid, Smith, will be a mystery, but they're more than willing to be flexible.

Eventually they hear the tell-tale sign of most of the boy's arrival. "Babe!" comes from across the airport and Dan's head shoots up and spots the sight of Matt Boyd approaching his arms out wide almost clotheslining four different families on his way to Dan.

Dan is not much better as she rushes to him arms as wide.

They embrace like they always do whenever they have to spend time apart from one another and Renee knows that part of the reason that Dan took her job as assistant coach where she did is that the Washington State Congress Team had been looking at Matt the year prior to scout him.

She looks beyond the passionate reunion and sees Kevin, Aaron, and Nicky. She frowns brows furrowing...

Weren't they going to bring-

Nicky throws his arm out and it wraps around a kid she hadn't even realized was there. She blinks startled by his sudden appearance and blank expression as Nicky was pointing them out. He points to her and he can see her name on his lips she gives a wave and a smile.

Smith nods back in greeting.

He seems quite nice.

***

Renee is at the end of her proverbial rope.

This kid is a threat and she doesn't understand how she's the only person who can see it.

Being a threat isn't really an issue when you're a Fox. It's almost a given that there's some part of you that can be dangerous when backed into a corner but no one seems to be treating him like a threat.

She watches as Nicky and Matt throw their arms around him. As Kevin pushes smoothie after smoothie into his hands as he blankly sips. As Andrew and Neil sit with him quietly. As Dan pinches his cheeks. As Aaron ribs him for being bad at MarioKart.

She can't feel anything from him, no joy, no anger, nothing.

She can't even track him.

Renee has always prided herself on her ability to keep track of those around her. Spacial awareness was incredibly important when you're in a fight and it had always been one of her strongest points. She always knew where she was in relation to everyone else.

Except Smith.

The kid had given her no shortage of heart attacks as he appeared and disappeared seemingly at random.

She had finally gotten Andrew alone to ask, "Smith's quiet, non-intrusive." Andrew says with a shrug.

There's just something about him that makes the hair on the back of Renee's neck stand on edge and she hates feeling like she's the only one. She hates it even more that there's no real evidence that there's something amiss with this newest Fox.

So she settles in to watch.

They're out shopping and Allison is doing her best to get Neil a proper wardrobe with Andrew's considerable help, AKA nodding in approval when Neil comes out. She's not skimping on any of them but Neil is her main focus.

"Smith, what's a color you like?" Allison asks as she's looking at hoodies.

"I like purple." Smith answers and Renee barely manges to stop herself from flinching as his voice comes from right next to her.

"Pass." Andrew says as Neil comes out in a charmingly orange sweatshirt.

"I like it!" Neil argues.

"You have 10 sweatshirts that are that exact shade of orange." Andrew dismisses. "Try the blue one." he says pushing Neil back into the dressing room.

"Which one?" Neil asks.

Andrew sighs dramatically in a way that lets Renee know that he's doing exactly what he wants to be doing, "I'll show you." he says going into the dressing room with Neil.

"I still don't know how it took Baltimore for me to realize they were together." Nicky says as he's holding up two different purple sweatshirts to Smith's body. "You look good in a more purpley purple." Nicky says putting the more indigo colored sweatshirt back on the rack.

"Pants are coming up next, I'll get a lay of the land. I know everyone else's but Smith what's your height?" Allison asks.

"Five feet, nine inches." Smith answers as Nicky pushes him towards the dressing room. "Nicky it's a sweatshirt, I can put it on out here." Smith says.

"I know but I need an excuse to go back there and make sure Neil and Andrew aren't defiling a dressing room." Nicky says with a grin that implies he'd be more happy if they were.

"Gross." Aaron says as he takes a picture of himself to send to Katelyn to approve of the new outfit that Allison was pushing for him to get. "Wait," he pauses turning to where Allison was looking through various men's pants, "you know our heights? Like you've memorized them?" he asks.

"Yeah." Allison says looking at a pair of black slacks. "Everyone's measurements." she says nodding to herself.

"Even bust sizes?" he asks, voice not as quiet as he likely thinks it is.

"You're such a boy." Allison laughs not even looking up from the very different rack.

"How much longer are we going to be here?" Kevin asks with a sigh.

"Well, at least the time that it took you to ask that longer. We'll be done when we're done Kevin." Dan says long having given up on stopping Allison when the woman is on a spree.

"She knows that EXITES closes at 5 PM right?" Kevin asks.

"More importantly," Matt leans in, "that the LEGO store closes at 8 PM right?" Matt asks.

"How is that more important? The LEGO store is open later?" Kevin asks.

"Because we're not going to EXITES today, but we are going to the LEGO store." Matt says.

"If we don't spend the whole day here we can do both-"

"We're not going to EXITES today Kevin." Dan says with a sigh.

"But-"

"We're not going to EXITES today Kevin." Renee says with an apologetic smile.

"But-"

"Kevin, we're not going to EXITES today. Just sit down and let me find pants that'll make your pin-up days look tame in comparison." Allison says.

"That's not what those posters were!" Kevin argues with a blush on his face.

"Sure." Allison dismisses

***

Renee is quite happy with the sundresses she found even if they won't do her any good here in New York City during the Christmas break. Their next stop on their shopping day is over to the LEGO store where Matt makes no attempt to hide his enthusiasm as Aaron very valiantly does try to pretend like he's not utterly entranced by the sets and builds.

Renee thinks it's all very charming.

"We could have gone to EXITES." Kevin says with a frown as he looks at a build of an Exy racquet. "Can you take my picture with this?" he asks but he's not quite looking at Renee.

"Sure." Smith says from beside her, where he had apparently been.

"Thanks Smiths." Kevin says and stands next to the Exy racquet of LEGOs and crosses his arms and leans back.

"Kevin, stop posing like this will be for the cover of a Forbes Magazine." Andrew says with a sigh as he comes to stand on Renee's other side.

"Shut up, it's a picture for me!" Kevin says and continues to stand with his arms crossed.

"Oh, can you get a picture of me next Smith?" Neil asks coming up eyes shining in excitement as he looks at the racquet.

"Sure. As an apology for letting Nicky-"

"Don't talk about it." Neil and Andrew say at the same time.

Kevin gets his picture and then Andrew hands his phone to Smith for Neil's since Neil had broken the lens on his camera ages ago.

They wander around and Kevin finds a set to build the National Court that he grabs without a second thought. Neil and Andrew find a little LEGO man of Kevin that they buy as their 'preferred Kevin'. Kevin of course threatens to buy their LEGO figures once they have them and refer to them as his 'preferred Andrew and Neil'. A threat that neither of them comment on but Renee does buy the little Jean Moreau she finds. She'll paint it Trojan colors and send it over to him as a little gift.

As she continues to browse with her purchase in hand she hears Nicky, "Smithy, if you like it you should get it!" Nicky insists.

"Is it the price?" Allison asks.

"Yeah, I don't want to spend that much." Smith says with a nod expression still worryingly blank.

"When's your birthday? It can just be an early or a late present from me." Allison asks.

"March 1st, but really I'm fine not getting it." Smith shakes his head. "It's not that I'd like it just my little brother liked trains." he says and Renee watches Nicky's face turn from joyful teasing to intense determination.

"We're getting this set." Nicky says grabbing it and marching over to the counter even as Smith followed after him.

Interesting.

***

They finish off their day with some ice skating.

Matt, Aaron, Andrew, and Kevin all fall into the 'challenged' category.

They get on the ice and all four immediately fall. Renee stifles her laughter as Andrew and Aaron scowl. "Are you okay?" Smith asks and Renee almost loses her balance as he skates by her.

"Why the fuck are you good at skating?" Aaron asks scowling even as he takes Smith hand. Renee skates over and offers a hand to Kevin as Matt and Andrew are being helped up by their respective partners.

"Oh," Allison says skating by, "have you been up to Canada or something often?" she asks.

"I've been to Canada a few times. It's more that there was a rink I would go to every once in a while." Smith answers before turning back to Aaron, "I can help you keep balanced." he says offering his other hand.

"Smith, I don't want to hold your hand. That's kind of gay." Aaron huffs letting go of Smith's hand only to immediately beef it again when he tried to move forward.

***

Skating was fun even if Aaron kept blushing as Smith helped him skate since he never really got his 'ice legs'. The rest of them all more or less skated on their own by the end or, in the case of Andrew and Matt, seemed fine to keep skating while holding on.

Renee was warming herself by the fireplace in Allison's home enjoying some hot chocolate as Allison took a seat next to her. There was a lot of commotion in the kitchen as the team was working to make dinner together. Renee had excused herself after Smith had startled her while she had a knife in hand and she'd almost stabbed him on instinct.

She's just relieved that no one seemed to notice the near murder.

"You okay? You seemed tense in there." Allison asks.

Well, almost no one.

"Yes, I'm fine." she smiles and hopes that Allison will believe it.

Allison looks at her and Renee does have the benefit that Allison is slightly drunk since she was told firmly not to help with the cooking since she'd paid for the majority of the day.

"I'm glad I got you alone, there's something I want to hear your opinion on." Allison says deciding, apparently, to let it go for now.

Renee relaxes smiling at her friend, "What's that?" she asks wondering what purchase or thing unpurchased Allison was regretting.

Allison looks at Renee, expression utterly serious. "Don't you think there's something...weird about this kid?" she asks.

Renee straightens up glad that Allison had also felt like something was off with the kid that her friends had brought along. "What do you mean?" she asks wanting to hear what Allison thought.

"Look, he seems really nice. I mean a little too nice to be a Fox to be honest but I mean I guess you're a Fox as well so..." Allison rambles slightly taking another sip of her wine.

"Yes, go on." Renee nods.

"Yeah, he seems nice and Matt said he's got his own stuff even if he didn't wanna go into what that stuff was." Allison continues and it's a good thing Allison is drinking white wine considering the white carpet and her gesticulations. "But...it's just.. okay you can't make fun of me. Even though this is about to sound crazy." Allison says.

"I would never do something like that." Renee swears.

"Promise me." Allison says expression grave as she lifts up a pinky.

Renee smiles despite herself and hooks her pinky with Allison's, "I promise to not make fun of you." she swears other hand over her cross.

"I think he's Justin Bieber."

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Hand in Hand (part four)

@whumptober Alt. 10: Shaking + Alt. 06: Playing Cards

cw: aftermath of whump

prev ///// au masterlist ///// next

~ ~ ~

When they're done with Wes, when his body is limp and trembling, they unchain Dan and drag him out of the cell. He asks them to let him check on the unconscious man, in a voice hoarse from screaming for them to stop, but they ignore him. He knows they're taking him to Swift.

Dan doesn't realize how cold the cell is until he's taken out of it, the warmer air of the hallway easing some of the tension out of him, though it's not enough to make a difference. Even with the men supporting him on either side, walking is difficult. His head throbs, and his legs shake with every step, threatening to give out. He's gone longer without food, longer without sleep, taken harder hits, but the combination of the three is hell on his body. It's a miracle he's still on his feet.

Mercury Swift is sitting at a table when they reach her, a pack of playing cards in hand. She doesn't even glance up as the men push Dan into the chair across from her, not bothering to restrain him before leaving the room. He knows why. All the assurance they need that he won't try anything is back in the cell.

"Are you ready to tell me your terms?" he asks once they're alone, but Swift acts as if she didn't hear, idly shuffling the cards from hand to hand. The movement looks bizarre; Dan never took her for the type of person who likes having fun.

At last her hands are still, and her gaze slides across the table to land on him. The look in her eyes is one of appraisal. Is she taking in the fresh bruises? The way he's gripping the table to stay upright?

"Do you play rummy?" she asks.

"Some," he replies, easing his forearms onto the table and leaning heavily on them. Better support. Less swaying. "What happens if I lose?"

"I'm not a gambler, Mr. Melchior," she says with a heavy sigh. "I only wanted some company. Maybe a challenge, if you're any good."

He won't let himself believe her. It'll be so much worse if he goes in expecting mercy; better to brace himself for the worst outcome. But he isn't going to turn down the game either, not when the alternative is probably returning to the cell for another twenty-four hours. "Then let's play."

Dan takes deep breaths through his nose as she begins to deal the cards. His head feels like it's full of gravel, and the rest of him... well, the rest of him feels like it just took a beating. Still, he needs to try and stay sharp. He can't let the waiting game go on forever; he needs to figure out what she wants.

They play a few rounds in silence before he tries. His hands shake as he sorts his cards, and he isn't sure if it's nerves or exhaustion.

"If all you wanted was a partner for cards, you could've asked," Dan says, laying a three-of-a-kind onto the table.

"Mm. Isn't that what I just did?"

"Without torturing my friend," he adds, trying to make the accusation sound light. Friendly.

"You admit you're friends then?" She lays down a sequence of her own. "He isn't insignificant?"

Dan clenches his jaw, wincing as the movement spikes pain through his bruised cheek. "I know the stakes," he says, drawing a card. "I swear, I'll do what you want if you stop hurting him."

"Why, I haven't lain a finger on him."

"You give the orders. Or do you mean to imply you don't have control over your new army?"

Her eyes darken as she looks up from her cards. "Careful, Mr. Melchior, that's hardly polite."

"My apologies," Dan mutters, letting the silence draw out as she considers her next play. So far, even her responses have just been another way to toy with him. He needs to be more direct. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," she says.

"Nothing," he repeats. There's no way. Why keep him alive at all, if she wants nothing? Why force him to listen to Wes scream, if she wants nothing?

Swift finally lays out a sequence of cards. "What could you possibly give me?"

Dan makes his own play immediately. "You're the one who came to me," he says. It was months ago, but that changes nothing. Before that day, he'd never once heard the name Mercury Swift. He wishes that were still true. "You're the one who wanted to meet with me."

"And now I have what I want. My new army." She pulls apart the sequence he's played, adding it to her own.

"Then why am I still breathing?"

"Maybe I thought you'd entertain me."

No. No, that can't be it. He knows she's a schemer, she must have some bigger plan than breaking them both for her own amusement. She let Wes live, let Dan know he's alive. She wants his compliance with something.

"Maybe," he says. "But I think you need me. You need my image." That has to be it. Physically, he's only one man, hardly enough to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Strategically, she can't trust him. But if she truly wants to take over the known universe, she'll need more than pure strength. She'll need support from those of a similar mindset.

"If the world sees me agreeing with your cause, willingly conceding leadership to you, don't you think they'll take you more seriously?" He's almost certain his hands are shaking from nerves now. He's holding his cards with both, digging his elbows into the table to try and keep Swift from noticing the tremors.

But she smiles at his words, not looking up from her own cards. "Now you're speaking reason."

Dan lets out a shaky breath. At least he's made some sort of progress. At least he's less in the dark, but he can't rest yet. "Alright," he says. "If that's what you want. I can play your loyal dog."

"Play?" Swift draws a card. "Hardly. I want you to become it. Convince me it's your true nature."

"I will," he says. He has to, doesn't he? "If you let my friend go."

When Swift lets out a short laugh, he knows she won't. He already knew it wouldn't be so simple, but he had to try.

"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to take you at your word? A good leader ensures they can trust their underlings. A smart leader has collateral."

Dan clutches his cards tighter. "So he stays. Fine. But if you hurt him--"

"I will hurt him," Swift cuts him off. "Every time you step out of line, he will pay the price. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He did. "Mercury--"

"It's your turn."

Dan lets his shoulders drop, leans heavier on the table. He plays one card, adding it onto an existing sequence. "Will you at least give me a show of good faith?" he says, his voice quiet.

"Good faith?"

He swallows. "Unchain him. Let him rest, give him food and water. Please. You have nothing to lose by treating him humanely." At this point, it's all he can hope for. He can wait. Play her game. He just needs to keep Wes alive until he can come up with a way to outsmart her.

"Hm. I'll think about it," she says, and lays down the last of her cards. "I suppose a dog is better controlled if the leash is maintained."

