#he's annoying and infuriating but in such a complex way i wish they did more w his arc

[hinamie]

these 3 and their weird catty love triangle have bewitched me body and soul

[vanderlindemorgans]

Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Two weeks after breaking up with you, you're picking up the pieces of your heart that had been broken by your now ex-boyfriend Javier Peña. You want answers, a clear reason as to why things fell apart. The only problem is that Javier refuses to even acknowledge your existence

Warnings: A little bit of period-typical sexism, but not much, Javier being an asshole, mentions of prostitution, some low level typical Narcos themes

Authors Note: So this idea has been swimming around in my head ever since the song was released last week. I already had a Bad Breakup fic for Javi planned but I’ve decided to extend it into three parts! Also reader speaks in English bc I do not understand a word of Spanish other than that one line in Ultraviolence. None of this is beta read, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes - if I get anything really wrong then let me know. 

Part 2 | MASTERLIST

The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. From the moment someone walked in they could feel it, the stifling air of awkwardness surrounding every single person in the room as they pretended to carry on with their work, averting their eyes to the spectacle presented in front of them, a war of agitation rife between two agents sitting across the room from each other as well as the unfortunate Steve Murphy who just happened to sit between you two. From your end it was simple silent fury, directed right across the room to where your partner, or rather, ex-partner, Javier Peña was seated at his own desk, casually leafing through mountains of paperwork and suspect photos as if you weren’t practically shooting daggers at him from across the way. 

He wasn’t doing anything, and that was exactly the problem - you wanted him to do something, say something, anything, if only it would show that he even gave a damn about the situation at all. But he never did. Every morning when he walked into work carrying a black coffee in his hands, his top shirt buttons hanging loose as they always seemed to be and his hair mustled as if he hadn’t been sleeping properly, he said nothing. He walked past you as if you weren’t even there, ignoring your stares and crashing down at his desk, ready to continue the endless chase for Pablo Escobar. And it infuriated you. Oh lord, how it made you burn. With every refusal of acknowledgement he gave, you became even more tempted to march right over to him and strike him across his stupid handsome face. You never did, of course, and you never would. Physical confrontation just wasn’t your style. Nevertheless, the mere thought of such did bring you a small bit of joy to your broken little soul. 

Things had been going like this for two weeks now. You hadn’t expected much on the first morning back in the office after what had happened between you. A part of you wanted him to come grovelling to you, insisting that he’d made a mistake and begging for you to take him back. That in itself was nothing more than a fantasy: Javier Peña was too proud to grovel. If anything, his behaviour shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. He was the one who broke up with you over a 27 second phone call, after all. 

Despite taking that into consideration, you thought by now you would have heard something from him. He’d have to talk to you eventually since you two were working the same case. Apparently no, because it appeared that he went out of his way to deliver every piece of correspondence meant for you through to Murphy, letting him act as a sort of unwilling middle man between the two of you. You knew that Steve already felt awkward enough having to be in the same room with the two of you whilst this was all going on, so your sympathy for him deepened when he was thrust into the even more awkward position of messenger. Sometimes you swore he made up fake meetings with Messina to attend to or new leads to investigate just so he could get away from the suffocating air of hate around you and Javi. And really, who could blame him?

You felt your nose twitch in annoyance as you trained your eyes forward to him, periodically looking down at various files of intel to keep up the facade that you were indeed working, though you eyes were across the room for most of the time, searching for any sign of emotion on his face. Nothing, zilch, not a single trace, his expression only showcasing general indifference, as if nothing were wrong at all. You gripped your hand tightly around the edge of your pen, thinking of everything you wished you could say to him. How’s your heart after breaking mine, Javi? For your information, ever since you pulled that bullshit on the phone, I’ve been miserable as all fucking hell. Before all that happened, I wanted to try. I was even ready to try to forgive you after that stupid fight, but you just had to make that call. You know what? I’d actually hate you less if you just acted like you cared a little that we broke up. But noooo, you’re just Mr. Perfectly Fine, what with your ignoring me and your casual cruelty, your always showing up at just the right time, and your insincerity, and the way you think everything fucking revolves around you. Well, I’ll tell you something Javi - I’m done! Absolutely done with you and your shit. Jump off a cliff for all I care!

“I’ll be back later on, gonna go follow up on a few leads” your thoughts were cut off by Javier’s abrupt announcement, your eyes gracing themselves upwards to watch him hastily scoop his jacket off the back of his chair and skulk his way out of the office. Every bitter word you wanted to say to him burned on your tongue, though you only managed to settle on a simple yet seething glare while his eyes glazed over you, rushing himself out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. You noticed Murphy look over his shoulder like he was about to say something but it was too late - Javi was already long gone. 

_______

Letting out a low groan of frustration, you slammed the door to your car shut and threw your head back against the seats headrest, the stress of the job and the emotional weight of the day combining to make you even more tired than you would usually be at the end of a long day. Javier hadn’t been back to the office since he left, leaving both you and Murphy to pick up all the work he’d left in his absence. If that wasn’t infuriating enough, the thought of him running around all of Bogotá just to avoid seeing you brought your anger to new unreachable heights. It was annoying - him not being around should have left your mind to be free to do some actual goddamn work but instead, just as before, every single moment he occupied your mind, living there permanently as if it were his right. How much more infuriating could that man get?

Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t any more of a nuisance than usual, since the apartment complex you shared with the others wasn’t that far from the embassy, so that was a small positive at the very least. Once you’d pulled up to the lot you were feeling a lot more level-headed than you did before, and were mainly looking forward to kicking back in pajamas and watching whatever was on TV with the leftover pizza from the night before. It wouldn’t do much to take your mind off everything with Javi, though, you knew that much. Still, a small bit of bliss was still bliss. 

Your apartment was down the hall from Javier’s, which had made it easier for you two when you were together but now felt like another sore reminder of what had been. Sighing heavily to yourself, you kicked the door to your car shut and stuffed the keys into the pocket of your jeans. A minor annoyance, sure, nothing you couldn’t handle though. You wondered if he would even be back right now. He had to be, right? An idea started to creep into your head at that thought, taking root and festering until you had practically talked yourself into doing it already, descending up the stairs with a sense of purpose behind you. Maybe if you showed up on his doorstep you could force him to confront you, make him look you in the eye. Any sort of acknowledgement to what you two had would be nice at this point, and if you had to take action yourself to get him to do it, then so be it. 

The closer you got to his door the more you felt you should turn back, a feeling of uneasiness beginning to form somewhere deep in your chest. This might be a bad idea. What if you two got into a fight again? As much as you wanted nothing more than to hurl some carefully crafted insults at Javi and his stupid gorgeous face, you weren’t exactly up for a full on battle that could result from it. Would it be better to simply go home and ignore your problems a little more?

Once you were only inches from the door was when you started to hear it. At first it sounded muffled, on account of the fact that there was a physical barrier between you and them, and you weren’t quite sure exactly what you heard at first but when you pressed yourself closer to the door you could hear it all clear as day - a woman moaning loudly on the other side, whimpering out Javi’s name and betraying exactly what was going on within the walls of the apartment. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, the world feeling like it was collapsing around you from the very second you realised why he had left early for the day. Unable to stop yourself, you tore yourself away from the apartment door and ran down the hall to your own place, tears falling at a rapid pace that refused to stop. You didn’t know if the woman in there was an informant, or a prostitute, or some random chick he’d picked up in a bar after ditching work for the day. In the end none of it mattered though. All that mattered is that it wasn’t you in there with him, like it used to be, like it should be, and that fact made you hurt all the more fiercely.

Fumbling with the keys to your apartment, you choked on a low sob working your way through the waterfall of tears in your eyes to try and wrestle the key into the lock. Through your haste, you accidentally let them fall loose from your palms and onto the ground, prompting a loud “fuck!” to ring out from your throat, loud enough for everyone in the neighboring apartments to hear. Not like you really cared about that, to be honest. With your hands shaking, you finally managed to throw the door to your apartment open, slamming it back closed with a thud and leaning back against it with your head in your hands, slowly descending to the ground to finally give in to the wave of sorrow threatening to claim you. 

You’d known his reputation before you started seeing each other, that he slept with all his informants and chased every woman who crossed his path in Colombia. Actually, it had made you hesitant to get involved with him in the first place but once you two had bitten the bullet and finally admitted your damn feelings for each other, Javier had ceased with his wild ways, becoming solely dedicated to you and you alone. And sure, you two weren’t together anymore, there wasn’t anything stopping him from being with other women. It felt like a deeper twist of the knife though, what you’d heard from behind that door, and it practically confirmed the sickening feeling that had been building in you since the first day back in the office after your breakup, when Javi refused to even look you in the eye and acted as if you’d vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn’t care about me anymore. 

Moving on had been that much easier for him. While it took everything in you to get up each day, he was doing absolutely ok. More than ok, if the sounds coming from his apartment were anything to go by. He was even already settling back into his old reputation. You should’ve known it was too good to be true - the manwhore of the DEA, Javier Peña actually wanting to settle down with one woman, actually caring about a girl beyond what she could be in bed. You remembered the raised eyebrows when you two had first gotten together: for most, it just seemed so out of nowhere. You’d ignored them all, remembering all the times you’d be tangled up with Javi on the couch, his head nestled into your neck while your heart raced a mile a minute, hearing every sweet nothing and praise he’d whisper to you. Stupid girl, you should’ve known. 

_______

After such a huge revelation, you thought things might’ve changed. In what way they would, you didn’t really know. Maybe the change would be sudden, such as you finally working up enough of a resolve to actually go confront Javier on his shit. Or maybe you’d take a leaf out of his book and start trying to seem like nothing was wrong at all, maybe go out on a few dates with some other guys. One of the Search Bloc guys had been eyeing you up every time he came over with Carillo to talk strategy, maybe you could go out with him. Though you knew it wouldn’t help - unlike Javier, who was actually more than happy with where you two had left things, you weren’t, and acting like it was just to throw it in his face wasn’t really going to work if he didn’t care enough to look over at you in the first place. And even then, the idea of falling into bed with some random man that you didn’t care for all that much in the name of moving on didn’t seem right to you. 

Nevertheless, you expected some form of change to happen the morning after when you came into work to see Javier sitting at his desk, on the phone to someone you couldn’t care less about. But nope. Nothing had changed. You sat down and stared across the room at him, just like you’d done every day for the past two weeks, and he ignored your stare to continue with writing something down on his notepad, just like usual. 

Maybe the change would be gradual, you thought, staring back over at the man in the midst of your ire with one of your coldest glares. And sure enough, around midday Steve had come up to you asking to retrieve something from the evidence room for him. Apparently he needed to look over something but was too busy with his own work to go fetch it - you knew on some level that his excuse was bullshit as it had been a pretty slow day for all of you but sure, whatever, if it got you out of that room and away from Javi for at least a few blissful moments that was fine by you. 

Reaching out for the door to the evidence room, you pushed it open and admitted yourself into the crowded space, twisting around to slam the door shut firmly behind you. Before you were rows of shelves containing every bit of evidence the DEA had accumulated against Escobar - there wasn’t as much as there probably should have been due to the fire that had broken out at the Palace of Justice years before yet the amount contained in that small room was still impressive in size. Moving between the shelves, you scanned the rows of boxes looking for the one Steve had asked for in particular, taking your time with it as there was a small sense of serenity to being in that room. For once it felt like you could breathe. You didn’t have to sit at a desk across from your ex, you didn’t have to go home to your apartment that was literally across the hall from his, you could be alone and not feel suffocated by his ever-present shadow over your life. Though, in some way you supposed, your own memories could still prove just as suffocating as Javier’s own godforsaken presence.

As if by thinking of him you’d magically summoned him, the man himself strode through the door to the evidence room, appearing to be in quite a hurry however once he noticed you were there he stopped, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual stoic glare. You could barely contain your own disappointment at his sudden appearance, letting your face twist into a low scowl as you watched him walk down the aisle you were standing in, his eyes dashing from row to row searching for any place to look so they could avoid landing on you. Anger bubbled within you, a thousand different sarcastic or otherwise snarky remarks coming to mind that you could throw out at him, every one of them becoming increasingly more scathing the more you thought about it. Letting out a small sigh, you forced yourself to push all those delightful insults to the back of your mind, not wanting to become caught up in any more personal drama than you had to. Get the box and go. It’s that simple. There doesn’t need to be anymore to this. 

A minute later your eyes landed on the fabled box you’d been searching for, shoved into a corner and so out of the way you almost missed it completely. You thought of asking Steve what was in the box that he needed so bad when out of nowhere you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you.

“Listen, I...about what happened on the phone a few weeks ago-”. 

So, it seems Mr. Perfectly Fine has finally decided to break his silence. In an instant you twisted yourself around to face him, quickly taking in his serious expression and stiff stature before your eyes met for the first time in two weeks.“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to speak to me now? That’s a first. I thought you were steadfast gonna ignore me for the rest of my life” you spat, not allowing him any form of politeness or decorum in your reply. Why should you? He’d ignored you for weeks. He deserved this. 

You watched as Javier tensed at your words, clearly not expecting the bite back that you had given to him. There was some part of his expression that almost looked sheepish in a way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really wanted this conversation to happen at all. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just-” he started with you rolling your eyes and cutting in almost immediately. “Save it for someone who actually gives a shit. Shouldn’t be hard since you don’t seem to care all too much yourself” you snarled, an action which only made him even more tense. 

“I do care, and I kind of always have fucking cared so if you could calm down a little and stop getting yourself worked up we can actually talk about what happened. Can you do that for me at the bare minimum?” he retorted, a harsh edge appearing in his tone that indicated he was already becoming frustrated with your attitude. You knew Javi’s emotions like the back of your hand - he wasn’t a patient man, and he had no time for snark or sarcasm, though only if it was directed at him. When it came to himself, he was more than happy to indulge in a small bit of pettiness. You didn’t much care at that moment though: as far as you were concerned, he lost the right to a civilised discussion when he broke up with you over the phone and then pretended you were invisible for weeks. It’s not like things can get any worse than they are now, right?

“Oh, sure, sure, we can totally talk. How about I start then?” you fired back, every word simmering with venom and dripping raw with sarcastic edge. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the shelf to take him in, from the creases in his tie to his tired eyes staring straight into you. Wait, tired? You didn’t realise it until then but he had been looking pretty tired lately, almost like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then again, his sleep schedule had never been quite stellar, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. And he was probably up all night with that woman I heard him with, you reminded yourself bitterly.  “Look at you, so dignified in your well pressed suit, so smug and self-involved, so far above me in every way, so far above that you won’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge my presence. Tell me, Javier, has it really been that easy to forget about me?” you taunted. “Though I supposed when you’re seducing every whore in Colombia into your bed it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”. 

