#and i think i made an offhanded joke about each of them like 'and naturally they got betrayed'

[icharchivist]

It just kinda hit me but, can’t we say that the Spring Troupe, thematically wise, can be defined by the instances of betrayal?

Like it can perhaps be a bit of a reach for a few of them but i feel like there’s a possible reading there, especially in the sense of how it stunned their ability to trust and open up with others and that it’s especially on this level that opening up to their troupe is changing them around.

We have the obvious ones in the characters of Itaru, Citron and Chikage especially but i���m extending it to everyone.

Sakuya’s situation can be read as being constantly betrayed by relatives. Sakuya spent his childhood setting up some expectations for how the family dynamic should go, always pushing back limits (”if i do the chores and don’t make a noise and don’t bother anyone maybe i’ll be loved”), and in that sense, his relatives had constantly been betraying those expectations and constantly instead pushed him further away. It might sound like a reach but i think it’s a possible reading for the general vibe. Sakuya’s yearning for a family and general fear of being replaced steam directly from this attitude from his family.

Masumi meanwhile had two experience of feeling betrayed by his father. One that he mentions, over how his father was basically the reason Masumi didn’t feel like he could open up to people, as he would sue anyone who would even accidentally hurt Masumi, which worked to isolate him. The second time is when he basically tries to take him away from Mankai at all cost and does similar threats. Masumi’s whole attachment issues, difficulties to open up, the way he keeps his distances with everyone and only really change his perception AFTER the company basically challenged his father, supports this reading as well. It sets up Masumi’s difficulties within his troupes as steaming directly from this specific experience with his father, and i’ll even say that his attachment to Izumi also steams from it. 

Tsuzuru can be in general one of those i’d consider a possible reach, but also would assume would work with his general thematic. Mizuno’s parents forcing the two apart seemingly overnight, basically not even leaving them an opportunity to talk about it so much so that Mizuno carried the guilt of feeling like he had betrayed Tsuzuru for it and that Tsuzuru might hate him, would align itself to this possible reading. I’ll include also, though it’s a vague memory so i might be wrong, the fact i think Tsuzuru has a bit of resentment for his travelling older brother for basically having left all his responsibilities on Tsuzuru’s shoulders, constantly forcing Tsuzuru in situations where he had to chose between his own dreams and being the responsible older brother of the house.  Tsuzuru’s issues in general steam from his responsibilities as an older brother and this loss he keeps trying to fix in his mind, and the fact there are some people that can be held responsible for it befalling him can make a case for it being a sort of betraying. Though, this is probably a reach.

In the sense it’s also ironical i would say the younger ones are the ones where it all feel like a possible reach, while the adults have a much more clear and textual approach to it. In a sense it can also be a way to showcase the difficulty of accepting this type of situation when you’re younger, the barging side of it all.

once again, covering my tracks here, i can understand it being a reach up until that point now when talking about the adults, which to me, have a clear storyline linked specifically to thematic of betrayal.

Itaru was betrayed by Tonooka, he textually refers to it as a betrayal and is the most upfront about saying he could never trust again after what happened, and that meeting the Spring Troupe is what tested this trust again. He, textually, voices this thematic when he mentions that maybe now he can trust again in the first Spring chapter, or in the Alex in Wonderland chap where he specifically tries to open up about it in the sense of showing off this trust, before we finally learn about the whole deal i mean. And if we want to keep it in the family as all the others have those feelings of betrayal possibly rooted in family situations, the whole fact his sister pushed on him to be some princely prince to hide his true self possibly can also feel as such, especially since it ended up being the groundwork to the Tonooka situation, but on this it becomes a reach while Tonooka is basically Right Here for this specific point.

Citron meanwhile is constantly aware that two of his brothers, and all the people supporting them, are always plotting to betray him. It’s something he has to thread around at ALL TIME, it’s always at the back of his mind. As such he tends to keep an open eye to his surrounding and being hyperaware, which also means he tends to catch everyone’s troubles more easily. Citron never really let his guard down and doesn’t share anything about his past until he’s forced to because of how this situation damaged his ability to trust, not especially out of thinking everyone is a possible enemy, but out of being aware that anyone in the known would be in danger for just this fact. In a sense, it’s like the knife of betrayal is always hanging behind his back and he’s always aware of it in some shape or form.

Chikage meanwhile has this thematic pushed to the extreme because of his role in the story, as an antagonist and with the way his more extremely “violent” background pushes the level of betrayals to another extreme. He felt betrayed by Hisoka, had to have a whole arc before realizing he was being misled, and then turned his perception of it around by feeling like he was the one who has done the betraying. (”the one who was betrayed by his brother was you by my own hand” thing). And with this perception shifting, all of Mankai becme, to Chikage’s eyes, also victims to his betrayal (compared to how he could have only seen them as tools, a mean for an end before this perception shift). And on top of that, while he is bargaining with this whole situation in Mankai, he still knows someone betrayed them in the organization, he’s still constantly aware that his greatest loss comes from betrayal, Hisoka was just not the one who comited it, but someone betrayed them and it’s still something Chikage has to cope with, in a more direct way since the threat is still hanging and is an actual, physical danger to everyone he loves.

In a sense, Chikage extends the thematic further in a way that, if we accept this as a thematic of Spring, adds another layer to their dynamic. In the same way that, say, Guy entering the Winter Troupe ends up being, in a way, a test to see how each of Winter members have managed to work through their specific trauma (ex: Homare’s broken cyborg plotline, Hisoka’s amnesia, and how all of it relates to Guy), the fact Chikage is set to betray them, and still feels like he betrayed them, tests the whole of Spring with the way to test out the way they learned to trust again and managed to look past the betrayals they’ve been through and have had to work on.

Like i’m still a bit hesitant about really putting it as a possible thematic because of how up-to-interpretation/reaching the situations are for the teens, but as it is i would say it would actually make a lot of sense narrativewise to read it as such.

And perhaps even so since their general thematic is one of family. If we stop at just, they’re from broken family and are yearning for a full one, it’s true, but i feel it can feel a little incomplete. Adding the betrayal aspect brings the aspect of how nurture, which is usually more associated to family, is the best way to take care of a healing wound such as this one.  Because there’s an aspect of family being an unconditional love (at least for family you make yourself), founded on unconditional trust. The fact all of them have trust issues in some shape or form therefore make their yearning for family, for the unconditional version of it, to be a way to further mend their broken hearts.

But reading in the specific betrayal aspect can not only in general point out the origin of the hurt, but explain also how heavily Chikage’s storyline is a way to test the rest of Spring (and Chikage himself), by being the most extreme version of betrayal and how hard it is to gain trust back after such a betrayal, both from Chikage’s storyline exploring both sides of a betrayal situation, and on how Spring has to work through it using what they had learnt.

And there are others characters in the franchise that can be associated to betrayal plotlines in general (i think Omi and Hisoka for instance falls under this theme as well), but even in the vaguest reach possible i feel like Spring has it being a more solid possibility in general.

Anyway, just kinda musing about it all but i think it’s an interesting angle to explore.

[hisuian-history-makers]

Infi-Map to Anywhere, Anywhen, and... Anywho?

—For the record, Danny and Sam wanted to say this was all Tucker’s fault. He just had to make a joke about them facing Phantoms of the Past.

While handing the Infi-Map back to Frostbite.

———————————————————————

They didn't expect it to react to a joke.

Once Mayor Fruit-Loop was iced, Tucker said something offhand about them being fully-fledged time travelers. The three had gone to a really dark future and now the distant past.

(Jazz kept saying he deflected by making jokes about what he went through.)

Phantoms of the Past. He couldn’t have said ghosts noooooo—it had to be the hero name.

Now they were in a castle that resembled Pariah’s Keep albeit wintery, with a Dan-looking Danny who had the Crown of Fire on his head.

Several Dannys, Sams, and Tuckers joined them on the castle grounds. There were a few other people that got dragged along but Danny was trying not to hyperventilate into fainting. A handful of his alternates(?) chatted with Dans.

Two versions didn’t even seem to be human! It hurt his brain looking at them. Alarmingly, a majority of the Dannys had the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage. The kingly outfits kinda hinted at why they even had those artifacts.

He swore he saw DC comic book characters alongside several alternates. Danny had trouble keeping track with so many people here.

—

Sam and Tucker weren’t doing much better.

Several versions appeared more ghostly than normal. They explained what being Liminal and having ecto-contamination meant. Like being a quarter ghost rather than the half Danny was.

Various Sams were part plant. The Tuckers had kept the odd past life abilities although their strength in them varied between timelines.

Danis, a majority who went by Ellie/Elle, made references to them being in a relationship with each other! Not just Sam dating Danny, Tucker dating Danny, them dating each other, but the three dating altogether! Each corresponding Jazzes tried to explain how preferences were pretty fluid amongst different timelines. So they shouldn’t think about it too hard.

To make matters more heartbreaking. The Dan-looking Danny who ruled as a King seemed pretty overjoyed despite the chaos. As it turned out—for him, the Zones natural portals shut off so it could focus on healing. Leaving him forced to be alone without his family indefinitely.

He had tried to leave. To open new portals.

(It never worked... His throne was hollow.)

This left Danny feeling unnerved because the possibility of being crowned Ghost King was pretty strong. That or being caught by the GIW and experimented on. His future sucked...

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

[Otherwise Canon! Danny, Sam, and Tucker meet some of the AU versions. Takes place in “Infinite Realms.” Infi-Map might be able to take them to someone specific. Anywhere, anywhen, anywho. Just say the name.]

Edit: Why is this my most popular post so far?

Edit 2: Seriously, why did this become my most popular post? In just a single freaking week! I posted this as a joke! A well thought out joke but a joke nonetheless.

Edit 3: It went past two hundred notes!

[instantartific]

Yo, May I Ask If You Could Share Your Neonnova Ships? If You Don't Mind Of Course.

ও || NEONNOVA SHIP HEADCANONS / SCENARIOS

Appreciate the reason to ramble about my favorite middle-aged men, we love to see it.

This is a bit all over the place but I have quite a few thoughts about them, so! Hope you enjoy~

✧

Upon their first meeting, they nearly got into a "civil battle" as Neon insisted on phrasing it. This is because Nova very wrongly assumed that Neon was just "some robot Tatiana let into the lobby." Tatiana then had to have Neon stand down for the battle to end.

Neon always sits closer to Tatiana's end of the table at meetings yet sits facing the doorway (unless he's currently being spoken to.) This means he's sitting facing Nova's direction about 80% of the time. This would normally be fine as cream and wine if Nova was not mortally aware of the quiet pinging of a radar locking onto him in particular every so often.

They gradually ended up on better terms throughout working together over the years. This started as offhanded comments back and forth made across the table during meetings (usually one of them throwing an 'innocent' comment or joke at the other) and evolved into actual civil conversations whenever one could catch the other passing by.

They ended up spending more time together outside of work due to Neon discovering Nova's work on the NSR satellite. While... very confidently unaware of Nova's real intentions with it, all Neon could see is that the blueprints were developed in a, frankly, incredibly inefficient manner. And, frankly, he will not stand by while machinery like that is being set up for failure by a damn physicist that's never touched a wrench in his life. Nova was not a fan of this arrangement at first and yet Neon refused to let him live without "taking a crack" at the blueprints himself.

These little meet-ups grew into them realizing they have more in common than they initially thought. It turned out that both parties being a tad snooty led to some unnecessary disagreements. After long enough they'd initially meet at Barraca to work, but... let's be honest. Neither of them got anything done.

They ended up falling for one another at around the same speed. Neon was aware of it and allowed his feelings to naturally progress until he was absolutely sure of them. Nova couldn't make sense of them whatsoever and outright refused to allow that be the case.

The only way either of them ends up finally confessing is due to a misunderstanding. Neon would want to confess first but he'd want to let the other person take their time once he's absolutely sure of it. And Nova would likely outright refuse to believe that Neon could have anything for him that's more than their friendship (and at times he even doubts that) and Neon tells him to his orb that he's completely and utterly wrong. "You really think I don't care about you? Where did you even get that idea??" wrong.

Bonus little headcanons of them together for fun:

1010 joked about it in increasing amounts the more and more time they spent around each other. Neon usually paid it no mind or even laughed at them. Nova either considered himself more dignified than that or was utterly mortified at first but gradually gave in.

Neon puts his absolute heart and soul into DDR. He has tried to get Nova to play along. They both discovered that Nova's stamina nor footwork is all that great, actually.

Any time Neon has music playing around Barraca and Nova is in the vicinity, it is guaranteed Nova is getting swept up into the dance, no matter what it is. Neon slows down for him, of course.

Nova will occasionally, with full intention in mind, brush his hand against the back of Neon's head. Given his head is a radar, when it comes in direct contact with a person, it tends to amplify its signal. For Neon every one of his senses gets squared. Nova will chuckle at his very "dramatized reactions" to this.

1010 regularly run through training to keep themselves in tip-top shape. Aka they spar with each other for fun and Neon spectates. Nova was invited to join in spectating this and the two take bets. Nova's only ever won the bets once.

The first time Neon sees Nova's head in full color via one of his cameras, he stops everything he's doing to just... sit back and admire him.

Nova finds Neon's entire bodily autonomy incredibly fascinating and on several occasions asked to see his blueprints simply to study them. And ask questions as to how he can help the next time Neon needs anything fixed or replaced.

Neon is pretty known for making his incredibly childish and less-than-PG jokes and innuendos from time to time. While Nova was still figuring out what these strange feelings are, these jokes drove him batshit insane.

[winstonhenderson]

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖.

𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓐 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓭 𝓐𝓷𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

George’s Notes

We were in India. Another place. Far from home. Enjoying meditation. Having fun. 

This was my passion! In 1966. I brought the sitar and Julia loved it! Or John. Whatever. She used it in her “Norwegian Wood”. I always liked to talk about Ravi to them whenever I got the chance and all of them knew how much I liked Indian culture. So this getaway to our “ideological savior” seemed like a great way to relax ourselves. And for me, a great way to attract the writing pair’s attention! They always put Ringo and me down, even when they don’t necessarily mean it.