~ ~ ~

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles @shywhumpauthor

[eggtrolls]

park stuff calendar:

March 9th: cancel pine bark order from Home Depot ASAP

March 10th - CANCELLED: weekly maintenance at horribly degraded wetland (HDW); bring sharps container for needles

March 11th - email boat club people about boat-based trash removal in the future and logistics for non-members

March 12th - 9:30 meeting with J.S.#3 about seed project and possible mugwort eradication March 12th - get 2023 budget from C.W. March 12th - community board parks subcommittee meeting at 6, take notes; follow-up item: confirm the deadline for bringing up Earth Day Festival as item at April meeting (3rd Thursday of every month) March 14th - HDW clean up with J.S.#3 and his dyke assistant March 14th - remove the wineberry in daffodil patch by the stairs March 14th - Earth Day Festival committee meeting at 6:30

March 15th - text JLS about adding earth day event to Parks calendar (confirm with Fucking Chris about when this should happen) March 15th - PFP GRANT IS DUE March 15th - unpack Home Depot deliveries and repot AWC cohort 1 seedlings

March 16th - riverside clean-up with boat club people March 16th - walk-through with J.S.#2 at the restoration creek project March 16th - remove Atlantic white cedar seeds from fridge and plant (3:2:1.5 peat:vermiculite:perlite with the slow-release fertilizer (it's in the foyer closet on the shelf and smells weird) + transplant cohort 1 (measure and record heights), same mix [source, Derby et al. (2004)]

March 17th - weekly maintenance at HDW

March 18th - text J.L.S. about getting parks committee chair email; soft pitch my concerns about park land use to her + include Patch article from 2021 March 18th - ask J.S.#2 about Army Corp of Engineers survey results (from 2023?)

March 20th - Riverkeeper orientation at 5:30 March 20th - deadline to email chair of community board parks committee to add what I think is illegal land use to the next board meeting agenda (incorporate lack of public feedback & Army Corps of Engineers report on sea level rise)

[March 21-March 26 - vacation; no weekly maintenance at HDW; morning pruning of wineberry at Shittier Park (bring bags for removal and double-glove) or follow-up on mulberry tree pruning

March 22nd: pick up seed mix from Autistic Seth or designate one of the SC to do it]

March 27th - watch Riverkeeper Sweep orientation recording on zoom & email Frances March 27th - repot Ursa Major & Ursa Minor March 27th - bother Dan (ICC) about boat plantings; bother Jana about beach plum locations March 27th - email Compost Lady from RSC March 28th - call with JS#1 at 9 am about wetland meeting; discuss the seed-sowing project for EDF March 28th - email JS#1 the seed invoice and species list from Autistic Seth March 28th - steering committee meeting at 6:30

March 29th - call with Rachel from comedically evil non-profit at 5:30 March 29th - return of J.S.#3 and his dyke assistant Paloma to HDW

March 30th - weekly maintenance at HDW

March 31st - community gardening day with the slightly cult-y Orthodox Jewish community group (to do: reach out to other group members to see if anyone wants to join in; double check that email didn't bounce back or if there's a better email)

April 7th - weekly maintenance in park

April 9th - community board meeting at 6:30 April 9th - email Bennett Park people

April 11th - sculpture reception, 9 am April 11th - private call with commissioners 1&2, 2pm April 11th - email CB committee head April 11th - email state senator's office

April 14th - weekly maintenance at HDW

April 15th - call with CB committee head, 6pm RESCHEDULED

April 18th - update on AWC cohort status April 18th - call with CB committee head and Evil Ryan, 3 pm RESCHEDULED

April 19th - pick up giant map from Staples

April 20th (ugh) - Earth Day Festival (HAT AND SUNSCREEN AND WATER BOTTLE) + make @roycohn attend under pain of death; wake up 7 am

April 21st - weekly maintenance at HDW or help B.S. with her site plantings in Bronx

April 22nd - actually Earth Day. also Pesach April 22nd - email compost lady

April 25th - steering committee meeting and EDF post-mortem

April 27th - tentative date for visiting compost site at RPC

April 28th - monthly check for cohort 1 heights

May 4th - Riversweep with boat club people

May 25th - clean up in Rockaway

general to-do list w/o fixed date:

talk to Unfriendly Caitlin or B.S. about the Japanese pagoda trees in Shittier Park and a possible transplant

ask Beth about making flyer for EDF (English and Spanish)

ask Unfriendly Caitlin about info on native bees that hibernate in grasses during the winter; ask Fucking C for the marsh groundskeeper guy's contact info to discuss future grass clearing and ideally make them stop it.

talk to bagel place guy and trump supporter Tom about donations and whatnot

email J.S.#2 about setting up private event for plant dividing in April (post-EDF)

email A (she/they) at RPC about compost visit on 4/27

email J.S#1 about plans for mugwort removal on Earth Day, signage, using the seed mix as cover crop, and beyond

email NutraSweet about discussion of mugwort with J.S.#3

email New York Metropolitan Flora survey about incidence of river cane

urban ecologist program at NYBG

get actual sharps containers for EDF clean-up at work (possibly boat club people have extras we can use either way I'm not paying for this shit)

ask super for my spare hand pruners back

place order from Prairie Moon once AWC cohort 2 starts sprouting

email A.R. (nursery) about group volunteering in exchange for a bunch of plants (deadline [self-imposed] is March 15th)

email J.S.#1 about wetland management goals based on call with S.H.

email J.S.#1 about DEC tidal wetlands permit

follow-up email to J.S.#3 about seed project + email fucking Seth if he doesn't get back to me about the mix

identify actual trail edges that can be cleared and planted + look up if hand rake would be useful

email N.H. at BRA about testing soil samples and if there's a cost/limit (update: NONE; ask NutraSweet to drop off in her car);- discuss results with J.S.#2 and how to incorporate into wetland management plan with J.S.#1

follow up with J.S.#2 about clearing the canal, which I hate

ask M.S. or R.K. about landscape architect stuff re: boardwalk design for wetland management plan

text B.S. about tree delivery from JBHS nursery

start looking for other grants once PFP is submitted

look into seed collection techniques and seed-sharing resources in mid-Atlantic/New England

--- Cohort 1 notes: on 3/15/24, 4 of the Cohort 1 AWC seedlings were planted in 3 pots: Gemini (two together), Atlas, and Pipsqueak in the Derby (2004) medium with a sprinkle of Osmocote + original medium from cones. Heights were 14.5 cm & 6 cm (Gemini), 12 cm (Atlas), and 10 cm (Pipsqueak). Pending them not dying immediately and/or showing signs of significant growth, the remaining seedlings will be repotted. Target height prior to planting is 36 cm. Repotting showed a shallower root system than expected, needs a wider container than cone or should be replanted sooner.

3/17/24 update: might be a coincidence but Pipsqueak and Atlas are already showing new growth (crown and branches, respectively). no changes from Gemini. among the un-repotted, Ursa Minor has some browning at the crown - might need to transplant soon than later, or perhaps burning from too much sun? will rotate and see if this improves. unsure how I will separate Gemini/Ursa Major and Minor when the time comes :/

3/20/24 - separated Gemini into two pots due to lack of immediate growth/improvement shown in Atlas and Pipsqueak. Concern about browning on Ursa Minor, may attempt to divide soon. Potted Hajime and Tagalong to use up the extra medium.

3/28/24 - Potted Ursa Minor and Ursa Major (without Osmocote). Atlas and Pipsqueak continue to show the most improvement. Tagalong has started to show some new growth; less from Hajime. Gemini 1 has started showing new radial growth with a hint of crown growth from Gemini 2. Added layer of compost to all C1 after morning watering

Heights updates:

Pipsqueak - 12.5 cm

Atlas - 13.0 cm

Gemini 1 - 14.5 cm

Gemini 2 - ~6 cm (note: crown is bent)

Hajime - 13.8 cm

Tagalong - 11.0 cm

Ursa Minor - 6.7 cm (note: browning on crown might affect future vertical growth)

Ursa Major - 18.3 cm

4/9/24 - noticed some burning on Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, likely due to the shitty addition of Osmocote. stirred soil and repotted. likely that Ursa Minor is not going to make it.

Cohort 2 notes: on 3/17/24, 105 seeds were planted for Cohort 2 in the Derby (2004) medium with the Osmocote. seeds were floated (77 floated, 28 didn't float) and grouped by float status, divided into 28 cones (on average 4 seeds to each cone), planted, and additional medium spread on top ~1/4 cm. some of the original medium from Cohort 1 was used in cones where Derby medium was insufficient. all cones were watered at approximately 12:00 with 2 tsp of distilled water.

3/20/24 - no growth so far. continuing with 2 tsp water daily (morning). May try dividing into 1 tsp morning, 1 tsp evening.

3/28/24 - no growth so far. continuing with 2 tsp water daily (morning). will switch to divided watering for a sample after 30 days.

4/11/24 - FIRST SEEDLING OF COHORT 2 UP

4/18/24 - cohort 2 notes: one seedling still in cap, one with two leaves out and third budding (both in row 4FR). I didn't record the time for the first seedlings of cohort 1 to come up so this is a total craps shoot. switched back to 1 tsp of water (mornings) because of concerns of overwatering leading to bugs.

[imekitty]

Gdog90 here. I noticed you recently discussed the debate about Danny being dead or half-dead or not dead. Regarding your stance on the matter, I’d like to add (and I might have mentioned this before) that Dan Phantom, or Dark Danny, was separated from two living humans. He also went on to murder his (main) human counterpart. Human Danny there, from that timeline, was actually dead. And as far we know, he didn’t become a normal ghost.

I definitely don't say Danny's half dead, like that doesn't even make sense to me lol, your vital organs can't just half stop...

But that is true, when Dark Danny killed his human half, human Danny did not appear to become a new ghost, meaning not everyone who dies even becomes a ghost.

But honestly if people want to say Danny's half dead in their fics, that doesn't bother me. It's just you'll never see that term in my fics or Danny describing himself as being partly dead. Like I even have Maddie talk about "killing" Phantom and Danny fearing for his life, fearing death.

In my headcanon, ghosts are in a new plane of existence. Their previous bodies are dead (corpses) but they themselves are not. They can feel pain and even reproduce. They can die again even in this new form, but it's certainly different from their terrestrial existence, not as fragile for sure. Ghosts can also move on when they satisfy their obsession/unfinished business, but not even Clockwork knows what afterlife exists after ghosts die or "cross over."

[lucifer-but-better]

Season 3 love triangle should have been Pierce and Chloe competing for Lucifer. I said what I said. Not only is Piercingstar a better ship name than Deckerpierce, but Pierce and Chloe had virtually no chemistry together. It hurt my eyes to see them in a relationship because that whole ordeal was just not it.

This is gonna be a long post so if you're just here for the shit posts, feel free to scroll past.

It would have made much more sense to have the season 3 love triangle this way because Lucifer already had chemistry with both Pierce and Chloe throughout the early season. We already had 2 seasons of Lucifer and Chloe getting closer and even having romantically intimate moments so there was a strong foundation for that possible relationship.

Although Lucifer and Pierce had less time together, they had quickly established a strong relationship based on their shared experiences and motives. Obviously I'm gonna bring up the married couple episode because it's perfect evidence of what I'm talking about. Aside from the domestic fluff, the two made a great team on the field. Their chemistry together was so good that they managed to convince a whole town that they were having a marital spat when in reality they were arguing about how to kill Pierce permanently. Lucifer and Pierce proved that they have good communication in this episode, each apologising for their mistake and setting the boundaries of their partnership.

Not to mention, the jealousy between love rivals was also present way before Chloe and Pierce got together. Of course, I'm talking about when Chloe was jealous of Pierce and Lucifer working together without her on various cases. She even ranted to Dan about this because it had bothered her so much. Being rivals with Pierce for Lucifer's love would also add on to the workplace rivalry Chloe already had with Pierce, expanding their relationship beyond just being a plot device. Additionally, this would have been an excellent opportunity of self reflection for Chloe where she would be able to realise the value of her relationship with Lucifer outside the workplace and within it.

Season 3 could still more or less go the same way in terms of Pierce's character development. We know that once Pierce established an emotional connection with someone he valued highly enough to sacrifice his goals for, the curse was broken. This sacrifice could easily have been for Lucifer instead of Chloe and I'll elaborate on why. Originally, Pierce broke up with Chloe before she could confess her love because he couldn't bring himself to make her go through the pain of losing him, even if it meant he could never break the curse. This form of self sacrifice resulted in the curse being broken nonetheless, meaning that it wasn't Chloe herself responsible it was Pierce's emotional development. As such, this plot device would be applicable in the case where Pierce was in love with Lucifer instead of Chloe. For example, Pierce realising that Lucifer cared for Chloe above all else and thus giving up the chance to be with him, essentially sacrificing his own happiness in exchange for Lucifer's. Or simply and in the same way with Chloe, Pierce could prevent Lucifer from falling in love with him so that he would never go through the heartbreak of losing him.

This love triangle would serve each character much better than the original. First, it wouldn't reduce Chloe's character to simply being a love interest to be passed around between men in the show. Secondly, it would highlight Lucifer's bisexuality in a more meaningful way beyond just having male lovers by showing that Lucifer can establish an emotional connection with both a man and a woman. Finally, that whole character 360 Pierce went through to give us that God awful finale wouldn't have happened. Which would mean that Charlotte survives and goes to live the life she deserves with Dan. Maze doesn't become a tool for Cain to manipulate and has the chance to reflect on her behaviour without the need to endanger and betray all her friends. It would also allow Lucifer to prove his real identity to Chloe on his own terms. Essentially meaning that we wouldn't have to suffer through the first half of season 4 and we could get Chloe's true and meaningful reaction to Lucifer's truth.

In conclusion, Piercingstar and Deckerstar >>>>

What are your thoughts on this?

[navegandoaciegas]

Hay(wire)

Kinktober 1/31 : quickie, face fucking, facial.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, unprotected vaginal sex, sex in a barn, oral sex, facial, set after the events of CA:TWS.

Yeah, I actually did it 💀

A/N: day 1 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober.

Bucky despises you.

He loathes how his heart rate picks up whenever he sees you, or how the pit in his stomach grows larger when he doesn't. He can’t stand the way the other farmers talk about you and look at you, but mostly he hates how you bite your lips and clench your thighs when he catches you staring, the tangy scent that floods his senses when he’s close to you, and how you never question why an American veteran would be picking hayballs in the Romanian countryside.

He hates your kindness, the way you hang onto his every word when he describes the night sky, your stained hands and the flowers you weave in your hair, your nipples showing through your white t-shirts, his blood draining from his brain and shooting straight to his cock just looking at you.

You bring out the beast, the soldat lingering inside some recess in his mind, the side of him that wants to own you, and ruin you for everyone else.

You bother him, talking and being nice. Smiling. Cracking jokes. Eating your lunch with him when the other boys are too afraid to approach him. Filling the silence with your stories while he munches on buni’s sarmalele and merely grunts in acknowledgement. Bringing him water when he sweats buckets under the sweltering sun. Shamelessly flirting like you find him attractive.

As if a pretty girl like you could ever want him, he thinks, with the stench of horse shit clinging to his skin and oozing out of his pores.

He scoffs at himself, and stacks another hayball, willing himself to forget all about you.

-

You know he hears your steps on the cobblestones before you enter the barn where he’s stacking hay in neat piles, like he always does before going to bed.

“You can continue this tomorrow, I’m sure buni won’t mind if you take a break.” you quip, closing the door and leaning on the wooden stall.

You eye his tanned skin, reddened by the scorching August sun, the strain on his sweaty long sleeved t-shirt that clings to his bulging biceps, the outline of his back muscles as his chest heaves.

There’s something animalistic about him, something that makes your stomach churn and your pussy tingle. When his t-shirt trails up, you can’t help but observe the hard planes of his abs and the coarse, black hair that trail them.

“I’m doing what she pays me for, and so should you.”

He dismisses you with a curt nod as he keeps lifting the hay and stacking it away for the winter.

By that time, you’ll both be long gone, so you might as well make the most of what you have.

“I’m done picking plums, if you must know.” you state, an unimpressed look making its way on your face. “You work twelve hours everyday, and you won’t drink her țuică or smoke the cigarettes she gives the other boys.” you say, approaching him slowly until you’re standing in front of him, so close you can see the darkness in his eyes and smell his pungent sweat, “She worries about you, you know.”

Your eyes stray from his, traveling down to his plump lips. He swallows thickly and inhales a sharp breath.

“I worry too.” you continue, stalking closer.

His manly, musky scent is intoxicating, and you feel short of breath, heat and slick pooling in your panties.

“Always working, never having any fun. Life must be very lonely for you.”

There’s static energy, or maybe magic, between you two.

“My life’s just fine.”

He’s gruff as always, but you hear his voice waver when his eyes drop to your own lips, and he finds them parted, and so inviting.

You shrug, feeling your skin crawl with anticipation, want, need. “I know, I’m just saying, I could make it less… lonely.”

You see him cave. You know he wants you, and he’s never exactly subtle about it. But when your hand reaches for his left arm, the spell shatters, the air gets sucked out of the little barn, and the growl that he lets out terrifies you and excites you at the same time.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” he snarls, snatching his arm away from you. He looms over you, rage burning behind his steel blue eyes. “Or-”

He interrupts himself, taking a step back and restraining whatever wild instinct is clouding his judgement. The veins on his neck swell up, and the smirk on your lips and your tangy smell only add to his irritation.