Javier was caught off guard by your remark, not anticipating that you would go so far as to accuse him of returning to his old ways. “First of all, she was an informant, and I had to leave yesterday to go meet up with her. Things ran into overtime and that’s the reason I wasn’t back. I thought you of all people understood that gathering intel is a vital part to the fight against Escobar?” he replied, that last line at the end being delivered with only a little more underlying snip than the rest yet it was more than enough for you to feel around thirty percent more pissed at him. 

You scoffed at his lies, your lip curling into a snarl at his attempt at patronising you. “Don’t patronise me. I’m well aware of the ins and outs of this job, in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been working with the DEA for eight years now, which is why I’m calling bullshit on your pathetic excuse for a lie. You do realise we live in the same building right? I know you were doing more than having a friendly discussion with her in there, in fact, I quite literally heard you two through the goddamn walls on my way back home. And before you try to spin some shit about how it was necessary for the case, you and I both know that fucking the informant isn’t a standard part of procedure. You don’t see Murphy bedding any of his sources of intel, do you?”. 

“Murphy’s married, princesa” he deadpanned, throwing in that little nickname he had for you that two weeks ago would have made your heart flutter but at this time and in the context he used it only soured your mood further. “That’s besides the point. You’ve been acting like I never even mattered to you at all, and it’s honestly making me wonder if I ever did? Especially since I apparently didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper breakup and got a 27 second phone call instead. Tell me, when did you change your mind? I thought I was supposed to be the one you were waiting for all your life. Guess that was pretty easy to change, wasn’t it?” you snapped.

“Hermosa, can you just fucking listen for one minute?! God, you’re impossible sometimes” Javier shouted, that infamous temper of his rising towards the surface at a rapid rate. It was only a matter of time before he spat something out that he would no doubt regret. In your own haze of anger though, that fact didn’t register with you at all - you only saw red. If you had to scream back at him to finally pull some answers out of the man, then so fucking be it.

“No, how about you listen for once! I know we had that big fight but we could have just talked. The next day when you called me up I was ready to forgive you for being a complete ass. And what did I get instead? ‘I’m sorry, I think we should stop seeing each other’ and a dead dial tone after that. I can tell the only reason you’re apologising today is just so you don’t have to feel like the bad guy in all of this. So what’s the truth? Why were you so ready to throw away a whole relationship over one night of terse words?” you screamed, not caring that you two were at work and anyone could pass by outside and hear you two argue. With the way you both were shouting, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire building could hear your screaming match with Javier. None of that mattered to you though. The only thing that mattered was the truth. 

You weren’t the only one refusing to hold back in any of this: any lingering spark of politeness had vanished in Javi, his eyes turning dark with searing anger you had only seen in him a couple of times before. “You want to know why? You want to fucking know why? It’s because you’re a fucking pain to deal with. You may be a fantastic agent but god you can be so stupid sometimes. You’re too reckless, you throw yourself into danger too willingly with no consideration for anyone else. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the people who cared about you if you died? Do you even give a shit about the people trying to protect you?” he confessed, fury burning with every word that came out of his mouth, his admittance making you flinch. It was just like he said during your last fight, the one that led to him dumping you in the first place. 

Everything he said from that night came rushing back to you, remembering how furious he’d been at you for what had happened during your last raid together. You could see that underneath it all he was concerned for your safety, a gesture that was usually sweet but frustrated you that night as you felt something more akin to a porcelain doll than a capable agent in his eyes. Just because I’m your girlfriend, doesn’t mean you can treat me like I need to be protected. I can handle myself just fine. That was what you’d said to him that night, which should have been the end of it but somehow as the argument went on things got more and more heated that by the time he’d stormed out of your apartment neither of you could remember what had started it all. 

What took you by surprise was that apparently he was still stewing about this, for some reason not wanting to believe in your capabilities as an agent and that alone made you more pissed at him. “I don’t need to be protected, Javier. I’m a woman, a DEA agent for crying out loud, not a flower! I’m more than capable of handling myself, I was literally trained for this! Nobody else here seems to have a problem with how I approach things so maybe the issue isn’t my method of attack but the fact that you’re a paranoid asshole?”. 

He raised a single eyebrow back at you, looking somewhat skeptical of your claim but more so angry that somehow you two had managed to circle back around to the very thing that had started this whole mess.“Really? Because our last raid you were throwing yourself into the fray as if it were a suicide mission. It was a miracle you only ended up with a minor sprain to the wrist. Those men, the sicario’s, they don’t fucking hold back, one wrong mistake means the difference between life and death” he snapped.“And you know what? After constantly stressing over your safety every minute I was done. If you wanna end up with a bullet between your eyes, be my guest”.

The second those words slipped from his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. As the tears started to form in your eyes you could see him freeze up, his burning temper that had caused him to be so hateful before starting to slowly seep back, replaced with remorse and a hint of panic if you squinted. Although that didn’t matter much right now - his venomous words were rattling around in your brain, acting as a metaphorical hammer that took the final swing towards your damaged heart. Apparently what you heard through the walls the night before hadn’t been enough to break you completely, since there was still enough left of your heart for the rest of it to be shattered by his callous cruelty. 

Forcefully swallowing down your cries, you wanted so badly to disappear from the room. You wanted to melt into the floor, to run away and go find one of Escobar’s men and gloat about all you’d done to try to stop him so you could feel the mercy of a fatal gunshot wound to the head. All the pain you had felt previously paled in comparison to the knife that cut you then, the tight feeling of your throat closing with every word you forced out. “So you were lying. You don’t care about me at all. You...you think I’m stupid. And reckless. And...not able to handle being here…”. 

“Shit, princesa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Javier started, desperately scrambling to fix the mess he’d caused, however, you weren’t going to let him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Any hope he might have had of making things right was now thrown straight out the window. No more chances. Not anymore. 

“I think that’s exactly what you meant, Javi. Well, you got your wish I guess. I’ll get out of your life for good” your voice wobbled as you spoke, the next few minutes becoming a blur from when you’d pushed past him and ran out of the evidence room, hearing him call your name behind and not bothering to turn back to face him, running through the halls past different agents and members of the DEA, your hand shielding yourself in a pathetic attempt to save face. Somehow you’d managed to make it out to your car, throwing yourself into the driver's seat and jamming the keys into the ignition, your mind going in a million different directions. Your first thought was to go back home, though you knew that you’d have to hear Javi come back later, probably with yet another woman he picked up. You didn’t exactly have any friends in Colombia - with your line of work there hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to sit around and mingle with people, and truth be told you wanted to avoid people at all costs right then. Without any idea as to where you might be going, or what you were going to do, you pulled your car out of the parking lot and slammed on the gas to get you out of there, the world surrounding you not registering to you anymore and every sound becoming a rush against your ears that you paid no mind to. 

One thing was for sure - you weren’t going to give Javier a single drop more of you. Your time, your mind, your energy, your tears, nothing. He’d already proved himself to be a lying sack of shit who didn’t care about you, so as it stood, you wouldn’t care about him either. Like the end of a tragic tale, everything had crashed and burned, and now that you thought about it more, maybe that was how things needed to be. 

Goodbye, Mr Perfectly Fine. I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time. 

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@greeneyedblondie44​

[softkuea]

I really need to talk a little bit more about Pi, now that I'm rewatching the episode again. At first I though I was overreacting about how everyone was to Pi: after this rewatch I'm certain I wasn't.

Pi is a very special character for me, more than anything because I can understand his personality and the way he observes the world. For this reason, I feel like the series could have touched on several relevant topics, considering that it has a complex character. Unfortunately, they decided to ignore Pi's agency in all its aspects and use him as a "typical tsundere character" who has "little insecurities" and who needs one person who can cure his "lack of self-esteem".

Pi clearly isn't like that: his insecurities are rooted in the harassment he has suffered, either because of his way of being (which can be considered "strange") or because of his appearance (and now, let's add the shippers to the mix, the cycle continues). Pi doesn't need someone to save him, he needs a supportive network that contains him and understands him, he also needs some type of introspection or therapy.

From an objective perspective, the episode was really sad and painful. At various points I felt that Pi was going to break down or cry: he knows that the problem lies within himself, he is aware that he is paranoid and that he cannot bear people's attention.

I think what infuriates me the most is calling the episode "paranoia" and somewhat minimizing what it implies.

Although it is obvious that he is suffering from this, all the characters act as if he is simply "sad" or behaving "irrationally" (Surprise! Paranoia is based on irrational beliefs, shocking, right?). Have you ever heard people say " just don't be anxious :) "? Or maybe "Don't be depressed, just do something"? Well, this episode is an accurate representation of the toxic positivity that many people with mental disorders go through.

The fact that no one told Pi "I understand how you feel. Would you like to talk about it?" is heartbreaking, because when you are dealing with so many emotions that's what you want to hear the most. I wish I could enter the screen and let him vent because I really don't think he ever had that therapeutic opportunity to speak up and not be judged.

Pi is in a paranoid state and that indicates that what he is experiencing is serious, it is delicate. Using this term and then treating it as if it were nothing is really irresponsible but I don't expect everyone to be a psychologist, I understand that there's people who doesn't know. However, the minimum would have been to show empathy towards Pi, something that I did not see on the part of anyone and no, telling him that "he shouldn't care about what others say" is not good advice or a show of empathy, it's a generic phrase that everyone says and only reveals that there's no interest in knowing how Pi really feels, it is not genuine concern.

As someone who has been through paranoid delusions, I'm disappointed in the way everyone is viewing Pi, especially Mork, who seems obsessed to the point of not recognizing that Pi is not mentally ready for a relationship. Mork should stop flirting and give real affection, because he always talks about how he wants to take care of Pi and blah blah blah, but all I see is how he annoys Pi and makes him feel uncomfortable. Is that really love?

I know Pi will just have to give into everything because the couple must carry on, but I don't want to see him be miserable, I don't want to see people dismissing his feelings and making him feel like it was all his fault. That's no the case: the environment he is in and the people around him are a big part of the problem here because they don't let him grow and heal in peace.

Pi, it will never be your fault.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Sick Days

Obviously before Mon el admits his feelings.

So how do you feel?" Mon-el asked when he entered Kara's room.

"Sick, so so very sick. I want to die" Kara sniffled.

Mon-el patted her shoulder, and pulled the blanket over her curled up body again.

"I hope Snapper undersdands. Ugh! I forgod to dell her!" Kara cried, she struggled to get up and rush to the phone but Mon el forced her to lie down again.

"It's okay. James already made an excuse as to why you're not going." Mon el assured her

"An excuse! Bud... I'm just sick, Dan excuse wilb ondly make id worsde." Kara whined as she tried to reach for the phone again.

"No it won't. We just told him that you have wild food poisoning and are throwing up as we speak. It sounds a lot better than just a cold."

"Jusb a cold. This a Krypdoniand cold, dose are mega worsde. It's den million colds at once." Kara groaned, swiveling her head dramatically. Then she sat up.

"Whab about you! Your fake job," She cried.

Mon-el brushed a stray hair out of her face, a smile creeping on his face as he looked at her. Even though her skin was ashen, her usually bouncy blonde curls were limp and stringy and her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was as stuffed up as a Build a Bear, she was cute.

She cared about his job, she cared what her boss would think. That was true determination and loyalty. Just generally niceness. That was Kara. She may be an alien, but she could fit as the girl next door any day of the week. She was just so optimistic and cheerful, it was one of the best things he liked about her.

In fact that was why he volunteered to help stay with her today. He didn't really know how to take care of a sick person but he googled it so it seemed easy.

Now Kara was a grown woman, but she was practically useless when she was sick, physically not able to get out of bed useless, and that usually put a damper on getting lunch herself or getting dress or getting tissues when she ran out.

Alex was going to do it, but once Mon-el heard he volunteered. And insisted that Alex go do her job and he would take care of her.

Lately Mon-el had been thinking a lot about Kara. A lot. She would creep up into his mind and random parts of the day even if she wasn't in the room.

He would stare at daffodils and think "Kara would love those. The first sign of spring. What did she call them? Oh right, cups of sunshine in bloom."

To a regular person that would be cheesy but that was just Kara.

He would watch tv shows and suddenly a particular line would pop up and he would be tempted to write it down so he could tell her later.

Yeah, he had to admit it. He got it bad for the Kryptonian.

But he couldn't admit it TO her.

She was just so strong and caring and yes, that might be her point of weakness. She would care too much. And when people fell in love, those feelings only amplify and then she would be protective of him this way and that and then there would be the whole "it's not you, it's my enemies." He was aware of the danger. It still didn't mean he could get over his feelings just like that.

Especially when she sounded like that.

"I'm gonna make you some food. You stay here and start getting better." Mon-el told her. Kara did what she was told and buried her head under the pillow without a second thought.

When Mon-el came back from the kitchen, Kara had fallen off the bed, and was staring dazedly at the wall.

"Mon-el. Fuddy ting. I can'd ged up." Kara said. He could swear the stuffiness was getting worse.

He placed the bowl of piping chicken soap on the dresser and swept her up in an army lift. He gently placed her into bed, rearranged the pillows, and pulled the blanket over her again, and made sure the tissue box was close by.

"Here some soup." He handed the bowl to her and she grinned happily.

"Danks" She took a slurp of it and spewed it across the bed, coughing violently.

"Sorry! I didn'd mean do!" Kara cried, she got off the bed and was about to start wiping the blanket when she dizzily fell again.

"Kara, you rest, I got it." Mon-el said, he lifted her again and walked her to the couch in the living room.

"Sorry," she muttered again.

"No it's not your fault. Your sick. Just relax, watch some tv"

He went back to the room, stripped the sheets and managed to wrangle up some new blankets in the back of her closet.

"Danks for all dis. Really. You could be doing domthing more udful or fun than be with me." Kara blew her nose in a tissue when he handed her the box

"It's my pleasure. You do so much for everyone, and for me. It's not a big deal to care for you" Mon el replied

"Dupergirl does do a lot of duff for everyone," Kara said.

"And Kara Danvers does too." Mon-el said as he sat next to her "She makes me happy, she brightens the workroom everyday and tries to see the best in things. I really like her."

Kara blushed, and hid her face behind her blanket. James froze, did he just admit his crush? More importantly, one of the most dreaded scenarios of this whole conversation was that she was just being Kara. She was nice to everyone including him. He was no different than Winn or Cat to her. Okay maybe he was step up from being Cat in her eyes but still.

"I really like you doo," Kara mumbled shyly. Mon el' heart skipped a beat.

Mon-el put his arm around her to adjust the blanket, and she leaned his head on his shoulder.