But the most important thing to me is that we all cleared our heads. Ritch left first. I felt sad, he and I hang out a lot, so the fact of him leaving first hit hard. Also, I understood why he did, he had bad allergies and the food here was upsetting for him. 

The two that were left gave me a hard time, each in their own way. They talked to each other from time to time. Haven’t seen them talk normally for a while. Paul would be prissy and make stupid comments, while John was unbearlably fucking around with the idea of the religion. Paul was a bit too conservative for this so he left next. He tried out all the things this place had to offer, and I must say, maybe he explored this place the best. Linda was fine too… She is a nice gal. Like Cynthia, who I had the biggest crush on for a very long time. She fit in fine, and only seemed to care about two things; relaxing and John. John decided to stay however long I wanted to stay. Of course, we are quite similar, she was starry eyed too. Pattie and I had a lot of fun together, just hanging about and talking about the most basic stuff. It became a lot quieter since Paul left. John made some jokes but her-or his-or goddamn it, I’ve known this for six years and still can’t get it right! John’s attention was elsewhere. 

What I didn’t expect was that Cynthia and Pattie became close and started to hang out on their own leaving us two behind. This was the chance to sell to John my idea for songs. Although, John looked more spaced out than usual. Offhanded comments here and there. Something about the sun, or nature, or the feel of the wind. John got poetic fast. And now, John and I are sitting here, on the beach. “Geo, do you really believe this small guru?”, oh… This is serious. It’s not really John when it’s serious.

“Yes, why?”

“Hum.”, she took a biscuit.

“Julia, why do you say that?”

“I think he is doing some fraudulent activities. Paul found something while he was scavenging.”

“And you still trust Paul?”, oh no, she is mad. Or no… Dissapointed.

She chuckled.

“Geo, he is still my songwriting partner. And here you are.”

She handed me the paper. It had a complete description of some customers' orders and the amount they charge. There was the order and then a tipping mechanism where they took 50% from people.

“I felt like Maharishi was a good little guru. Always setting up people. Making you bite.”, what the fuck are you saying Lennon!

“Me? We all bit it!”

“You bit it first.”

“Lord, Jules… Could be fake for all I know, or could be I dunno repurposed.”

“George. I’m not exaggerating aaaaand I’m not letting you spend any more money on this SCUM.”

“I know how to handle money! Sometimes better than you! Always better than John!”

“You don’t involve John in this! This is about you!”, Julia.

“Jules, I am not that fifteen year old anymore! I’m twenty five! I can make the right decisions on my own!”

Julia was distraught. But I told her the truth!

“Look, I know you are responsible, sometimes even more responsible than I am, but you are naive! You think everything can be resolved-”

“OF COURSE IT CAN! Julia, you could’ve made it known at any moment that you are a woman and it wouldn’t matter! We are on the toppermost of the poppermost Jules! You wanted to be there, remember!”, think woman, think!

Julia got angry, but not Julia angry but John angry, which was much scarier.

“We are there because people presume we are all men! And you never know what problems would arise should I do that! What if I put myself in danger? No, you in danger! I still don’t know why we’re on top. I know people dislike some of our music and want to see us fail! Half of the time I think our music is pure shite that won’t last a fucking day after if we hadn’t had such good marketing!”

“You must really hate yourself, Julia, if this trip couldn’t get you out of your mindset.”

“Georgie. Was it ever a secret?”, Jules laughed.

That woman drives me insane. I… This whole trip, the reason John was spaced out was because Julia was monitoring what I do! Lord, John or Jules always kept tabs on me! And I wonder how sometimes I could be lucky that Brian didn’t find out something or that Paul didn’t shout at me. Julia had my back! 

“Jules! You should let me fight for myself! Goddamn it! Fuck you! I… Can’t stand you sometimes. I can’t stand that you…”

Push me and want me to write more, sing more, play more? Then as John put me down and snuff out my confidence.

“I cannot let you fuck yourself up because of some unimprotant man and his cult! I can’t let anyone scream at you because of something stupid that happened. George, I do that for Ritch also, though Ritch doesn’t get into sticky situations that much.”

“Stop helping me in the worst possible way. I have to face the consequences! I have to see it for myself.”

“But what if you never figure it out?”, Julia hugged me, “What if you continue believing in your delusion and it costs you everything?”

“JULIA, that is the thing I’M TRYING TO TELL YOU!”, I hugged her.

“What?”

“You have to stop! Paul gave up on you. He married Linda, because he couldn’t marry you! You destroy yourself with drugs. You drift away more often.”

She was speechless.

“You hurt Cynthia, Ritch and I as John because of the stress and misuse of drugs! You are not yourself anymore.”

“You can’t say that you don’t use drugs too…”

“I don’t use them as much as you do. Our mommy’s death broke us. It broke you two the most.”

“Shut up, George.”

And here is John.

“John is becoming his own thing and I don’t think you can even see when you are the one or the-”

“JOHN ISN’T A REAL PERSON!”, he covered his mouth.

“He isn’t a person, he is just a device, an idea!”, he flailed his hands around.

“I can do everything and I don’t need your stupid advice. I came here to tell you and try to get you out of this cult, not to be lectured by some pussy.”

I sighed.

“George, I am going. Enjoy the view. I cannot anymore. I don’t even see properly without me glasses, so what did I even see in this place? Don’t think I didn’t get hopeful when I got here! I did. I was hopeful I would relax. I didn’t. I was scared half of the time someone would fuck up and with any interaction with Paul and other half of the time I was questioning this place. I am restless, and suppose I will be, for the rest of my life.”

“John, I told you what I meant. I am direct. Unlike you, just like Julia. I cannot watch you suffer any longer! I can’t watch people around me suffer! Just think about it! Just think!”

“I feel. I have to feel it’s right.”, John looked at me with teary eyes. Never seen Julia cry as John.

“Alright… I didn’t want to make you cry… Now it looks weird because you are still in that John getup of yours.”

Julia laughed.

“Getup, haha! Geo, you are getting more creative by the day.”

Julia lit up.

“Okay, if you want me to relax so much, I have an idea, juuuust look away for a… Couple of minutes.”

“Oh no, I have encouraged Julia Victoria Lennon to do something.”

She smiled and I turned away. I heard the sound of clothes moving around. Then bandages being taken down. Maybe even a hair tie being let down.

“Turn around!”

Oh, now it’s just Julia.

“Ta-da! Now I can relax.”, she spread herself on the sand.

“Wait- Don’t relax too much! I want to tell you about my songs!”

“Alright, Geo, what do you have in mind?”

I told her every minute detail about the songs I wrote. She listened to me! Yay! And she even approved some! And gave me some tips and tricks to work on my songs. It was really such a nice session of writing. I missed when she would give me some song attention instead of treating me like a little kid who can barely write and play.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!”, Julia scratched my head, “Baby George!”

“Augh, I thought you said you’ll stop calling me that!”

“Well, John said that, I didn’t.”

“You can’t get away with this!”

She calmed down.

“But seriously, continue working on this, it will sound better and better. Maybe I could get Paul to approve it-”

“No, I’ll show it to him just like I’ve shown you! Don’t do anything Lennon, I beg of ya!”

“I won’t then.”, she wistfully smiled.

You could sense the feeling of satisfaction coming from her.

“Maybe you aren’t so fragile and small like you were Georgie. But enough about that, I’m going for a swim!”

“Not without me!”

We jumped into the ocean and played around. Julia loved to swim, she was fast on foot, and she was a fast swimmer. She swam almost half a kilometer away in just 12 minutes. How does she do that with our clunky clothes? I followed her but I didn't like the chance of getting an ache and I went back to the shore. I was happy for her. This is the first time she looked naturally relaxed during this entire trip! She swam back after 20 minutes.

“I wonder how you can swim so far and not get scared? Or any aches?”

“I got aches. I just ignore them and paddle my way back, simple as that!”

“You are so weird sometimes!”, I chuckled, “And capable!”

“Um, that’s my job as your leader, dummy!”, she knocked my head.

I laughed.

“I wish I could relax like this everyday!”

“Well, that isn’t happening. But, I have a mystery to debunk, and that is Maharishi’s history. I’ll have fun.”

“You are still on about what Paul said? How about you stop thinking about him and just think about hm…”

“No, I’m doing more as a fuck you to cultists then because of Paul. I’m angry at Paul. I’m miserable because of him.”

“Glad you understand basic human emotions.”

She giggled.

“Okay, Harrison. Tell ya if I find more evidence, but knowing these kinds of trickster buggers, you won't be waiting much!”

The sun was setting and we were gazing at the view. Until I heard some movement in the trees.

“Where did we end up? Are you sure both of them are here! Oh, look, there is George!”, Pattie! Darling!

“Come here! Missed you so much!”, I hugged her.

“Where’s John?”, Cynthia wondered. 

Oh my Lord, where is Julia?

“Um, I dunno, he was just here with me.”

I searched with my eyes and found Julia hiding behind a rock all panic ridden.

“Why are there bandages on the floor?”, Pattie asked.

Cynthia realized what had happened.

“Just some trash we encountered, how awfully dirty the tourists here must be!”

“I’ll then find a rubbish bin suitable for them.”, Cynthia, thank you for taking care of John. I’m glad Julia chose to be with you and pretend than anyone else.

Julia looked at me. Her look was basically telling me: “What do we do? Should I go out or not? No, tell them to leave! Give Cynthia a sign to make them leave. I don’t want anyone else finding out.”

I scoffed.

“Where did you scoff at.”, Pattie said, “At that rock!”

Julia came out with her hands crossed.

Cyn was shocked but relieved to see her. She was waiting for what Julia would do.

“OH, it’s John, see Cyn we found him! Though I must say you look more frail than usual.”

“What can I say? This sun eats ya!”

We chuckled.

“And I had to see what Cyn’s relief looked like. Never expected such a big reaction from ya.”

“How can I not react that way when I love you so much!”, she ran towards Julia and hugged her as hard as possible, “I was already thinking I had to call the search party to search all over!”

“Don’t worry Cyn, I can handle a little labyrinth!”

“I don’t think so!”

“Alriiight.”, Julia sighed, smiling.

“Glad we are all here then! Let’s all go back together to our houses!”, Pattie was happy.

“Nah, I’d like to stay here a bit longer with Cyn.”, Julia disappointed me yet again.

“Oh- Oh, well have fun!”, Pattie waved them goodbye and I took her hand.

I sent another look to Julia. It meant “When are you going to stop lying!”

I figured Cyn helped Julia get bandaged up, because it was going to be dinner time soon. The rest of the day went normally. And the rest of the vacation was great, though it was cut short because of John’s investigation! He found out that Maharishi is a fraud, and really a fraud! So I dug deeper, and found the same, with more evidence! We united the evidence and presented it to the man, who said we were exaggerating and not understanding what it said!

“Look, you can’t deny your eyes and there are two of us claiming this against you! You lied to me!”, I began, “You lied to me that money wasn’t that important!”

“Well, I didn’t say that it was not necessary, you got to make a living!”

“By scamming others, not such a little good guru afterall! With this kind of behavior, I would’ve thought you would also pay flying carpet lessons!”

Maharishi chuckled.

“You know, this proves you’ll be absolutely the same as before if you leave. You, Lennon, have something to hide. Always look like that. You think you are clever, but you are not. You are empty, surrounded by enlightening remarks. But what is their purpose, you don’t know. For you, George Harrison, you will still be that insecure and childish egoist I met. Direct and naive; curious too. No wonder you dragged the whole group of you to-”

John was angry.

“You are not going to talk that way about us UNLESS I say what I think about you first! You are a snide, privacy breaking, yellow bellied, ass licking, greedy son of a bitch who likes to think he is so high and mighty! So it is just right to take away people’s hard earned cash like that!”

“The Beatles are basically the same thing!”

“We make good music.”, John replied.

“And we make good points? Explain the difference, Lennon, explain it! Oh, and haven’t seen this much emotion from you during your whole stay, I’m glad-”

“Because I didn’t get mad!”

“I’ll answer instead. We follow the regulations. We are not some other outside organization. We aren’t money grubbing. Maybe our producers are. And I know we will fix that when we find some inconsistencies.”, I jumped in to help.

“Maybe we are materialistic, but we aren’t putting other people in DEBT you whore! I checked multiple times.”, John continued.

“To check isn’t in character for John Lennon.”, Maharishi chuckled.

“It is if I think so. I don’t con people.”, John answered feeling confused on why Maharishi would say that. Then the guru scammer smiled.

“I’ll figure you out, Lennon. You have something to hide.”

John chuckled, “To hide is to survive? Isn’t that the principle of not getting caught in your scam?”

Maharishi got serious.

“You are feeling guilty of your scamming and blaming others, meanwhile I don’t have anything to declare.”, John stated with confidence.

“I know a deviant when I see them.”

“Oh, and now it’s John’s fault I have turned against you, isn’t it!”, I figured it out, “Trying to blame him for my complaint!”

Maharishi looked at me with some kind of disgust.

“Of course. Of course, we are leaving now. This instant.”, I got mad.

“Don’t go mad Georgie, this mister right here can use it against ya. You have to be relaxed and fulfilled, like he said. That’s how you get happiness, right?”, John joked.

I chuckled and calmed down.

“Yer right.”

“Well, mister, we loved the island and all, but you're a fraud and we have to go!”, John waved him goodbye and I followed. Maharishi pulled me back.

“Mr. Harrison, don’t listen to him!”, he told me, “He is a deviant, a snake, presenting himself as he isn’t!”

“And why would I not? He is one the lads! And you are the snake here.”

“No, no, that’s not a “lad” as you say, not a traditional lad, that’s a hijra.”

“A what now?”

“A… neither male nor female.”

I looked at him blankly. So he figured out the twin tale?