You know you shouldn’t prod. You know he could crack your skull in half without breaking a sweat.

But you’ve also seen him bathed in spring’s pollen, cooing at newborn chicks and patting their feathers, whispering soft words in a language you don’t speak. You’ve seen him kissed by the summer’s sunrise, leaning his head on uică Dan’s horse while petting his mane, and humming to mătușă Ana’s cow while milking her.

You’ve seen him sneak outside your room every morning for the past two months to leave wildflowers on your doorstep, and you know he’s the one who carries you to your bed when you fall asleep on the deck chairs outside, after stargazing together for hours, and pecks a lingering kiss on your forehead, whispering to you, his sweet girl, to sleep tight.

So no, you’re not afraid, and very turned on.

“Or what, big guy? What are you going to do?”

Jaw clenched, fists so tight his knuckles are white, nostrils flared. He closes his eyes, heaves a heavy sigh and mutters a ‘fuck that’ under his breath, and in a blur he’s on you.

But he’s not hitting you, no.

Just like you predicted, he goes haywire, feral, his mouth is on yours, his tongue prods your lips, his hands roam everywhere, tangling your hair and kneading the flesh of your ass.

He bites your bottom lip, and you taste metal on your tongue. A moan escapes you when one of his thick thighs comes between your own, and your core rubs against the rough material of his jeans.

“Took you long enough.” you tease him when he allows you to catch your breath.

He’s sweaty, rough, his clothes soiled by the ground he spends his days working on, and you find that you don’t care, that you want him to dirty you and ruin you in this barn, with hay poking your skin and cicadas screaming outside.

You’re staring at each other, panting, eyes swallowed by darkness.

He doesn’t answer, never speaks much anyways. He’s on you again, his hand on your throat, and it doesn’t hurt but it’s tight enough to make its threatening presence known.

Your walls flutter around nothing.

The other hand, splayed on your back, guides you as you grind yourself on his thigh. It’s been two months of sexual tension, and it’s about to explode.

You reach for his t-shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours, but he stops you, and the look in his eyes, hard yet pleading, is enough to make the protest die in your throat.

Your own shirt is discarded, maybe shred to pieces. His touch is bruising and desperate as he explores your body like it’s his last day on Earth.

He nips and sucks your skin, surely leaving dark marks behind, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers, swirling his tongue around them until you’re pushing him off of you.

“I need you.” you moan, shrieking when his teeth bite down on your shoulder.

Pain is a bucket of cold water on your burning skin, a contrast to the pleasure he brings you, and yet it doesn’t diminish it, but amplify it until his teeth on your flesh are all you want.

He lets himself fall on the hay, dragging you down with him. It irks you, pokes you, and quite frankly, it doesn’t smell like roses.

But it will do.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and hastly drags them down to your knees, not even bothering to get rid of them.

When he pulls on your hair and spins you around, it’s not romantic. When he forces you face down, ass up, it’s not pretty. When he spits on his hand and roughly shoves two fingers inside you, making you wince, it’s not soft and caring.

“I’ll take care of you later, need to be inside you now, doll. I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you.” he murmurs.

You hear him fumble with his belt as he keeps rubbing your clit and pumping his calloused fingers in and out of you. “It’s been so long.” he adds, as an afterthought, while he strokes his cock and gets himself ready for you.

The hay scratches your cheeks, and you feel his intense presence as he kneels behind you, ready to take you like an animal in heat.

“Please.” you whine, wiggling your hips and brushing against him, “I need you to fuck me now, James.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing your folds and smearing your arousal on his tip. You feel him prod your tight hole and you brace yourself for the pain, but when he breaches you, your walls stretch perfectly around him, accomodating him, and all you feel is a dull burn that soon gives way to pleasure.

Moaning at the fullness of his heavy weight inside you, you try to bounce on him, but his hands on your hips halt your movement. He's as rough as you expected him to be, and the coil in your core is unbearable.

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight.” he groans, picking up a faster pace, slamming in and out of you. “Made for me, so good.”

He pulls on your hair, and the pain shoots straight to your cunt, making your walls clench on him.

Arching your back you meet his harsh thrusts, feeling his cock hitting that spot inside you, the one that makes the pressure build impossibly fast every time he bumps against it.

It’s all too much and not enough, and when he tugs on your hair again, your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You don’t feel the hay scratching you anymore.

“Fuck me harder.” you plead with tears streaming down your face, revelling in the lewd squelching sounds of your pussy and the slapping ones of his balls hitting your folds.

He never talks, and he won’t start now, you realize. You don’t care though, because all you can think about is his other hand snaking between your legs and furiously rubbing circles around your swollen clit.

You mewl when he snaps his hips and his tip hits your cervix. “I wanna hear those sweet noises pretty girl, wanna hear you fall apart on my cock, only for me.”

He brings you high, and higher, and the pressure grows more and more, until the knot unravels.

“Cum on my cock, fuck, cum all over me sweet girl. I missed this so much.”

When the dam breaks, you feel months of sexual tension release, and the tight coil inside your belly snaps. Your limbs jerk as a hot surge of electricity assails you, and you gush all over his cock, feeling your pussy constrict him in a vice.

He rides your aftershock, pummeling inside you while icy cold claws your every nerve ending. You’re drooling out of your mouth as a man you barely know brutally fucks you like a beast, but in the hazy state you’re in, you couldn’t care any less.

“I’m close.” he gnarls, tightening the hold on your hips, “Where can I-?

“On my face.” You turn and peek over your shoulder just in time to see the shock in his eyes. “I like it that way.” And I’m not on birth control.

When his thrusts become sloppier and his breathing erratic, he pulls out of you and stands. You turn around on your knees and face his thick cock, half wondering how he could make it fit inside your cunt.

“Open those pretty lips of yours babydoll, I want to fuck your mouth too.”

You comply, parting your lips. He shoves himself inside you, clutching your hair and neck as he fucks your mouth relentlessly, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

You can’t breathe anymore, but he keeps going, moving your head along his length. You taste him on your mouth, heady and salty, feeling every vein and ridge of him.

You look up, and seeing him all disheveled, hair sticking out everywhere and red faced, lights the fire in your pussy again.

Your hand finds its way between your folds while he holds you down until your nose rubs against the coarse hair on his pubic bones and his balls slap against your chin.

Quickly, he slides out of you, and pumps his cock once, twice. He cums on your face with a moan, painting your lips, cheeks and the tip of your nose with his white hot spurt.

When you open your eyes again, you find him staring at you already, with the most expressive look you’ve ever seen him wear and something akin to a smile dancing on his lips.

“God, doll. I didn’t even know I could do that.” he confesses, all doe eyed. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, babygirl. I’m gonna keep fucking that tight pussy of yours all summer.”

You let out a giggle when he hoists you over his shoulder and the hay that’s stuck to your clothes flies everywhere.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re sore, until you’re sobbing and you beg me to stop. Fill you up over and over again. Make this pussy all mine. No more other farm boys, you hear me?”

He keeps his word that night, and you keep yours all August long, and you know neither of you want this summer to ever end.

—-

Day 1 of Kintober done. Join my taglist if you want to be tagged in more :) (link on my blog)

Please leave some feedback :)

[yetanothergreyjedi]

What We Might've Been: Part 3

Part 1 Part 1.5 Part 2

Part 4

Inspired by @liminalhollow 's spork AU

For @dargeon-lissa @dp-marvel94 @aethtalon

Also if you like this story, you might like Warped Mirror by @ectoentity

(Comments and questions are appreciated)

...

The next conversation was painful. Not literally, but that was only because they hadn't let Mr. Uses-the-word-'ghost'-as-an-insult get his hands on anything that could cause pain. (Tucker was trying to think of a time when Danny would've said something like that. It would've had to have been pretty early after he got his powers, but there really wasn't a big window between 'Oh, ghosts are real' and "I'm a ghost?' so Tucker didn't think there was any point when he would've. It wasn't even that creative.) Actually, that wasn't the only thing that didn't quite line up about this guy. Like the hazmat suit, it was like his before the accident only... armored? Slightly? It was different and something Tucker would've absolutely remembered. Then there was fact that he hadn't seen him use any ghost powers... Yeah, they were going to bring all this up when they got to Clockwork.

Anyway, the conversation when about as well as could be expected when the person with most of the information didn't want to talk, thought one of you was a ghost that had stolen his life, and became more mistrustful when they tried to defend him. Honestly, whatever ghosthunter had decided to publish the 'Ghosts are highly manipulative' line, Tucker hoped they became a ghost when they died.

But, yeah, words had gotten them nowhere, didn't seem to be getting any closer to anywhere, so Sam knocked the guy out. They'd dragged him into the Specter Speeder, and were now on the way to Long Now. Hopefully he wouldn't wake up until they got there.

Right.

Maybe he should just give up the word 'hopefully' because 'hopefully I can relax this weekend' had turned into time travel shenanigans and now the guy was already shifting back there. (shifting as in movement, not shifting as in dying/going ghost, Tucker smiled at his little joke. He'd have to figure out how to use that later.)

"Guys, I don't want to freak him out again." Danny whispered as he faded out of visibility, like that was going to do anything? Well, maybe jumpsuit guy would just assume they had the air conditioning up to high and the other off-putting vibes were just the ghost zone... yeah, guy was gonna freak out no matter what. At least Tucker was driving, then if he got violent Sam could knock him out again.

Jumpsuit guy... No. Dan. Time-traveled other Danny's get called Dan, for efficiency. Dan made some waking up sounds and after a minute asked "Where am I?"

Great, he's still freaked out... that's fair, they did kidnap him, but like its just so inconvenient.

"In the specter speeder." Sam answered.

"The what?"

"The specter speeder, did your parents not build that yet?"

"Uh... no? What is it...?"

"A... Vehicle"

"Sam, don't bother dancing around the point, all he has to do is look out the window."

"Tucker! I was trying to break that slowly!"

Tucker could tell that Dan had looked out the window by the frantic founds of seatbelt unbuckling. Yeah, that probably wasn't his brightest move. "Sorry..."

"What is wrong with you guys?! Don't you know how dangerous-"

"We're in here at least once a month will you calm down!"

I'm-to-flustered-to-make-words-work sounds, (that sounded a little like ghost speak which was oddly comforting if Tucker was being honest...) "That's not- Safe!"

(Oh! It was similar to Danny's acting-on-my-obsession noises, just without the static and overlaid creepy. Right! Past-Danny...) Tucker cut off whatever Sam was saying, "We did lots of tests before we came in here originally and we know how to be safe in here."

"But the Ghosts!"

"Typically mind their own business unless you do something."

"but in Amity-"

"Amity is like a magnet for the ones who want to cause trouble. And I don't think we should be explaining everything because of the timeline." There was a pause, good, he was using his brain.

"Wait, you guys actually think this is time travel?"

"Yeah, what do you think it is?"

"The clock ghost is helping the other one pretend to be me, for some reason... I don't know what they're planning, but-"

"Danny, stop." Sam's voice was clear and gentle reason. "Some of the things you have said today, I know you never would've said, even when this all started. Some of this still doesn't add up, but the idea that you went on some sort of time adventure makes some sort of sense with how you are now and the Danny I remember. Just trust us, okay? Even if you don't trust your other self?"

"Ok..."

"I'm gonna turn visible now,"

"He's been here the whole time!?!?!"

[pure-kirarin]

Killer x reader (having a stressful day) English / French

Disclaimer : This will be in French and English. It was written originally in French and translated to english. I added the french version at the end of the post if anyone is interested. 

A/N :  こんばんは !  ♡ リクエストしてくれてありがとう~  @holykillercake​ san. This is my first time writing something both in English and in French. Alsooo, writing something for Pasta-husbando ! I hope that you will like it >o< I never noticed that Kirarin & Killer both have “キラ”, this explain why Killer’s hair is so healthy and shiny...Anyways~  始めましょう !

-ENGLISH- 

«- Relax. »

The moment his fingers touched your skin, your shoulders unclenched as if a weight or a burden had dropped off them. Your muscles were stretched to the limit; An underlying tension, no doubt, you were carrying the stress of a whole week on your frail shoulders. «- Y/N. » Just your first name, nothing else.

It was his way of asking you what was bothering you and you understood it. You were there, you had just come to his room, sitting on the sofa and there he is – as it has now became a habit – behind you, offering you a massage. Fairy fingers put pressure on your shoulders, fingers that could as well kill as take you to heaven. Never once you have felt afraid. His touch was comforting, familiar.

« -Don't worry. I just had a stressful day...The usual.  You melted under his touch. You felt his fingers tighten at your remark and you could make out his thought pattern. -No Killer, nobody bothered me. You won't have to kill anyone.  -I wasn't planning on killing anyone. You couldn't suppress a small laugh as you guessed his confusion. He was extremely protective of you, even if he hid it pretty well. Dear lord, just his presence was enough to put you in a better mood. -Yes, yes, of course. And what about the guy from last time ? » You reminded him of your last party, or rather, the party where you both had to babysit Kid once again. A man a little too drunk had taken advantage of the crowd to put an indiscreet hand on your lower back. Needless to say, Killer broke his arm without blinking – a reflex. To be fair, Kid would have reacted even worse, the redhead and you were like brother and sister.

His fingers reluctantly left your shoulders, he got closer to the large bookshelf, as big as one of the room's walls.

Killer was an avid reader, he had books from different origins. You were always in awe in front of his wide knowledge. When did he have all the time to read these books ? Certainly during nights of insomny. He came back and sat down next to you, in his hands, you recognized the book "A Thousand and One Nights", the cover was thick and decorated with a golden frame. You smile excitedly, you and Killer had this habit; whenever you felt bad or couldn't sleep, he would read you fairy tales. He had read dozens of them to you ; The Little Prince, Alice in Wonderland, the Tales of Hoffman. But your favorite was always “A Thousand and One Nights”. (Arabian Nights)  This book cristalised your love. Whenever you couldn't sleep, you would join the man in his room and he would tell you, like Scheherazade, the astonishing tales. Before you even knew it, you had fallen under his spell. He patted his knees and you rested your head just there. His voice carried you to the sands of the east. A voice extremely gentle, mesmerizing. This intimate moment was enough to eradicate all your worries. One hand was carrying the book, while the other stroked your hair and cheeks in turn. His voice told you about the adventures of Sindbad, the famous sailor from Bagdad.  He had bought this book from an old bookstore in Alabasta and it introduced him to the oriental beauty. When he finishes reading the tale you get up slightly and snuggle up in his arms. He circled your waist with his as you stayed there for a moment. -I love it when you tell me about the adventures of Sindbad. I feel like I'm seeing a side of you that no one else can access. -And that's true. You are the only one who wants to hear these stories. He strokes your hair. -All credit goes to you. You are an excellent storyteller. -And you are an excellent listener. » He smiled behind his mask, maybe if he took it off, you could've seen the rose-color that tinted his cheeks.

He appreciated how you cared about everything he said and everything he loved. You were the only person in the world he shared this with, who he could stand sharing all of this with. The stress of the day was now nothing but a vague memory. Only one thing was missing. You wanted to get closer. You wanted to look at him and kiss him. The adventures of Sindbad were not enough. « -I want to look at you...  » You breathe out, your voice was no more than a sigh, a slight whisper that made him smile behind his mask. Smile that you don't see but that you could imagine. You didn't have to see him, you just had to pay attention to his chest rising with the rhythm of his breathing. You now knew how to decipher every gesture and the slightest variation in his voice. But it didn't stop you from wanting to look at him. You knew each other more than anyone, but you always wanted more. You wanted him  entirely to yourself. You wanted him to lay bare his feelings just as you did, because he was your comfort zone and you wanted to be his. You sit, your slender fingers brushing against the hard surface of the mask. You feel his breathing stop. « -For me... » you add, insisting.

It wasn't the first time you'll see him without a mask, but could you be satisfied? He even kept it on in his sleep. Your fingers start caressing the golden locks. « For you. » He repeats, his voice was firm but penetrating. Coming from behind the mask, it was somewhat veiled. Someone else would never have guessed his hesitation but you? Easy task. You couldn't suppress a smile, one of a child that was promised a sugar cube. You were now sitting next to him on the sofa, wrists on your hips, catching your breath, eyelashes barely batting.

The mask was now resting on the armrest. Your eyes layed on his perfectly sculpted face and the purplish lips that you were dying to kiss. Did he hide his face, like Medusa hers, out of fear of petrifying you? «- Killer ... You are so...beautiful. » No need for words, a finger rested on your parted lips. Your gaze was enough, words were sometimes too overwhelming. His azure eyes shone behind a curtain of golden hair. You hesitate, a second then two, before coming to sit on his knees. He was surprised by this proximity but it didn't bother him since he put your hand on his chest. His skin was warm, his heart was beating considerably faster. He didn't say it, that gesture meant "I love you" and you knew it.  - Thank you for being there for me.  » Your face was inches from his. His lips barely caressed yours before kissing you fully as his hand rested on the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. Once again, the gesture spoke better than the words. I love you. I want you. I want you to give me all your stress, all your pain, I want to carry it for you.