Soon she fell asleep but he just sat there contently and grinned like an idiot.

"She likes me. "Mon-el thought "She said she REALLY likes me. She'll probably be sick tomorrow so I should probably bring her daffodils just to cheer up. Oh and I could rent a movie. Has she seen that ER show yet? Oh and some super hot fudge. Yeah, tomorrow's sick is gonna be great!"

————————————————————————————————-

No way had Mon-el thought that in his days of taking care of a sick Kara that he would get sick himself.

But here he was, in bed, freezing, his throat burning me nose so clogged up that everything he said was filled with ds and his hearing felt like he was underwater the whole time.

In Daxam the closest thing to this was the daily headache of a hangover from the late night parties. In all honesty he was pretty sure his parents wouldn't allow him to be sick on account of being ruler and all that.

He wished he could just have those hangovers now. Actually he wished for some water because his threat was not only burning but felt like a little porcupine was scratching it as well.

Then he heard the door bell ring.

"Mon-el can I come in?" A sweet voice that reminded Mon el of a angel in his sick state.

"Yeuhh" Mon-el managed to cough out.

Kara walked in. Pristine and near as usual in her cardigan and glasses. Her hair perfectly curl and seemed so soft. Mon el really liked the smell of her hair. Well, if he could smell. He remembered what it smelled like though. Like fresh apples. Wholesome and good like Kara.

"Jew divil women. Jour are dill tryin' do kill me" Mon-el mock glared when he was seized by another harsh sneeze making his threat burn more.

Kara simply shook her head as she started to take out a soup container from her bag.

"We don't know how colds affects Dazims" Mon-el groaned "Dis could kill me."

"I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen." Kara said as she opened the container, "So I made this for you."

Mon-el gave hr an genuine smile. This was the Kara he admired. Someone so willing to do things for others from saving the world to giving soup to him.

Mon-el eagerly grabbed the container, but another sneeze took him and he spill some of the hot soup on his sweat pants.

Mon-el barely concealed how much he wanted to scream with what he hoped was a manly grunt.

"Oh oh I'll take care of that" Kara quickly grabbed the tissues and dabbed at the spill. "I'll just give it you."

Mon-el cocked his head questioningly until he realized that she meant to spoon feed him.

He didn't understand why he felt so nervous about it. Maybe it was the way Kara looked at him as she put the warm soup in his mouth. Caring, focused only on him wth those piercing, kind grey eyes.

"Tank you" he croaked

Kara put a finger to his lips and Mon-el noticed even though most of his senses were dulled he could feel how smooth her skin was.

"Rest your voice."

"Bud I like talkging with jew. Jour indersing,” He smiled.

Kara turned away but Mon-el could see her bite her lips as the end of her lip curled into a half-smile.

Mon-el smiled to himself. He still had his charm. Plus he had meant what he said. She was interesting. She was bubbly, and entertaining. But she also wasn't afraid to tell him he was wrong. While that was infuriating and annoying, it also intrigued him. Years of being with complimentary bimbos made him forget that some girls were headstrong.

And Kara was plenty headstrong. She had personality. That personality made her seem full of life and vigor. And he wanted to have her next to him and feel that vigor. She was so..so complex. As Supergirl she seemed industrictable, almost unattainable but here right now. She was pure and genuine. He wanted all of it.

"You're interesting too," Kara replied.

With those words, Mon-el felt like he had been given the greatest compliment. She thought he was interesting! No one at home ever thought he was interesting. Pretty, hot, fun usually came up. But interesting never.

Mon-el finished his soup so Kara started arranging his blankets, and started a movie. "Hope you don't mind, but I thought you need to see the greatest movie of all time."

"Stard Ward" Mon-el guessed. Winn kept going on and on about how awesome Star Wars was. And it was. It had so much action and drama and even some of the planets were realistic for a human movie.

"No." Kara chirped, “The Princess Bride. I think you'll really like Ingio."

Mon-el shrugged and settled closer to the blonde. He felt hotter with her body heat next to him. It was tempting to move away but he didn't want to. She may be hot as hell but her prescnce was also comforting and warm and soft.

Mon-el dazedly opened his eyes to see moon light streaming through his windows and that the night sky was alight with the flashing lights of buildings.

"Whad happened?"

Kara leaned over him, her blonde hair brushing against his cheek. "You conked out during the commercials and it's eleven."

"Oh sstorry?" Mon-el murmeered

"It's fine." Kara smiled at him, "We can see it another time. You looked cute asleep." Then she paused and blushed as if she hadn't meant to say that last part.

Mon-el was too happy about that to tease her. "Jou lookd cute lasd week doo."

Kara put her hand to his forehead and smiled at him once more. "You're less hot. So you're probably be better soon. And not going to die." Kara added

"Good." Mon-el said "But I'm glad jou were here with me if I did."

"Me too." Kara whispered softly, "I better go now. But I'll stop by tomorrow."

"Okday" Mon-el waved as Kara left his room.

He settled himself to sleeping position once more, utterly beaming with happiness at spending an afternoon with Kara and being called cute by Kara. Kara, Kara, Kara. That was all he could think of. He never felt this way about a women before. Then again, he never met a women like her before.

The door cracked open and Kara scutler back in adorably. "Sorry just wanted to make sure you had all the blankets on you. Okay, good. Sorry. Go back to sleep, I'll see you tomorrow."

Mon-el managed to wave goodbye as the mild manner reporter went away, "I'll be waiting."

[jonroxton]

as for clois, the writing choices made little sense to me. why did they wait so long to make them explicitly romantic? i swear they were still writing clana in s8. at times it felt like lois was in love with the blur & not clark & that she really started falling for clark when she realised he was the blur. and that's fine, i don't mind it tbh, but they should have started writing clois in s5-s6 so they can get that aspect out of the way with enough time to write lois being in love with clark

love these. gonna tackle ‘em one at a time.

1. why did they wait so long to make them explicitly romantic? 

It seems to have been a combo of things. there were rules set on lois by the superman offices  irt what she could do, who she could interact with and even how long they had her for a season. this is why you barely saw her with lex or at the planet in her early years, and why clois doesn’t ever move beyond the bantering subtext stage until like season 6. I remember  returns was coming out and the superman offices lifted a few restrictions on how the show could use her, this changed a little when s7 ended and Rosenbaum and Kreuk left and new contracts drawn, but they were more or less constricted in how they could portray clois. always through loopholes basically. the why of this is simply bc the show never wanted to venture too fast into the superman mythos, which is what lois and clois brought them. 

s8-s10 got new show runners and less restrictions, but why still the delay? why have lana return and stop all that s8 build up.  with hindsight and within the context of the complete show, it’s difficult for me to frame her returning arc as anything but horrific for clark/lana, and though I wished they hadn’t beat that dead horse, what they did holds a lot of nuance and pathos for both characters. the writers seem to have wanted complete closure irt to clark with lana before ever pursuing clois seriously. they were never the greatest writers so the result is lost in translation. some see it as forced on them, but I feel this does the whole arc a disservice, since it’s explicit choices down the line that lead to their separation/break up , bottom line is that clark and lana lie to each other and this time the consequences are irreversible, the pattern of the secrets and lies causing all their strife finally broken.  it all seems to move slow or even backwards irt to clois romantically, but the show took clark’s pains over losing lana (again for the billionth time) seriously. going for clois at this point would have indeed been the rebound, the show decided not to and overall is the better for it.

2. this is where the blur comes in

clark is not looking for romance in s8 (neither is lois) and clois is not romantic in that they are in love and together. this has been the running gag since her arrival, with the subtext (if you see it) being that they actually like one another and enjoy each others (biting) company and one day will be married. the fun is in their clashing personalities not being quite who they are destined to be, and we watch it all while clark is passionately in love with his high school sweetheart. this was certainly annoying considering how long it went on, nevertheless, all through both of their romantic entanglements, clark and lois have a strong friendship and camaraderie that works irregardless of whether or not they’re romantically interested (or seen that way). this is the foundation s8 builds on, that they’re good (maybe great) friends and can count on each other. this is actually an anomaly in SV lol, but they’re really the only people the other can depend on completely without fail.

so clark is heart broken yet he’s also for the first time coming into his own. he and lois are in a new environment, more professional, more serious, more superman. the superman/lois/clark triangle and its effectiveness (or lack thereof) has been written about before and by my betters. what I can say as I understand it is: it’s a mistake to differentiate between superman/clark blur/clark as separate people and its not so much that lois falls for one over the other but that she recognizes something in superman that is very much like clark and vice vera and does so at different times. the structure of this narrative is infuriating, but thematically is filled with identity madness. this is always why the triangle ends when lois is conflicted about being in love with both precisely bc they’re so alike. a wider superman running gag is lois lamenting clark and superman are not the same person bc they would be the perfect man. 

superman/blur is the powerful, lonely, kryptonian side of clark and sv clark has never had an easy time connecting with this part of himself (he’s actively fought against it). when he’s speaking to lois as the blur, this is not someone clark has seen before, this serious, introspective, entirely giving lois who wants to listen to him. who doesn’t run away from him and fully accepts his powers. and though she doesn’t know it, she’s connecting with a serious, hidden part of clark. I think another important point about how lois sees clark is that she IS impressed with him because he constantly surpasses her expectations, even without the subtext of being interested in each other, lois does have an appreciation for clark as a do-gooder. 

3. with the foundation of their friendship and history, this leads to a lot of s8 stories where they have to confront their subtext for the first time (that saw episode where they pretend fake married and forced to go through a test. it’s literally WHATS YOUR SUBTEXT?! sv anvil’s for ya). made all the more complex by exes and secret identities.

4. LAST THING I think is important to consider

lois and clark have seen each other go through terrible breakups and have seen each others heartbreak. the last half of s8 very much plays up that notion of not getting involved to not get hurt. hooking them up early on would’ve meant not getting this very careful characterization where lois and clark work hard and seriously on their relationship to make it work. 

5. last last thing: it’s a shame we didn’t see it

I disagree we didn’t see it. s8-s9 was more loophole superman shenanigans but s10 is one glorious clois domestic train! 

[monysmediareview]

Shadowhunters (Freeform show) Review

Review #2!!

In case you missed it, I wrote a review on the Mortal Instruments book series books 1-3 (they’re the only ones I read because a chapter into book 4 and I was over it). I had mixed feelings on it, as I do with most things - including the Shadowhunters TV show, which is what this review is about!

Casting

Let’s talk about the casting in this show. First of all, I think the cast matched the physical descriptions of each character in the books and I very much enjoyed that. I do like when shows take liberties with casting, especially for the sake of things like diversity but there’s something very satisfying about seeing the characters exactly as they were written. 

I don’t think all of the acting was fantastic, but it’s FreeForm so I really didn’t expect much. It did get a lot better as the series went on and I think the actors really found their footing with these characters. It’s one of the reasons that I love series so much more than movies for things like this because there’s growth and the chance to really explore characters as they exist. These characters really took on a life of their own in a way, but we’ll get into that as I go through the rest of my points here. 

One thing I will say is, while this show did much better than others in terms of diversity it is not lost on me that the BIPOC characters in this show (and in the book series as well) were all “other” characters. As is often the case, people of color in fantasy media are usually portrayed as animals such as werewolves, or other “undesirable” characters. This is an incredibly complex part of casting, creating, and writing, and I will not get into it here, but I didn’t want to not mention it. 

Gay Pride & True Love

If you read my review of the Mortal Instruments series then you already know that I love love love Alec and Magnus, but that love grew exponentially when I watched the show. Magnus was an interesting character in the books but Harry Shum Jr. really brought the character to life and that show especially in the scenes with Alec. The show also gives Alec a ton more depth than in the books and I love that they didn’t keep him hung up on Jace (a straight man) for most of the story. He fell for Magnus and he fell for him hard. Magnus is the one that broke through Alec’s shell and encouraged him to be himself. By cutting away all the petty teenager shit that was in the books we were able to see this real, complex, but honest and deep love story that rivaled the main love interests immensely. I would watch this show over and over just to watch these two again. 

Representation and diversity are two huge factors when I think about whether or not I liked a piece of media. These kinds of things are what makes media so relatable, real, and ultimately enjoyable in a lot of ways. This show didn’t make the characters gay-ness a main factor of their relationship; they just showed a relationship as they would with a straight couple. They didn’t ignore their gay-ness either, though, and acknowledged the difficulties within that. By making this normal, they took huge strides in showing these kinds of relationships on TV and I adore that. And I just cannot get enough of this pairing in general - there are so many contrasts and compliments in their relationship and it’s what I honestly consider to be a perfect OTP relationship in any kind of romantic plot. 

10/10 would watch the show just for Alec and Magnus. 

I like Clary better in the show than in the books

Clary is by far, not one of my favorite characters in the fantasy genre. I find her to be selfish, martyr-like, and just kind of annoying but I really felt like the show was able to redeem the decent characteristics that she has and shed off most of the aggravating ones. 

As a whole, I am not a fan of how stupid the books make Clary out to be. Clary falls into the category of characters I don’t like because there is ultimately nothing very special about them yet they end up with a guy who is completely out of their league in every way who is head over heels in love with them. It infuriates me so much and Clary is not an exception to this rule. Her character is still this way in the show but it is much less evident because she seems to be more of an active participant in her own life and I don’t have to sit through her endless internal monologues about how attractive or strong or whatever Jace is. Thoughts that she still has while she thinks they’re siblings. At least in the show, these characters seem to draw a strong boundary here when they think they’re related rather than making out in a field like they did in the books. 

Clary also has a much stronger sense of self in the show and often reflects on what her life was and what it has become, how she’s grown. And I think that’s a huge part of it - that she has grown when in the books she was just constantly such a dumbstruck teenager who only thought of herself. I absolutely love the difference in her character here so I’ll give the show a star for that. 

Her relationships with other characters is also so much stronger. I believe this is in part because we don’t know her every inner thought about them and we also aren’t distracted by her distraction that is Jace. Her relationship with Izzy is so much better and stronger. I’ll always give good reviews to strong female relationships! Even her friendship and relationship with Simon is more in depth in the show. Their book friendship is very baseline; they constantly say they’re best friends but that’s not really reflected in the way they act around each other. In the show they have anecdotes about the past we never see in the books, they talk in a comfortable way and even show their relationship with each other’s families a lot more. This plays into her being an active participant in her own life as well. 

The Lightwood Family Drama

This might be something that happens later on in the books (however I don’t think so because of some spoilers I’ve received on my main account) but I really liked the Lightwood family subplot. I would imagine they have some marital problems after Max’s death in the books but considering they don’t kill him in the show, divorcing them earlier and giving Maryse a second chance was a fantastic choice. I kind of wish they had kept Max’s death because to me, it was the driving force between Izzy and Simon, but overall I don’t mind the way they did it. It just felt like a missed opportunity for drama and angst.