“You cannot trust someone who doesn’t know what they are. And this person, this “John Lennon” as they call itself, is absolutely not trustworthy. Always joking around, always monitoring you, always making inappropriate and underhanded comments. You want freedom and expression right?”

Lord, this slimy motherfucker.

“John is still one of my best friends and pals. You can’t make me stay here any longer. You just made me more angry and volatile. And you accuse John of such heinous acts with no evidence to support it.”

I began walking away towards John, who was packing with Cynthia and Pattie.

“Oh, I understand now. You know of Lennon’s decadency even before I even tell you! Both of you are flawed, go then! I don’t need a place for rude and deviant people like you!”

“Oh, where’s the “we welcome everyone to our family!” or “we are happy to accept any LOST soul”.”, John argued.

Maharishi smiled and walked up to John. He said something to him that made him shiver. Still John behaved cocky and said,

“Oh, I promise I’ll do that. For the chance to piss you off, I’ll continue doing that for as long as I want to!”

We boarded the boat. I looked at John perplexed. 

“What happened for us to go earlier?”, Pattie wondered.

“John, what did you do?”, Cyn asked.

“Absolutely nothing that deserved that kind of send off! Accusing me of deviancy just because George and I handed in some damning evidence that Maharishi scams people!”

“That’s… Fun.”, Cynthia sighed, “Well, at least we’re in one piece and haven’t been held up by that con artist in any other way.”

“You are so smart, Cyn.”, John chuckled, “Yer right as ever.”

John proceeded to kiss her. Before that he gave her a small, not really noticeable sign. He always warned Cyn before kissing her. But I never really noticed Cyn tensing up before the act.

I kissed Pattie as well and whispered in her ear:

“I’m glad this hellish discussion is over and you have absolutely nothing to do with it!”

“I’m glad you’re okay, George.”

Pattie looked at Cynthia and John, “Let’s go inside, it’s getting a bit chilly in here.”

“Wait for us two inside then, I have to talk to John about this shit in private.”

The wives giggled.

“Alright then, George, we’ll be inside. If you need any advice or a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find us!”

“Pattie, sometimes you could be so funny!”, my sweet Pattie.

“And not always? The insolence of this young man! We are going inside, pronto!”, Cynthia pulled Pattie with her.

John rolled his eyes while chuckling.

“No wonder Cyn is my best female friend.”

“Well, a wife is a best friend too.”, I joked.

There was a small pause. We looked at the ocean and the waves splashing in the sun. 

“John, what did that son of a bitch tell you?”

“There is something called a hijra in Indian or Southeastern culture. It is a person in drag, a person who identifies as the opposite gender… He told me that he figured out I was in drag. He told me I can’t keep it together and remain normal if I ever was. He told me I corrupted you… He told me I will drag the entire band into ruin. And even if I told everyone the truth that I would make everything the Beatles did worthless and meaningless.”

“What a freak!”, I couldn’t believe it. Maharishi was today very awful towards us, especially towards John. Was he always a bit more awful to women? Now that I think about it, he didn’t talk that much with our wives. He focused on us four. What a scammer.

“I know that, but it does send shivers down my spine, y’know.”

“I’m just happy we had fun and we’re going home, Jules.”, ahh, fuck this man.

“Yeah, I’m happy too. Let’s go inside, Geo.”

“Yeah. Thanks for looking out for me… But please don’t do it as much anymore, Julia.”

“I’ll try not to. And… Perhaps, baby George is right about some things.”

I think some things are going to change in the Beatles and I hope for the better. The most important thing is that I have proven that I’m not a child anymore - I’m an adult who speaks his mind and deserves to be listened to. Perhaps, they will put more songs on the next album… Can’t wait to work with Ritch again…

Rest of Sacrifame

[swearyshera]

Advance apology for the long ask in a likely sea of 'em. A lot of people talk about wishing they could experience something they love again for the first time, this series was genuinely as close to that as I've ever felt. Just given the span of time my attention flucuated on and off but once the latter half of s4/s5 began my attention was absolutely nailed to your feed. Its up with Dragon Ball Z Abridged as parody series that become so dramatically effective they become a valid or definitive way to experience the series. Goddamned sensational.

Your portrayals of the characters soar. They provide a hilarious, cruder take on each that still cuts right to the soul of who these people are and lays it bare, which I think is the mission of any good-natured parody. Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Scorpia, Bow, Prime etc. There is not one that does not shine. It tackled a ton of issues and misgivings I had about canon, and even elevated or clarified many scenes and arcs through addressing them a more direct fashion. You took full advantage of not having to dress up and dance around the dark subjects canon was sort of doomed to handle inadequately given its age bracket and thematic priorities. Many scenes were jawdropping. Ive raved about it before, but your scene with Glimmer actually talking about her mom with Catra still leaves me gobsmacked every time I reread it. Your big moments towards the finale btwn Adora and Catra are obviously sublime and tie their wonderful arc off fantastically, but in my heart of hearts that cell talk will be the crown jewel of this project. Loved seeing the LGBT message take center stage in way canon had to hold back. To paraphrase Tolkien, I'm can't count myself among those gifted people, and youve def got a target audience in mind, but if youve ever worried if your stories resonate on a quote unquote "more universal" level, I promise you can put those worries to bed. Since becoming an adult ive intentionally sought out more and more queer-inclusive/created stories and I havent regretted it a bit, and the rising tide of fascist sexist/homo/transphobic bile in politics gets more and more frightening. But I've also seen how strong and resilient LGBT people are in the face of it, empowering themselves in no small part thru stories like yours. Please don't ever give up on your art. The world needs artists like you. Sorry if I come off pretentious or condescending, I feel like that when I try to get everything I think out at once. I'll be among the first to come running if you ever start another project like this or make something on an even grander scale. Thank you a thousand times for this. Also writing a wholeass sitcom pilot based on an offhand quasi-joke I made is the most weirdly touching thing I think anyones ever done "for me" (at least nominally cuz of me), especially a stranger. So thank you for that too.

Aw, you'll make me cry, you know! I think you've understood everything I wanted to do with this strip (or at least, when I started thinking beyond just 'characters saying fuck'), and... yeah, it's been an incredible journey, both for the blog and for me personally.

I've always tried to keep the parody good-natured. You can often tell, particularly in parody, when the creator dislikes one particular character (I mean, Horde Prime was probably the exception here), but I love all of them, so it really comes from a place of love. It's quite odd because I never set out to "fix" the show, and I wouldn't want to, but some things I've done seem to have had such an impact that a lot of people think I have done just that.

The Glimmer/Catra conversation is absolutely one of my favourite things I've written from this. It's such a pivotal moment in both their stories and character development, and I am truly humbled that multiple people have called it 'better than canon'. Like... I'm just some person trying to be funny and occasionally serious, and people are saying something I wrote is better than what a team of experienced professional writers did? Give over, no... But it's still a moment I can be proud of.

I won't be stopping writing things. This whole blog has given me a new lease of life and something to aim towards. I've got an excellent pilot script pretty much finished, and I do want to bring Hellspawn up to that standard too (thank you for suggesting someone make a Sweary Frosta sitcom - I'm someone!). That may well involve a complete re-write, but I'll be sure to share it.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your kind words along the way. It really keeps me going :)

[crowzwrites]

McCoy/Kirk

ao3

content warning: Sex

words: 870

writing under the cut.

McCoy doesn’t know how they ended up here but somehow they did. Everything had happened very quickly and neither he or Kirk had time to think, to put it simply, a diplomatic talk had gone south by a misstep in speech. Jim accidentally insulted the leader of the planet because of a goddamn translation error, shots had been fired and they were left with little options as their weapons and communicators were confiscated as an act of trust. McCoy sorely regrets not trusting his gut about the situation, from the get go he felt as if something was up but Jim brushed him off and as usual went head-first into it. Look where that got them.

Now they are stuck in a tiny closet in very close proximity to one another, McCoy can feel Jim’s breath on his cheek and he can’t look anywhere but his sapphire eyes.

“So. Come here often?” Kirk smirks at him.

“Shut up.” he frowns and glares at the blonde.

“Well it could be worse, Bones.”

“Really? Nothing is worse than being stuck in a confined space with an immature man-child. Nothing.” Jim gasps dramatically

“Aw you love me really.”

Jim waggles his eyebrows suggestively. As of late the blonde had been flirting with him more often and honestly McCoy can’t tell if he’s joking or not. The man had shown no interest in him like that during their academy days although he had made a few offhand remarks about him being attractive and such but McCoy had chalked it up to his flirtatious nature. However, the situation at hand is definitely making him rethink his relationship with Jim. His leg is pressed in between Kirk’s thighs whilst his crotch ghost over the man’s leg, their faces are mere inches apart and Kirk is looking at him questioningly.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night.” he rolls his eyes.

“So you don't deny it?” Jim inches forward, their lips centimetres apart

“I… Jim, w-whats…”

“Can I kiss you? Or am I missing the mark?”

“I don't… Ah to hell with it.”

McCoy kisses Jim gently, of course the blonde doesn't resist and instead moans loudly in his mouth. God, he's been wanting to kiss the man senseless ever since they got in this closet and probably before too. It's a passionate embrace and lasts until McCoy has to choke in a breath of air, he wants to laugh at the irony of the whole situation. Being stuck in a closet with his best friend that maybe he's been pining for since he first set eyes on him, the irony of it all.

Jim smiles at him then shifts his leg so that his groin presses against the blonde's thigh.

“Jim!” he gasps.

“Yes doctor?” Jim says in a low voice.

“We're supposed to be hiding! Not screwing around so that they can find us, dammit!”

“I can be quiet.”

He's about to say something else when Jim presses his thigh further into his crotch, making his dick twitch and him grunt. He bites his lip to stop himself from moaning, he gives Jim glare but concedes and kisses him more passionately. Then he reaches down and gropes Jim's cock through his pants, Jim makes a lewd sound in McCoy mouth and in turn bites his lip playfully. Jim ruts against him like some horny teenager then shifts so that their dicks brush against each other through their clothes, Jim puts a hand over his mouth to muffle his embarrassingly loud groan. In retaliation he sucks on Jim’s pulse point hard enough that it’ll leave a mark. The blonde flops his head back against the wall, so he reaches down and frees his hard cock from his trousers with considerable effort as they are cramped up against each other. Jim follows his lead and unzips his trousers. Their erections bump against each other and he sighs into Jim’s neck as he licks the mark he just made. McCoy grabs both of them and rubs them off slowly, pre-come leaks out of their tips and he uses that to jerk them both off. Jim’s dick is slightly longer then his but is more slim compared to his thicker length, Jim catches his lips again and it’s a kiss filled with lust.

“Fuck, Bones. been wanting to do this forever.. ah!” Jim whispers and pants in his ear.

McCoy quickens the pace of his movement, Jim thrusts into him needily. Both of them are on the edge of orgasam, McCoy uses his other hand to cover Jims mouth and Jim does the same, then he squeezes them both and gives a few more rough pumps before they are coming on each other's stomachs. Jim sighs into his hand and he closes his eyes shut as they ride through it together. McCoys hand is painted in both their fluids, he tucks their spent cocks back into their trousers. The blonde brings his sticky hand to his mouth and licks it clean.

“I can't believe we just did that!” he shout-whispers.

“We should probably get out of this closet huh? The Enterprise must've realised what's going on by now.” Jim says nonchalantly as if that hadn't just screwed each other.

[five-sparrows-two-pennies]

(un)forgiveness & a letter

22 October 2023

Tonight, my mum and I got into an argument - I can't even really remember how it started - and before you knew it, mum was bringing up all the things she was still angry at me about. She told me there were two things she could never forgive me for: 1. An offhand comment I texted her a week ago, a partial joke (though admittedly unkind) which she amplified into an accusation against her character. I apologised then and I apologised again tonight, said I would be more careful with my words, and said that her refusal to forgive would only cause herself pain. I have known her for all 23 years of my life - of course I was bound to hurt her sometimes. If she kept storing up unforgiveness, she would only come to hate me (and anyone else) eventually. 2. An incident from over three years ago when mum first said she wanted a divorce, and like any heartbroken daughter whose world had suddenly come crashing down, I tried to get her to at least think about her decision a little more - and I did this in the form of a letter with a Bible verse reference. I wrote the letter out of love and I gave it to her with a trembling heart. And now three years later, she tells me it is an incident she'll never forgive me for. I think what hurts the most is the realisation that my mum has not understood the gospel. I had always recognised that a great contributing factor to my parents' marriage breakdown was the lack of communication - issues swept under the carpet and never discussed, which led to resentment on mum's part, built-up over many years. I had always suspected that my mum wasn't very good at forgiveness in a marriage, which is absolutely essential. I realise now, with a heavy heart and soaked cheeks, that she hasn't understood the gospel at all, for anybody who knew of their sinfulness, and knew how much God has forgiven them through Jesus - a debt wiped clean, a love that keeps no record of wrongs (1 Cor. 13:5) - could not hold a grudge against anybody else who wronged them. I think I must from now on pray very hard for my mum regarding this issue. It is times like this that I feel it is very difficult living with someone who does not really love God. I know this is no excuse to not do so - in fact, it's a great opportunity to show someone Christ's love - but mum's comments makes me feel like I have to be perfect, because any foul comment or ungenerous facial expression (even if unintended but interpreted that way) seems to leave a permanent stain on who I am in her eyes. "I know what you are like," my mum said in the heat of her anger - a few simple words which, in a matter seconds, wipe away every other good deed you have ever done, a few words which dismiss every effort you've ever made to change, a few words which reduce you to your supposed inherent nature - and fail to see the potential in you to become the person God made you to be, the person He is growing you into every day as you seek Him. This is how Christians ought to see each other. It would be nice living with someone like that.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

i’m a little late but if you’re still looking for fluff requests maybe gn reader during a slow day at the bau where everyone is crammed in the conference room sharing food, watching videos of henry and jack, teasing each other, etc and reader either makes and offhand comment or blurts out how the bau are a family unit and everyone pauses for a second because (even though they all see each other as family) nobody has ever really verbalised it like that

Family (BAU X gn!reader)

Warnings: None other than this hasn't been proof read so could be horrendous

Word Count: 528 ish

It had been a slow week, not that you were complaining, You had all piled into the conference room with your paperwork, promising Hotch that you wouldn’t get too distracted. He had reluctantly agreed (God he felt like such a dad to the team sometimes). With the whole gang piled into a room you, naturally, got extremely distracted and within forty-five minutes, Garcia had made hot chocolate and pop corn whilst Morgan and Emily fought over what movie to watch. Hotch and JJ had already shown at least five videos of Henry and Jack each,

“Oi, I’ll give you five pieces of popcorn for three squares of your chocolate,” You whisper to Spencer, who thinks for a minute before nodding, you quickly make the switch, the pair of you ducking your heads when you find Morgan and Emily grinning at the exchange to the left of you you. In response, you throw a pen in their direction (which, unfortunately, means you won’t be able to do any more of your report just yet… shame...). They were about to retaliate but a look from Hotch stops them short.