- (Y / N) ... A sigh ... I lo- Suddenly, the door thudded open. You didn't have to look back, you knew, both of  you knew who that was. -Killer! When are we gonna eat I'm sss---... Wait what, FUCK- - Can't you knock on the door for once? You grabbed a pillow and threw it at Kid, who was already turning around, embarrassed to have interrupted you. He disappeared as quickly as he had come, uttering a myriad of obscenities in his way. Killer buried his head in your neck, embarrassed to be found in this compromising situation, although it could have been way worse. You cursed Kid inside for interrupting you.

-Killer, what were you saying ? He puts his mask back on murmuring a « nothing »

-But I swear I heard you say it. You were going to say « I love you », right ? You teased

-If you heard it then why are you asking ? He was extremely thankful for wearing his mask at that moment.

-Because I want to hear it again ! -Too honest, you were too honest for his own good. -I love you. -W-wait I wasn't prepared ! You were now the one to blush. Killer wasn't the kind to express his feelings all the time and that openly, so it meant a lot to you.

« Cute » was all he thought of you in that moment. He got up holding you tight against his chest ;

-Well, I think that Kid is really going to throw a tantrum if he doesn't get to eat. You must be starving as well. Would you like to help me in the kitchen ?

-Of course I would. But first put me down. -I am scared that is out of the question. 

He simply answers as he proceeds to hold you over his shoulder, heading towards the kitchen. - French -

«- Détends-toi. »

A l'instant où ses doigts entrèrent en contact avec ta peau, tes épaules s'abaissèrent comme si un poids ou un fardeau en disparaissait. Tes muscles étaient tendus à l'extrême ; Une accumulation de tension sans doute, le stress de toute une semaine.

« - (T/P). »

Juste ton prénom et rien d'autre.

C'était sa manière de te demander ce qui te tracassait et tu le compris. Tu étais là, tu venais tout juste de rentrer dans sa chambre pour t'affaler sur le sofa et le voilà qui -comme à son habitude- t'offrait un massage. Il avait des doigts de fée, comment des doigts pouvaient-ils aussi bien tuer que t'emmener au paradis ? Tu n'avais jamais eu peur de lui. Son toucher était réconfortant et familier.

« -Ne t'en fais pas. C'était juste une journée stressante. »

Tu fondais sous son toucher, sa présence derrière toi était rassurante. Tu sentis ses doigts se crisper à ta remarque et tu pus deviner son schéma de pensée.

«- Non Killer, personne ne m'a embêtée. Tu ne devras tuer personne.

-Je ne comptais tuer personne.

Tu ne pus réprimer un petit rire en devinant son trouble. Il était extrêmement protecteur lorsqu'il s'agissait de toi, même s'il ne le montrait pas. Bon dieu, rien que sa présence était assez pour te mettre de bonne humeur.

-Mais oui, bien sûr. Et le type de l'autre fois, on en parle ? 

Tu ne manquas pas de lui rappeler votre dernière soirée ensemble, ou plutôt, une énième soirée où il fallait prendre soin de Kid. Un homme un peu trop alcoolisé avait profité de la foule pour poser une main indiscrète sur le bas de ton dos. Inutile de mentionner que Killer lui avait fracturé le bras sans ciller. Remarque, Kid aurait agit pire, le roux et toi étiez tout deux comme frère et sœur.

Ses doigts quittèrent tes épaules à contre cœur, tu le vis qui s'approchait de la grande bibliothèque qui occupait un des murs de la pièce. Killer aimait énormément lire, à vrai dire, il avait tellement de connaissances et il avait des livres de différentes origines. Tu étais toujours admirative devant son savoir.

Il revint et s'assit à côté de toi, entre ses mains, tu reconnus le livre « Mille et une nuit », la couverture était épaisse et ornementée d'un cadre dor��. Tu souris avec excitation, Killer et toi aviez cette habitude ; à chaque fois que tu te sentais mal ou que tu n'arrivais pas à dormir, il te lisait des contes. Il t'en avait lu des dizaines maintenant ; Le petit Prince, Alice au pays des merveilles, les Contes d'Hoffman. Mais ton préféré restait toujours « Mille et une nuit ».

Ce livre représentait ton énamourement. A chaque fois que tu n'arrivais pas à dormir, tu rejoignais l'homme dans sa chambre et il te contait à la manière de Shéhérazade les contes étonnants. Avant même de t'en rendre compte, tu étais tombée sous son charme.

Il tapota ses genoux et tu posas ta tête là où il l'avait désigné. Sa voix te transportait vers les sables d'orient. Il y mettait tant de douceur. Ce moment intime était assez pour éradiquer tout tes ennuis. Sa main portait le livre, tandis que l'autre, caressait tour à tour tes cheveux et tes joues. Que tu étais chanceuse de l'avoir. Sa voix te racontait les aventures de Sindbad. Il avait acheté ce livre lors d'une escapade à Alabasta et était tombé sous le charme.

Lorsqu'il finit de lire le conte tu te relevas légèrement et tu te blottis dans ses bras. Il encercla ta taille des siens et vous restèrent un instant dans cette position.

-J'adore quand tu me racontes les aventures de Sindbad. J'ai l'impression d'accéder à un côté de toi que seul moi peut voir.

-Et c'est vrai. Tu es la seule qui veut entendre mes contes.

-C'est tout à ton honneur. Tu es un excellent conteur.

-Tu es une excellente audience. »

Il sourit derrière son masque et ne manqua pas d'en rougir. Il aimait comment tu t'intéressais à tout ce qu'il racontait et à tout ce qu'il aimait. Tu étais la seule personne au monde avec qui il partageait cela, avec qui il pouvait se permettre de partager cela. Le stress de la journée n'était plus qu'un vague souvenir. Une seule chose te manquait. Tu voulais plus de proximité. Tu voulais le voir et l'embrasser. Les aventures de Sindbad n'étaient pas assez.

«-Je veux te voir... »

Tu expires, ta voix n'était plus qu'un soupir, léger murmure qui le fit sourire derrière son masque. Sourire que tu ne vis pas mais que tu pus deviner. Tu n'avais plus à le voir, tu n'avais qu'à prêter attention à sa poitrine qui s'élevait au rythme de sa respiration. Tu savais maintenant déchiffrer chaque geste et la moindre variation de sa voix.

Tu le connaissais, vous vous connaissiez plus que personne mais tu en voulais toujours plus. Tu voulais qu'il s'offre entièrement à toi. Tu voulais qu'il mette à nu ses sentiments comme tu le faisais avec lui, parce qu'il était ta zone de confort et que tu voulais être la sienne.

Tu te redresses, tes doigts graciles viennent toucher du bout des doigts la surface dure du masque. Tu sens son souffle s'arrêter.

« Pour moi... » tu répètes, insistante. Ce n'était pas la première fois que tu le verras sans masque, mais pouvais-tu en être satisfaite ? Il le gardait même dans son sommeil. Tes doigts se perdent maintenant dans sa chevelure dorée.

« Pour toi. » Sa voix était ferme mais pénétrante. Venant de derrière le masque, elle était quelque peu voilée.

Une autre n'aurait pas pu deviner son trouble mais pour toi ? Tâche facile. Tu ne pus réprimer un sourire d'enfant auquel on promettait un morceau de sucre. Tu étais maintenant assise à côté de lui sur le sofa, les poignets sur tes hanches, le souffle coupé, les cils battant à peine.

Le masque reposait à présent sur l'accoudoir. Tu pus découvrir son visage parfaitement sculpté, ses lèvres violacées. Cachait-il son visage, comme Meduse ses yeux, de peur de te pétrifier ?

«- Killer...Tu es magnifique. »

Pas besoin de mots, un doigt vint se poser sur tes lèvres entrouvertes. Ton regard était assez, les mots parfois l'encombraient. Ses yeux azur brillaient derrière un rideau de cheveux dorés, ils étaient fuyants. Tu hésites, une seconde puis deux, avant de venir t'installer sur ses genoux. Il fut surpris par cette proximité mais elle ne le gêna pas puisqu'il vint poser ta main sur sa poitrine. Sa peau était brûlante, son cœur battait considérablement plus fort. Il ne le dit pas, ce geste signifiait « Je t'aime » et tu le savais.

«- Merci d'être là pour moi. »

Ton visage était à quelques centimètres du siens. Ses lèvres vinrent caresser les tiennes à peine, avant de t'embrasser pleinement tandis que sa main se posa sur sur ta nuque pour approfondir le baiser. Encore une fois, le geste parlait mieux que les mots. Je t'aime. Je te veux. Je veux que tu me donnes tout ton stress, toute ta peine, je veux la porter pour toi.

-(Y/N)...Un soupir...Je t'ai-

Soudain, la porte s'ouvrit en un fracas. Tu n'eus pas besoin de te retourner, tu savais, vous saviez de qui il s'agissait.

-Killer ! C'est quand qu'on mange je meu--...PUTAIN mais...

-Tu peux pas frapper à la porte pour une fois ?

Tu attrapas un coussin et tu le lanças en la direction de Kid qui se retournait déjà, gêné de vous avoir interrompu. Il disparut aussi rapidement qu'il n'était venu en prononçant une myriade d’obscénités.

Killer enfonça sa tête dans ton cou, gêné d'être découvert dans cette situation compromettante, quoique ça aurait pu être pire.

-Tu disais quoi, chéri ?

Il remit son masque tout en murmurant un « rien du tout ». 

-Mais je jure que je t'ai entendu le dire ! Tu allais dire « Je t'aime », n'est-ce pas ? Tu le taquinais un peu trop pour son bien être.

-Si tu m'avais entendu, alors pourquoi demandes-tu ?

Il était extrêmement heureux d'avoir son masque sur le visage à cet instant précis. 

-Parce que je veux l'entendre à nouveau. Si honnête, un peu trop pour son bien. 

-Je t'aime. 

 -Qu-quoi ? Je n'étais pas préparée à ça ! Tu étais maintenant celle qui rougissait. Killer n'était pas du genre à exprimer ses sentiments tout le temps et ouvertement alors ça signifiait énormément à tes yeux. 

« Trop mignonne. » C'était ce qu'il pensait de toi en ce moment. Il s'est levé tout en te gardant contre sa poitrine. 

-Bon, je pense que Kid va vraiment causer un désastre s'il n'a pas à manger. Tu dois mourir de faim également. Tu ne voudrais pas me donner un coup de main en cuisine ?

 -Bien sûr que oui. Mais tout d'abord...Est-ce que tu pourrais me poser à terre ? 

 -ça c'est hors de question. Il répondit simplement tout en te mettant sur son épaule et en se dirigeant vers la cuisine.

[blairwaldcrf]

my boyfriend's girlfriend- gossip girl

Summary: nate/dan/blair drabbles

i will always blame (with love) @bisexualdanhumphrey for my recent agenda

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read and comment here

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When Nate is asked if he's had his first kiss at 8 years old, his father steps in and lies. Of course, haven't you seen him and Blair?  

In actuality Howard Archibald had caught Nate "practicing" kissing with Chuck in the toy room just a week ago. It was Chuck that had given the easy lie about it that way, and Nate didn’t understand why, but pretending they're practicing for girls makes his father happy so he doesn't disagree.

I'm just playing a pretend father and practicing for future girls, Nate tells the people who ask why he spends so much  time with Dan Humphrey and his new baby. After all, he doesn't want to come out as bisexual when he and Dan are only barely finding a new rhythm as they move from friends, to lovers, to roommates, and by extension of that and Milo, co-parents… This, smiling as he watches Dan cave into sleep while still in the middle of holding up and giving Milo his bottle, deserves more than another snarky Gossip Girl scandal post.

….

At first glance after having kissed Dan, he had thought he was going to resent Milo. Surely now that Dan had a child, Nate's timing was off and Dan would give him a sad "sorry, but..." He starts to until the second Milo cries for a bottle but Dan can't quite make it one handedly in the wake of Georgina's very recent departure and so Nate is handed the baby once again.

He fumbles for the words to tell Dan to wait, he'll make the bottle, he's bad with kids-- but then Milo stops crying the second Nate turns him around and offers a panicked smile.

Dan backs out of the kitchen immediately. "Do that again."

"What, smile?" Nate asked incredulously.

"Whatever you just did," Dan repeats so desperately it's almost comical.

So he does it again, and when Milo gives the sweetest laugh only a baby can give, Nate's heart melts.

Finally , he thinks to himself before he can review the implications later that night before falling asleep. Finally something meaningful I'm good at . Dan is ecstatic that the cure to Milo's colic seems to be Nate comforting his son (if not only for sleep) and Milo is the child who depends on Nate's smile in such an innocent way. How had his mother and family expected him to use a fake smile for cameras and politics when the only one who truly cared about the way his lips curled could be cradled in two arms?

The first time he picks Milo up correctly on instinct he feels like he's five again, showing off to his mother that he can ride without training wheels. "Dan. Dan! Look!"

Said brunette gave him a quizzical look at first, in the middle of folding laundry, but then laughs freely upon realizing. "Finally."

Milo coos at the sound laughter like always, and Nate's smile grows even further.

….

When Dan & Blair first accidentally meet at some film showing at the forum that Nate was more than happy to babysit Milo for than attend, Nate hears all night about how Blair's opinions on the entire movie are either spot on or completely ridiculous. The volley back and forth as Dan describes them to him in turn, "I don't get how she can agree with that when…", "Can you believe she…" makes him raise an eyebrow, but he lets the passionate rant subside and instead orders dinner. Something light for the summer. More movies are seen, sometimes with Nate attending as well when Rufus can babysit. Blair insists on sitting in the very middle of the seating so she can be dead straight to the screen, and then steals Nate or Dan’s popcorn even when they try to get her one of her own. Summer turns out better than expected like this.

Then Dan complains about Blair almost every night the first week of interning at W Magazine, and Nate has to remind him repeatedly that they're friends now. Dan needs the opportunity to intern so he'll have a passing job soon to afford Milo, though, so the pleas go unheard. When Nate bothers to drop in on Blair and ask her to create some peace treaty, it’s useless. Dan pulls a Blair and Blair pulls a Dan, but in the end it’s clear that their budding friendship is heading into better territory than it ever had been.

It's a long year of Dan & Nate trying desperately to avoid the schemes of their friends, taking in turns who had to babysit Milo. By the end of spring, Blair is engaged to a prince and Nate almost feels relieved. He'd never say so to Dan.

The engagement doesn't last anyway. Blair is pregnant and scared, and by the end of the month when Blair finds out that the baby is Chuck’s, she moves into the Brooklyn loft and away from the Upper East Side at Dan’s request. Nate can’t get the image of a broken window and Blair fleeing after the attack at the penthouse out of his mind.

….

“Are we sure murder isn’t on the table?” Dan asks angrily, staring down at the computer Jenny is working on beside Blair. The two women’s apologies and forgiveness had been strained and their being in the same room without killing each other was tenuous, but in the end they were both victims of Chuck and that bonded them more than split them up when all was brought to light.

That, and Dan refused to let Blair continue to hide in the Brooklyn loft without a full confrontation about Jenny.

“Dan.” Nate chastises, head pointing to Blair. With a small sigh, he apologizes, but he doesn’t look any less moody. There had never been good blood between Dan and Chuck, for good reason, but now that he had found out that Chuck had yet again assaulted someone, and  Blair at that, he was vengeful. Luckily, Dan wasn’t the kind to hire a hitman.

He was the type to request help with a takedown from Jenny, though, the second Chuck tried to go after Blair legally over a child that’s not even born.

Milo seems to be the one who wins over Jenny for the takedown, because when the blonde looks over at Blair and her swollen stomach and sorrowful face, she cracks. “I can file charges against him, but we have to do this together, Blair. I’m serious.”

“I am too.” Blair says, tears in her eyes as she holds her belly tight. “I have to be.”

Jenny nods. They speak to the lawyers and detectives in secret. Even Serena adds to the charges, an unknown attempt until the chefs at the hotel back her up as witnesses. Nate has to hold Dan back, remind him that he could lose Milo to Georgina if he does something stupid, but Nate has to admit he wants to punch Chuck bloody himself after reading the full testimonies from the women he was closest to.