Back to the point at hand - families are complicated and the only “normal” or rather, nuclear family we see in this series is the Lightwoods. Clary was raised by a single parent, as was Simon, and no one else really has parents that we’re introduced to to be able to judge their family life. By making their family story a complicated one, rather than the “ideal”, it becomes not only more dramatic, which is fun and interesting, but real. And it may seem counterintuitive to make things seem real in a fantasy genre show/book series but that, in my opinion, is what makes it easier to believe the fake stuff. I can focus more on the magic and the demons and the end of the world as we know it if it’s grounded in something that’s familiar to me. The Lightwoods feel like a very real family with complicated relationships between kids and parents, adopted children/siblings, and marital issues that affect everyone differently, which invites us as an audience to relate to them and doesn’t make the Shadow world so different from ours. 

A scene I loved specifically is when Izzy brings the doctor she’s seeing to the Hunter’s Moon and they’re all messing with each other, eating, drinking, laughing, talking. They really felt like a family there, like adult siblings which can be a really difficult feeling to capture but I think it was done very well. I didn’t want to go through this review without mentioning that part since it was something very special for me. 

Design Choices

Changing topic just a little bit, I wanted to talk about the design of the show. First thing I noticed was that the runes were not at all how I pictured them. Now, that may be a fault of the writer because they weren’t very well described so it all landed on imagination which is different for everyone. The show design gave me kind of Henna tattoo vibes, whereas the books gave me full black ink vibes. 

The clothing was also something very strange to me. Izzy was always described as wearing long silvery skirts. I very much imagined her as wearing borderline rave outfits in most of these scenes but she mostly just wore crop tops and low cut shirts. I also noticed that as the series went on she dressed in a bit more of a conservative way compared to the first half of season 1 when I recall her wearing literally just a sports bra as a shirt in a few scenes. It was apparent to me in the books that the way Shadowhunters dressed was something that separated them from humans, made them stand out, and the show lacked that. I think this also took away the idea that Shadowhunters are a whole race of people with a history and culture separate from being human (they are, in essence mixed raced, but this comes with a lot of implications and is not a complete statement or comparison in any way). My point with this is mostly that I wish there had been more of a separation visually between Shadowhunters and humans beyond their runes. 

I also pictured the Institute to have a very non-human, Catholic type of design and instead just got pseudo-futuristic feel. I didn’t hate it, it just feels overdone in these kinds of shows and movies. For example, the Divergent series or Maze Runner or even Tomorrowland all have this type of vibe and I was hoping for more of a DmC: Devil May Cry approach. 

Jace Wayland is a beautiful character

I had mixed feelings about Jace in the books; he felt stale and like every other straight, white, male, romantic lead. In the show, however, I think Dominic Sherwood did him a great deal of justice and gave him the depth that actually made him a desirable person that I could understand someone being in love with. He’s charming, and a little cocky but we also get to see a deeper side of him than we do in the books. We see his emotions, especially his unconditional love for Clary (whether I agree with that or not). 

The Owl plotline was a waste of time in my opinion, but the scene when Izzy and Alec go to save him from inside his mind and we see him break down is absolutely beautiful. Jace is introduced to us from the start as hard, strong, calloused and here we see him vulnerable and scared with two of the people he trusts most in the world. I will accept the Owl plotline if only to keep this scene because I think it is absolutely essential to his character arc. 

I also found that scene to be indicative of his relationship with Izzy. In the books it’s often alluded to that he and Izzy had been together in one way or another but that’s not the case for the show (thank the angel) and here you can really see them as siblings more than in any ther scene, I think. But this takes me to his relationship with Alec as well. 

Parabatai 

I don’t remember Parabatai being mentioned much in the books but it is a huge deal and talked about quite a bit. I this this is super cool, personally and it’s not something I can really think of too much in fantasy outside of sires or singers or the like in many vampire novels but that has a whole “owner” vibe that doesn’t exist with Parabatai. I am super intrigued by this idea and I loved how much they played with it being a strength and an essential part of their existence. 

The relationship between Alec and Jace is obviously stronger than just brothers, but it also isn’t quite love in the romantic sense. It’s something else and it makes them vulnerable to each other. They feel everything the other person feels, sometimes literally, and while that can weaken them they use it as a strength. It’s really beautiful how honest and open these men are with each other. I feel like the Parabatai bond breaks down a lot of the toxic masculinity traits these characters might have otherwise and I will always be in favor of tearing down those walls. A+ characterization if you ask me. 

I thought Izzy deserved better in the books - the show gave it to her

In the show Izzy is way more badass than in the books, which I wasn’t sure was possible. They made her so much smarter, gave her important roles at the institute like head of weapons and she even did autopsies? In the last episodes we even see her as Head of the Institute. Beauty, brains, and brawn simply can’t be beat. 

Her love life was even more interesting! She wasn’t boiled down to just a slut who slept with everyone regardless of species: she was a lover who fell quickly and saw the best in people despite what people might tell her about “their kind”. She’s strong and very sure of herself; she doesn’t need a man in her life but she wants love and I think that’s a really amazing trait they gave her that deepens the character. 

They made her an activist, too in a way. She’s found really standing up for her beliefs in the show and challenging the way things are. In the books Izzy is pretty stuck in the way Shadowhunters do things but in the show she speaks up when something isn’t right. Her connections to downworlders does a lot of really great things for the Shadow world as a whole. They certainly could have beefed this up a little bit, but it wasn’t a huge part of the show in general so I’ll allow the pass on it. 

Her Yin-Fen addiction was so interesting! Again, I don’t know if this is something that happened in later books in the series but this is just another layer to Isabelle that I really loved. No one is perfect, even her, and it built her relationship with Rafael (another plot I was a huge fan of) which was incredibly complex. 

All in all, I would die for Izzy. Please give me shows and books about her and more characters like her. 

This series was steamy as hell

I can’t write a review on this series without mentioning all of the steamy scenes with so many of the characters. I mean, of course, I expected as much with Jace and he got a lot but so did everyone else. We got saucy scenes with Alec, Magnus, Simon, Izzy, Maia, everyone. (Not all at the same time, thankfully). But they were all very well directed and acted and I enjoyed them quite a bit. What can I say? Sex sells. 

In conclusion, I liked this series a lot. I really was not expecting to. I was warned that it was bad, and to start off it was but I found myself unexpectedly enjoying a lot of it. There’s still work to be done and it is by no means perfect but it was entertaining and had some really good moments. I also give so much credit to the actors and creative team for doing so much with material that didn’t give them much depth in the first place. 

Would recommend for something to enjoy but maybe not think too hard about.

xoxo

Mony

[alexandrinav0605]

Talking to Strangers

Multi-Chapter 1/? LINK TO AO3

Penny Parker knew many things, one of them being that the foster system was shit. She also knew her social worker was stupid and useless doing her job, but nobody care, right?

After losing all her family and ending in foster care, Penny founds herself on mandatory group therapy, with some unusual companions. ----- TW: Mentions of rape (not graphic), Violence (not graphic, but mentions of the way of murder), Child Abuse.

English is not my first language, therefore, I'm not from US and I do not know how the foster system works, as well as group therapy.

-----

Penny didn’t know why she was there. Actually, she knew, but she didn’t understand it. When her social worker told her that group therapy would be needed, Penny thought she was joking. In which way talking about how shitty her life was to a group of strangers would help her? To be honest talking didn’t do anything, but this wasn’t really for her. Apparently, the government was forced to take care of all the children on the system that have been harmed because of their incompetence, not only physically but mentally. As it turns out there are many children that were harmed. The people in charge were surprised, I wasn’t. Most people fostering kids only do it for the money, and it was rare if they treated their foster kid correctly. Out of the 5 houses she had been, Penny was treated decently in only one and it was the bare minimum. Of course, there wasn’t money, they never had, so group therapy was cheaper, unhelpful, but cheaper, and that was all they care about.

She didn’t care, neither private therapy nor group therapy helped, talking in general didn’t help. No one understand what she was feeling. Her twin, Peter, did, but he was on her backpack, just ashes inside a cheap container. That was another thing of the many that existed in which Penny and her social worker disagree, her twin brother´s ashes being with her all the time. In reality Penny knew it wasn’t healthy, that she should let go and that her brother wasn’t really there, but it was hard. She was there when their foster father throw Peter to the wall, hitting Peter’s head. The noise alerted their neighbors, and they called the police, but it was late, Peter was already dead. She was placed in another home, with a man called Skip. That was something she could be glad about, Peter never had to live with that monster. Healthy or not, a year later she was still grieving, after all she was only 15 and she wasn’t in the mood to be order around by the person that had placed them in that house to begin with. It wasn’t like her life had to many healthy things anyway.

Entering the building, she wished she could run and pretend like she had attended, but she remembered the look of her social worker and her little warning that they will write who had attended. She wasn’t in the mood to endure a lecture, so she decided to go and ignore everything and everyone, how hard can it be?

As it turns out, very difficult. When she found the room where her group was supposed to be, the last people she hoped to find was the freaking Avengers. Everyone started at her while she made her way to the center of the room, and she felt uncomfortable. A part of her was jumping because she was in the same room as Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, that have always been her and Peter’s favorite scientist, but that was just in the inside, because that was the little part of her innocent that had managed to survive everything life had thrown at her.

What was worse was the man that turn out to be their mediator. The man in particular was someone she already knew and not a friendly one. He annoy her mainly because he liked to tell her who she should see the bright side. Well guess what asshole there is no good side.

“Hi, I’m Tyler and I will be your mediator while you are in this therapy program.” If glares could kill the man would be dead, but that didn’t stop him of talking. “So, as you may see we have a group that know each other and a person that doesn’t know anyone, personally of course.” He smiled at his bad joke and Penny just made an annoyed sound that got everyone’s attention. “Basic information we will see each other every Wednesday at the same hour in this same classroom. If you are wondering why of all things you are in the company of the Avengers,” He directed this to Penny. “We are required a minimum of 10 people per group and as you can see the Avengers are only 9, so using the resent stipulation of the government regarding the foster system, we thought it would be great to allow a child to meet the Avengers He looked around probably hoping for a reaction; the Avengers were indifferent, and Penny was straight up annoyed.

He made a long pause waiting for someone to say something, he was about to continue when Penny talked.

“Don’t you think that is dumb to make a child met the Avengers when they are talking about their problems and when said child is talking about his own problems not to mention how disrespectful it is for them to do so” Her tone was indifferent and bore, but her eyes reflected every emotion, anger being the main one, this man really annoyed her.

The Avengers and Tyler look at her surprised, and a little irritated in Tyler’s case. By now Tyler was used to her replications, so he just ignored it.

“I thought it may be nice to present yourselves and say why we are here before we do any other dynamic, Penny, why don’t you begin?” He looked around and began explaining why he knew her name. “Penny and I know each other from my days at the foster system.”

“I have many reasons why I don’t want to present myself the main want is that I think is kind of incoherent to begin with me, also unfair because it will lead to an unbalance position of information with me having less information about them as they already know each other, now I’m not saying I should go last because then it would be unfair for them” She smile at the end trying to appear innocent.

Tony Stork look amused as well as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Captain Rogers has an annoyed expression on his face that probably had to do with the fact that he was a soldier who always followed orders, and her clear disdain for authority unnerve him. She didn’t care, she stopped caring a time ago.

Deciding against confrontation, Tyler asks for voluntaries. Being the leader he thinks he is, Captain Rogers offer to go first. The presentation was brief, he said his name and something about wanting to get over his dead ex-girlfriend and form a bond with his team. He was followed by Bucky Barens with something about HYDRA, and a certain Sam Wilson being a guilt survivor. Wanda Maximoff was something like a guilt and anger survivor, although Penny didn’t know if that even existed, if it did Wanda Maximoff was definitely one of them.

Natasha Romanoff was probably as reserved if not more than Penny was, the only thing Penny could gather was that that woman had a past even more dark that hers. Bruce Banner definitely had problems with his other self. Then it was Penny´s turn.

“I’m Penny Parker, I’m 15 years old” How much she hated this. “And I’m here because the people in charge rather put money in their pockets instead of helping me solve the problem their shitty system cause in the first place” When she finish, she look at Tyler, daring him to say something to her.  

“Penelope,” Damn complete name. “Not here, please.” Tyler was definitely trying to do anything to keep appearances.

“Then where? At least here I have a public that can see how much bullshit the foster system is.” Penny was getting really tired of his hypocrisy now.

Tyler send her a look and Penny couldn’t feel worse. She knew how delicate her situation was right now, one misstep and she will be sent to a special group house for mentally unstable people, and she didn’t want that. People always called her smart, so using that so called intelligence she shut her mouth.

The session continued with Tony Stark and his enormous guilt complex hide by a god complex, followed by Thor and all his death family. Finally, there was Clint Barton, who said that he wanted to fix the relationship with his team members, but he couldn’t hide anything for Penny, he wanted to be here as much as Penny wanted, most of them look miserably, not that Penny blame them.

“Alright, now that we know each other,” Penny didn’t know how Tyler could be so infuriating. “I want to make a dynamic that consist of saying what would you do if you could do anything you want.” He stroll his gaze around the room. “Now, we do have one rule that is: It needs to be something realistic, many of you are trying to deal with grief, so I don’t want things like bringing back your love ones.”

As Penny didn’t know who to keep her mouth close, she speak: “How about killing Tyler?” Seeing his alarming expression, along with the Avengers was amusing, but she added “Don’t worry Tyler I’m not talking about you.”

“We cannot wish for someone’s death” His warning look didn’t stop her.

“Boohoo, I wanted to give Mr. Preachy a taste of his own medicine” As always, her voice revealed nothing besides amusement and sarcasm, but her eyes gave everything someone needed to know she was serious.

Tyler was definitely tired of her antics. Penny couldn’t care less. He let it go and began with someone else; Penny didn’t pay attention, too concentrated in returning the looks that Natasha Romanoff was sending her. When it was Romanoff’s turn, she broke the staring contest to answer. Finally, it was Penny’s turn, although she wanted nothing more than to say murder Skip or Mr. and Mrs. Preachy, she went for something more normal.

“I want to go back to London” Everyone stared at her, surprise written all over their faces. “Not the famous London, but the outskirt, where there are all the neighborhoods.” She wasn’t kidding; she misses London, since she put a foot in this place. “Also, their foster system is much better.” She couldn’t stop being the little shit she is, right?

“Well, I was hoping something less materialistic, so tell me, why London?” Because she wanted to, ass. She was about to say that, but decided against it, be smart.