“I love that this unit is basically a family unit,” You blurt before you realise you’re thinking it, the words are already out of your mouth and spoken into the universe.

“You’re right, Kid,” Morgan grinned, patting your shoulder slightly. “I guess I never really thought about it too much,” You ducked your head slightly, fiddling with the tips of the paper of the file you were going through.

‘Fuck, (Y/N) way to show your age,’ You thought.

“I’m so glad it’s finally been said!” Penelope exclaimed, “Honestly, I was starting to think you guys were emotionally constipated or something,” You snorted. “So, (Y/N), if this is a family unit, what roles do we all have?”

“Oh, er, I- I don’t know, honestly,”

“Bitch please,” Garcia said dramatically, you both let out a snicker.

“Okay, fine, but this stays between us and if anyone mentions it, I will beat you up,” You joke, “Hotch definitely has dad vibes, Rossi is definitely like an uncle, yourself is a crazy aunt, Derek is obviously the overprotective elder brother - the eldest son who should know better and keep the others safe, Emily is the middle child that likes annoying the shit out of the eldest, Reid is one of the younger siblings that must be protected at all times, JJ is the mum,”

“And you, my dear,” Garcia said, pointing a fuzzy pen in your direction, “Are the youngest sibling that is too adorable,”

“Oh stop, you’ll make me blush here in public,” You said dramatically.

“Why am I the second eldest that annoys the eldest?”

“Is that not obvious?” Morgan smirked.

You all continued to laugh and joke around until Hotch had to leave to attend a meeting.

“Right, kids, you all need to finish your homework and be in bed by ten,” Hotch said in a (mock) stern tone before leaving the room.

“You heard your father,” JJ said, following Hotch out of the room. You let out a loud wheeze. Not to sound cheesy, but you loved your family.

[hawnks]

coincide pt iv

previous

r18

hawks (tatami keigo) x reader

word count: ~4,800

Well, that figures.

[soulmate au, slow burn, UST as a plot device, avian keigo, possessiveness, desperation]

warning: canon-typical violence

beta’d by: @izuukii my beloved

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

You buy the magazine with the semi-explicit centerfold, just to punish yourself. You think maybe you’ll rip out those pages, with Keigo and the beautiful model, lip locked and gleaming, hang them on your fridge or something. Tape it to your bathroom mirror if you’re really feeling masochistic. But it just sits there at the bottom of your bag, slowly getting buried beneath a hoard of receipts.

The cover is something innocuous. A movie star promoting an upcoming release. He’s handsome, you suppose, though it’s almost gotten hard to tell these days. You’re so wrapped up in Keigo that it’s hard to see anything else beyond his blinding, boyish good looks.

Even that centerfold spread just makes you feel numb now, every time you flip it open. All you can see is your birdman, charmingly aloof. Inaccessible. It becomes a new kind of punishment, to carry it around with you as you run errands, sit at the office, meet your friend for location scouting for her upcoming nuptials. Keigo, glassy eyed and oiled up. Just an image on the page.

Though you’d rather be looking at that than another gorgeous, ivy threaded trellis. The venues are all beautiful. Your friend has an eye for this sort of thing, the perfect balance between comfort and luxe. What will look good in memoriam, photos hung on walls in guest rooms, years down the line.

“Perfect,” you say, for the third time today. “The place is perfect.”

“But is it perfect enough?” she returns, laughing at your good natured eye roll.

She’s always been more A-type than you’ve known what to do with, dragged along for her antics. The only thing she’s ever been devil-may-care about was the subject of soulmates. The drunken promises she’d made to you had all been spur of the moment. Who needs ‘em? We’ll love each other, forever, and twice as hard.

It was a defense mechanism, you’d later come to realize, and one swiftly snuffed out when the man in question finally arrived in her life.

“What does he think?” you ask her. “Mr. Soulmate.”

He does some big important job, and works long hours for it. He left this part of the wedding planning in the both of your capable hands. It feels almost nostalgic, just the two of you again. Like reminiscing in present tense.

Your friend admits wryly that she couldn’t name his favorite color, and she’s not sure what his favorite of the bunch would be. But it doesn’t matter, and she knows this though she won’t admit it. Because it’s a given that their tastes would run similar, and even if they don’t, he’ll love her too much to care about the table dressings.

Of this, all soulmates could be sure.

You trail after her like a ghost, offering offhanded advice, and quick jokes when she needs them. In the back of your mind a notion broils. Not unkindly, you think you know where Keigo would have liked to end up. You wouldn’t have to guess his favorite color.

Your friend can sense your curiosity at her situation— she was always good at sensing your moods.  

“It’s nice,” she tells you, finally back in her car. The day has been long, but successful. She’d sent pictures of her ultimate choice to the missing fiance, met with about a hundred thumbs up emoticons. “It’s… comfortable.”

You didn’t ask, but you’re happy to listen. To garner more information about this intangible they inhabit.

“I know that’s unsexy,” she continues, “But my god, is it good.”

“It sounds like it,” you agree.

She looks at you, seeming to realize her mistake. But she was never one to bullshit you. “It is. It so, so is.”

And, despite everything, you’re glad. Glad this thing, sacred and wonderful exists in the world. That you can look at it, admire it like a hothouse flower, or a painting hung in a museum. It’ll take your breath away for as long as you let it. Then you move on.

…

Kirishima has been acting strange. He’s still the chivalrous, kindhearted man you’ve come to know and love, but with an edge. Like he’s constantly waiting for something to jump out at him, like he has to be ready for a fight at any second.

He’d been gone for two full days, fighting, taking care of something the commission has been very careful to keep under wraps. Now that things have cooled off, he’s on desk duty.

It’s almost exhausting to look at, as he shuffles into your office, paying you a dry smile and a wave before slumping into his desk chair.

It’s all paperwork for him today, and you take the opportunity to play secretary, helping him sort through files and get everything in order.

There’s an almost shocking amount of incident reports to fill out. Something must have gone wrong. Very wrong. You hardly understand any of it, so many of the words are coded or redacted. You’re not sure how Kirishima is making sense of things, either, but he barely seems to be reading things at all, just filling in the appropriate information before shoving them back in the 2xl Manila envelope they came from.

You’ve learned not to pry when it comes to hero business. That you’re even doing this via hard copy must mean something. It’s too delicate to even risk the chance of being hacked. Kirishima trusts you to know when something is being kept secret. Mostly, it’s for a good reason.

You don’t want to know, anyway— not after last time.

Kirishima probably doesn’t want to know, either.

It weighs on him, what he can’t control. What he can do nothing to fix. His quirk isn’t built for espionage. He’s good for fighting, and for protecting. But not for the needle-fine recon that seems to be surrounding him lately.

That’s more suited for —

“Can I ask you something?” he interrupts your train of thought, almost shyly. Most of the morning has dwindled away, spent hunched over his desk together. It’s been silent for a good half hour, only the distant murmur of office noises beyond the door to break up the quiet.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond.

He looks strangely sheepish, almost nervous. But his gaze is steadfast, steeled. He’s been thinking about this for a while.

“What do you want?” His blush is immediate. He waves a hand so quick to dispel the idea that it wafts your hair. “That came out wrong, sorry. I just— like, in general? What are your goals, I guess?”

“I’m happy here, Kiri,” you tell him, with a smile. And you are. You’re good at your job, and you like it. You like Kirishima and his staff. You like the view from your office, the city sprawled beneath you, a thousand tent-pole highrises, holding up the sky.

“Not with work. I mean, life, yknow?” He traces a finger over the surface of his desk. The cleaning crew had just wiped it down, and the surface is so polished it gleams, reflective and bright.

To be loved. The answer, it’s purity and ferocity, nearly chokes you. You pause, hands stilled on a stack of papers that’s mostly black. Only a few key words stand out among the crossed out portion. S-rank. No leads. Motive unclear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “This is inappropriate.”

You almost laugh. The two of you have come this far, and yet the concept of anything beyond the walls of the agency is still so far away. “Are you worried about me, boss man?”

He nods, a quick, jerking thing. “ ‘M worried about everything.”

You consider him, across from you. How large he is. Inherently powerful, even without his quirk. “I’m markless,” you say.

You turn away before you catch his expression, tapping your paper stack back into neatness.

“It’s not some big huge tragedy,” you say, forcing humor into your voice. “It’s just how it is. I don’t have anyone holding me back.”

His fist clenches on the desktop. Massive, trembling ever so slightly.

Afraid. All for your sake. Because no matter how forward thinking anyone is, the concept of unknown, of loneliness, is terrifying.

It makes you want to cry.

You smile at him. Say, “So I’m gonna do what I want.”

“And what is that?” he replies, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You hum, considering. Then you rifle through your desk drawer, toss him the pamphlet for the sushi place up the block. “Rainbow roll?”

“On it,” he returns, already punching in the number.

…

You know from his texts that Keigo will want to crash as soon as he gets in. The banter is less quick, the messages all taking on an earnest edge.

Something is happening in the hero world.

You don’t ask.

He arrives at your doorway, ruffled, drooping, and hauls you into his arms. He’s still in his uniform, came directly here from the agency. You bury your face in the fur lining of his jacket, not as soft as you expect it to be, but good insulation. It tickles your nose, incentive to crawl deeper into his embrace, until your cheek is flush against his throat, until he’s curled around you like a lily leaf.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs. “Missed you.”

The two of you stay like that in the doorway of your apartment longer than you can keep track. Time seems to peter out, leaving the two of you, alone in the universe. Warm and tight and together.

You only release him when you feel more of his weight drop into your hold. He’s flagging, about to fall asleep in your hallway.

You pull away slightly, enough that he can maintain a loose hold on you, and start shuffling inside.

He follows you listlessly, going where you go without question. You lead him to your bedroom, arrange him so he’s sitting on your mattress, at an easy height for you to peel him out of his jacket. His wings are difficult to work around but he helps you instinctively, bending them in ways you didn’t know wings could bend, until the garment is limp in your hands.

You think about keeping it, hiding it in your closet and playing dumb if he asks about it. Putting it on when things get lonely. He must have other’s, at the agency. They get destroyed with a frequency that almost supports mass production. He wouldn’t mind, if you didn’t give it back. If you kept it cloistered in the back of your closet or under your bed like some kind of charm to ward off whatever misery of marklessness is coming next.

But that’s crazy. You can’t do that.

You dump the jacket at the door on top of his boots, and go through your own nightly ablutions.

Even this feels haunted, the tidying up before bed. You’re reminded, achingly, of the last time he was here, and you were under the hot pounding of the shower. How you punished him for what you wanted. How you wanted it to hurt.

It’s crazy. You’re crazy.

And the worst part is that guilt isn’t even the primary thing you’re feeling about that night. Mostly it’s — relief. That he wanted you. That something hungry and eager in you can touch something hungry and eager in him. Maybe it’s not love; that’s fine. Because at least it’s something.

You tamp down the thoughts of that last night, come back into your room freshly clean and in a loose pair of pajamas.

Keigo takes up your whole bed.

He’s not exactly a big man — he could fit comfortably if not for his massive wings. He’s laying on his stomach and they sprawl across the entire space, even spilling over the side and draping on the floor. If you weren’t so tired you would find it kind of beautiful.

As it is, you only have the energy to tap him on the calf, again, harder, when all you get in response is a groan.

“What is it babe?” he mumbles. He doesn’t open his eyes, but tilts his face toward you, an approximation of listening.

“You’re too big,” you tell him, flicking him now, when all he does is grin sleepily in response.

You wait to see if he does anything, moves, makes a little quip. But he’s dead asleep, his breathing gone deep and steady.

You’re hardly awake yourself now, and you see no other recourse.

You hike yourself up on the bed, over him. You crawl on top of him, arranging yourself so you’re completely aligned, between his wings, ribcage to ribcage. He’s warm. Of course he is. You know the feeling of him like this, and you recall, drowsily, the last time you were here. How it felt to surround him, weigh him down. How it felt to be able to touch so freely.

You press your face against his nape, breathing him in. He doesn’t exactly smell good, unshowered after an exhausting day. But he smells like Keigo, still, beneath the musk. You relax into him, settling down and syncing. Until your chests expand in a covert rhythm, each breath you both take echoes of the others. A cycle that warms you from the inside out, lulls you into a deep sleep.

…

For the first time since you’ve known him, Keigo sleeps in.

You’re awake before him, doing your best to crawl off without waking him. You put a pot of coffee on, then start getting ready for the day.

It’s only a few minutes after you leave him that Keigo appears in the bathroom doorway, peering at you as you wash your face. You glance back at him in the mirror, paying him a small smile.

“Morning, sleepy.”

A faint blush dusts his cheeks. He smiles back, but says nothing. Just watches you as you continue your routine.

You’d read about a study they’d done on him, once. A biologist, looking at the shape and texture of his wings. They were hardly hawk wings at all, more akin to eagles than anything. And the color was unlike anything at all.