He had known Chuck was a mess. He hadn’t realized how many messes he had made, and for that Nate hated himself. Surely he could have stopped some of these. He should have held his once best friend accountable so much earlier, could have thrown away some childhood crush. Nate is complicit in ways he thinks Dan should hate him for. Dan only shakes his head and mentions that he was the one who told Jenny not to press charges against the kid of a millionaire who would get off in seconds when they were all so young. Nate pretends he isn’t crying later that night and Dan does the same.

When Chuck is put into prison, Nate isn’t naive enough to breathe in relief, but he gets close.

….

"It's poetic." Blair is smiling softly at him in a way she hasn't since they were young and she thought he could save her from their parents. "You being so good with him."

Nate raises an eyebrow as he rockets Milo, but he thinks he knows what she means, and after all these years of knowing her, he's right.

"After everything your father put you through… you just shine at being one despite him." Blair offered. "Humphrey had love and a mother who couldn't hire nannies, he was born for this. But you…" She trails off after waving a hand at all of him and the way Milo is sleeping so softly on his chest.

"Thanks, Blair." He tells her, hoping his voice sounds even.

Dan has said as much to him, as had Rufus, Jenny who was back in the city to be a happy aunt, and Lily. The compliments from those three were lovely and meant the world, but they didn't carry the same weight that Blair's did.

Blair, who had been there in the lows of his father's then secret drug addiction and seen the way "The Captain" yelled at Nate in emotional tirades. She'd seen the aftermath of physical confrontations, however subtle. A bruised wrist from being dragged out of a room or a bruised arm from being hit when found smoking weed. Blair, who had all the love of an Upper East Side father and the crashing realization when that wasn't enough.

Biting his lip, because if he lets the worried sigh drag out of him he might wake up Milo, he says, "I still have 18 years and more to mess up with a kid of my own."

"You won't," she says, without the kind tone that Dan had used when saying the same thing. This was bossy, hard, certain. "You'll refuse to as much as I'll refuse to let you. We promised that, remember?"

And they had, once, on the tail end of fourteen when Serena's father had left again, Blair had been throwing up food for what would then be the first time, and Nate tired from having stayed up all night comforting his mother Anne. We'll never be them. We'll warn each other the second we have to.

But who had thought they would need a warning before their thirties had even begun?

"Yeah. I remember."

She gives him another quick smile, one to hide what was now pain and worry coming up as she stared down at her unborn child.

"You won't be your mother either, Blair," he tells her. Trying to get her to smile, he added, "Eleanor would never do something like step in Brooklyn."

"I don't know," she says, her lips curling mischievously for a second. "I'm also not living with straight men."

He laughs and so does she, and they keep the worry about Chuck wrapped away.

…

"Will you stop leaving the shower like that?" Dan snaps at Blair one of the mornings that Nate has slept over (more and more living here like a step-parent, but that was a different conversation). "How many times do we have to tell you we aren't gay and it is inappropriate."

"I thought you said you wanted me to be comfortable here, Humphrey." Blair replies with an all too silky tone. Nate rolls his eyes at them from the comfortable pillow for not the first time and gets out of bed to stop the impending fight that will likely wake Milo up, right as Blair adds, "If it makes you uncomfortable maybe that's a problem for you and Nate, not me."

"Blair, I swear to God--,"

"Dan. Chill." Nate interrupts. They both turn to see him in the doorway, Dan looking chastised and a rather naked Blair failing at looking guilty. "And Blair, come on. You know what you're doing. Either stop or be honest."

The fake sheepish expression on her face gives way to pursed lips and a dainty glare. "I don't know what you're talking about. Regardless, I'm late to classes. See you both later." And she leaves the living room to get dressed with Dan glaring fiercely at her back and Nate wanting to throw a pillow at him.

Mumbling something about checking on Milo, Dan leaves the room also and Nate wonders how on earth he can force the two to sit down and talk without one of them bolting. How on earth did Serena put up with them?

….

He manages to pin Blair down first, which quite possibly was a miracle with how desperately she had been avoiding him. They’re both at a party Dan hadn’t wanted to attend and he catches her in a side room where she had run away from Serena. Nate wasn’t quite sure what their drama was, but he didn’t care to ask.

“Blair, we need to talk.”

“Now?” she asks, pouting. She’s sitting on a chair and rubbing her ankles, looking very much pregnant. “Can’t it wait when I’m at home and out of these heels? My feet are absolutely disgusting right now.”

“Now,” he reaffirms. “Admit you’re attracted to Dan and not just trying to find someone safe like I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself is all you’re doing.”

Her entire demeanor changes immediately. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.” Nate says. “Dropping towels, leaving out lingerie, your usual scheming.”

“Dan loves you,” she says softly in return, shaking her head. “I’m just a pregnant single mother in my twenties who wants to feel sexy.”

…

One night, in the chaos of their soap-opera worthy lives, Nate comes home to the loft-- which is such a weird thing to think of as his home-- and sees Dan and Blair perfectly cuddling against each other on the couch asleep. There’s something innocent about it, tissue box near as if Blair had been crying, but both of them had little time to rest between Milo and Blair’s complaints that sleeping with a pregnant belly was impossible at third trimester. Nate doesn’t want to think on the feelings rising up in him at this sight-- there’s too much to even find a place to start-- so he thinks of how they’d react to seeing themselves so vulnerable with each other. Likely Nate will have a wholesome picture that he can pretend is only blackmail and not, in fact, a picture of his entire world with only one baby missing.

Snapping the picture with flash on wakes the two up, but is completely worth it as they groggily catch sight of him and jump apart from each other.

“ Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald ,” Blair angrily snaps, “Delete that now .”

Dan starts laughing and Blair turns on him. “You want that leaked to Gossip Girl?”

“Nate has never sent in a thing.” Dan replies, chuckling in between his response. “I’m just amused you went full on Waldorf mother mode.”

Blair’s glare is fantastic as she gasps, causing Nate to laugh even harder.

“I did not .”

“I’m sorry, did you or did you not just use his full name?” Dan laughs, an eyebrow raised. His challenge seems to make her furious, so very temperamental lately.

“It was an instinct brought on by the delirium of waking up next to you,” she argues huffily, and Dan rolls his eyes in a way that makes Nate crack.

“God, just kiss.”

All three of them still. Nothing can be heard except for the classical music coming from the nursery in the other room. Nate tries to berate himself when he sees Dan’s face fall into guilt and hurt. Nate tries to make up for it. “I didn’t mean it like that, I love you--,” worst time to admit it “--but you clearly love Blair too.”

“I--,” Dan falters, caught blank at the attention. “Nate, that’s not what’s going on. I love you--,”

“I know.” Nate replies, all too aware of how Blair looks ready to run.

Dan is still fumbling, turning to Blair with a lost expression that turns firm as he says, “Look, you deserve someone whose sole attention is you, Blair. I don’t fit that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re in some position that your mother--,”

“Humphrey, shut up,” Blair demands. “I get to decide what I deserve and want, no one else. You should have learned that by now. You too, Nate.”

Which he should have, of course, because now Blair is sitting up straight and in command of the entire room like she’s the royalty she almost became. Nate nods and wonders what the hell Blair was going to say now.

“I’ll admit that I have been incredibly blessed to have both of you in my life, but I am not going to come between--,”

“You won’t,” Nate announces. “If you want this, all of this, you won’t be in between anything.”

Staring straight at him, there’s a searching expression in Dan’s narrowed brown eyes and furrowed brow. Nate knows he can spot appreciation and relief, but he also knows that the writer will definitely overthink this for the next month or so. Still, when Blair hesitantly looks to Dan, the brunette nods.

Nate is glad the classical music covers the sounds the happy three of them make that night.

…..

[blackjack-15]

Are You Poe-ndering What I’m Poe-ndering? — Thoughts on: Warnings at Waverly Academy (WAC)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas (or not links, as tumblr is freaking out with links).

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: WAC, mention of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (the OG live-action show not the horrible CW monstrosity); discussion of the Poe short stories “The Imp of the Perverse” and “The Black Cat”.

The Intro:

It’s time to go to school, y’all — and not just any school; a rich, elite, all-girls school. Welcome to the jungle.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is one of two games that I don’t sort into a category (like “Expanded” “Jetsetting” or “Odd”), the other being the game that follows it (TOT). There are a few reasons for this — the next category really doesn’t apply, but neither does the previous category, WAC and TOT both feature a gradual shift in tone and approach to the games, etc. If I really had to pick a designation, I’d say that these are the “Growing Pains” games, where the world gets a little bit more open — but not all at once, the characters get a little more fleshed out — but not by much, and a few new things are tried with our character rolls — to varying degrees of success.

On the whole, WAC tackles its efforts far better than TOT does, but it does make for a slightly less interesting meta if one was just to focus on what WAC does wrong and what it does right. Instead, we’re going to take a look at how brilliant WAC is tonally and thematically, and how its source material — not kept secret in the game — builds it up and makes it better and better upon replays.

Before I begin, it’s fair to warn you all that my thesis was done on Poe and adaptation theory (and its relevance towards detective novels but I won’t touch much on that part of it), so I might get a bit nerdy. Hopefully it’s still exciting and relatable enough to the game that it’ll make for interesting, rather than academic, reading.

WAC uses Poe’s stories — specifically “The Black Cat” (obviously) and “The Imp of the Perverse” (in my slightly expert opinion) — as thematic (what the game means) and tonal (how the game feels) touchstones, not to mention their inclusion for some of the events in the plot. A brief summary of both is probably important when looking at how they relate to WAC.

“The Imp of the Perverse” is an essay-like short story by Poe that basically states that inside of every person is the desire to do something wrong or incorrect simply because it is wrong or incorrect (not morally, but in terms of self-interest).

In the story, a man commits a clever murder and gets away with it, receiving the inheritance that he wanted from the dead man. The man cannot be caught — there is no evidence of any wrongdoing, let alone any that points to him — unless he confesses. The idea of confessing — not out of guilt, but just because it would be the wrong thing to do — plays on his mind until, driven half-mad with his preoccupation, he confesses and is imprisoned and executed. The titular “imp” is basically a devil on the shoulder who wants what would be worst for our own self-interest, simply because it is the worst.

MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY FOR THE STORY OF THE BLACK CAT. PLEASE SKIP IF THIS BOTHERS YOU.

“The Black Cat” on the other hand is pretty much a proto-“Tell-Tale Heart” — an alcoholic man becomes emotionally distant from his cat (a rare sentence, I know) because he things the cat is judging him for being a drunk; one night in a drunken rage, he cuts out its eye and kills it. A fire catches his home, leaving an imprint of the hanged cat upon the only standing wall.

END OF DIRECT MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY.

The man and his wife move, and he, after a period of guilt, makes friends with another cat — a cat nigh-identical to the first one, even missing an eye. When he (drunk, as per usual) and his wife are walking down the cellar stairs, however, he nearly trips over the cat and becomes enraged, trying to kill the cat, only to be stopped by his wife. He instead kills his wife, burying her behind the wall of the cellar and bricking up the hole.

When the police come by they find nothing, and the cat has disappeared, so the man feels safe. The police come back to investigate the cellar, the man taps on the wall to boast of how well the house is made — only to have horrific screeching start up behind the wall. The police break the wall down and find not only his wife’s body, but the black cat sitting on it as well. The man breaks down, overwhelmed by his own guilt, and the story ends.

END OF BLACK CAT STORY SYNOPSIS.

It’s pretty clear what influence “The Black Cat” had on WAC — not only does the villain name herself after the titular cat, but WAC is also a story of guilt, hidden crimes, and personal weaknesses that manifest in rage towards other innocents.

It’s actually really interesting that Corine takes the mantle of “The Black Cat” up when she begins targeting other valedictorian candidates; the black cat in the story is sort of a symbol of the man’s sin — a reaction to his sins and misdeeds, and sort of a catalyst of justice. This ties into how Corine sees herself — someone rejected and mistreated by those who are “filthy” themselves, and who must then show others the things they hate about themselves.

It’s Corine’s self-identification as a victim that starts all this, and it causes her to victimize others in potentially fatal ways. The black cat stands for guilt, for the sins of others, and yet it leads Corine further and further away from any justness herself.

The story of “The Imp of the Perverse” has a little bit of a more subtle tie-in to the game; in a way, each suspect does exactly what they know they shouldn’t.

Rachel and Kim are obvious — they really shouldn’t switch back and forth so regularly, nor should they be so sloppy at informing the other as to what they did and who they met that day. Leela, who should be studying if she wants to keep her spot in the race, instead passes the time by playing sports. Mel knows that the cloak-and-dagger meetings are to be an absolute secret, yet wears hair bows that she constantly loses to one. Izzy has her future meticulously planned out, yet refuses to back up an incredibly important paper (and also relies on being popular, yet pursues other girls’ boyfriends).

Even Corine falls under this; by targeting Nancy, she’s ensuring that suspicion will fall on her, as 2/3rds of the victims would then be her roommates. She’s also cutting her chances of being valedictorian by not working hard for it and instead relying on other, riskier methods. Every move she makes leads to it being more and more obvious that she’s behind them — and yet, she continues anyway, just like the man in “The Imp of the Perverse” — leading from a few small incidents to attempted murder.

Ignoring WAC’s ties to Poe renders it as a good, solid mystery without anything remarkable about it (other than the pendulum, of course). Exploring its ties to Poe not only helps set up exactly who the villain is, but also sets the tone for the mystery. This isn’t a mystery of Nancy foiling a villain through her smarts; instead, it’s a story about how guilt and a perverse desire for self-destruction leads a once-promising valedictorian candidate to more and more severe crimes, culminating in the exact opposite of what she was working for.

The Title:

It’s pretty awesome, full stop.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is honestly a great title for a Nancy Drew mystery; it gives us location, a sense of the world we’re in (scholastic), and a vague yet not too vague sense of what’s going on. The alliteration is good, the abbreviation amuses me — it’s just solid all the way around.

There’s not much else to say; sure, you could strengthen it by finding a punchier “w” word to begin with, but that’s just quibbling. It’s great, I love it, let’s move on to the Happenings at Waverly Academy (which, by the way, would have been a terrible name for the game).

The Mystery:

Called in as a professional undercover detective, Nancy’s just young enough to hide in plain sight at Waverly Academy, an upper-crust private school for those girls fortunate enough to be both rich and smart (aside from a few scholarship students, who are simply smart). Nancy’s called in due to a few near-death experiences by students, punctuated always by notes simply signed “The Black Cat”. It’s only a few days until break ends, so Nancy must work quickly to stop the sabotage, find the Black Cat, and solve the mystery before anyone dies.

Nancy, as always, finds quickly that not everything is so cut-and-dried. Each valedictorian candidate has the motive, means, and opportunity to get the other girls out of their way, and all have something to lose. Add in a secret society, the threat of demerits from an overly zealous RA, and the sneaking feeling that there might be a greater mystery behind all of these incidents, and you get a case mostly unlike any that Nancy’s had to crack before.

Oh, and Ned is on the phone, serving the player up with the single punch of testosterone in the game (aside from the hunky Mr. Harris, of course).

As a mystery, WAC is honestly super solid. Lots of characters, lots of clues, lots of red herrings, lots of mini-mysteries going on inside of the larger mystery…it’s everything you want from a Nancy Drew game, and it doesn’t really drop any of the balls it juggles. Sure, the pendulum might be a bit much for you if you’re not up on your Poe, but I think it’s a lot of fun, and for sure a very different type of ending puzzle — not drowning or running out of air or any other ending that Nancy Drew games likes to do.

Let’s go to the movers and shakers behind this mystery, then, shall we?

The Suspects:

Mel Corbalis is the fan-favorite character, so let’s start with her in this huge, estrogen-laden cast. Distinctly of the goth persuasion, Mel is a fantastically talented cello player and a Waverly Legacy, despite the fact that no one at school wants to be caught dead near her. She’s not an outcast the way that Corine is, however, because of her simple insistence on being exactly who she is, and not trying to hide or apologize for it.

Go Mel.

As a suspect, Mel is slightly more suspicious than most other girls, on account of Megan being her roommate, but otherwise sits on fairly equal standing with them all. She’s by far the most outwardly aggressive, but also comes across as simply no-nonsense (a welcome thing in any girl’s academy, believe me). She also has the least of Poe about her, despite her taste in fashion, and is in general a breath of fresh wind.

Next up is Leela Yadav, athlete extraordinaire. She sure can bounce that ball, at least. Izzy’s roommate and just as much a social climber (though in less in-your-face ways), Leela wants it all — popular, athletic, and valedictorian. It’s a lot for any girl to handle, much less one who can’t seem to keep it all together.