“It isn’t materialistic, Tyler.” Sarcasm was definitely a copping mechanism. “If you had bother to look at my file, you would know that I’m from London, if it wasn’t obvious enough by my accent” And it was true, although she hadn’t been in London for 10 years, she still had a British accent. Peter die with his accent as well, she wondered if she will ever loss it.

Tyler mumbled a quiet thanks, and after some words Penny didn’t listen, he gave them permission to leave. Gathering her things, Penny waited for everyone to leave before she leave herself. Outside the building she heard some words.

“I just don’t understand why she has to be so rude, the guy did nothing wrong. And what was that thing of wishing to kill someone about, what was his name?” Penny recognized the voice from the videos of detention.

“Mr. Preachy.” That was Natasha Romanoff.

“Leave the kid alone, capsicle, you don’t know what happened between them.” Penny thought that at least an Avenger had a little bit of brain.

She cleared her throat, making jump everyone, except Black Widow, who blinked. Penny began her show to teach something to Captain I Know Everything.

“Oh, how lucky I catch the Avengers, my brother is a fan of yours” She tried to sound amiable and she succeed.

Rogers talk first, clearly knowing she had heard him. “Well, we can sigh something for your brother if you want” Captain certainly was trying, bad for him.

“Actually, he is right here” Penny tuck out the container that guarded her brother’s ages, please to see the alarming looks in the Avengers. “Poor thing didn’t know what hit him. Well, he knew, a wall and Mr. Preachy’s fist” She pause looking directly in the eyes at Steve Rogers, waiting for him to say something, but all she got was a small Oh.

Turning to Dr. Banner she began talking. “Dr. Banner is a pleasure to meet you. My brother and I were always fans of your paper about Gamma radiation, we read ai when we were 10. “Dr. Banner seemed surprised. “Really? I’m happy you like it.”

Penny giggle a little, putting her brother back in her backpack. “Pleasure to meet you” She look at Captain Rogers. “Most of you.” With that she turned around hearing a sound like hitting someone and a low Auch.

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

princess-nazario:

It's ok, thanks for clearing things up. See, everytime theres a post that might just be different the tumblr-fad! Version you speak or questions how tumblr might be romanticizing them theres always annoying people in the replies saying that theres a version where she wanders down the underworld herself, or that the version where shes kidnapped is...weak or a damsel in distress since it doesnt fit into tumblrs made idea of empowerment?? Its so annoying honestly. I saw this kind of stuff in a lot of posts while exploring the greek myth tag and its just... infuriating. I definitely should ignore them but it seriously makes me kind of sad and angry at the same time? The hades and persephone posts are everything(mostly tumblr-fad!) Version I reread your original post and yes I do agree, tumblr-fad! Persephone does take away a lot of the complexities and archetypes I read you examine. I think Hadestown might portray Hades and Persephone's power struggle well, it doesnt completely ignore the implications its giving off for the sake of some romance. This is what tumblr is doing and it's really annoying. By doing this and reducing the characters here to simple boxes it's taking away your interest in the myth, I think that's what you meant? I think your study of Hades/the underworld being Persephones self, cthonic meaning "spirit of nature within, inner self" while I dont fully understand that's really cool. I especially dislike how woobified and depowered he usually is in the tumblr-fad! Theres a lot you can work with him as the antagonist in a retelling I think. In fact maybe itd be great to have a retelling that explores the power struggle between Hades and Persephone and shows how Persephone gets through adversity and becomes of equal power through oppressive authority? Thatd be really cool. Tumblr-fad! Version is the twilight of myths but kind of the opposite. In twilight, the author itself romanticizes the creepiness and power struggle that might be there between Edward itself(although Bella does have a lot of agency so I think that's why it resonated so much with female readers?) while the Persephone has a various amount of versions, most versions being she was kidnapped/abduction with many meanings and metaphors and allegories to things, and tumblr-fad! Version ignores nuance in favor of their ships. Thanks for being so open and honest about this, I honestly was stressed because I thought my response maybe being immature or uninformed might be irritating or annoying. I haven't been sneaking through your blog or anything like that, I just saw your original post in the goddess demeter tag so I searched up "Persephone" on your stuff since I was curious with what else you might have to say about it. I wish Tumblr could maybe bother to learn something called not everything is entirely not THIS thing or the OTHER and maybe do something different from what Hades and Persephone coming to be known as the peak of all love stories on the website.

@princess-nazario I hope you don’t mind, I copy pasted your last reblog into a new post thread because the last one was getting massive.

I think I’m starting to understand what you’re getting at regarding the perception of victims as “weak,” and it makes a lot of sense. Thank you for clarifying regarding the “damsel in distress” trope because that’s when it clicked for me what you were talking about. I actually agree on that point, I think there is a tendency for pop feminism to kind of portray more vulnerable, sensitive or fragile women as less feminist, so I can see how you’re applying that to your views on how people on tumblr perceive the story of Hades and Persephone.

That said, I think you have a lot of different angles you’re looking at this whole thing from, and that’s great! However I think there’s so many subjects you are trying to tackle here that it seems like you are kind of are only half informed about, maybe from exploring discussions online. I think this is resulting in conclusions that are kind of confused and lacking in more solid foundations, if that makes sense. I think maybe you might benefit from exploring each element further on their own merits.

For example, did you know that there are a lot of different feminist viewpoints on Twilight itself? And not all feminists completely condemn it? In my opinion, there are a lot of things about Twilight to criticize, however there was a distinct element of hatred for the interests and desires of teenage girls involved with how people responded en masse to the Twilight phenomenon. I don’t think you were old enough to be directly familiar with all this at the time. I think a decent primer would be this video from Lindsay Ellis (tho please keep in mind that some of her most recent content is not for younger audiences). It doesn’t cover all angles of the topic, but it does give an alternative perspective in retrospect about the raging Twilight hate that swept through pop culture for a long time:

Also, there is a whole conversation to be had about the concept of “woobification,” and why that word exists, as well as how it is used in conversations about girls and women’s fantasies. The original post I made shows that I have my own frustrations when male villains and darker archetypes are whittled down to something seemingly non-threatening and “socially acceptable” myself (like...turning the beast into the prince in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast), but in my experience, people have often used the word “woobie” to describe any explorations of the vulnerability of these types of male characters when women do so because they find those men intriguing or attractive, and that can get kind of tricky because in many ways, those conversations can harbor a subtle resentment and shaming towards female fantasties, period.

I’m getting the impression that maybe there’s something about Hades and Persephone, or at least the archetypes they embody, that really intrigues you, but you’re not sure what you are supposed to think and feel about it from a feminist perspective. That’s ok, ultimately you’ll figure it out on your own. I can’t tell you what to think about the myths themselves on their own, separate from contemporary feminist media because that’s ultimately it’s own thing, and you can springboard your own perspectives and reimagining off of the original in any way that feels right to you.

 What I can do though, is leave you with some age-apropriate content that I was consuming at your age, as well as a link to a site that explores stories with similar archetypes that Persephone embodies. 

The site is called Girls Underground, and it explores and catalogues stories about girls who go on heroine’s journeys in the “Cthonic” context like I was talking about, as in exploring their own inner psyches through the experience of traversing a strange, scary, magical place. Sometimes these stories involve the trope of a spooky attractive male character who takes on an adversarial role that is sometimes also romantically charged, but not all of them do. I think the resources page may be of particular interest to you because it links to essays on subjects within this genre of storytelling. The Examples page has a ton of other stories not listed here that you can take a look at, however not all of them (but many of them!) are kid friendly.

Movies that I would recommend: 

Labyrinth (1986), which was my favorite film since early childhood, and is the reason I love these types of stories to begin with.

Legend(1985), which doesn’t depict a healthy dynamic, but is a great film and does have a big place in the general conversation about this type of storytelling.

Howl’s Moving Castle, either the book or the film. 

Pan’s Labyrinth is rated R for some gore and violence, and it has scary moments, but I think it’s fine for most teens. The character of Pan is not part of that whole “demon lover” trope because the heroine is a small child, but he takes on a similar role in terms of being a figure that embodies the underworld and thus a major part of the heroine’s psyche.

Honestly, I would consider Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (the original, not the live action remake) a good rendition. It was written by a woman.

Jean Cocteau’s black and white La Belle et La Bete.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, or a film adaptation of the same.

Rebecca by Daphne DuMarier, which is what my username is from. I’m fond of the Hitchcock film adaptation.

Honestly, the 2004 adaptation of Phantom of the Opera is...flawed, but it was my introduction to Phantom, and it’s a lot of melodramatic fun. 

It’s worth noting that in a lot of these stories, there are not perfect, healthy relationships depicted between men and women. There is cruelty, there is harm. But in many cases, that does not mean these stories have nothing to say about relationships between men and women, nor does it say that they are solely tales about abuse and we cannot find romanticism within them. Each story has it’s own flaws, it’s own strengths, hold deeper meanings beyond the surface. They contribute something distinct to a rich history of artistic explorations of the dynamics of power in romance and the female experience with our own desires within a patriarchal society.

[loganscanons]

missing

Summary: Helena doesn’t show up to work and isn’t answering her phone. Precious is worried.

Precious checks her phone for the upteenth time that morning, hoping for a notification from Helena. Her phone has been within her sight all day; there’s no chance she would have missed a call or a text, but an irrational hope compels her to pull the phone closer across the desk and check the lock screen for any possible information on her employee’s whereabouts. 

In her time working at LeBeau Funeral Home, Helena has been reliably on time to work, or at least no more than ten minutes late. If anything might cause her to be any later than that, she sends Precious a text. So, earlier that morning, when thirty minutes had passed since Helena’s clock-in time with no sign of her, Precious was mildly concerned. Her phone call to Helena went to voicemail, and she didn’t get a response to her text. She brushed the concern away, telling herself there may be traffic or Helena lost track of time.

After an hour without news, Precious paced to the front of the Funeral Home.

Filarion, or Fil as he was more commonly referred to, sat in the front parlor, pouring over paperwork. He was a solemn-looking half-elf with thin, silver hair in a long braid down his back and smooth, tan skin. Half-moon glasses sat low on his pointed nose, hanging from a fine chain that looped around his neck. He looked up from his work, dark inky blue eyes peering over his lenses, as Precious came into his view.

“Have you heard from Helena?” she asked. 

“No,” Fil said, his voice soft and airy. 

She nodded and fiddled with the silver band on her forefinger. She said, “Let me know if you hear anything from her.”

Two and a half hours have passed since then, and Precious’s repeated phone calls and texts to Helena have gone unanswered. She tells herself there’s probably no cause for worry. There are dozens of reasons Helena may not be answering that don’t involve her being dead or seriously maimed. With a shaky sigh, Precious aligns the edges of a stack of papers.

But what if Helena is in trouble? The witch hunts of a few years ago left Precious with a baseline anxiety that grows in the event of silence from her loved ones. Silence could mean death. She knows Helena can hold her own, but the supernatural world is full of dangers. As she’s experienced more than once, anything could happen. 

Precious stands and grabs her purse and jacket from the closet in her office. She’ll swing by Helena’s apartment. Just to check. It will be okay. Helena will be there, probably annoying Grigor, and everything will be okay. She locks her office door behind her, and takes the front exit out of the funeral home. She’ll check in with Fil before she goes. Fil would have told her if Helena called, but she’ll ask him anyway, just in case he forgot.

“Any word from Helena?” she asks.

“No,” he says. He pulls his glasses off his nose and looks at her with a considerate frown. “Is she supposed to be working today?”

“Yes,” Precious says. She’d triple-checked, to make sure she wasn’t overreacting.

“Should we be worried?” Fil asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s probably nothing,” she says. She presses her lips together. The past few years have turned her into a woman always on edge. “I’m going to check her apartment. Just to make sure.”

Fil nods. She doesn’t tell him to look after the place while she’s gone. He knows what to do. Without another word, she leaves through the front door, then sits on the white wooden porch until her ride arrives. As she waits, she hears the scraping of small claws on the roof above the porch. She looks up to see a dark reptilian snout peering over the edge, watching her with two black eyes. She holds her arm out to the creature, and the face pulls back and disappears. There’s more scuttling against the shingles, then the creature launches himself from the roof, gliding down to her on leathery wings. He lands on her arm, his tiny claws hooking to the fabric of her shirt. He wraps his tail around her arm to steady himself.

“Do you want to come with me, Faux?” she asks. “I’m going to check on Helena.”

The small pseudodragon snaps his jaws playfully and snorts. He scampers up the length of her arm and settles on her shoulder, curling his long body and tail around her neck. As the ride she ordered turns onto the street, Precious puts up a glamor, making Faux appear to be a black metal necklace in the shape of a dragon. For the duration of the car ride, he rests on her shoulder, unmoving.

The driver drops Precious off in front of the apartment complex in which Helena and her mentor live. She doesn’t bother with the buzzer, knowing Grigor disabled it once Helena started making friends in the area. He’d ranted about how he’d never had to deal with the infuriating noise before, and now that Helena lived there, he heard it far too often, even if it was no more than once a month. Precious wiggles her fingers in front of the door to the complex and hears the lock click open. She climbs the stairs to the fourth floor, her calves beginning to ache as the ascent ends, then she raps on the door to Grigor and Helena’s unit. 

There’s no answer.

She glances around the hallway, her hair standing on end as she’s overcome by the sensation that someone is watching her. Someone or something has eyes on her. Faux’s claws dig into her shoulder. He feels it too. 

The hallway is empty. 

Keeping her ears pricked and on alet, Precious knocks again. She leans forward, straining to hear any sign of movement or life. She knows Grigor is home. He can’t leave. 

“Who is there?” comes a thick, Bulgarian voice from within. 

“Precious,” she answers. She glances down the hall again. Still no one.

“Who?” the voice asks, closer to the door this time.

“Precious,” she repeats. She takes a small step back, putting some space between herself and the door. “Helena’s friend.”

The door cracks open. The cloudy eye of an impossibly old man peers through the crack, glaring at her like she’s insulted his mother, spat on his floor, and then asked him for a favor. Judgmental, angry, suspicious. His coarse brows bunch in a permanent frown. In his youth, he was likely Precious’s height, maybe taller, but centuries of age have turned him into a hunched, gnarled creature. 

“Helena is not here,” he says.

Her heart sinks. If she’s being honest with herself, she knew before she left that Helena wouldn’t be here, but she’d hoped—she’d tried to convince herself that maybe—maybe if she believed hard enough—Helena would be here. 

Grigor starts to close the door. Impulsively, Precious throws her hand out to hold it open. “Wait,” she says. “Are you sure she’s not here?”