Still, it proved something. Keigo, Hawks, is a predator. You can see it in him now, the perfect stillness of his body as stares, barely even breathing. Did they train this into him, or is it innate? Has he always known how to be a shadow?

You want to tell him to come in, maybe sit on the toilet seat, get comfortable. Maybe hop in the shower now, if he doesn’t want to talk. But that would be pushing things, wouldn’t it. You’re making too many assumptions, asking for too much.

He wants to stand there and watch you, so you let him. You don’t ask any questions.

You do, however, ask him to grab the lipbalm from your bag in the living room.

He comes back with the whole thing in hand, unabashedly rifling through it. He seems to know that you won’t care about him investigating the contents, and you don’t. You hardly spare him a glance, after he hands you the tube of balm, as he continues to sift through things.

You’ve always been a bit of a packrat, holding onto things way longer than necessary. Your purse is a prime example, filled to the brim with useless items, collected over the last few years. It could take a person a whole day to pick through it all, but Keigo stops after a few minutes, setting the bag aside, holding something up for you to look at.

It’s the magazine, the one with the centerfold spread.

You think maybe you should feel guilty, looking at him with the thing limp in his hand. Instead you just want to see how he’ll react, what he’ll say about him and that woman, the intimate photograph.

“You look good in it,” you say with a shrug, a smile.

His hand flexes, wrumpling the pages slightly, creating a crease right down the middle. “I didn’t know it was going to be like that. I mean, I didn’t know I was going to be photographed at all that day but…”

What is he trying to prove? That he wouldn’t use his stardom for anything unsavory?

You wouldn’t judge him, if he did. He’s young and beautiful -- why shouldn’t he have some fun.

But his expression is serious as it scans your face, your mussed clothes and soft body, your bare feet and wild hair. You’d never look like his partner on the page. Even on your best day, you’d never be that, so beautiful it’s almost alien. A perfect counterpoint to Keigo’s unearthly handsomeness.

Still, he looks at you standing here in the bathroom in the soft morning light, and he says, “I wish it was you.”

What does that mean? How are you supposed to take it? His fist is curved into the magazine’s covering, crinkling it irreparably. You’d have to throw this one out, get a new one, if you really wanted it.

He says, even quieter. “It would have been better, if it were you.”

You want to do it, prove it. You want to kiss him breathless, tug on his collar until he comes down to your height. It would be better, because it wouldn’t be for vanity, not preformative in the slightest. Just the damp heat of mouth on mouth, the wild, careless desperation that seems to tint all your encounters.

But it all serves the same purpose in the end. You and the model and whoever else came before. Wasting time. A distraction.

“Well,” you respond wryly, finishing your makeup. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

…

You show Keigo the wedding venue pictures from your phone. You only took a handful, content to let your friend do most of the documenting. You couldn’t resist the cute individual cakes at one of the places, the garland of feathers at another. At one rustic location, there were fluffy cows on the property, and they had distracted you for a full half hour as your friend wandered around, considering the rest of the place.

“The groom, I presume,” he says, holding up the image of a weathered, brown highland cattle.  

It makes you laugh so hard you almost spit out your tea.

Keigo flips through the cow pictures with glee, pausing to recreate some of their less flattering expressions for you.

He gets to the end. The next picture is one your friend took, a candid. It’s inside a refurbished barn, now used for dining arrangements. You’re standing under a trelise of flowers leftover from the last event.

It’s not exactly flattering. Wrong angle, wrong lighting. Your shoes are caked in mud from your excursion with the farm animals, and you’re dressed too casually anyway to compliment the decor. But you’re laughing so hard at something your friend had just said, almost crying with it. You were so happy, then. The happiest you’d been in so long.

You’re about to reach for your phone, but something in Keigo’s expression stops you. He’s almost smiling. His mouth softened, brow raised slightly. He cradles your phone in both hands, like it will slip through his fingers like water.

“Do you want to get married?” he says, so quietly. Barely spoken at all.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you lie. Because you have. Endlessly, it seems. How sweet a promise that is, to share your life, indefinitely. How nice it would be to share a home with someone else.

He folds a hand over the screen, like he can’t bear to look at it any longer. Instead he looks up at you through his lashes, lips parted ever so slightly. And he’s pretty like this, but not the way everyone wants him to be. Slightly disheveled. More cute than suave. He looks like something you could cup between your palms, or put in your back pocket. Something that you could keep. Something that could be yours.

“Not once?” he prompts, because he knows. Can spot all your little tells like you’re screaming them out.

“Not once,” you agree.

He nods, lets you have this. A painful reminder for you both, of what you are, what your future promises, or doesn’t.

Keigo slips his hand off the screen, slowly, before peeking down at it, trying to catch one last glimpse. But it’s already gone dark.

...

You don’t hear from him for six days.

He lets you know he’ll be busy, like he always does when he can’t keep up your usual constant babble. But this time there are no messages at all. He goes dark, too busy for even a goodnight, miss you text.

Or maybe he’s just forgotten you.

But no, Keigo is your friend. Something bad is brewing and you’re worried for him. About him. Kirishima is still on edge too, though he’s been around at the agency at least once a day to check on things.

On you, you think, but you don’t want to ask. Don’t want to think of yourself as burdening him.

He asks you about Keigo, as if you’d know inherently. You’ve told him several times that you haven’t heard from him in a while, but it doesn’t stick. He’ll just ask you again, the next day, shoulders slumped and smile tired. You don’t hold it against him.

You don’t hold it against Keigo either. Just wish he’d tell you he’s alright.

You catch the news on your way out from the agency. The big TV by the front is on a timer, a constant stream of hero news. Usually you're content to ignore it. There’s not much to care about, if it doesn’t involve your two heroes.

But —

“Rei Todoroki, wife of top hero Endeavor, is currently in critical condition.” The newsanchor is grim, placid. Her voice without inflection. “She was attacked in Ahane Hospital, where she was staying for undisclosed reasons. The perpetrator went unseen, and no other guests were injured, leading investigators to believe this was a targeted attack.”

You stand there, watching the rest of the segment. Rei is in an induced coma. They’re hoping it will save her life. She’s too weak to undergo healing via quirk at the moment. Doctors are relegated to outdated medicine, trying to stitch her body back together. They don’t say what happened to her in particular, but an interview with one of the medical providers leaves your fists clenched at your sides, your stomach churning. She’s in bad shape.

Endeavor refused to comment.

The commission can no longer cover it up. There’s a campaign of violence against the significant others of heroes, and no one, not even the wife of the number one, is safe. This was meant to send a message. To what end, you’re not sure.

You get out your phone to text Keigo about this, but you have nothing to say. This doesn’t involve you in the slightest, you’re an outsider looking in, even if the sight of the paparazzi swarmed outside Endeavor’s home fills you with death-drop fear.

You walk home in a daze. Not sure what this means. What any of it means. Only that something big and unavoidable is coming. Only that everything else seems small in comparison.

It seems unfair that Rei should be punished. You don’t keep up with gossip rags so you don’t know much about her, but news of the Todorokis was bigger than supermarket checkout-rack journals.

Their marriage was infamous, and not only because anything involving the personal life of a top pro is going to turn heads.

The people assumed it was a love match. Outside the walls of their estate it was hard to assume anything else. Endeavor was so driven by his hero status that everything seemed to fall by the wayside -- maybe Rei cracked through his walls.

It was a tragedy that wouldn’t become apparent until years down the line, the story unveiled by their villain son. They were a family full of ghosts.

Endeavor was markless. Rei was not. The status of her own soulmate was unknown.

Of course, things were bound to end badly no matter what, with Endeavor’s attitude, his singular cruelty. But a part of you can’t help but wonder if their mismatched marks could have contributed to the tension. If, maybe, they had really been soulmates, the story would have ended happier.

And now here’s Rei, being punished for her involvement with a markless hero. Maybe, if she’d gone her own way, waited for her fated one --

It’s no use, thinking about it.

Instead you think about Keigo.

He’d worshiped Endeavor for most of his life. Still has the paraphernalia clouding his apartment to prove it. He was a regular fanboy.

When the story of his family broke, his attitude changed. Softened from idolization into something like hope. Endeavor could be proof that a person can be better, become something else. Change.

The news has probably shaken him.

You can only imagine how he feels right now. Responsible, probably.

You know just what he’d say. The fastest hero alive. But never fast enough.

He wouldn’t want your pity or your praise. Just your presence. Just a soft place to rest.

You’re preparing for it all the way home, knowing instinctively that he’d come tonight, that he’d seek you out.

What you’re not expecting is for him to be right behind you, as you unlock your door. At your shock, he reaches around, grabs the keys, turns them in the lock. He shepherds you in with a hand on your lower back, a whisper in your ear.

“Sorry I’ve been away,” he says. “I missed you so, so much.”

The two of you stop in the center of your living room, his arm still curved around you, body tilted over yours, almost protectively. He’s in civilian clothes, a big gym bag, full and lumpy, hung over his shoulder.

You don’t know what to say. You ask, “Are you going on a trip?”

“Maybe,” he returns.

The resolve in his gaze is a physical thing, so weighty and unyielding you feel like it would push you back, if he weren’t holding onto you so firmly. In fact he pulls you in closer, tighter. Holds onto you like you’re something insubstantial, fleeting. A child clutching the string of a helium balloon.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says. His voice is sober, cool. It sends fear lancing through you, a shock that leaves you short of breath, barely holding onto anything he says next. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I want you. All of you.”

He must feel you tense, because his grip goes slack for one heartbeat, before his strength returns. Keeping you there, not letting you run away from this, from him.

Your heartbeat is a rubberband snap inside your chest, painful, quick. You don’t want to look at him, the direness of his expression, the tears building on his lashlines. Your hands fist in his sleeves, to pull or push away, you’re not sure. Just holding and holding and holding on.

“You don’t have to love me,” he tells you. “I promise, you don’t have to. It doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t have to do anything at all. Only let me have you. Let me keep you.”

And, yes, you think. Please.

And you want to eat him alive, want to carry him around inside of you, in that small, empty place inside. The ghost of all the lovers you could never have, all the promises that weren’t available to you, markless, unlucky. You want to temper yourself with him, and his kindness, and how good he would be to you. Maybe it would heal everything. Maybe it would make you forget.

It could work — Keigo is a good friend, you’re sure he would be a good partner too.

It could be enough.

You look at him, consider how much you want him, everything that he is. Everything that he’s offering to you.

“Please?” he says. His lip quivers. His grip on you falters, just the slightest bit. “Just -- stay.”

And it rises in you like the dawn, how much you care for him. Want the best for him, only. Forever. And overwhelming warmth, reaches all your corners, rounds you out until there’s nothing left but the way you love love love him. Nothing but--

“I’m sorry, Keigo,” you say. “No.”

an: ......oops

[river-bottom-nightmare]

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

[sweetestlamb]

Clarity

Summary: Master Lee makes his intentions clear to a certain maidservant.

Author's note: This couple is so pure and unexpected but I'm fully on board and hopeful that they will be endgame. Maidservant Kim is so selfless and amazing she literally raised the child that she believes is the son of the man she loved and another woman. And she raised him so well and for that she deserves the world and not whatever BS Park Jin is serving. Enter the green flag himself: Master Chaste Tea ain't working Lee.

Also mini rant but I'll probably be taking a mental break from Tumblr because of the amount of shady posts on here. I feel like every other post is someone writing a think piece of why someone's else's opinion is wrong and why their opinion is the only valid one. It's so exhausting when I come here to chill and look at pretty gifs.

More flowers arrive although she has barely any space left to store them. Simple white buds wrapped with a single blush ribbon and instinctively she knows who they are from. They were hand picked and clearly hand wrapped as well not professionally sent like the rest.

Eventually the flowers from Park Jin wither away despite her frequent changing of the water, it's the flow of nature but the next day another modest bundle of flowers arrive and she can't control the thump in her chest and the smile on her lips.

She doesn't anticipate more because she's never been courted and it would be ridiculous for her to be this late in her life, she has Uk and those that she considers dear friends and that is enough.

Or so she convinced herself a long time ago when the man she loved gave his heart happily to another. There is no resentment or true jealousy because without that painful relation, her precious boy would have never been brought into this world. But she gave up on finding someone to love like that a long time ago, Uk was so young and she was all he had in this cold world.

"Ma'am, you have a guest."

She shakes her head, clearing her mind of unnecessary thoughts. Master Lee is being kind that was all, it was foolish to attach deeper meanings to his innocent actions.

"Let them in."

"Yes, ma'am."

She stands up smoothing her dress although there isn't a wrinkle in sight, a nervous habit that she isn't quite sure why it's presenting itself now.

She swallows the gasp she almost releases as the guest enters the room.

Speak of the devil.

Master Lee enters with all the grace and poise of a man of his standing, the bright fuchsia of the scarf she gifted him peeking from beneath his robes. She never expected him to take such a liking to it as to wear it habitually but it does warm her heart each time she sees him.

She bows modestly greeting him.

His smooth voice fills her ears immediately.

"Maidservant Kim, you look lovely. I apologize for not bringing any flowers today but your beauty would have far surpassed them so it was for the best it seems."'

She keeps her head lowered mostly due to her embarrassment, no one besides her Uk has ever commented on her looks in a complimentary fashion. She's more used to jokes about her looks and feigning indifference to the offhand comments that are made in pure jest but still scar her deeply.

"You're too kind.There's no need to flatter me."

There is pressure on her chin and then her head is lifted up and they are eye to eye.

She can almost feel the sincerity pouring off him as easily as the power he emits.

"I am not one for flattery. I wish I did not think such things in your presence it goes against my teaching and everything I know but I find myself powerless when you are near me."

She is without words. These words are for her and her alone, it doesn't feel real that a man would be brought to such emotion because of her.

"You shouldn't say such things, I might misunderstand your intentions." She offers him a final opportunity to undo what has been done.