As a suspect, Leela’s not bad — she’s as even as (most) anyone else throughout the first half of the game, but falls off a bit when Izzy isn’t specifically targeted by the Black Cat (as most of her gripes are against Izzy, particularly). Leela’s more there to increase the number of students and throw suspicion around, but she does a darn fine job of it, and is well-rounded enough to be genuinely enjoyable.

We’d be remiss not to mention the queen bee (and my personal favorite suspect) at Waverly Academy, Izzy Romero. Snobbish, arrogant, and with apparently the smarts and people skills to back it up, Izzy is the first Waverly girl that Nancy (as Becca) meets, and boy does she set the player up for what Waverly is really like. Izzy’s smart enough to know when she should put in the effort and clever enough to delegate it when she can, and that alone endears her to me, even leaving aside her hilarious dialogue and general vibes.

As a suspect, Izzy is the sole girl who really isn’t set up to be much other than what she is — a girl with more than enough smarts to get power, and enough power to pretty much do what she wants to do. Sure, Nancy can catch Izzy doing stuff she shouldn’t do, but she’s never really a heavy-hitter when it comes to the Black Cat stuff. I love her for that, too. She’s a lot like Libby from the original Sabrina the Teenage Witch show; a bit nasty, but hilarious and effectively harmless — and I’ve always liked Libby-style characters.

And her stint in the Blackwood Society is aces too. Man, this girl does not quit.

Rachel Hubbard, is, of course, actually Rachel and Kim Hubbard, and they are the plot point that WAC is most known for. They actually have marginally separate personalities too, with one being far snappier than the other, and having strengths in different subjects.

Part of the reason I love the Hubbard twins so much is that their presence is so...Poeian. Poe was all about duplicity and mirrors, and the Hubbard twins show off both themes. It’s just a wonderful little bit of a nod to the source material (thematically speaking) of the game, and I adore it.

As suspects, the Hubbards aren’t bad at all; they’re lying, sneaking around, and blatantly “forget” what they’ve said to people, all of which adds up to be very untrustworthy. Were it not for Nancy (and Corine) sneaking around, they might have gotten through their Waverly experience without anyone figuring it out — and that’s something to respect, even if it does make them prime targets for blackmail. And speaking of blackmail…

Corine Meyers is both Nancy’s roommate and 100% our villain this time around. Obsessed with becoming valedictorian and knowing she probably won’t get it, Corine basically puts out self-assigned hits on each of her fellow candidates, attempting to get the title by violence rather than by being worthy. She’s even cunning enough to blackmail the Hubbard twins into doing some of her dirty work, throwing people off her scent. Sure, Corine is a rather pathetic (in the non-sympathetic sense) person who I have little respect for, but she does make a good villain in a Poe-ish story.

As a suspect, the game actually makes a pretty good go at not assigning the blame too quickly to anyone, so Corine does manage to hide out in the shadows. Sure, one of the girls who went home was her roommate, but the other was Mel’s, so suspicion isn’t centered right on her. I also love that she’s actually punished for what she does — no amount of sad pictures at the end of the game changes that. Corine actually has the cleverness that CUR tries (but doesn’t succeed) to give Jane, and I think it’s wonderful.

I’m not going to give Megan Vargas or Danielle Hayes their individual chunks, but they are present here as well, standing in as victims so we know that this teenaged effery very nearly had a body count. They really help to give a sense of…well, purposeful disconnection to the game, where the setting and the snow and the fact that these are high school girls doesn’t stop the crimes from being deadly.

The Favorite:

The first thing that I have to say is that I love how the tone and crimes of this game contrast so well with a lot of the games (especially, sorry, CUR). This takes place at a school, your suspects are all teenaged girls…and yet the game doesn’t shy away from how horrific things really are to get Nancy called in. Two girls have nearly died in quick succession from one another, and the girls are going on chasing acclaim. It’s a messed up situation, and the game doesn’t shy away from pointing that out.

These crimes are treated with severity, and the culprit, despite things that might have softened her ending under lesser writers, is punished with total removal. WAC in some ways is a spiritual successor to SCK, in that it takes place at a school, lives are endangered, Nancy is (mostly) undercover, and the culprit is not above killing Nancy messily solely for personal gain. The difference, of course, is that SCK is not done well, and WAC, on the whole, is.

As mentioned above, I have a soft spot for Poeian detective stories, and so I enjoy WAC probably more than I would had they modeled it after, say, Holmesian detective stories instead. The ideas of duplicity, mirrors, guilt, the Imp of the Perverse — the self-destructive tendency to do what we should not simply because we should not do it — these are all present and accounted for in WAC from different girls and facets of the plot (Corine and the secret society both represent duplicity, the Hubbard girls are mirrors, Waverly’s own guilt towards the students it failed, etc.).

My favorite puzzle has to be WAC’s resident cooking minigame, where Nancy prepares hot lettuce sandwiches and definitely underdone cookies to the delight of the gossiping horde. It’s like TRN’s cheeseburger minigame writ large, and every second of it is wonderful — the gossip, the food-making, the unexpected panic of a teacher order — everything. It also helps Nancy keep her head above water, should she be caught sneaking around after hours, and I think that’s great as well.

My favorite moment of the game is when Nancy comes out of the wall in Mel’s room and Mel isn’t having even one iota of her excuses to cut and run. It’s not often that a non-villain will press Nancy so intently when Nancy does something Inherently Untrustworthy, and I think it’s great that a 17 year old girl behaves exactly as one would, demanding an explanation and not letting Nancy wiggle her way out of it. Sheer perfection and the moment, I would guess, that Mel became a lot of people’s favorite WAC character.

I also love everything to do with the Blackwood Society. Nancy goes so…metal there and we really don’t get enough of Metal Nancy. It features one of the few moments of absolutely, unequivocally brilliant voice acting that Lani stumbles upon (the conversation about the bow), and it’s a wonder to behold.

The Un-Favorite:

While WAC certainly has great things about it, it’s not by any means a perfect game. It wouldn’t sit in my top 10, and possibly not even in my top 15, though it would depend on the day. The reasons for this?

A big one is my least favorite puzzle: taking the pictures. It’s a good idea — a gofer quest to help Nancy get to meet each student, talk to them, etc. and make sure no one gets lost in the shuffle (like with what usually happens with Guadalupe in ICE, for example) — and is also great for acquainting Nancy with the Hubbard(s). However, in practice, the interface makes it incredibly obnoxious to do, what with having to retake pictures because the pan or zoom is slightly off, and having to jump around from place to place. It’s a good idea, but could have been implemented far, far more smoothly than it actually was.

My least favorite moment in the game is actually the whole deal with Izzy’s paper being deleted. It’s a dick move — and I have no problem with that, honestly, but the fact that she has no backup is just like…girl, what on earth are you doing where you don’t back up your work.

Adding to that is the fact that even in the far-off yesteryear of 2009, Word autosaves (as did many, if not all, word processors) and a copy definitely would have still been retrievable on her computer, and that the teacher would almost definitely have a previous rough draft or at least outline…it’s a pretty shaky thing to have happen (the not-having, not the deleting), and it does break the game down a bit. I know it’s not that big a deal to most people, but it seriously hampers my ability to stay within the world of WAC and to take the mystery seriously.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Warnings at Waverly Academy?

There’s honestly not too much to do; while not a perfect game, WAC is perfectly solid, accomplishing what it needs to do properly and well, without too many little flaws to mar its reputation.

In other words, it’s a bit like an unsuccessful valedictorian candidate; well-rounded, but not a standout when compared to others that burn a little brighter.

I would, however, re-work the picture task; I’m not sure how you could make it less clunky, mechanically speaking, but it definitely needs it, along with a way to know if it’s a good picture or not before you go through all the effort of going to the library and plugging in the camera. I love the idea — just make the idea work better.

I’d also change the “deleted paper” storyline and go a little more destructive — give the computer an awful virus instead. Sure, her paper is backed up (in 2009, probably on a USB drive, or saved to her email or something), and she has her stuff, but that locks away all personalized notes, study sheets, etc. It’s something that would be pretty damning for a Valedictorian candidate, while also still being firmly in the realm of believability.

And on a smaller note, remove the ability to call Bess in this game. It always goes to voicemail and serves no purpose. Why even include it?

Where WAC really shines is its individualistic approach to each girl and in its permeation of Poeian themes; that’s what makes it special as a game, rather than any of its individual parts. Sometimes, you need to take a break from haunted mansions and carousels and museum thefts and marriage troubles and friends who are always in need of help – and you just need to play a game with gossip galore, hot lettuce bagels, and an actual death-bringing pendulum to round it out.

[sylverivy]

This post is about AFTG so all the usual warnings apply. If you want me to put any more warnings in the tags, TELL ME I will add them/change them.

Mandatory disclaimer that these are just my thoughts on the books. Of course we're all going to have different opinions so please respect others' opinions.

@bloody-wonder sorry this is late, school happened.

This is in response to all the recent posts which have been 'cancelling' Nora over things found in the books/extra content.

Some of the main things that have popped up as being 'wrong' or 'too dark' are

- Andrew and Roland having a sexual based relationship whilst Andrew was underage.

-Andrew never smiling in the future.

-Andrew and Neil never getting married or saying 'I love you' in the future.

Etc. Basically the general consensus amongst like half the Fandom is that AFTG is 'too dark'.

And let me tell you something

It's

Supposed

To

Be

Dark-

That

Is

The

Point

Think about the Foxes backstories - sexual abuse, physical abuse, drug abuse and lord knows what else. Of course the series is going to be 'dark', they're 'dark' subjects which come up pretty heavily throughout the books.

Of course there's going to be things that are 'wrong', abuse is wrong. Regardless of circumstances, it's wrong. Abusers are wrong, regardless of circumstances. And when a child grows up in an abusive environment, of course they are going to do things that are seen as 'wrong' by the majority of society.

And people who read the books complain about them being 'wrong' and 'too dark'. Which, once again;

Is

The

Point

Because abuse is never 'light', it is never sparkles and butterflies and healing rapidly in order to be an 'upstanding' member of society. So when you complain about the series being too 'dark' and 'wrong' and think that it should be 'lighter'; think about all the children who were in those situations.

Because the books are based on something, what they are based on I do not know, but what I do know for sure is that there are people out there who have been in situations that are like the Foxes', in situations that are worse.

So we shouldn't blame the author for it being too wrong or too dark. Think about what that means to people who are in the same situations or worse. Think about what they take out of people saying those things. Think about what caused Nora to write something so 'dark'.

Sure, you're allowed not to like the series or the characters but, don't go after the author due to it. She wrote a story that contains 'dark' elements that are 'wrong'. I do see that but you may see it as 'dark' and 'problematic' but think about those who don't see it as 'dark'. Think about why they don't see it as 'dark'.

Think about the fact that some people may see it as 'light'. Think about why.

Usually when I read 'darker' books the thing that strikes me the most is not how 'dark' they are but rather how 'light'.

For example, the abusee does get hurt by their parents. But then they have enough courage to tell an adult, they get help, the abuser goes in jail, they go to therapy and magically become an upstanding member of society.

I am not saying that milder abuse is less important, because it is just as valid and important as the more serious kind but, real life isn't like that. In real life you're too terrified to tell because of the consequences. You know the abuser won't go to jail because there isn't enough evidence. You know there is no way of you getting help. And even if you do manage it, you know there's a very high chance of it not working, of never being what is seen as 'okay' as society, of always having to pretend so you can lead a 'normal' life. You know that what you have now is better than what you'll have if you tell (Andrew with Cass).

In real life you're Andrew. And in real life it can be worse.

So when I see 'darker than dark' stories like AFTG my main thoughts aren't of horror and of how dark the series and characters are but rather of hope. Because they all got out, they got a chance to improve, and yet they're not okay. But it's okay. You don't need to be okay.

Another thing that AFTG would be good for normalisation. Not of abuse, because abuse should never be normalized but rather how it affects people and how they cope. Like I said before, recovering from abuse is never pretty. It is not like what Renee becomes - a magically positive human being - but rather like Andrew - someone who is seen as 'broken' and 'wrong' by the rest of society. Someone who is still being hurt but is coping.

Someone who has survived and is trying to live but is criticised for doing so. Do I think some of Andrew's action are wrong? Yes. Do I understand why he does them, what drove him to do all of those things? Yes. Will I go after the author for them? No.

Andrew is someone who will never be 'okay' according to society's standards. And I think that's one of the best things about the books. Because it normalises that people are not going to be 'okay' and magically be like Renee, Dan or any of the upperclassmen. It normalises that it's okay to not be okay, it's okay to be like that. It's okay to be a 'Monster'.

One major thing that people were hung up about is Andrew and Neil never saying 'I love you'. But I don't see the problem with it. Because for me 'I love you' is years of pain and Love is giving someone food when they seem hungry. It is silently helping them when they're struggling. It is staying by their side even when they are acting 'wrong'. It is making jokes about dark things because the alternative is a mental breakdown and tears. Love is knowing when to Stop, when to Go and where to go. And I know that for Andrew it could be the same.

Another thing that came up was Andrew never smiling. But, once again, that doesn't bother me. I can tell that Andrew probably associates his smiles with the year of mania the drugs put him on. I know that happiness isn't always smiles but rather smaller gestures like giving someone an exasperated look when they're being funny. I know that sometimes smiles bring pain instead of happiness.

So in conclusion, for those who see the series as 'dark', think about the fact that real life is often darker. For those who don't, remember that the road to recovery is long and bumpy and you may not ever be 'okay'. But that's okay.

And for all of you, remember that quite a few people see themselves in the characters and in the story. Remember that people looked at the darkness and saw hope and acceptance. Remember why.

Remember that the story is just that - a story. A story that is about real life events which are 'dark' and 'wrong' and as such the story is going to be so too. Remember that books don't always reflect what the author believes is right/whatever and stop going after Nora.

[clairecrive]

"Rare" - Eddie Brock x reader imagine

While I finish the Tommy imagine here’s a little Eddie action. It’s long and it’s angsty, you’re warned lol. Hope you enjoy and take the time to let me know what you think about it. Remember that requests are always open!

“Oh look who came back from the dead, Eddie Brock! Famous reporter and a champion of ghosting people.” You teased when you opened the door to see the guy you had been dating for the past couple of months who had been ignoring your texts and calls for the last three days.

Taking in the distress on his face you moved away to allow him to come in. Closing the door you turned around to find him seated on one of the kitchen stoles with his head in his hands. You had been worried sick over him, giving his lack of response and seeing the shape he had turned up at your door in, certainly didn’t help. However, you will worry about him later, now he had some explaining to do.

“Or maybe the ghosting is a privilege bestowed only upon me giving that your ex- fiancèe was very well aware of your whereabouts. Is there anything you want to say to me?” you continued in a sarcastic tone that hid the hurt you were feeling at the implication of what you were saying when he didn’t give you any response. He just looked at you, his head now resting on his joined hands. You could see the torment in his eyes and your demeanor couldn’t help but soften.

“What happened Eddie? Why didn’t you take my calls? I was worried sick about you.” you asked this time more softly

“Hasn’t Annie already told you?” he simply said and you tried your best to ignore the pang that he calling his ex with her nickname had inflicted on your heart.

“She just told me that something had happened to you that she wasn’t sure about and that you weren’t in the right state to speak to me at that moment. I hoped you had something to add,” you recalled your uncomfortable conversation with her. But again, he didn’t give you an answer just a simple shrug of shoulders.

“Imagine my surprise when after two days of unsuccessfully trying to reach you, someone picks up my call and I find out that it’s none other than your ex- fiancèe. And that she didn’t give much but a sketchy explanation that only made me understand that my boyfriend wasn’t in the mood to speak to me but not to be around his ex apparently. You see where I’m getting at, don’t you, Eddie?” you stop batting around the bushes knowing that to get a reaction out of him you had to directly address the problem.

“It was just a poor choice of words on her part y/n. I had a problem and she just happened to be there.” This was the first thing he had told you since he had come in and to say you weren’t pleased with it was an euphemism.

“Oh, she just magically happened to be there exactly when you needed her? Isn’t that convenient? I guess she really is a keeper, lucky Dan.” You couldn’t help but give him a witty response. If he wasn’t being serious about this then neither would you.

“Please y/n, it’s not what you think it is.” he weakly protested

“Then tell me what it is Eddie, I’m only asking for an explanation here. It’s not too much to ask, is it?” it was a rhetorical question and he knew it but he was too exhausted and in pain to notice it.

“No it isn’t, but unfortunately it’s exactly what I can’t give you.”

“So let me get this straight, you disappear for days, no calls and no texts. When I finally get a hold over you, it’s your ex telling me that something happened that you won’t tell me about but that it’s not what I think it is.” you went over the ridiculous situation he had somehow put you in.