“Am I sure? Of course I am sure!” he snaps, his voice rising. “You know how I know? Is quiet! Helena is here, is never quiet. She talks and talks and never shuts the fuck up! I tell her, do not talk to me, but what does she do? Only talks!”

“Yes, I’ve had experience with that. When di—”

“Ehh!” he cuts her off. “We are watched by nosy neighbors. Is none of their fucking business. Come in.”

He takes a few shuffling steps back and opens the door for her to enter. He keeps his hunched form mostly hidden behind the door until she’s stepped inside, and then, with a strength he shouldn’t have, he slams it shut. The feeling of eyes on her dissipates.

“When did you last see her?” she asks. Her instinct is to speak the way she does with clients. Warmly, comfortingly, with a soft, understanding expression. But Grigor would see right through that, so she doesn’t bother, and instead stares down the old necromancer.

“What am I? Her fucking keeper? She is here sometimes, and then she is not. Not my business,” he shrugs. 

Precious closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, willing herself to stay level-headed. Opening her eyes, she asks, “Can you try to remember?” Before he can answer, she changes her question, and instead asks, “Can you remember the last time she was pissing you off?”

He grunts and scratches the sparse hair on his chin. After a few seconds of consideration, he says, “Last night, yes, she was here. She was here with, uh...with boy. Tall one with bad accent and ugly hat. They went somewhere I do not know.”

“Lucas?” she asks. She doesn’t think his accent is so bad, but he could do with a style upgrade.

“Yes, Lucas. Man who hunts witches.” He looks her up and down, as if he’s seeing her for the first time, and a creepy, amused grin touches his lips, “You are witch, yes?”

“Yes,” she says. Not wishing to entertain the topic of witch hunters, she hurriedly asks, “You’re sure she left with him last night?”

“How should I fucking know?” he asks. 

With nearly anyone else, Precious would keep herself composed, but she doesn’t care enough to do so with Grigor. “Because you live here and never leave,” she says, her tone short and fed up. “She didn’t show up for work this morning and hasn’t answered any attempt to contact her. So, quit being difficult and just answer the question. Did she leave here with Lucas last night?”

He grunts, glowering at her. “I think so,” he says, noncommittally. 

“Okay,” she says, letting out a heavy breath. “Thank you for your help, Grigor. Have a nice day.”

She turns on her heels and pulls open the door. As she begins to close it behind her, Grigor asks, “Helena is okay?”

She turns back to look at him. He’s half-hidden behind the door, and she can’t tell if he looks at all concerned about his missing apprentice. 

“I’m not sure,” she says. “She probably is. If I find her, I’ll tell her to come home and let you know she’s okay.”

“No!” he says. “Do not send her here. I am working, and she is distraction. Never shuts up! She talks and talks.” He pauses, then says, “Tell me if she is dead. If you find her body, maybe I bring her back. She is good necromancer - don’t tell her I say that - and is shame to waste talent.”

Precious nods, then turns toward the stairs, ignoring the feelings of eyes on her. As she descends, she sends Lucas a text, mentally kicking herself for not thinking to do so earlier.

>>Hey, have you heard from Helena? She didn’t show up to work today

On the sidewalk outside the apartment complex, Precious paces, awaiting a response from Lucas. She taps her phone against her lower lip. Five minutes pass without response. She tries calling him. No answer. How long should she wait before she decides to check Lucas’s apartment? Maybe it’s her nerves on the fritz from years of tension and anxiety, but she has a sense of foreboding. What if Helena and Lucas are in trouble?

She orders another car. This time her destination is Lucas’s apartment. His address is saved in her phone; when he was stationed in Chicago, he’d supplied all of the witches with his address, in case they ever needed his help. 

Helena has to be at Lucas’s. It makes sense! They’re friends and they were together last night, so she must be there.

Precious ignores the nagging reminder in the back of her head that Lucas is usually averse to women staying the night, even platonically. And she ignores the thought that even if Helena is at Lucas’s, that doesn’t explain why neither of them answered their phones.

Once inside Lucas’s apartment complex, Precious takes the stairs two at a time, anxious to confirm Helena’s whereabouts. She knocks on the door and takes a step back. Faux moves restlessly on her shoulder, his little claws digging into her shirt. His tail flicks the bottom of her chin. 

There’s no answer. She knocks again, trying not to be impatient. Still nothing.

“Is he home?” Precious asks in a soft whisper, touching Faux’s tail. 

At the end of the hall, a small window looks out onto the street below. Precious glances up and down the hall and a soft breeze blows down the hallway, coming from her fingertips. The window slowly opens. Bars prevent the window from opening more than a few inches, but it’s big enough for a noodly pseudodragon to squeeze through. Faux leaps from her shoulder, his talons clawing against her, spreads his wings wide and glides to the floor. She adjusts the glamor as he scampers down the hall, making him appear to anyone else as a squirrel. 

She chews her inner lip as she waits. A moment later, Faux returns, slipping through the cracked window. The window falls silently closed as he makes his way back to her. 

“Is he home?” she asks again. He climbs up her leg and arm, again curling up on her shoulder. He prances excitedly and snaps his jaws in the direction of the apartment. Again, she adjusts the glamor to make him appear as a dragon-shaped necklace.

She knocks again, louder this time, pounding the side of her fist against the door. 

A few seconds pass. She raises her fist to knock again, but she hears movement inside, so she steps back, waiting. The door opens, and framed in the doorway, Lucas, with disheveled hair and squinted eyes, looks down at her. 

“Miss Precious,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Mornin’! Or afternoon?”

“Still morning,” she says. “Lucas, have you seen Helena?”

“Well, yes, Miss Precious,” he says, a blush creeping over his cheeks, clashing with the auburn of his hair. “She’s asleep next ta the toilet. I told her it would be better if I just took ‘er home, but we were both real drunk last night, an’ I let her stay the night. But, we didn’t do anythin’, I swear.” He rubs a hand against the back of his neck. 

“It’s just Precious,” she reminds him. “And I don’t care. I just want to know if she’s okay. May I come in?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry, where are mah manners? Please, come in,” he says, stepping back. 

As the door closes behind her, she pulls the glamor away from Faux. He’s getting increasingly antsy, his little feet kneading her shoulder. 

“Incoming,” she says, feeling Faux tense as he readies himself to spring. 

Faux leaps from her shoulder and lands on Lucas’s chest, gripping the John Deere t-shirt with his talons. Lucas’s eyes widen, and he reflexively holds out his hands to make sure the pseudodragon doesn’t fall, but he makes no noise of alarm.

“Um, can I get you anythin’?” he asks, once Faux has settled on his shoulder. His hand hovers near Faux, in case he takes a tumble. “Water or tea or somethin?”

“No,” she says. “I assume you’re hungover? Sit down and rest.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he says. “I’m fine.”

“Sit,” she repeats.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. He sits on the couch, and Faux hops from his shoulder into his lap and playfully nips at his fingers.

Precious finds Helena in the bathroom curled up on a bathmat with her cheek against the cool tile. Her glasses lay on the floor next to her. Though her eyes are closed, Precious doesn’t think she’s sleeping. Just resting.

“Helena,” she says gently.

“Precious!” Helena says, her eyes flying open. She turns her head to face Precious. “What are you—oh, fuuuck. I had work today.”

“You did,” she says. 

She groans and presses her forehead against the floor. “I’m sorry, Precious,” she mumbles.

“Next time you decide to go out drinking, text me, in case you don’t show up for work the next day. I spent all morning wondering where you were.” Precious says. Though she tries to mask it with a reprimanding tone, the concern in Precious’s voice is obvious.

“I will,” Helena says. “I’m sorry.”

Precious says nothing, unsure if she’s ready to forgive Helena for the morning of anxiety she’d endured. She shifts the conversation, asking, “How are you feeling?”

“Bad!” Helena says, sounding upbeat. “But, it was worth it. You should’ve been there Precious. Lucas and I went to 79s and we—”

“I’ll make you something to help the hangover,” Precious interrupts. “I need to go to the store first.” She turns, then pauses. “Oh, and Helena?”

“Yeah?”

“Charge your fucking phone,” she says.

Not lifting her head from the tile, Helena gives Precious a thumbs up. “You got it,” she says.

“What about you?” Precious asks Lucas as she enters the sitting area. His head is tilted back against the couch, and he slowly lifts it to look at her. “Where’s your phone?”

“Um,” he says.

“Find it,” she says. “I’m going to the store. I’ll be back soon.” She looks at the little dragon curled up in Lucas’s lap. “Faucheuse, are you coming with me or staying here?” 

Faux lifts his head, blinks, then lowers it, and curls into a tighter ball. 

“At least make yourself useful and help Lucas find his phone,” she says, giving Faux a pointed look. He lifts his head, then springs off the couch, and begins to poke his snout beneath the couch.

After walking to the nearest grocery store, Precious returns with two paper bags of fresh herbs, fruits, and vegetables. She lets herself into the apartment, ignoring Lucas’s startled jump; he’s ready to leap into action, even with a hangover. With a quiet groan, he pulls himself off the couch and follows Precious into the kitchen.

“Where’s Faux?” she asks, glancing at him.

“With Helena,” he says. 

“Mm. Do you have a pot anywhere?” she asks, searching through various cabinets. Lucas produces one from a cabinet above the stove.

“You don’t gotta make anything, Precious,” he says.

She flicks on the stove and says, “You should go lie down. Or sit down.”

“I’m alright,” he says. 

“You’re hovering,” she says.

Lucas sinks to the kitchen floor, far enough away from the stove that he’s not in her way. He folds one knee up and watches, his head leaned back against the wall. That’s not what she meant when she told him to sit down, but she lets him be. 

After the concoction is complete, a citrusy, herbal smell mixed with warm spices filling the kitchen, Precious retrieves two mugs. Lucas doesn’t own a ladle from what she can see, so she holds each mug by the handle, and dunks it into the brew, filling it. She wipes the sides dry with a towel.

“Okay, here you go,” she says. 

Lucas pushes himself off the floor and grips the countertop to pull himself up. She holds the mug out to him, and he takes it.

“What is it?” he asks, wrapping his hands around the warm mug.

“It’s like tea. Sort of. It’ll help with the hangover,” she says.

“It’s magic?” 

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I should—”

“Just drink it,” she says, sharper than she means to.

His eyes widen slightly, and she forces her shoulders to relax. In a gentler voice, she says, “You should drink it, Lucas. It’ll make you feel better.” 

She places her hand on top of his, a gesture of affection and warmth, and smiles at him. A pink tinge colors his cheeks.

Precious grabs the second mug and brings it to Helena. She’s still on the floor, but she’s sitting now, her glasses on and her cheek pressed against the wall. That’s an improvement. Faux is in her lap, gnawing on what seems to be a human finger bone.

“This will help, Helena,” she says.

“Mm, thank you,” she says, reaching out to take the mug from Precious.

Precious returns to the kitchen, and though Lucas protests that she doesn’t need to, she starts cleaning up the small mess she made while making the hangover cure. She pours the extra contents of the pot into a large water bottle, using magic to keep the liquid from spilling over the counter. 

“When this cools, you can put it in the fridge,” she says, leaving the lid off the bottle. “You can use it again next time, but heat it up first.”

“Alright,” he says. “Thank you, Precious. You didn’t have ta do that.”

“I wanted to,” she says, avoiding his gaze as she turns on the sink to wash the pot.

“Thank you,” he says again. 

“I’m going to take Helena home,” she says. She can handle gratitude with grace from strangers and clients, but the sincerity of a friend’s gratitude makes her uncomfortable, and unsure how to respond, she changes the subject. “I’ll check in with you later”

Lucas doesn’t have time to say anything else; Precious breezes past him, heading for the bathroom. Helena still sits on the floor, but she’s perked up and is holding her head up without the support of the wall. Faux bats at a spiderweb behind the toilet.

“You done?” Precious asks. She holds out her hand for the mug. Helena hands it to her. 

“Yup,” she says. “I feel better already.”

“It works fast. Come on, I’m going to take you home.” She places the mug on the bathroom sink and holds out her hands, palm up, offering to help Helena stand.

“Aw, man,” Helena whines. “Grigor is gonna yell at me. And that sucks with a hangover.”

“No, to my home,” she clarifies. 

“Oh! Okay,” Helena takes Precious’s outstretched hands, and bounces up with a surprising amount of energy. 

For a brief moment, Precious doesn’t move, still holding Helena’s hands. Her expression is grave, and her heart is heavy. She cares about this goofy necromancer; she can’t deny it anymore. The thought of something happening to Helena—it terrifies her.

“What’s wrong?” Helena asks. “Did I say something?”

“No, I—” Precious says. She presses her lips together and looks at the wall behind Helena.

With a suddenness that startles Faux, Precious moves toward Helena, letting go of her hands to wrap her arms around her and pull her close. She presses her face against Helena’s shoulder, holding her tightly. Helena makes a small noise of surprise, and then relaxes and returns the hug.

“If you ever don’t respond to my texts and calls for that long again, and you’re not dead or dying, I’m going to kill you myself,” Precious says in a quiet, thick voice.

“Aw, you were worried about me!” Helena says, sounding delighted. “You do care about me!”

“Helena,” she says, barely above a whisper. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” she says.

Precious gives Helena a quick kiss on the cheek, then pulls back. 

“Come on, Faux,” she says, and turns away, grabbing the mug off the kitchen counter.

[kheta]

3 for 1 AU’s

Hikaru no Go shizz.

Three au’s I probably won’t write, but need to get the ideas out.

1) Sai a Paediatrician with Anxiety™ and Hikaru, who will pull him kicking and screaming into the world of Professional Go.

Featuring:

A) 23 year old Sai’s strict but loving family, who had pressured him into being a medical student, he tried to negotiate being a nursing student but they wouldn’t have it, so now he's doing his first year of work following graduation at the hospital his parents own shares in, because he likes helping families out. He’s passionate about his career and is happy enough to leave Go to the side. After all, Go is just a hobby, he’s not even that good, right? (WRONG! WRONG ON MANY ACCOUNTS!)

Sai learnt Go from his Uncle and was unreasonably obsessed with the game, studying kifu and tsumego for hours and going to Go salons when he had free time all his life. He’s never been as passionate as anything as he had been about Go, but succumbing to his parents pressure he gives up his dreams of playing Go professionally, instead dedicating his life to helping people and making his parents proud.

Hikaru is a 15 year old kid with a badly broken leg that he soundly ignored for much too long, which finds him in the very hospital that Sai is working in. Sai gets attached to Hikaru and because the kid can’t do much but play video games (on the console that everyone shared in the Play Room) and board games (that are mostly missing pieces and tattered) he finds himself drawn into playing Go with his Grandpa and Sai, the nice but whiny doctor who likes to hang around work and interact with the family’s there during his spare time. 