"What is there to misunderstand? My actions have been clear, have they not? Is this not how men court women they are interested in still?"

Courting.

The very word she was avoiding because she did not want to misinterpret and make a spectacle of herself but now he has spoken it aloud and removed any stigma or obscurity.

"Courting?" She whispers in shock, blinking slowly before stepping back with a quick turn, hiding her face once more.

"Yes, if you would allow me I would be honored to court you."

Why? Why did he want to do such a thing? She was a mere maidservant and plain to look at, nothing in comparison to the awe inspiring beauty of the woman who had stolen her first's love heart and still had a hold on Park Jin's even deep from her grave.

"Here. This is for you."

The fragrance fills the room before she even turns around, jasmine and lavender swirling in harmonious waves.

"I gathered these for you as I was procuring the ingredients for my tea. I thought you might like to use them to make tea of your own."

Her heart aches from his thoughtful act, she has never requested anything from him but yet he continues to give her more than she deserves.

"I---thank you."

She responds with her back still turned to him despite knowing that she's being rude. She's too overwhelmed to face him, afraid that she'll become emotional in his presence.

"Maidservant Kim, I apologize if I've offended you. But I could not keep these feelings to myself, I've never yearned for another in my years of training not once, until I met you. If there is even a fraction of you that could come to accept me that would be enough for me."

She gulps at his words that sound so much like a confession, yet another thing she did not have to beg or demand from him it was freely given.

She wishes she were not conflicted and that her heart did not imagine another saying these very words. She had taken solace in her bond with Park Jin and when it grew into something worth she had desperately wished that he would court her, as he had Lady Dow-ha all those years ago but that had never came. He had made it abundantly clear that his role as leader of Songrim would always supercede any affection he held towards her. She had grown to believe that this was all she needed, it was better than nothing and more than she had been offered before.

But was it possible for her to have more? Or was she merely fooling herself?

"I am sorry. I cannot give you an answer now. I need time to think..... would that be acceptable?"

She hears a sigh of relief behind her and then a warm chuckle.

"I thought I would be outright rejected so this is far better than I had hoped."

"You believed I would reject you? Yet you still confessed and brought me gifts?"

There's a small pause before she gets a reply.

"Preservation seemed insignificant beside possibility."

Her heart flutters like a bird that has only just learned to take flight, careful and fragile indeed.

"I shall take my leave. I will await your response, if I do not hear from you within a week your silence shall speak for itself."

A week. To inspect her own feelings and make a great decision.

"Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me. I will take my leave."

She hears shuffling behind her and then the snap of the door closing.

Only then does she turn around and see the bundle of herbs he brought her, but something else catches her eye. She steps closer, reaching out one hand to pick it up.

A hairpin.

She had only mentioned to him in passing that she had seen a hairpin in the market that she had considered purchasing but decided against it, finding it unnecessary for a woman of her age who was far past courtship.

It's just as beautiful as it was that day with intricate weaving and a single jade stone offsetting the shimmering gold leaves.

With shaky hands she brings it to the hair and gently pushes in desperate to find a mirror and see her appearance.

"Ah. Now, I can leave."

She jolts at the voice stepping back at the sudden intrusion, she did not hear the door sliding open or his footsteps.

It was the plight of living with and around mages.

She has to stifle the urge to reprimand him for sneaking up on her.

It's only the look on his face that stops her, eyes filled with wonder and fascination as if he's looking at priceless treasures. She blushes under his watchful eye, butterflies running amok in her stomach.

Then as suddenly as he reappeared he leaves once more.

She lifts the bundle of fragrant herbs and brings them close to her chest, sniffing them to clear her racing mind and jumbled emotions.

She does not visit Park Jin that night feigning fatigue nervous that he will uncover her secret, she sips her jasmine tea alone in the still of the night.

She falls asleep with thoughts of another on her mind.

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”

[voiceless-terror]

Something to Talk About (TMA Fic)

Written for @jontim-week Day One: Rumors/Protect, warnings in tags

Rating: T

Words: 3,049

Summary: Jon and Tim deal with workplace rumors.

He’s only at the institute for six months when the rumors start.

Tim understands them, to a degree. He knows he’s liberal with his smiles and quick to charm, naturally affectionate and thinks nothing of an arm around the shoulder or a nudge to the side. Winking comes as easily as breathing. So yeah, he’s aware of how he comes off. People make assumptions, particularly in his case, as he’s been known to swing either way. It’s shitty and stereotypical, but sad to say he’s used to it.

What he doesn’t like, however, is when it involves his friends.

Tim’s friendly with most everyone, but he’s fallen into a group. When he first started, Sasha was assigned to train him and Tim’s not blind. She’s gorgeous, rivaling him in height and an even deadlier smile. She’s smart as a whip, willing to trade (occasionally hurtful) barbs and unafraid to give the bluntest of criticisms. And she’s a little strange too- she can wax poetic on the most esoteric of subjects, and wields her keyboard like a lethal weapon. Tim doesn’t want to know what she’s dug up on him. Sasha James is exactly his type...and very much not interested, despite the one night they spent together. She made it clear it wouldn’t be going any further and though it took time to get over that, he’s lucky to now count her as a friend. 

And Sasha and Jon are a package deal.

They’re an odd pair- Sasha, tall and imposing, Jon, scrawny and anything but. Jon kept to himself, barely spoke a word to Tim apart from a curt introduction, but with Sasha he shared an easy rapport. The two could spend hours debating the finer points of research methods- and if Tim was shocked by Sasha’s blatant disregard for privacy, he was even more so by Jon’s disregard for the law. Tim could spend hours listening to them snark back and forth, not getting a word in edgewise. At first glance he assumed they were dating, but when he tentatively broached the subject with Sasha, he got an almost mocking laugh. “Romance? Not my thing. And it’s very much Jon’s. We would not work out.”  

At first, Jon doesn’t seem interested in anything but work. He nods briskly at Tim as he sits across from him at his desk, occasionally answers a question or includes him on his tea run, but that’s about the extent of it. He stumbles through small talk, showing none of the easy grace and elegance of discussions with Sasha. After a few weeks, though, he opens up a bit more, allowing that deadpan humor to slip into conversations. He smiles (it’s crooked, a tiny thing but so endearing) and he lets out an occasional snort of laughter. He’s an encyclopedia of supernatural knowledge, able to practically recite his favorite passages and always eager to seek out new information. There’s nothing he enjoys more than thoroughly researching and debunking a case, and Tim can respect that. If he’s got a question on an article or a scholar, Jon’s the first one he approaches. He never asks questions, never pries. Tim appreciates that.

The two of them can make Tim genuinely laugh. Something he hasn’t done in the longest time.

They’re seen together more often than not. They’re a trio: if one’s on a case, it means the other two are as well. They’re a great team. So it’s natural that people would start to talk, make assumptions. The rumor mill is out of control; as it turns out, scholars need more than spooks to get them through the day. It starts with a few offhand comments about him and Sasha, ones that Sasha’s quick to shut down, even if there’s some truth to them. She’s never been afraid to speak her mind or come off as rude. It’s a trait Tim finds very admirable. 

But then it turns to him and Jon. 

He’s heard the snickers in the breakroom when they come in together, the arm around Jon’s shoulder mistaken for something beyond platonic familiarity. It’s not that he wouldn’t date Jon- he sees beyond Tim’s veneer, appreciates his intelligence as much as his wit, and isn’t bad looking himself. He’d consider asking him out if Jon weren’t so clearly uninterested in that sort of thing. People must mistake his blushes and stammer for a crush instead of his naturally shy and flustered demeanor. He puts up a good front for the others, scowling and snapping at most who cross his path, but he’s definitely a softie, Tim feels it in the way he leans into his side like a plant starved of sunlight. Jon needs someone in his corner that sees him too. 

So when Tim hears the mocking words in the break room, he loses it.

“Another notch on the bedpost, eh Stoker?” Marcus, the irritant from accounting with a perpetual sneer and permanently wrinkled shirt, says from his seat at the room’s sole table. “Didn’t think Sims was one to put out, but-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tim snarls, almost dropping his mug as he whirled around and stalked over to him. He’s almost surprised at the venom in the words, but the man took it a step too far. He knows those comments would be incredibly uncomfortable for Jon. And to be honest, he’s a bit pissed on his own behalf- can he not have a friend without someone assuming they’re sleeping together? 

Marcus immediately scoots back the two inches he can in his chair, attempting to hide his fear with a snide smile. It doesn’t work. “Whoa, calm down- didn’t think this was such a touchy subject for the likes of you-” 

“The fucks that supposed to mean?” He takes a step forward, reveling in Marcus’s flinch. Not such a tough guy now, eh? Tim’s not going to hurt him, no matter how much he wants to. But it’s an old wound reopened- he doesn’t need this reputation, and he doesn’t want Jon to go down with him.

“I-I-”

“I hope to god you haven’t said that around him,” he snarls, jabbing a finger in Marcus’s chest. “And you’re going to stop it with this shit before it gets round to him. We aren’t dating, we aren’t fucking. Me and Jon? Not a thing, never have been, never will be. Do you understand me?” Marcus stutters, swallowing nervously. Tim takes a step closer, leans as close as he can and narrows his eyes. “I said-”

“Yes, yes! Christ, I get it!” He puts his hands up in a placating gesture, as if trying to calm a wild animal. He’s scared. Good. “I’ll shut it, alright? Just- back the fuck up.”

Tim stares for a moment, relishing in the man’s fear, before giving Marcus a cheery grin. “Well! As long as we’re understood. See ya around!”

He turns on his heel and walks out, attempting to calm his racing pulse. Tim’s not one for confrontation, he prefers calm discussion over impulsive anger.

Sometimes, however, it gets the job done.

________

And now Jon’s avoiding him.

Well, not really. He still sits at the same desk, gives him his usual morning greeting and answers any work-related questions. But he doesn’t join in on any of their conversations, he dodges any attempt at familiarity that he used to lean into. He skips their lunches with the excuse of being too busy, and barely smiles in Tim’s direction. He didn’t realize how much he relied on that affection until it stopped. It stings.

Maybe someone said something to him, maybe the rumor got around? He’s going to kill Marcus if that’s the case, but when confronted, the man insists he shut up, and Tim’s inclined to believe him, if the ‘I’m going to shit my pants’ look he gave him was any cue. He wants to ask Jon about it, but that could make him more uncomfortable than he already is. If Jon needs space, Tim’s going to give it to him. No matter how much it hurts.

So he goes along with it, starts talking to him less and less, stamps down the urge to crack a joke or throw an arm around his shoulder. Doesn’t ask him to after work drinks. 

That doesn’t stop him from checking in on Jon every so often, leaving a protein bar on the days he works past lunch, bringing him coffee before he gets in and saying it’s from Sasha. They’re at a strange impasse, but Tim’s starting to accept the new routine.

Sasha isn’t.

“Can you two just talk?” She asks one day over shitty sandwiches in the canteen. “I can’t stand this tense atmosphere you’ve got going. What happened?”

Tim sighs, pushes away his plate and runs a hand through his hair. “There were all those rumors going about, remember? I told Marcus to fuck off, but I think Jon caught wind of something, and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable-”

“Are you serious?” Sasha interrupts with a groan and a roll of her eyes. “Make him uncomfortable? Tim, I’ve never seen him happier than when he’s around you. He’s relaxed, he smiles. You don’t know how rare that is. We’ve known each other for two years, and he’s around you for six months and suddenly he can talk about something other than work.”

Tim tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the words. He couldn’t have made that much of a difference, Jon would do that with anyone, given the chance to open up. It’s not Tim’s doing. “Well, he’s the one avoiding me! I’m trying to give him space, really-”

“Space? Communicate!” Sasha slaps her hand down on the table with every syllable, startling the few others in the room. “You’re grown men, not children.”

“Communicate?” Tim snorts. “That’s rich, coming from the ice queen herself. You didn’t talk to me for a week after I made fun of that stupid show you love-”

“Time Team was an excellent programme, and I won’t be hearing any more slander.” She stood up, her chair squeaking back with the force of it, and picked up her tray to glare down at him. God, was she good at that. “Either talk to Jon, or I’ll go back to the silent treatment. And I’m great at it.”

Sasha follows through with her threat. She doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, studiously ignoring his questions and jokes, at one point propping a book up like a shield. It’s childish. And very effective. 

Looks like he’s going to have to talk to Jon.

______

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Jon jumps at the words, almost dropping the book in his hands. Tim’s managed to corner him in one of the more secluded areas of the library that Jon’s taken a recent liking to. Wonder why, Tim thinks with not a small amount of sarcasm.

Jon takes a step back, blinking innocently. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me these past couple of weeks.” Tim leans against a bookshelf, trying to seem nonchalant despite his clear nerves. He doesn’t want to seem threatening or accusatory, and Jon could very easily bolt.  “You never come to lunch, or talk with me and Sash. I just want to know if something’s wrong.”

Jon dodges his gaze as he hugs the book to his chest like a shield. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” Tim heaves a sigh; he’s going to have to be more blunt. Jon clearly wants to avoid the conversation, but he’s always responded better to clear phrasing and direct questions.

“Look, I don’t know what rumors you’ve been hearing,” Tim runs a hand through his hair nervously, carefully choosing his words. “But if I’m doing anything that makes you uncomfortable-”

“Me?” Jon lets out an incredulous laugh that gives Tim pause. “No- I - I thought I was making you uncomfortable.”

Tim stares. This was not a possibility he prepared for when practicing in front of the mirror. How could Jon think that? Was it something he said? Did? Now he’s running through their interactions, trying to pinpoint a time where he might have seemed cold or distant.

“B-Being clingy, I don’t know.” If Jon hugs that book any harder, it’s liable to break. “Getting too close, getting the wrong idea. I know you don’t like me in that way, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with those rumors. That’s not fair.”

“What?” Clingy? Now that’s a word he never thought he would hear applied to Jon.