“You know Eddie, if you want to get back to Anne you should just say so. It’s not fair to me for you to stick around just because she won’t take you back.” you addressed the very problem that had always lingered between you. Neither of you wanting to make it real by speaking about it but now it just seemed like you had to.

“It’s not like that y/n, I told you.” he sounded like a broken record at this point, always saying the same thing.

“Then what’s it like Eddie?”

“Listen y/n, it’s just that you and Anne are very different and for the problem I had I needed her help. Nothing more.” Oh here it is then, we’re different.

“I know Eddie, alright? I’m very aware of the fact that I’m not Anne in any shape or form. I met her, I know how amazing she is and what effect she has on you. I fucking see it in your eyes every time you look at her or even if someone just mentions her. Do you think I’m blind?” you finally burst out

“That’s why, when we went out the first time I told you that I completely understood if you weren’t completely over her yet. Bloody hell, only a couple of months ago you wanted to marry that girl and I think you still do. Can’t blame you but that’s exactly why I told you, why I pleaded you to always be honest with me and not to play with me if your heart was still fully occupied by her. Didn’t I tell you that Eddie?” you went on, needing him to see how his actions had affected you, how his lack of honesty and respect had hurt you. You didn’t care if in this way you showed him that he had power over you or whatever reason people are hesitant to show their emotions for. You never cared about stuff like that, yes you could be prideful but you also believed that in the matters of the heart there was no space for pride or little games.

“Yes you did y/n and I’m sorry, hurting you was never my intention.” he weakly apologized 

Scoffing, you mumbled an outraged unbelievable under your breath. Why men are so stupid? Why do we even bother with them?  But deep inside you, you knew why. One look at the disheveled state he was in had your heart clench in apprehension. You knew something bad must have happened, Eddie looked like he had been through hell but the realization that he had kept whatever happened from you choosing to turn to Anne for help made you realize that maybe it wasn’t your place to worry about him anymore.

“What part of you vanishing into thin air for three days and then turning up looking like a monster has eaten you and then spit you out did you think was not going to hurt me? Clearly you don’t know me and it’s pretty obvious you also don’t care about me but I’ve always been pretty transparent about my feelings for you. I wish you had been too, it would have saved me a lot of hurt and pointless worrying.” your words filled with indignation and disappointment actually hit Eddie that flinched when he heard the pain in them and saw it mirrored in your eyes. He never had any intention to bring you so much suffering, he actually thought it would be best for you if you didn’t get sucked into the mess that his life turned out to be. But he also couldn’t lie to you and tell you that he didn’t care about Annie anymore. That much he owed to you.

“You’re really a loser Eddie. Please tell me how you’re so good at messing every good thing in your life.” Venom’s voice filled Eddie’s head, adding salt to the already throbbing wound and he tried his best to not let it show on his face. You didn’t know about the whole alien incident and he was adamant of keeping it this way.

“I do care about you y/n, I’m sorry if it didn’t seem so. It’s just-”

“- that I’m not Anne, right? I know Eddie. You’ve made it abundantly clear to me over the few weeks we’ve dated. I don’t have it all Eddie alright? I’m not claiming to but I know that I’m special enough to deserve someone that when looks at me doesn’t see the shadow of the girl he wished was in my place but that truly sees me and wants me to be with him. I’m no one’s rebound, Eddie. That’s another thing I’ve told you on our first date but now I’m starting to realize that you probably didn’t listen to a word I said, too busy daydreaming about your precious Annie.” you interrupted him knowing that he wasn’t going to say it but that didn’t make it any less true. You weren’t in the mood to listen to any lame excuses he would undoubtedly tell you. Better to face the truth and get on with it. This farce had been going on for too long.

“Will you just tell her the truth and put her out of her misery? She’s right though, she does deserve better than you.” Oh how much Venom loved to put the harsh truth in his face. But he couldn’t tell you the truth, he simply couldn’t. He had already caused you enough pain.

You were right, the first times you had been together he couldn’t help but think about Anne. He knew that it wouldn’t help him and he was honest with you about his previous relationship but he also couldn’t help but grow fond of you. He did care for you, you were one of a kind and you were right when you said that you’re different from Anne. But that was one of the reasons he liked you. You were sweet and kind and didn’t fail to surprise him with the constant demonstration of your understanding and nurturing nature. He had gradually begun to let the thought of Anne slip from his mind, willing to make this thing with you work. But Venom was right, he truly had an outstanding capacity to fuck everything up.

He could tell you all of these things, granted, but then he had to tell you what happened or you would just think he was lying. Battling with himself and Venom to choose the right way to deal with this without possibly hurt you anymore, he found out that maybe the only solution was to walk away from you. The thought of not being enough would certainly hunt you for a while, Eddie knew how much you struggled with self-confidence and was dying to reassure you that if there was someone who wasn’t worthy enough, it was him, but he knew what he had to do, what was best for you.

“I think you should leave Eddie. I’ve got nothing more to say to you and there’s nothing you could say that can make this better. It was good while it lasted, even if you weren’t 100% in it.”

Completely unaware of the inner battle taking place inside Eddie, you settled for putting an end to whatever had been happening between you. And given the decision he reached, Eddie didn’t fight you. He just got up and after giving you an apologetic look he walked out of your apartment and your life. 

Part 2

[chikette9]

Joys of Choly : The Morning

Disclaimer: Ok, I write French fanfiction, I have a Wattpad account and some regular readers. And I've noticed that some of my colleagues have taken the step of translating their work into English. For my part, I don't have a good enough level to offer a good translation of my writings (especially for English speakers who might be bothered by syntax errors and poor vocabulary due to a rough translation). I am able to understand a simple text, or comprehension in general, but as far as speaking and writing are concerned, it's a disaster X').

However, I want to try to share more of my writing, imperfect as it is. I use the translator DeepL and add some modifications if I perceive some mistakes.

To begin with I would like to present you a small introductory chapter of Joys of Choly. It's from Fluffynight.

So... Let's go ?

The Morning

It was a spring Sunday dawn in the Fluffytale for our two lovers and parents of a lovely child who had recently turned three. The clock on the bedside table in the parent's bedroom read seven.

Ccino stood up and stretched before glancing at his Nighty, who was still sleeping. The barista found him so handsome, so desirable despite the unsightly drool dripping from the corner of his lips. He couldn't help but kiss him on the temple, even if it meant disturbing him. The former bribe-taker let out a grunt as he turned away from him and brought more cover with him. Ccino laughed and leaned closer to him.

- Hello my beautiful Nighty ~

Nightmare grumbled again, barely looking at his other half.

- It's early my angel, go back to bed...

Ccino pouted. How dare anyone refuse a morning hug ? Then the barista got on top of him, crushing him and causing a squeak.

- Choly's still sleeping, Ccino whispered, I'm awake, you're awake, so that means it's time to...

- I'm tired, darling, Nightmare cut him off, go back to bed or make the coffee, whatever you want, but let me sleep.

The barista sighed, frustrated. He slumped back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

- You're not being nice, Nighty...

- Stop it, I don't like it when you do that to me, you're trying to coax me.

He had looked over his shoulder at the barista's theatrically decomposed face. His pupils begged for tenderness, something the former corrupted man could not provide when his nasal cavity was still stinging.

- No! This time I won't be fooled by your candid airs.

But Ccino wanted to above all else, he was in a very cheerful mood. It was then that a sweet melody echoed through his skull. A melody that he felt like singing in prose. Delicately he laid his hand on the quilt separating his lover's shoulder and came to him, singing in his sweet voice.

- La matinée se lève, toi debout il est temps ~ (The morning dawns, you get up it's time)

Nightmare immediately covered his shoulder and replied:

- Attend encore, attend, j'ai pas fini mon rêve ~ (Wait again, wait, I haven't finished my dream)

He bowed his head as he heard himself singing in turn. This amused the barista who grabbed his chin to point at the window that let the light through between the blinds.

- Le Soleil nous inonde, regarde moi ce bleu ~ (The sun is flooding in, look at that blue)

Nightmare shook his head and put it back on the pillow.

- Attend encore un peu, je refaisais le monde ~ (Wait a little longer, I was doing the world again)

But Ccino prevented him from doing so, forcing him to stand up by pushing his back with his hand.

- Lève-toi donc, respire, quel printemps nous avons ~ (Get up, breathe, what a spring we have)

The old corrupted man rubbed the corner of his eye sockets. He smiled, in spite of his pain marked by dark circles, at his lover who was beaming with happiness.

- J'efface mille avions, une guerre, un empire ~ (I erase a thousand planes, a war, an empire)

The barista came closer and sat on his lap astride. He pressed his forehead against that of his beloved, giving her a look filled with seduction and a call to gluttony.

- Faut labourer la terre et tirer l'eau du puits~ (We must plough the land and draw water from the well)

The heat rose below the belt ridden by the barista's basin. Nightmare saw his cheekbones tinted purple, causing him to smile nervously but no less lovingly.

- Changer la vie, et puis, abolir la misère~ (Change life and then abolish misery)

Feeling it under his sacrum, Ccino brushed the contours of Nighty's manhood that formed a peak through the sheets. This further whetted his appetite.

- Regarde l'alouette, il est midi sonné~ (Look at the lark, it's 12 o'clock)

Nightmare sighed and gave in. He took the barista by surprise, grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping him over to stand four feet above him.

- Le Monde abandonné, je le donne aux poètes~ (The world abandoned, I give it to the poet)

He plunged his head into his neck and devoured him. Then he kissed him fiercely. When they broke up, Ccino invited him to the garden by spreading his femurs.

- Allons, viens dans les vignes, le soleil est très haut~ (Come on, let's go to the vineyard, the sun is very high)

The old corrupted man, before venturing out, caressed the feverish cheeks of his lover.

- Le monde sera beau, je l'affirme et le signe~ (The world will be beautiful, I affirm and I sign) The latter smiled at him with all his love.

The latter smiled at him with all the gratitude in the world. His pupils sparkled with ecstasy. They stared at each other intensely and, before binding themselves, they sang the last verse in chorus.

- Le monde sera beau, je l'affirme et le signe~ (The world will be beautiful, I affirm and I sign)

The room fell silent again, except for the soft song of the lark and the friction of the sheets. Then the sound of a door opening, followed by a small, high-pitched, familiar voice, had the effect of a shock for both partners, who froze with fright.

- Mum, Dad, hungry!

[phanlight]

Imagine Living Like a King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

me thinkin i’d cleared this fic up w the last chapter til i re-read a bunch of it and HOOOOO BOI why was i so obsessed with plot twists without the fkin plot

I am determined to make this all add up and work together but it may take a few chapters also I still have no idea how this is going to end LOL

[ao3 link]

Southview owns a lot of land.

It spreads out in blanketed acres of green, field upon forest upon meadow; miles of emerald patchwork. The building itself, founded somewhere in the fourteenth century apparently, makes up only a fraction of the private greenery Phil has been calling home for the past decade.

Habitatually speaking, it’s impressive. To be able to call such rich halls, such polished corridors and winding mahogany stairs, ever spiraling further and further below his house, his own dwelling; is something he struggles to grasp. He supposes every other student currently residing here may find some relation to a certain degree – but to look at a winding cobbled path and every single brick completing every wall, to name the clock tower chiming every high-clouded noon into existence anything remotely of an heirloom – isn’t anything his soul will allow him to process. He doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

He stares at the wall-to-wall bookshelves lining every corridor brimming with ancient knowledge, medieval tales and just about every participle of the literary canon. There are strict rules against removing any books from their respective shelves with dire consequences if unobliged (absolutely ridiculous, Phil thinks – who in their right mind would consider reading a punishable offence? They’re there to be read.) He and Dan had taken it upon themselves to create a discreet enough rule-breaking method; choosing the dead of night to tiptoe through long, hallowed corridors devoid of light and sound and people and life, all whispers and giggles and cold interlocked fingers, sleepy eyes scanning fraying ladders of spines, whispered-yet-echoey assessments over which would be least missed for however many hours.

The candles up above, though only illuminated during the seasonal months, drip hardened wax onto the stone walls covering every inch of interior; something he otherwise never would have seen anywhere else in this time, let alone place. The beams hang dark and gnarled, curving across every roof with chapel-like grace.

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

Why, then, does he feel like a bird in a cage? Why can he sense the wings, feathered promises of freedom, hit against iron bars whenever he outstretches? This place is becoming too small, he decides. Seven years walking the same grounds, with the same windows and the same views no matter how creative he gets with his detours. The same faces, same conversations with all the same values; with only sporadic weeks of the outside world in between.

He wonders what he would have done had Dan not entered the scene. Wherever the place in his mind, he knows madness would reside. He only feels a breath away from it now.

He blames it on his surroundings, pushing down the rise of unease that jumps through his stomach. It’s got to be that.

::

It doesn’t subside.

“Are you okay?” he hears a voice soften beside him. 

He can’t lie. Not to Dan.

He shuts his eyes and realizes he’s been staring at that Oscar Wilde painting for way too long. The afterimage burns his retina in every shade of negative. His hair deep black on canvas now chalk white behind the eyelids. His eyes look like caves.

“I don’t know,” is the closest to the truth he can get. “I feel weird.”

Dan’s entire stance changes. Concern floods his eyes and he’s suddenly upright

“Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t-…” he shakes his head in defeat.  “I really don’t know. That’s why I’m so-…” his racing mind interrupts him. So what? So comfortable, yet so ill at ease? It makes no sense. 

This should be bliss. Curled up on a beanbag with his favourite person somewhere on the third floor of the library behind a wooden disguise of bookshelves and tall tables. Their ‘spot’ lies in a convenient nook no other soul seems to have yet discovered – a definite perk of being the son of the owner is having premium, extensive knowledge of every single crack and avenue this place has to offer; surveillance included.

That’s how the undercroft became a meeting point in the first place, Phil suddenly remembers as his stomach falls through three stone library floors.

It was him.

He had come up with the idea. He had planned the safest night-time route, locating every surveillance camera and possible risky window. And he, funnily enough, was the one who had spent an hour talking the three of them into it to begin with – if he strains his mind far back enough he can recall even Liam having doubts. Many of them, actually.

“Come on,” a harsher, younger and definitely more obnoxious version of himself had urged.

“No way,” Liam was the first to say. Freddie and Violet hadn’t been overly keen, but it was Liam who was adamant.

He feels sicker.

“What’s bothering you?” Dan closes the book they were giggling at no longer than forty seconds ago and turns his attention completely to him.

His heart is thudding now. He hasn’t given any of that any thought whatsoever since it happened; all anxiety surrounding the situation having been newly dissipated by evenings of laughter and love and-

Had it been dissipated? Or merely masked? Ignorance by will or by proxy?

“Phil?”

Had he spent all these passing months pointing fingers, dodging the blame, deflecting everything like a house of mirrors when this whole thing, this entire time, had actually been his fault?

He snaps out of himself and realizes it’s Emily Dickinson now burning behind the eyelids.

It’s too much. Even the oil portraits, beautiful as they are (and original too, allegedly), are all the same faces. It’s all the fucking same.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dan frowns. “Huh?”

“We need to get out of here,” he repeats, and stands up immediately. The book that was on his lap catapults to the floor, landing outstretched in a papery mess.

“Wait-“ Dan scrabbles around behind him, rescuing the book and smoothing out the newly crumpled pages. His own expression creases a little with the paper.

Phil doesn’t. He can’t. His vision is a tunnel and it’s only blind panic propelling him forward, past shelves and students and voices he can only barely decipher. Every cell in his body, every single drop of blood and beat of his heart is drilling the same message into his mind.

Get out.

It’s only until he feels the slap of winter air against his damp forehead he realizes he’s outside. He stops sweating and starts shivering, clutching the corner of the stone wall as if gravity be seconds away from disappearing and flinging him into the night sky.

His chest feels like lead. Each breath comes heavy, deep; never quite enough despite each gasp filling up his lungs like he’s drowning on air alone. His stomach feels like someone has clawed it out with blunt, bare fingers.

The huge door flaps open and a tiny figure runs out.

He can barely see. His vision still exists in blobs and grains, like someone turned up the contrast too much but also turned it right down completely. What’s happening to him?

“I’m sorr-“ he gasps, but Dan hushes him.

“Focus on your breath,” his voice is calm but firm. He’s unaware of the soft grip on either shoulder until he sees two arms outstretched in front of him.

Phil tries to, but each gasp gets stuck in his throat.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Dan guides him, demonstrating. Each breath seems so smooth, so calculated. Phil doesn’t want to think how often he’s had to do this.

His heart is still hammering, but he manages to comply.

“Imagine you’re blowing on a candle,” Dan continues. “But don’t blow it out.” 