When he learns how to actually play and make sense of Go, Hikaru stops calling Sai nice, because the guy was an actual monster when it came to Go, soundly thrashing both children and adults unlucky enough to ask for a game, even his Shindou-go was reliant on the fact that his students saw what paths he’d create for them.

After a year in hospital and three surgeries later, Hikaru is out of hospital with the unfortunate news that he can no longer play soccer competitively, despite being other wise healthy. He then just slams himself into the world of Go, becoming just obsessed as Sai. 

Both Sai and his grandfather want him to consider going Pro, especially considering the improvements he’s made in a few short months, but he resolutely refuses, even when he becomes flushed with challenges on Net Go. His reasoning? He won’t become a pro unless Sai himself can honestly tell him that he’s happy with only playing Go in his spare time. If he’s happy with the few games he manages to play.

On the flip side of this verse, no one knows who the mysterious and infuriating hikaru is, nor do they know who he studied off of, after nearly 15 straight losses on Net Go however, hikaru suddenly starts winning more and more of his games, able to go toe to toe against some of the known Professional players online, even if he himself was obviously still learning the game. Yoshitaka Waya knows only one thing, whoever this brat is, he’s gonna regret the day he called him an ‘over aggressive know-it-all with poor defence.’  2) Hikaru the Soccer Player.

Hikaru is the cheerful, popular first string midfielder for his school’s soccer club, and Akari is their team manager. Together the duo have helped their middle school and high-school team reach the national winter soccer festivals three years in a row. Despite being a calm, calculated mid-fielder and being captain of his Middle School team, Hikaru has never been invited to any J.League tryouts, mostly because scouter’s say that he plays a relatively risk free game, with a low risk-low reward steadfastness that doesn’t reflect his competitive mentality.

Akari is one of the best managers at her school, an excited, cheerful girl who always knows what to say to bring her team out of a slump, matched with above average intelligence and insane training plans that her Coach is absolutely in love with, Akari’s love for the game was one born from her wish to understand her best friend that much more. In everything she does, Akari only hopes for the best for the boy she thinks of as her brother. After being voted as Vice-Captain for his school team, hitting a slump in his skills and nearly losing their team’s placing in the Summer tournament over the span of two weeks, Hikaru walks into a Go salon near his school to unwind, hoping to maybe win a few games like he did whenever he visited the Go club that Akari is also apart of. Unfortunately, he has the displeasure of running into one Ochi Kosuke there and while the other teen is surly, arrogant and infuriating, he’s undoubtedly a much better Go player. With the rest of his summer being amounted to three more soccer games and two one week training camps, one at the very beginning and one at the very end of summer, he finds almost half of his summer break is spent playing Go toe to toe with the arrogant teen.

In his hunger to win, Hikaru comes up with some unorthodox and risky Go plays to use against Ochi, plays that become integral to his team’s development as he finally utilises his analytical skills to their fullest capabilities, gaining the attention of some of the best under-19 clubs.

Meanwhile, Ochi knows that Hikaru is a famous soccer player at his High-School, but witnessing the insane improvements Hikaru makes in his Go skills in the span of one summer has him questioning if this teen really is just a soccer-idiot like the rumours say he is. After all, an idiot wouldn’t be able to lose against a Professional Go player at an even game with only a two moku difference. As he watches Hikaru improve, he has a faint, eerie desire for his (somewhat) friend to really take up his favoured game. Playing against Akira Touya has been what Ochi’s dreamed of for the past year he’s been a pro, but he can’t help but yearn for a true, all or nothing game against the jock who just won’t leave him alone. 

in other words, a sports anime fanfiction with a lil bit of go because soccer player Hikaru is an absolutely amazing trope lmao. 

lil fax about this au:

a) Ochi has a crush on Akari that only develops after he plays her in a game of Go, while she isn’t anywhere near as talented as her friend, she has three years more experience in the game and an uncanny intuition that makes her an amusing opponent. added to that she’s very pretty and since Ochi’s default emotion is crush them until it stops mattering, he manages to annoy the manager in a way only Hikaru has managed before. will this be a ship? no clue my dudes.

b) Sai is quietly alive, and is the neighbour to Hikaru’s grandfather, a sickly man who can rarely leave his house because of his frail constitution. After Hikaru coerces his grandfather into teaching him about Go following a week of straight losses against Ochi, Sai offers to teach the younger kid. Unfortunately Sai is no teacher and while he very much enjoys the game against the young teen, his only advice comes in the form of mercilessly ripping all of Hikaru’s strategies apart until Hikaru can pinpoint where exactly he first messed up and how he can recover from it.

c) Hikaru and Ochi become (begrudging) friends, only because Hikaru stubbornly refuses to stop bothering the other teen, if only until he can beat Ochi by a 8 moku difference, the same difference that Ochi had during their first game against each other. Ochi grouches and glares and puts his nose up, but is internally embarrassed at this new, affectionate and loud teen who always manages to say endearing stuff with a casual, relaxed face. (Who the heck says “One day I’ll catch you and force you to look only at me” with a serious face?????)

d) after discussing some plays in front of him and enthusiastically (on Hikaru’s side) teaching him the rules of soccer, Ochi offers valuable insight to the Hazeko soccer team. Akari hates it and hates him with a passion when she sees how good his analysis of the game is. It took her most of elementary and their first year of middle school to show any worthwhile game plays and he offers some barely two weeks into learning their plays? All the while with his nose in the air???? Hate.

e) before Shindou and Fujisaki showed up, Shindou with his swift observation skills and hard borne techniques and Akari with her spartan training methods, Haze High’s soccer club had little to no presence. With the two present and having just barely lost their semi-finals placing in the summer tournament, Hazeko returns to the Winter Kokuritsu determined to prove that their summer performance was no fluke. Now, if only they knew what the heck being stars meant and why Shindou suddenly developed a God Complex... Also who is the brat that Fujisaki is trying to crush and why the heck do they have to prove that with her guidance (re:torture) they’re better than that four-eyed brat? Why are first years so weird?

3) Akari the Pro and Hikaru who’s kinda just there until he very much isn’t 17 year old Fujisaki Akari leaves the Go world in an uproar after the former model enters the Pro exams as an outsider and wins with a spotless record.

Claiming to have started Go at 12, everyone in the Go world becomes curious about the young teen, especially when she manages to lose her Shodan match against Gosei-Ogata by a three moku difference. They all wonder the same thing, how did this model get so good and if she has been playing Go casually for five years, then why is it only now that she’s decided to become a Professional? At the peak of her modelling carer?

Inversely, Akari became a Professional Go player to honour her late mentor Sai, a kind neighbour who taught her and Hikaru to play Go while babysitting them for a week when the two were 12, despite them both thinking it an old man’s game, the competitive kids continued playing the game hoping only to defeat their teacher, who urged them to continue on the pro path after discovering that the two were great students.

The duo entered their middle school Go club and by their second and third year, they managed to win against Kaio, the best middle school Go club in Tokyo.

At 14, Akari loses interest in the game having never won against Sai and losing against Hikaru for the better part of the year, and she can’t help but feel like Hikaru will leave her behind when he considers becoming an Insei. Then, the unthinkable happens, Sai passes away while playing against the duo.

For the next year neither teen speak of Go, hanging out like normal until Akari gets offered a modelling contract that keeps her from school and in extension keeps her away from her childhood friend and Hikaru starts hanging out with delinquents.

Fed up with Hikaru distancing himself and finally realising that he was leaving her behind like she had feared years ago, Akari slowly begins to play Go again, relearning the game as she went to Go salon’s and using her old NetGo account. After nearly a year of being reacquainted with the game, she takes the pro exams with only one thing in mind, to play the coveted Kami no itte that her mentor sought after. If she’s already lost two of her closest people, then she’d learn to love the game that she used to fear, to keep the one thing that still tied them together, their style of Go.

plot points:

a) Sai was an up and coming former professional who was one win away from gaining his first title, Kisei, when a politician accused him of money laundering and fixing his students games. with this scandal, his students abandon him hurt because they assumed he didn’t have faith in their Go abilities and his opponents no longer face him with their all or with respect, thinking him a cheater and a disgrace to the Go community. after a win in the Kisei tournament that he knows was gained because his opponent was distracted by the rumours, Sai ceases to play Go competitively, having given up on his family’s approval and name for the game and lost seemingly everything that made the game worthwhile. He meets Hikaru and Akari almost nine years later, despite his personal misgivings and anxieties, he finds himself entranced with these young, talented children, gaining a lost love for Go.

b) At 29, a random park visit with the kids prompts him to face Touya-Meijin, who had been at the park playing a game against his student. Faced by his old rival who had continued to soar in the Go community years after his departure, Sai plays what he announces to be the most beautiful game he’s ever played. The two battle it out on the board for nearly three hours, when Sai finally beats the Meijin by a half a moku difference. Only three people in the world viewed this match, though the Kifu became sought after and studied long after it happened. The viewers? Ogata Seiji, Fujisaki Akari and Shindou Hikaru. Ogata has no clue what happened to the bright, but fearsome child who accompanied the strange Sai and bulldozed his way into the post match discussion, but he knows that where ever Fujisaki wondered, her friend would no doubt follow, no one that talented and that enthusiastic about Go could ever truly give it up.

c) Akira has no clue who this Fujisaki is, having not payed much attention to the Professional Exams considering his own preoccupation in the Honinbou tournament, but when he sees her kifu he has only one question, who is her mentor and is it the elusive man who managed to convince his father to give up his titles and become an amateur? If so, where is that mentor now? And how can Akira convince them to face him on the Goban?

d) Hikaru just wants people to stop spreading rumours about him and Akari, because the buddying model really doesn’t need all the flack people give them. If it means distancing himself to save her reputation, then he doesn’t care, ‘cause hell if he’s gonna let people be convinced their dating and it’s gross that those rumours even exist. It comes as a shock then, when after a campaign that makes her the face of popularised clothing franchise and a new perfume scent made for her, she decides to quit modelling and forces her way into the Go world, against her agency and her parents wishes. Watching his best friend take the Go world by storm, Hikaru can’t help but be angry at Akari for taking up Go again, all the while aching for the game he used to play and wondering, if maybe, Sai would be okay with him playing their game without him. Is it truly okay to play Go without Sai? And if so, when can he trounce Akari? Because she’s gonna get an ego if only upper-dan’s could beat her, and no way was she allowed to be better than him in the game! He refuses! Now if only he could remember how to get good at reading other people’s hands again, because now he could barely read ten moves into a game before getting lost. Also, why didn’t they play good stones like Akari and Sai? Everyone kept playing shitty stones and he can’t read their moves if they use such sloppy hands, jeez!

e) Waya has no clue who Shindou Hikaru is, or why he’s convinced he can beat the newest prodigy Fujisaki Akari when he plays like a clumsy beginner, but he’s determined to keep playing the fascinating teen, especially when he reveals his NetGo nick to be hikaru, a player who dominated the NetGo server nearly four and a half years ago and who hadn’t been seen since a year after he started playing. While Shindou definitely has some untapped potential, he can’t help but wonder why the teen can’t play with the breathtaking speed and monstrous traps like he used to.

f) Hikaru and Akari made each other’s NetGo accounts bc they’re brats like that, so Hikaru’s name is hikaru because Akari couldn’t think of anything else and it wasn’t taken and Akari’s is Fuji-Brat, because Hikaru is an ass like that, a lot of Go players would watch as the two matched each other stone for stone, surprised by how little these mouthy kids knew about the pro world, despite playing at insei level.

g) Sai just doesn’t mention things about the pro world bc he’s used to not talking about it and so, when Akari and Hikaru enter the professional Go world, they’re clueless about everything. They have no clue what dan is, but they know what a Title is, even if they only know the name of two of the titles and they still sometimes forget about the timer and why do they need oteai matches so often, also aren’t those creepy old men kinda weird, i don’t care if they’re important they’re staring and that’s rude/annoying. The Go world is predictably affronted by the duo’s lack of knowledge and it’s the cause of a few minor problems and scandals.

[neighborhoodmoonchild]

Sweet Serendipity (Jimin x Faerie!Reader)

Genre: Supernatural Au, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language, brief mention of assault (very brief), POV switching

Word Count: 6K

“I swear to God,” Jimin mumbles to himself, grabbing the giant textbook Namjoon had left when he spent the night and smacks it repeatedly against the wall, “if they don’t shut up, I’m going to kill someone.” 

This wasn’t the first time he had thrown empty threats into the air when his neighbors got too rowdy. In fact, this was a normal occurrence for him. 

Neighbors start being assholes, Jimin finds anything he can to beat the shit out of his walls with in hopes they’ll get the message, surprise-surprise, they don’t, and the cycle starts all over again. 

Oh, how he wished he hadn’t signed a long-ass lease so he could just move away and forget those idiots ever existed, but fate had other plans for him, plans that included him being miserable for the next year with no way out of it. 

Huffing back to the couch, the incessant noise plaguing his every sense, Jimin pulls out his phone and brings up a text conversation. 

Me

      -Kook, you busy? Assholes next door are at it again, could really use a break.

He sends the text and tucks his phone back into his pocket, opting to plug his headphones in and turn the volume on his laptop up so loud, either he won’t be able to hear them over the movie, or he’ll blow his eardrums. At this point, it’s a win-win. 

A few hours pass, his movie long forgotten, and Jimin may or may not be trying to smother himself with a pillow as he lays sprawled across his bed. He checks his phone for the 10th time in the last hour, and decides Jungkook is definitely not getting back to him, and he’ll have to suffer alone. 

As if it’s not bad enough he has to deal with mind-numbing noise all day every day, but add on his best friend never. fucking. answering him? What did he ever do to deserve this? And what if it was an emergency, and Jungkook was the only thing between life and death for Jimin? Well, he hopes it never comes down to that, because he honestly has little-to-no faith left in the kid.

Day slowly fades to night and Jimin thinks he’s actually, truly going insane. He wants more than anything to find the courage to march next door, slam the door open, and tell them to shut the fuck up.

He would not find it today, though, and goes through his normal night routine before putting his headphones on as he crawls into bed. Soft melodies drown out the noise as he slowly succumbs to his exhaustion. 

Maybe tomorrow would be a new day.

—

Jimin was still waiting for that ‘new day’ a week later. The past few days had been so bad he’d decided to hang out with Namjoon in his dorm, which he never did. Another thing on his list of hates: Joon’s dorm. It was loud, but not as loud as his apartment complex, so he was thankful for that. The worst part about it was Joon’s annoying roommate. 