“I heard you. W-With Marcus. In the break room.” Jon bit his lip, a habit Tim always chided him on. He controls the urge to do it now. “You seemed so mad. And I didn’t want to be the cause of any more rumors for you, so I thought it best to...well, avoid you.”

Tim squints at him in confusion. Jon thinks he’s protecting Tim. The thought is both amusing and heartwarming, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. “I mean- yes, I was mad about that, but I...I didn’t want you to have to hear that. I know how uncomfortable that shit makes you, and Marcus is an ass- he won’t let up until you put him in his place. Besides, I don’t care about that dick and whatever he thinks. I care about you.”

“O-Oh,” Jon mumbles, looking to the ground and shuffling his feet. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if trying to find the courage to voice his thoughts. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. “It’s j-just...you made it sound so awful.”

Tim’s face softens. “Made what sound awful?”

“...Dating me.” Oh.

“Oh, Jon.” The mumbled words tug at his heartstrings. he really didn’t think Jon cared about all of that, but the man does have feelings. Tim could see how the words would hurt, and the vehemence he said them with probably didn’t help. He takes a tentative step forward, like he’s approaching a spooked animal, but Jon accepts the hand reaches for his shoulder, still not meeting his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Anyone would be lucky to have you-”

“But not you.” 

Tim freezes and Jon shuts his eyes tightly, as if waiting for a blow that won’t ever come. He shrugs off Tim’s hand and starts to back away. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything-”

“Hang on,” Tim starts, gazing at the trembling man in front of him as a thought suddenly occurs. He doesn’t- he couldn’t- “What was that?”

“I-I-”

Tim takes a step closer. Jon doesn’t move. “Do you- did you like me?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know!” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair, wincing as it gets stuck in his messy bun. Tim would’ve laughed if he weren’t also spiraling. “But you clearly don’t like me, and that’s fine-”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jon liked him. And Tim- Tim could’ve done something about it. “We could’ve-”

“I did!” Jon cries out, waving his book emphatically. “I asked you out and you said no! Months ago.”

Tim pauses. Huh? He runs back through as many conversations as he can remember, trying to think of any occasion where Jon might have asked him out, and comes up blank. Tim’s not that oblivious. “Okay, you’re going to have to help me out here. When exactly did this happen?”

“Back in December,” Jon says, as if talking to a child. “I told you about that new bookstore that opened near my flat.”

“..Okay.” He vaguely remembers Jon enthusing about this, but not very clearly. 

“They have a cat there, too.” Ah, now he remembers. Jon’s face always lights up when he talks about felines, and he’s seen more than a few pictures of a fat tabby on his phone. It’s adorable.

“I’m following.”

“And how they had a fairly comprehensive history section.” Another beat. Jon’s looking at Tim like he’s supposed to be getting the picture. He is not. “And the café next door. That sold the chai lattes you like.”

“I do like a latte.”

“And then you said, and I quote! “Sounds like your scene.” and turned back to your desk.” Jon crosses his arms, triumphantly. Apparently, he’s proven a point. Tim does not see this, and he’s pretty sure Jonathan Sims is the most infuriating man he’s ever met in his life. 

“Jon, there wasn’t a single question in that statement. You just monologued about a bookstore-”

“The question was implied!”

“Oh my god-” 

“And you turned around, and it seemed like you weren’t interested and I-I didn’t think I could handle if you said that to my face so I just- I dropped it, okay? It’s fine.” At this Jon loses all momentum, hunching his shoulders as if trying to disappear. He most certainly doesn’t look fine. 

And Tim’s going to change that.

“All this time,” he begins dramatically. Jon deserves a bit of theater. “All this time, we could’ve been going to bookstores, and having lattes, and-”

Jon’s head shoots up, his eyes going comically wide. “What?”

“What I’m trying to say,” Tim puts a hand on his hip, gives him the Stoker Smirk. Jon gulps. “Is the offer still on the table? Bookstore cat and all?” He watches as Jon gapes at him, suddenly fumbling with his book, as if suppressing a little stim of the hands.

“R-Really?”

“Course. Unlike some of us, I can ask a man a question.” Jon blushes even as he scowls. Tim’s looking forward to seeing more of that. “Whaddya say?”

“I-I’d like that.” He watches as Jon tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly demure. He hazards a glance up at Tim and lets out a little laugh. “I’m a bit of an idiot, aren’t I?”

“No more than I am,” Tim replies, throwing an arm around his shoulder and remembering just how right it feels to have Jon nestled against his side. He missed that. “Now, what’s the cat's name?”

“Spoons!” Jon perks up, his smile widening. “I think you’ll really like him.”

The rumor mill is gonna have a field day with this one. And for once, Tim doesn’t mind.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061116

[mcyt-kalopsia]

Reacting to Your Death

So obviously I didn’t write all of them, but here’s how I interpret the SMP members that are written would react to you dying. 

Warnings: Spoilers for Tommy’s latest stream (Literally like one offhand), obviously death, lots of angst, violence mentions, Schlatt for anyone who doesn’t like him I suppose

Theme: angst, obviously it’s just them and how they deal with your death.

Characters; all the ones with (p) are strictly platonic but the others are up to personal interpretation: Dream, George, Sapnap, Wilbur, Techno, Schlatt, Tubbo (p), Ranboo (p), Tommy (p), Awesamdude, Niki, Karl, Quackity, Minx, Badboyhalo, Phil, DreamXD, Skeppy, Fundy.

DREAM:

- The first few days and nights, all he could do was sit inside all day. 

- No matter who visited to comfort him, he felt a horribly large part of his heart had been ripped away when you died.

- He thought about the day when you finally told him that a dirt shack wouldn’t do for a house, so you two spent days building an actual house.

- After those first few days, he decided he would bring you back. 

- The revive book had worked for Tommy and Wilbur, so it had to work for you. 

- He swore he would bring you back. So he did.

GEORGE:

- He didn’t know how to feel at first. He would get terribly depressed, then angry, and then numb, over and over.

- After a week of this, he then could hardly stop crying. What was he going to do without you? The realisation that he was without you hit him like a truck.

- Whenever he would go out with friends, he made it a habit to pick one of your favourite flowers each day. 

SAPNAP:

- He was crushed. He acted out more and more often out of anger to avoid his sadness and hurt, but when he was alone all he did was try so, so hard not to cry. 

- Bruised and bloodied knuckles were his most worn accessory.

- Often slept in your house, as a way to feel closer to you. He spends a lot more time in your house than his.

- Always remembered your birthday, but every birthday just made him more sad. 

- Eventually he would go to Dream about the revive book too.

WILBUR:

- You had been the only one to see past his flaws in a wary way, and he was heartbroken when you died.

- He often sat on your porch and sang songs he had once sang to you, as well as songs he knew you’d loved, and songs he’d written for you. 

- He was the one to make your grave, and had promised to be kinder.

- Though he loved being alive, he didn’t like that you couldn’t also have a second chance at life as well and felt it unfair.

- Probably resorted to a little bit of violence once he got to the anger stage of grieving.

TECHNOBLADE:

- He was always a pretty quiet guy, but when you died he went silent for weeks aside from when he was alone.

- When he was alone, he went into his library. He found all of your favourite books, worn and bent on pages from you reading them over and over, and he would read them aloud. 

- He hoped you could hear him from wherever you were as he read the books you had loved.

- He spent a lot of time awake as he did this, oftentimes getting very invested in what you had loved.

- If he wasn’t reading, usually he was in bed, wondering about how he couldn’t save you. 

SCHLATT:

- Of course, in public he looked composed as he usually was, as if it wasn’t eating him up inside that you were gone.

- “Who was that again?”

- When alone, he falls apart immediately. 

- People assume that when he’s waking up at near to noon it’s because he’s drinking, but it’s really because your death kept him up all night every night.

- He hardly even drank now, because of the secret promise he’d made to you.

- Though you were dead now, he still wanted to keep his promise, just in case.

TUBBO:

- Was the one who made everyone promise to get along when Wilbur made the funeral.

- Was entrusted with the love and care of your stuffed animals or anything from your childhood.

- Has your old childhood photos framed along with his own, so others often stop by to look at the photos to remember you by.

- Probably has your old horse as well, and takes really good care of them.

RANBOO:

- You two had been really close friends before you died. You were such good friends that he didn’t even need his book to remember you were friends, so of course he was absolutely crushed.

- Though he tried his best to stay stable to avoid certain things, he was upset.

- He definitely gave a speech at your funeral.

- He often sits in your room, talking aloud as if you were still with him.

- He would often repeat old jokes you used to tell each other, laughing softly and trying his best to not get too upset.

- If he wasn’t in your room, he was in your old garden tending to your flowers.

TOMMY:

- He’s also more aggressive like Sapnap, except moreso verbally.

- He blames himself heavily for what happened to you, and he mentally beats himself up about it all the time.

- “It was my fault Y/N’s dead, I get it!”

- He’s not much of a cryer.

AWESAMDUDE:

- All of his pain and sadness get put aside with work. He works harder, he makes it so he hardly has time to think about it.

- When he does think about it, he just feels so heavy the rest of the day, like thinking about your death has sucked the rest of the day’s energy from him.

- Sometimes he’s teased for suddenly being so sluggish and unlike himself, but he can’t even muster the energy to explain that he was thinking about you and how he missed you so badly that it hurt him deeply.

- To say the least, he felt like he had believed too much in you having more time. He should have known not to trust in fate.

NIKI:

- She for sure has any other pets you had. She takes extra good care of them.

- There’s a little spot in her garden dedicated to you.

- She had shut down for a good while after your funeral, where she hardly spoke to anyone and often lay in bed all day to try and remember you.

- Although as time went on, she decided you would have hated seeing her in bed all day like that and started doing her normal routines.

KARL:

- He knew he should have seen it coming, but… somehow, he didn’t.

- He felt a little guilty about this thought, and it often kept him from doing any normal tasks.

- He misses the days when one of you felt bad so the other would do everything in their power to make them feel better. 

- Needless to say, he started writing letters to you, even if it was just to keep himself a little busy.

QUACKITY:

- Laughing Through the Pain™

- He spends a lot more time making sure people aren’t worried, by making really bad jokes as usual.

- The only times he cries are when he thinks too much about you, regardless of if he’s alone or not. Sometimes it makes encounters awkward.

- He’s just sobbing one time while in the midst of a conversation with someone and he’s just like “sorry man I was thinking about Y/N” and they are just like “...oh”

MINX:

- Aggressive but make it threatening and nothing more. 

- “If you don’t fucking shut up about Y/N I’ll knock yer teeth in”

- She just wants to be alone sometimes. She just wants to be alone so maybe the pain will stop being so bad.

- Also not much of a cryer unless it’s late at night.

BADBOYHALO:

- “You little muffin… I told you not to get yourself into danger..”

- He loves to talk about you whenever people bring an old interest up.

- “I remember how much Y/N loved these…” He’s staring at the flowers nearby. He’s smiling sadly. 

- Often shares good memories of you with others to help them cope a little.

- He’s sad, but he knows it would do him no good to be so miserable that he can’t do anything. And he knows how much you would scold him if he stopped being himself completely.

PHIL:

- He names a parrot after you, naturally.

- He’s not gone as often now because he likes to stop by your grave and just talk. 

- He collects things that remind him of you and puts them in a special chest marked with your name. Sometimes it’s things you said were cool, other times it’s just things that he associates with you.

- Drinks your favourite teas.

DREAMXD:

- Would absolutely just go “lmao” in the chat and then leave again

- That’s it, that’s him.

SKEPPY:

- No more silly pranks with him :( no more memeing on others…

- It hits him hard

- Like Quackity, he makes a lot of jokes to mask how upset he is.

- Of course, he has Bad, but damn was it still difficult to deal with your passing.

FUNDY:

- :(

- He’s so sad that he doesn’t even want to do anything or go anywhere.

- It feels like his whole world just stopped and that nothing could hurt worse than this, and he doesn’t even want to face this sadness.

- He often goes out into the woods to climb trees like the two of you used to do.

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 1)

A/N: Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept writing and here we are. I’m not super happy with this, so I’m probably going to rewrite it eventually. Staring at my document hasn’t seemed to help so far, so I’m probably gonna take a break on this and work on requests. For now, just sit back and enjoy :D

Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as her fingers toyed with the ladybug keychain on her white crossbody purse.

Her eyes were glued to the towering Wayne Enterprises building before her. The big “W” atop it seemed to stare her down, issuing a silent challenge for her to walk past its doors.

“You got this, Marinette!”

The heroine smiled weakly at Tikki’s assurance—although she did appreciate the sentiment, Marinette wasn’t quite sure she could agree.

She was not prepared to meet Tim whatsoever.

Sure, they had been friends for nearly two years—but regardless, Marinette couldn’t help but stress.

It had all started when Tim decided to commission MDC for a few pieces, offering a large sum of money in exchange for her efforts. Despite being doubtful of whether or not he was truly who he claimed to be, Marinette accepted the request.

Soon enough, back-and-forth emails progressed to casual texting, which led to an eventual friendship. The two seemed to click naturally, which was evident in their smoothly-flowing conversations.

Tim knew everything there was to know about her (barring her identity, of course), yet they had never met in person.

He was the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and she was a prominent designer that moonlighted as a superhero—finding time to video chat one another was hard enough.

But now that Marinette had finished université, she had nothing tying her down to Paris. 19 was a young age to be done with school, but her life wasn’t exactly normal.

That’s why a few weeks before graduation, Marinette decided to email Bruce Wayne.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; Tim had made an offhand remark about how he wished he could be there for her graduation, and the cogs in Marinette’s brain began to turn. Maybe he couldn’t come to Paris, but she could go to Gotham.

Once her mind was made up, it was only a matter of planning.

It was surprisingly easy to get ahold of Tim’s father; from then on, everything else fell into place.

Perhaps attempting to surprise someone as smart as him went against her better judgement, but it was too late to turn back now.