It’s a challenge to focus when his mind is running one million mines a minute, but Phil shuts his eyes and eventually the swirling grain begins to subside. He’s still breathing way too hard and it’s probably enough to blow out a ninety-seventh birthday cake, but Dan’s encouragement doesn’t waver.

“You’re getting there,” he says, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his grip completely. “Are you okay with that, by the way?” he gestures toward his hands. “Fuck, sorry- I should have asked- but when I’m having a panic attack it usually helps to keep me like-… centred.”

“No, it’s-…” Phil releases a shaky breath. “It helps. Thank you,” his eyes flutter shut when he feels two warm hands on his shoulder. He’s already feeling a fraction calmer.

“No need to thank me,” Dan says, his voice like velvet.

His eyes fly open. “Panic attack?”

Dan’s own are soft. “I think that’s what you’re having.”

His heart is still thudding, but at a marginally dropped pace. He’s never experienced anything like that before. Shit, is that what it’s like?

His vision has almost completely cleared; certainly enough to make out Dan’s silhouetted form in the amber glow of the lamp post.

“Is this really what you go through?” his voice is reedy, hoarse. All he can focus on is the boy inches away from his face.

Dan nods quietly. “Can be up to five times a day. Once it was twenty.”

He feels like crying. However much adrenaline there had been ripping through his veins had melted away; albeit only slightly, but the thought alone of this being a daily endeavor makes him want to physically remove his central nervous system himself. The thought of enduring such pain not only on a daily basis but multiple, only to emerge with a smile and with enough capacity to help others with the same issue-

Dan is an angel. 

He doesn’t deserve him, his mind cries. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s hyperventilating again.

“Fuck,” he curses, slowing his chest down. He remembers the candle and closes his eyes again.

“You’re doing great,” Dan whispers when his breathing softens. “You’ve only blown out about seven this time. You’re on your eighth.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, his heart melting into a puddle. As if he’d been counting.

“Ah,” Dan grins. “Maybe ninth, now.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, still trembling. He can’t tell if it’s temperature or panic-related anymore, but he doesn’t think he cares. He doesn’t have the capacity to right now.

“Come on,” Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wound tight around the waist as if there be no intention, no need to let go. “You’re okay.”

“How can you deal with that?” he says, not bothering to mask the crack in his voice.

“I have my ways,” he says as smoothly as his voice can allow, but Phil feels him gulp. Feels the quick jump of his throat against his shoulder.

The nausea returns.

::

“Ow, fuck-“ Dan snaps his fingers up from the drawer. “Bastard thing.”

“It wants your fingers more than I do,” Phil mumbles, then coughs on a mouthful of Mountain Dew.

Droplets fly everywhere.

"Phil!” Dan’s jaw drops when a few darken his trousers. He’s more than used to the other boy’s frequent laughter at his own jokes, but that one wasn’t even funny. “For fuck’s sake. So not only am I in pain, I’m wet too?”

“In pain and wet?” A voice pops up from around the corner, sending a jolt through the pair of them. “Phil, you naughty bastard, what have you been doing to the poor guy?”

“Oh, you f-“ Phil clutches his chest, his heart hammering. “Are you ever going to stop doing that? I had my first panic attack today. I don’t want another.”

“You’re saying that like it isn’t my plan,” Noah raises an eyebrow and slides past.

“Come in,” Phil gestures sarcastically.

“Leave your door open,’ he retaliates with equal sarcasm, blowing him a kiss. He plops himself down on the revolving chair and takes a token spin. He’s frowning on the other end of the 360 degrees, the other half of the sentence only just registering. “Shit, are you okay? What brought it on?”

“I am now,” Phil’s eyes flicker to the other company, mopping his trousers with a clump of tissue. “Dan got me through.”

He doesn’t deliberately avoid the latter question, but it’s certainly no accident.

“Candle trick works wonders, I’m telling you,” Dan says without turning around, still dabbing at the stain.

“It does,” Noah agrees, picking up Phil’s empty pen holder. He usually lasts a record of ten whole seconds in his room before finding something nearby to fiddle with. “It got me through the Death of a Salesman production, that’s for sure. Christ, I was a mess,” he shudders. “The four-seven-eight trick is good, too,” he adds.

“Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight,” the other boy echoes. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You press your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth, too.”

“Really?” Phil’s eyes dart between the pair of them. Is this something he’s going to have to get used to?

“It’s meant to recalibrate the nervous system. Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio uses it,” Noah adds.

“Wonder if it would have helped on the Titanic,” Phil raises an eyebrow.

“The fucking boat would have sank anyway,” Noah cackles. “The four-seven-eight is good, but it can’t demolish icebergs, babe.”

“It has its limits,” Dan adds, plopping the tissue in the bin and heading for the bed. A quick "you okay now?" is mouthed as soon as Noah takes another spin on the chair.

Phil nods and gives his hand a little squeeze, praying he hasn’t noticed the sweat.

“So,” Noah spins again, eyes to the ceiling, before muttering a “fuck that” and leaping up off the chair. He stumbles around for a handful of seconds, clutching the desk.  “What have you boys been up to, then?”

“What, since this afternoon?” Phil says. He’d only seen him about five hours ago.

“Yeah. Anything could have happened,” Noah replies, dizzily plonking himself down on the bed next to Dan with such force the shorter boy bobs upward. Phil splutters.

“That was- oh my god, that was adorable,” he gasps delightedly. “Do it again.”

Dan glares at him, fighting a smirk. “Shut up. No, don’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” Noah glances between them. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Did you not see that?” Phil widens his eyes. “Oh my god. When you bounce down like that,“ he giggles, ignoring Dan’s “no, shall we not” – “Dan’s like a feather, so he literally defies gravity.”

“Hah,” Noah springs upward and launches himself down with about three times the force as before. Dan catapults up, starfished in the air for about a second before hurtling down on the mattress.

Noah and Phil hoot with laughter. Dan’s doubled over in stitches, clutching his abdomen. He can feel tears of laughter brimming at his eyelashes and he probably looks in pain right now but really he’s anything but.

He’s so happy it hurts.

“Shit, he really does!” Noah shrieks. “Oh my god, that’s quality. You okay?”

Dan manages to breathe out an ‘I’m fine’, still clutching his stomach. “Holy shit,” he sighs when he gathers enough composure to speak. “’Memory foam’ my arse. The springs under that thing are giant.”

“Or you’re just tiny,” Phil gushes affectionately, combing a hand through Dan’s hair. The feeling of silky waves between every finger are enough to chase away any remaining claws of anxiety, any pegs to his stomach, if just for a moment.

Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just a product of an overactive mind. He’s been so wound up recently, what with looming examinations and deadlines and just about everything he could really do without so close to Christmas, that maybe it’s manifesting itself oddly.

Maybe.

He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He swallows the feeling down with another mouthful of beer, the bubbles foaming up like lather in his mouth.

“Shut up,” Dan glares at him, rearranging his fringe. “I’m not that short.”

“He’s mini,” Phil jumps back into conversation, as if Noah he can’t see for himself

“Short people deserve compensation for the amount of shit they go through,” Dan mutters, feigning grumpiness, but the shine in his eyes tell Phil it’s difficult to feel anything other than utter bliss.

“Ah, so you admit it!” Phil’s eyes match the light. “You are short.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan blushes, realizing what he’d insinuated.

“Don’t worry, Dan,” Noah chips in. “Phil’s been the same height since he was about twelve. I remember him in year seven,” he glances at the other boy. “You were terrifyingly tall. But then everyone else caught up.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there I was thinking I was some sort of superhuman. Twelve years of age and almost as tall as my dad. They used to call me Slenderman.”

“He looked like Mike TeeVee at the end of the film,” a giggle ripples through Noah.

“I can’t even imagine what he-” Dan frowns. “Mike who?”

Two jaws drop. Silence.

“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?!” Noah spits as if it be as outrageous an exclamation as never visiting Sainsbury’s.

Dan’s eyes dart to Phil, blue eyes wide.

“Not even the original?”

“No, I-…” his eyes flick between the two mirroring expressions. He huffs out a chuckle. “Is this really a big thing? Okay, well I’ve never seen Shrek, while we’re at it.”

A collective groan echoes through the walls.

“You’ve got to be fucking-“

“But it’s a-“

“Please tell me you’ve seen Star-“

“Not Wars, or Trek,” Dan cuts him off. “I don’t even know the difference between the two.”

“Dan, I-…” Noah cuts himself off with a sigh, staring at Phil. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“This is a crime,” Phil shakes his head. “This is actually outrageous.”

“If the most offensive thing I’ve done since arriving here has been not sitting through three hours of an ogre’s life, I’ll definitely take that.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Noah leaps up off the mattress, grabbing his laptop from the revolving chair. “It’s about six hour’s worth in total.”

“Seven-and-a-half if we count the spin-off,” Phil chips in.

“Do we have to?” Dan whines. “I’m sure I’ll love it, but with all due respect I can’t even sit through films I like sometimes.”

“Are you implying you’ll dislike this?” Phil puts a hand on his chest in mock-offence.

“I said I’m sure I’ll lov-“

“Could watch Star Trek,” a voice pipes up from under the bed. Noah’s folded over to one side, the rustling of a carrier bag apparent. He adds, “not Wars, I can’t stand- Phil stop giving me evils you shit, it’s just not as good.”

Phil’s glare toward his turned back turns into a grin. He knows him too well.

He re-emerges clutching a six-pack of bottled beer, tearing one out of the cardboard and dropping it into Phil’s lap.

“He’s talking shit,” Phil mutters.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dan smirks. “Star Trek is just Shrek with extra letters.”

“We’re gonna have to culture you up, Dan,” Noah shakes his head, thrusting a bag of popcorn almost the size of his torso in his general direction.

“God, you came prepared,” Phil notes. “It’s almost as if you knew we were both here.”

“I could hear you both from down the corridor,” Noah fires back, before adding “Plus you two are inseparable anyway. If I needed to find you, I’ll find you,” he points at Dan, then at Phil. “And vice-versa.”

Phil and Dan exchange glances. Do they really spend that much time together?

It’s difficult to calculate. They spend time apart, obviously. It’s not as if he’s sat in Maths with Dan pirouetting all over the place with a feather duster, but once are done and the final document has been closed; once the day’s duties are behind him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be found tearing from East wing to West; desperate to drop his workload and swap computer chairs for soft mattresses and lamplight.

They’re melting into each-other, and he can feel it.

 Noah smirks, and only says, “We’re performing Alice in Wonderland next week,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Have you seen that?”

-

Feedback is always appreciated literally HOW IS THIS pls let me know i haven't posted anything in years i love u all for reading thank u so much  

i spent a good 15 minutes attempting to calculate the total running time of the shrek franchise im crying the things i DO i hope its accurate

[neqtunes]

Can you share any Kandreil headcannons that are Christmas related? Like what do they get each other as gifts, who makes the food and who makes the eggnog and hot chocolate? Also after spending the morning opening presents what do they do afterwards? Thank you!

Kandreil Christmas? This is gonna be fun (and a bit long)

Apologies if this isn’t what you expected!

Timeline: December of 2019; their first Christmas together 

Kandreil Christmas can be chaotic at times, but can be fun at other times

Christmas time is coming and the funny thing is; they all never knew how to play in the snow, but they all knew damn well they hated it

The cold bothered them, that’s why they always stayed in doors other than grabbing food for themselves

What was also a pain in the ass were holiday photo shoots that they were signed to do - brief description; Andrew wearing a white ‘ugly,’ knitted sweater with black snowflakes; Neil wearing a plain red knitted sweater and Kevin in a green knitted sweater with some white designs of small snowmen. Knee high candy cane socks in a christmas backdrop 

It was exhausting, but they did have fun - they were all with each other

Neil was the first to ask if they should get a tree - which to his surprise, the next day he enters the living room facing a big ass tree on display along with an ornaments box

Kevin and Andrew come in with two more boxes; each of them carrying one

They get started on decorating the tree, it was peaceful

Until Kevin tripped on a wire that lit the whole tree up

Kevin fell right on his knees and since Neil was on a stepping stool trying to place the ornaments towards the top of the tree, the tree itself pushes him causing him to fall back onto the floor

Andrew being Andrew steps back and stares at the chaos

Andrew starts to open his mouth

“Don’t say a word.”

“I’m going to go make us some drinks.”

Kevin gets up first and gets the tree off of Neil before collecting the ornaments together

Neil mumbles something about his ass being broken

Kevin rolls his eyes and throws a plastic ornament at him

Neil glares, but nonetheless continues to decorate

Andrew enters the living room and gives them the drink he made - Eggnog for Kevin, and hot cocoa for Neil

Andrew doesn’t drink much, but he did steal some of Kevin’s drink as they continued to decorate the living room area - he was lazy to make another cup for himself

What surprised Kevin and Neil was when Andrew started putting gifts under the tree

“Some are from the others as well.”

You bet they all sat on the couch and watched all the Home Alone movies together on Christmas Eve and some of their other teammates did come to visit them 

Matt and Dan came and left quickly - they had a double date with Renee and Jean, but did want to greet their friends

They gave them bags filled with goodies - Ferrero Rocher, Lindor, candy canes and homemade sugar cookies

Andrew took out a candy cane from the bag and pops it into Neil’s hot chocolate he stole

Andrew gave the visitors a nod as a greeting

That night, they all fell asleep together with the sounds of each other breath

When they woke up, Kevin was the first to make his way downstairs after his morning routine 

He was use to getting up at an earlier time

He made himself pancakes to pass the time and because he was hungry

When Neil and Andrew finally made their way downstairs, they went straight to the tree

“Eat first.”

They didn’t listen to Kevin, but they did all stop right in front of the tree - they just froze at the sight of it

“What was Christmas like for all of you?” Neil asks them, before continuing, “I only ever stopped and saw trees at cafes on the run - I did try candy canes, but never have I ever had a tree sit in front of me, nor did I have special people with me.”

Andrew looks at Neil before taking a peppermint candy off the tree and pops it into his mouth

“Christmas was in and out of different places, but it was the time I dreaded. My ‘gifts,’ were not gifts to begin with.”

Neil and Kevin knew what Andrew was talking about

Andrew and Neil look back at the Kevin, before he started speaking

“Riko gave me gifts.” 

That was all he said before Kevin walks and grabs a Christmas wrapped gift that had his name bolded on it

He opens it up and it’s filled with scrunched up tissue paper and as he went to the bottom, he pulls out a book

“Dan helped me with this one,” Neil said, kneeling down to get a better look

Kevin opens it up and on the front page it said “From: Dan & Neil,” topped with a red heart that Kevin guessed Dan added

As he went through the book, he noticed that every one of the photos have him in them, and some photos that he didn’t even notice were taken

To add to his astonishment, small paragraph written beside the pictures

“I took some on my phone and stole some from Andrew.”

Kevin looks up, “Andrew takes pictures of me?”

Somehow Andrew had a mug of chocolate milk in his hands and sips from it obnoxiously

Kevin places the book back into the box with a good feeling in his stop and grabs a nearby gift before handing it up to andrew - who in response stares at it

“I don’t get gifts.”

“Too bad.” Neil taps the box. “Its from Kevin and I.”

Andrew grabs it, quite heavy and opens it to reveal a huge unopened box, wrapped in plastic wrap

It was all the Shakespeare books with new covers that just released

Andrew stares at it

“We didn’t know what to get you, but since you like reading and we know you already read them-”

Andrew cuts Neil off, “I like them.”

Neil and Kevin tried their best to suppress a smile as Andrew bends and grabs a wrapped up small box on the floor

Andrew hands it to Neil who was about to drop it on the spot, not expecting it to be that heavy

As Neil opens it, his eyes go wide

He opens the little box so fast, he was afraid he’d drop it

In the corner of his eyes, he can see Kevins slight grin - still sitting on the floor - and Andrews amused expression

The new iPhone 11 in the palm of his hands

“I don’t use iPhones, I still have the six that Allison gave me.”

Andrew tried not to roll his eyes, but instead starts to tongued the inside of his mouth

“Andrew and I put some setups on the phone - it may be hard to use, but you’ll get the hang of the no earphone jack and home button.”

Neil sits on the couch, staring at both the boys and smiles a genuine smile, “thank you.”

Kevin nods at Neil and Andrew coughs loudly before he quickly picks up all the wrapping paper to throw away - Kevin joining him

Neil just looked so happy, it was hard for them to utter any words

For the rest of the day, they stayed inside with movies going on repeat and eating up all the gifts that were sent to them - most of it being candy

Neil testing out his new iPhone

Andrew rereading a shakespeare book with a fancy cover

Kevin going through the album again

Everything was peaceful

They didn’t expect to be here with each other and never did they expect to have a Merry Christmas