Marinette’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to press her thumb to its home button. Speak of the devil.

Mr. Wayne

It’s ready.

Tell your name to the receptionist at the front desk, and she’ll give you a lanyard with a pass into Tim’s office as well as a set of directions.

I apologize again for not being there to guide you; unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.

Marinette tucked the gift box she was holding under one arm, freeing her hands to type out a response.

Marinette

Thank you so much for your generosity, M. Wayne!

I really appreciate all your help in planning this, and for allowing me to surprise Tim in the first place.

Despite your busy schedule you’ve gone through so much trouble to help me. I really can’t thank you enough!

Once she pressed send on her last message, Marinette inhaled deeply.

Her hands moved to smooth down the soft fabric of her blush pink dress.

It was an admittedly simple ensemble, but the billowy sleeves and fluttery skirt gave it a delicate flair. Her white strappy sandals, circle purse, and wavy half-up braided hairstyle tied it all together nicely.

Marinette checked herself over one last time to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She tucked her phone into her purse, grabbed the box containing Tim’s gift, and turned to look at the imposing building with a burst of newfound confidence.

Here we go.

-

“To the right…” Marinette muttered. “Or was it to the left?”

The designer scrunched her nose in confusion, turning around in a circle to better survey the building.

She had already obtained the lanyard and directions, but decided to make a last-minute detour to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have been a problem since Marinette was a few minutes early, but now she was lost. Sure, the place had a fairly open floor plan, but it was enormous! She couldn’t be expected to navigate this.

In hindsight, maybe deciding to deviate from her original schedule had been a mistake.

Marinette sighed and started walking. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, so wandering aimlessly was her only other option.

Well, it wasn’t her only option—she could easily use her Ladybug magic to give herself a push in the right direction, but Tikki would disapprove. Oh, and it was wrong to use her powers for selfish gain. Marinette totally remembered that.

Turns out she didn’t even need to use her Ladybug powers, though; it only took  a few minutes of searching for her to stumble across what she was looking for.

About 10 meters away was a set of elevators lined up against the wall. A glowing “up” arrow was visible on the panel beside a pair of open steel doors.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the sight of the open elevator. She promptly broke into a jog, careful to keep her speed somewhat appropriate for the environment. The doors started to close, and Marinette’s heart raced faster. There was a shadowed figure inside, but due to the angle they likely couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” she called as loudly as she dared.

It was almost funny how similar the experience was to her lycée days.

Marinette pushed the thought to the back of her mind—she would rather not taint her day with memories of that dumpster fire.

She turned her attention back to the elevator, whose doors had retreated. Thankfully, the person inside heard her. Marinette slowed her pace as she covered the last few meters, but was mindful to not walk obnoxiously so.

As she approached her destination, it became increasingly apparent that whoever was inside was remarkably tall.

Ugh, she could practically hear Tim’s jest in her head—are you sure it’s not just because you’re short? He loved to poke fun at her height with short jokes, even though he was only 8 cm taller than her.

Anyways, despite her petite stature, Marinette was sure the person inside would be considered tall by any standards.

She prepared a friendly smile, a “thanks” on the tip of her tongue when they finally came into view.

The first thing she saw was a pair of worn black men’s work boots on what was an admittedly toned body.

Marinette didn’t let her eyes linger on the muscles there, rather opting to trace her gaze from the man’s body up to their face. And wow, was that a gorgeous face.

She wasn’t the type to fall for someone based on appearance alone, but Marinette would be crazy to think this wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen.

He had messy black hair with a pure white streak in the front, tousled to perfection in a way that would make a supermodel jealous. His brilliant green eyes were pools of emerald, richer than any shade she had seen before. Marinette would gladly drown in them.

Speaking of his eyes, he was looking at her with his captivating gaze and mesmerizing face...

Marinette would forever deny swooning at the sight. She would never swoon.

(She totally did.)

Say something! she scolded.

“Uh, than-thank you.”

Oh no. It was the stutter.

Not just a stutter, but the stutter. The one that only appeared when she was nervous and/or talking to hot guys.

Marinette had long outgrown it—or at least, she thought she had—but apparently now it was back with a vengeance.

Her face heated up, and she moved forward to press the button to her designated floor before taking her place some distance away from the man. She turned her head away in embarrassment, hair shielding her face so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

If she had been looking up, perhaps Marinette would have been prepared for the flood of incoming mass. But she was too busy cursing herself to notice the group of people entering until she felt a nudge on her right side.

Marinette squeaked at the stack of boxes that was suddenly in front of her face and looked up to see a small group of workers entering the elevator, pushing a large platform truck stacked with packages. She shuffled on instinct to make more room.

The cart seemed way too big to fit, especially with the capacity of the elevator. Someone would have to contort themselves, or at the very least they’d be squished up against one another uncomfortably. 

Marinette watched as they pushed the platform truck in all the way. It left the tiniest bit of wiggle room, just enough space for someone to squeeze past.

The designer found herself slowly edging towards her left each time another person wiggled their way past the load.

The elevator wasn’t too crowded, and the process went relatively smoothly—that is, until the last worker attempted to get inside.

He had a build somewhat similar to her Papa: tall and large, so his struggle was understandable. It took a minute of grunts and loud sighs, but he managed to slip past the obstruction and into the elevator.

His large frame, however, meant less space for everyone, and Marinette felt the sudden impact of being shoved.

She couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell out of her mouth as her feet stumbled, and before she knew it her left side was firmly pressed up against someone.

Oh god. It was Hot Guy. Of course it was him.

She pressed her lips together in mortification, arms squeezing Tim’s gift to her chest even tighter.

“Sorry.”

Marinette nearly jumped as the husky voice spoke quietly next to her ear. Her head whipped towards the direction it came from, which wasn’t exactly hard to place. There was only one person on her left side.

She turned her head to face the man with the white streak. She had to crane her neck awkwardly in order to properly see him, which really put into perspective their height difference.

His green eyes were sincere, and Marinette could see the apology in them.

The lack of space wasn’t his fault whatsoever, but it was nice to see someone care about her boundaries.

“U-um, it’s okay.”

Marinette smiled at him shyly, then diverted her eyes away. Her brief burst of courage could only take her so far.

Before she knew it, the ride was over. The elevator stopped with a ding, and coincidentally enough, everyone was headed to the same floor.

Marinette fished out the set of directions Mr. Wayne had written from her purse, skimming over them once more. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of finally meeting her best friend.

She barely noticed the workers pushing out the platform truck or Hot Guy walking away, the outside world long forgotten.

Marinette’s body went on autopilot, following the instructions on the paper until she found herself stopped in front of a sleek door. She didn’t know what it was made of, but she was glad it wasn’t glass like many other things in Wayne Enterprises. That would make her surprise a lot harder to pull off.

Above the key card security system on the left was a name plate, nearly identical to others she had passed on her way here. The name Tim Drake was written in elegant silver cursive letters, the metal gleaming as if it were brand new.

Marinette’s chest tightened in anticipation as she pulled out the lanyard Mr. Wayne had given her. She took a deep breath before knocking twice.

There was a short pause before a familiar voice responded.

“Who is it?”

She scanned her card and opened the door.

“Marinette?!”

-

A/N: For reference, Marinette is 5’3” (160 cm) and Jason is 6’4” (193 cm), so there's a 13" (33 cm) difference. I tried to use French terms and measurements so it'd feel more like Marinette's perspective.

And yea, I'm not super proud of this so I'm probably gonna rewrite it in the future. I have a bunch of other WIPs to work on though, so sorry in advance for my wacky updating schedule!

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Any opinions on Remus Lupin? I just can't seem to find anything about him in your archive.

Just so you know, I wasn’t really avoiding this ask, it’s more that whenever anyone asks me about a character like this I have to prepare to have a good chunk of time free. Rants take time, you know.

But yes, there are now a number of asks about Remus Lupin and so the people have spoken and I am prepared to answer.

Remus Lupin’s life is a dumpster fire of pain and suffering culminating in him dying in pain and suffering nearly dooming his son Teddy to lead a life of pain and suffering and I can’t believe Remus agreed to have a kid knowing he’d probably pass on lycanthropy. Well, a lot of his decisions towards the end of the series become eyebrow raisingly questionable, but we’ll get into that.

I guess something I should probably address, since I see a lot of fics gloss over it or just never realize it, is that being a werewolf is akin to having leprosy. Whether it’s good or bad I won’t get into, personally I think turning into a blood thirty/uncontrollable wolf that will potentially eat a village probably isn’t a good thing and wizards are right to be at least wary, but it’s important to look at how he’s treated by society.

Lupin is given an opportunity the vast majority in his position are not and is allowed to attend Hogwarts. Dumbledore took a huge risk with this, had anyone found out (had Snape narked), I imagine the board of directors would have immediately sacked him. As this was the age before wolf’s bane (in which Lupin could have taken a potion and simply been ill for a few nights rather than turn into a werewolf), Dumbledore was actively endangering the lives of all the other students by giving Lupin admission. In fact, one student nearly gets eaten/infected. So, Lupin gets very very very lucky that Dumbledore took that risk for him, that Snape was silenced but not killed, and that he only ever had that close call with Snape.

However, on graduation his luck ends. Due to his disease, Lupin is not able to be employed anywhere and when we catch up to him in canon gives strong signs of being homeless. He seems incredibly worn down by life, aged far beyond his yeas (the guy’s gray at thirty something), and is resigned but not shocked when he’s fired from Hogwarts after having nearly eaten three students because he forgot to take his medicine.

But let’s take a side tour to Lupin’s shitty friends. My god, I’ve gone over James and Sirius before, but they are the world’s shittiest friends to everyone but each other. Lupin screams something like the charity friend for these guys, they’re friends with Lupin because it makes them feel generous and cool to be friends with a werewolf. The Animagus thing to keep him company, while cool and requiring a lot of hard work, feels like a weird gimmick if you take ten steps back. They turn into animals so that they can run around with their werewolf friend at night and keep him company? That’s great and all, guys, but it doesn’t exactly make Lupin’s life better.

More damning, everything they seem to do with Lupin is to remind him he has this horrible incurable disease that will see him dead in a gutter. Lupin is Moony to his friends, because he’s a werewolf, har har. I can’t quite recall but I do think there were offhand canon mentions that James and Sirius made a lot of jibes/good natured jokes about Lupin being a werewolf. Lupin is the werewolf friend.

And then we get to Sirius and what he did to Lupin. Sirius, as the world’s worst joke that belongs in a Stephen King novel, actively goads Snape into stumbling on Lupin on the night of a full moon nearly getting him mauled and making Lupin a murderer. This, more than anything else, highlights to me that Sirius never really cared about Lupin. Lupin’s condition, Lupin himself, is reduced to a tool Sirius can use to get what he wants (humiliating and or murdering Severus Snape). Lupin realizes this and the next day I’m sure Sirius and James are going, “Come on, Lupin, it was funny! And it was Snape! It was Snape and funny!” Never mind that Lupin probably would have been executed or else sent to a penal colony had Snape died or been infected. Sirius nearly destroys Lupin’s life, makes him a murderer, for a giggle. 

I don’t think Lupin ever really gets over that.

We see in canon that, at least by Harry’s third year, he has no doubt in his mind that Sirius betrayed Lily and James. Fics often make a gradiose show of Lupin having to apologize for doubting Sirius, BUT WHY SHOULD HE?! Given what Sirius did to Lupin with Snape, given Sirius’ complete lack of empathy afterwards, if I was Lupin and this horrible thing had happened with Lily and James I might be surprised but in retrospect I’d go “Yeah, there were signs”. Of course, this makes things a little awkward when Sirius turned out to be innocent, but I hardly blame Lupin for believing it was Sirius.

Which gets me into Sirius/Remus, Wolfstar, or whatever terrible thing we’re calling it today. I get that fandom loves to warp Remus and Sirius into Harry’s cool uncles (guys, neither of them were this, I’ve been over Sirius but I’ll get to Remus) but it’d be the most toxic mess I’ve ever heard of. Given their history, given the pit of depression Remus is in in canon, given the sheer crazy of Sirius when he gets out of Azkaban: it’d be a cesspit of terribleness of Nabokovian levels. 

Right, yes, so why Remus isn’t Harry’s cool uncle: Remus has no interest in being Harry’s cool uncle. If you go back and actually read “Prisoner of Azkaban”, rather than watch the film, Lupin is very very very hands off with Harry. Harry asks if Remus knew Sirius Black/his parents and Lupin gives a very vague non-committal response, Harry goes to Lupin and asks to be taught the patronus and Lupin agrees to give one very brief lesson, Harry’s the one who seeks out extra attention and rather than Remus. In other words, had it been up to Remus he would have been in and out of Hogwarts without Harry any the wiser. After the reveal, similarly, Remus never really reaches out. He’s always a much more distant figure than Sirius in Harry’s life, never really contacts him the way Sirius does despite not being on the run, and shows up awkwardly to one Christmas at the burrow. He’s not family to Harry, Harry stretches the definition to make him fit, but he’s not really interested in the role.

Instead he marries Tonks in what I can only describe as a complete descent into despair. Yes, feel free to throw stones at me, but guys. He marries this barely legal girl he barely knows, during most of that time period he gets to know her he’s off on the world’s worst mission trying to convince werewolves that the ministry/Dumbledore are great (needless to say, they’re not impressed). He marries her, she gets pregnant within the year while Voldemort takes over the country, and then they both die leaving their likely werewolf son an orphan. As it is, Lupin even starts panicking, realizing that he’s damned his son to a miserable life and that he’s married this girl he barely knows (and Harry, wise and empathetic man of the year, calls Remus a coward for fearing as much. Ah Harry, never change.) Teddy does get lucky in that he doesn’t apparently become a werewolf, though he is still discriminated against because his father is a known one. Lucky you, Teddy, dodged a bullet.

So yeah, that’s Lupin’s miserable life. What a dumpster fire, you poor, miserable, man.