He’d tried to get a single, but was put in a double last minute, no chance to pick a roommate. So, he was stuck with some annoying ass guy who left his shit all over the room and constantly had people coming in and out. 

Namjoon usually escaped to Jimin’s place when he couldn’t take it anymore, but at this point, it was a double ended blade. 

So, they would suffer together in the lesser of the two evils. 

“I wish we could just get a place together. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with all these idiots.” Jimin ends his rant with a loud huff, even though he knew there was no use. Rent anywhere close to campus was way too expensive for both of their budgets, and then there was the whole lease thing still looming over Jimin’s head like a freaking noose. 

Namjoon gives his friend a small sympathetic smile before turning back to his textbook. 

Midterms were coming fast and he wanted to be 100% prepped and ready. He wouldn’t tell Jimin that he really needed to study and that they could hang another time. Just by looking at him, Joon could tell he was at his wits end. 

“Why don’t you go down to the manager and complain again?” Namjoon knows he’s just grasping straws here, but he had to try something. 

He didn’t like seeing Jimin slinking around all sad and wallowing. He missed the upbeat, bright spark that made his friend the spitfire he truly is. That complex was trying to snuff him out, but Namjoon wouldn’t have it.

“I’ve filed multiple complaints and they don’t do shit.” Jimin crosses his arms, growing more infuriated at the situation by the second.

“Maybe this time will be different?” Jimin just rolls his eyes and grabs his stuff.

“If you wanted me to leave, you could’ve just said so.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon to react, slamming the door behind him and heading home. Ha, ‘home.’ 

That place would never be a home to Jimin.

Despite his reluctance at putting any more faith in the poor management of his complex, he figures it can’t hurt to stop in and let them know the noise hasn’t stopped. 

“We are aware. We are looking into it.” 

That was it, that was always it. He couldn’t even bother being angry, it just wasn’t worth it anymore. Instead of taking the elevator, he opts for the stairs to give himself time to mentally prepare. 

By the time he gets to his floor, he’s a little out of breath, but in the distance he can hear the noise already wafting through the halls. It sucks every remaining drop of energy from his body, and he all but drags himself to his door, cringing at how loud the noise is when right next to it. 

After locking the door and abandoning his stuff on the floor he throws himself onto his bed, covers his head with a pillow and falls asleep.

His dreams are filled with glorious images of moving out, living in a peaceful place, and never having to see or hear his neighbors ever again. 

—

Jimin decides the next few weeks are a good time to pull a Jungkook and ghost everyone. 

He doesn’t answer Namjoon when he texts and asks him if he’s alright.

He doesn’t answer Hoseok’s calls about dance class.

He doesn’t even answer the door when Jungkook finally does show up. 

“Come on Chim, I just want to make sure you’re still alive.” Kook raps on the door a few more times, pressing his ear to the wood when he hears footsteps. 

“Like you care, I could’ve been dead for days and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Jimin doesn’t open the door, instead yells through the wall while he makes himself a cup of coffee. 

 Staying in bed every day was actually making him more tired than being up, which he didn’t think was possible.

Kook just laughs, twisting the locked handle a few times, “Chim, I’m sorry, just let me innnnnnn.” He drags it out in hopes Jimin will get annoyed and open the door. 

It doesn’t happen though, Jimin just goes back to his bed, cuddling up in the blankets before yelling back, “Nope, go find someone else to bother.” 

At least now Jungkook could let the others know Jimin is indeed still alive, just throwing himself a pity party. Jimin can be dramatic sometimes, so it’s not really a surprise when he pulls out the theatrics. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your misery.” Kook is disappointed his friend doesn’t want his help right now, but he knows that sometimes Jimin just needs to be alone for a while to get over things.

After Jungkook leaves, Jimin decides he can at least text everyone that he is in fact alive so they won’t show up at his door again. Once it’s sent, he unpauses the movie he was watching and continues his wallow fest. 

It’s the next day when he notices that there hasn’t been a noise, not even a peep from his neighbors. 

He’s getting dressed after a long shower, heading into the kitchen to grab some breakfast before he forces himself to go see the boys, when he realizes, ‘I haven’t heard anything from next door this whole week.’

It’s enough to sufficiently freak him out and question his sanity. They have been loud as hell since Jimin moved in, no quiet since then, so what the hell was going on?

Deciding to skip breakfast, he grabs his keys and jacket, heading out the door when he takes a quick glance at the next door over. It looked exactly the same, the only change being a cute little doormat at the door. 

While it was a little odd, considering he’s pretty sure there are a bunch of guys living next door, and that doormat screams ‘girl,’ it’s not enough to make him think anything drastic has happened. 

‘Maybe one of them got a girlfriend,’ he thinks to himself, even though he’s not sure how that could be possible with how awful they are. 

Jimin doesn’t want to waste any more time thinking about his neighbors, heading to the elevator and out to meet the guys to hang for the day.

“Ah, the Great Park Jimin, he lives!” Jin yells, causing Yoongi and Namjoon to shake their heads in embarrassment as the other three whoop and holler like it was Jimin’s homecoming. 

Needless to say, it was nice to be around his favorite people after walling himself away for over a week. 

He needed to let himself let loose and have some fun or he was sure he was going to actually lose it. 

They ended up spending the whole day just walking around, doing a little shopping, and enjoying each others company. The boys are a family, so they couldn’t go very long without getting together. 

They all part ways a block away from Jimin’s building, Jungkook heading with Jimin after promising to spend the night if Jimin helps him beat a new level in one of his favorite video games. 

The walk back is full of laughs and the two of them play fighting each other, until they see one of Jimin’s neighbors in a moving truck parked outside the building. Jimin nudges Jungkook, pointing at the truck and Kook just watches on, confused.

Another one of his neighbors exits the building with a box, hefting it into the back of the truck and promptly hops in the passenger side, the truck taking off.

“Did I just see that right?” Jimin asks out loud, to no one particular, maybe Kook or maybe the universe. They climb the steps and enter the lobby, Jimin quickly heading over to the front desk to ask about the situation.

“Yeah, they’ve been in the process of leaving for a few weeks now, finally got the rest of their stuff out today.”

“That’s amazing-“ Jimin didn’t mean to sound as excited as he was at the neighbors leaving, but he couldn’t help himself.

“There’s already a new tenant, she moved her stuff in fast.”

Jimin’s ears started to turn red at the tips; he’d never lived next door to a girl before. 

“A girl?” Jungkook butts into the conversation all too excitedly, causing the woman at the desk to roll her eyes.

“She’s kind of weird though,” the woman mutters to herself, loud enough for the boys to hear her.

Jimin doesn’t care if she’s weird, at least his awful neighbors were finally gone and he’d have some peace and quiet. Jungkook doesn’t care if she’s weird, because it’s a girl; his best friend lives next to a girl.

Jimin has to hold Kook by his collar, almost like he was on a leash, just to reign him in and stop him from running up to your door.

Jimin unlocks his own door, shoving Jungkook inside before pausing in the doorway to glance over to the door next to him. 

A girl, huh?

That night, Jungkook gets bored after wasting an hour trying to hear anything from your side of the wall and settles on getting his game on. Jimin makes them some popcorn for the long quest ahead, but finds himself drawn out onto the terrace before he sits down to join Kook. 

As he slides open the door, he looks over to your terrace to see a flash of hair as your door promptly shuts, curtains drawing to hide you from the world.

Jimin just stares at your door, watching the curtain sway back and forth, hoping that maybe you’d come back out and he’d get to see you. 

After a few minutes, Jungkook is yelling at him to get his butt inside and help him beat some boss, and Jimin can’t help but let his curiosity grow as he wonders what the girl next door is like. 

—

Jimin is the first to wake up the next morning, promptly shoving Jungkook away from, even though he’s pretty sure he told him to sleep on the couch. Rubbing his eyes, he makes his way out to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice when he notices the corner of a paper sticking out from under his door. 

The closer he gets, he smells the scent of freshly baked goods floating from the hallway. As he opens the door, he looks down to see a little basket with a pink napkin over the top.

Jimin’s never gotten anything at his door before, so he’s rightfully confused, looking up and down the hallway for a sign of who might’ve left this for him.

Kneeling down to look in the basket, he moves the napkin to find a few little sweet buns, each with their own little decoration.

They’re cute and they smell absolutely delicious, but he’s paranoid that he doesn’t know who left them. It’s when he picks the basket up he notices the paper sat underneath it. 

It’s a small note, ‘From your new neighbor.’ You even signed it with a little heart, but no name.

Jimin looks from the note to your door, no sign of life from behind it and decides it would be rude to leave them out in the hall. 

He sets the basket down on the counter, fishing around one of the kitchen drawers until he finds a pen and a pad of sticky notes.

‘Thank you for the treats. -Jimin’ It was short and simple, just to let you know he appreciated it. Returning to the hall, he sticks the note to your door, letting his fingers linger on the wood before he turns back to his own place.

Jungkook could apparently smell them from Jimin’s room, walking out wide-eyed as he surveyed the basket.

“You have a secret admirer or something I don’t know about Chim?” Jimin can feel his cheeks heat up the slightest at Kook’s comment, but brushes it off.

“Just a gift from the new neighbor.” As soon as he hears ‘neighbor’, Jungkook starts making faces at Jimin, teasing him that they’d meet and fall in love and all that romantic mushy crap.

Jimin just promptly shoves one of the buns in Kooks face, to which he happily takes in his mouth. 

The best way to get Jungkook to shut up? Give him food.

A few hours go by and Jungkook decides he’s gonna head home, so Jimin walks him out, mostly to be a good friend, but also to check your door and see if you had gotten his note. 

When he comes back up from the lobby, the note is gone and a new one lies on his door.

‘You’re welcome, I hope you liked them,’ scrawled neatly across the pink stationary, a little bee and heart in the corner. It was so cute, everything regarding you so far was cute. Your door mat, your baked goods, your handwriting, Jimin could only wonder how cute you were. 

He again grabs his paper and writes another note, sticking it to your door in the same place. 

As he touches the paper to the door, he hears shuffling in your apartment. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to stick his ear up to the door to listen for you. Instead he waits to make sure you won’t come out while he’s standing there like a weirdo, and then turns back to his apartment, escaping inside. 

Jimin hears your door open and close, a part of him kicking himself for not staying to see you in person. He just had a feeling, though, that you’d meet face to face when the moment was right, and this wasn’t it. So, he’d push away the nagging thoughts and opt for some quiet time in front of the TV for a while instead. 

The hope that he’d get to see your face someday soon was enough to keep him awake almost all night. 

—

‘Why were you screaming at your TV?’ Was all the note said, besides a little laughing emoji in the bottom corner. Jimin just chuckles a bit to himself before grabbing another note from his door to write you a new one.

‘Because, the characters in my show are the worst!’ Up it goes in the same place, just like the many that came before.

It’d been a few weeks since the note passing had started, and you and Jimin were closer than every, well, in theory. 

It started with little gifts you’d leave in front of each others doors, along with little notes. Then it was a note every day, sometimes even multiple a day. The more notes shared between the two of you, the bolder you were getting. 

You’d play your music a little louder after Jimin praised your taste, watch the same movie at the same time so it was like you were watching it with him. Sometimes he’d even whisper goodnight to you through the wall, which you always replied back to.

The giddiness in his heart had grown tenfold, and the anticipation of seeing you in person was growing. 

He’d left a note for you a week and a half ago asking when he could see you, actually see you, to which you only replied, ‘soon.’ 

Hoseok called early this morning to ask Jimin if he could come in and help with classes all day, to which Jimin was happy to do. He was happier to do a lot of things, now that his living situation had done a complete 180. The boys all noticed the extra pep in his step once you two had started leaving notes for each other, and while Namjoon was wary that it could all be too good to be true, the rest were just glad he wasn’t a mope anymore. 

The day was exhausting considering Jimin hadn’t formally been back to the studio for a week or two, but it felt good to move and stretch his muscles again. He was remembering how fun life can be when he’s not miserable all the time. 

Hanging with Hoseok while teaching some youth dancers a new routine was exactly what Jimin needed right now, just mindless fun and some time to be a leader. He liked having the young dancers look up to him and enjoy learning with him.

When the day finally came to a close, Hoseok offers to get Jimin a ride, but Jimin decides he rather likes the cool air on his sweaty skin and tells him he’ll just walk home. The studio isn’t too far from his place and he likes to watch the cars pass by illuminated by the streetlights.

Jimin gets lost in his thoughts; about class, about the next scheduled outing with the boys, even about you. 

He doesn’t even realize it, but he’s smiling to himself just thinking about what note you could possibly have left him tonight. Maybe tonight would be the night he’d get to meet you properly. 

All of his thoughts, though, get set aside when he sees a girl, roughly his age, being harassed by some sleazy guy outside of his building. 

—

You hadn’t planned on going out this evening, figuring there was enough to do inside to keep you occupied. It was when you realized you were out of sugar for the cookies you wanted to bake for Jimin that you decided it couldn’t hurt to take a quick trip to the supermarket down the street. 

You pull on your sweatshirt, hiking the hood up over your head, grabbing your bag and keys, and head out. You take a quick peek at your door to see the note Jimin left behind. 

You smile as you read it, stuffing it in your pocket and heading out. 

The walk to the market and buying the sugar was easy. It was still kind of light out when you left, and nobody had approached you while you scoured the market for the sugar. 

It was the walk home that ruined everything. 

Sometimes you cursed yourself for how you always seemed to draw in the worst people. While you also could attract the nicest of people, it seemed that the bad ones were easier and in abundance. 

On your way back, bag of sugar in one hand, your keys in the other, you could feel the sensation of someone watching you. You didn’t want to seem paranoid, so you just picked up pace and kept your eyes locked ahead. 

It was when you could finally see the steps of the building in your vision that you felt a hand wrap around your forearm, yanking you backwards.

Stupidly enough, you couldn’t force yourself to scream, you just yelped at the searing force the figure used and tried to rip yourself from him.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out so late by yourself.” You didn’t want to look at the man, his voice sending chills down your spine and the air thickening so much around you, you felt like you were suffocating. 

For some reason, people lost their sense of boundaries when around you, which you didn’t understand at all. It’s like people felt like they owned you almost, like the air you put off gave them the right to act like you owed them something. 

Your mother always credited it to your blind generosity and kindness, but sometimes things just went too far. 

“Leave me alone, please.” Your voice was soft and tight, holding back your tears as best you could. You didn’t want to seem like you were utterly defenseless. 

As your grip on your keys tightened, enough to, with the right movement, hit the guy to get away, a voice cuts through the air.

“Hey, she said leave her alone.” Your head shoots to the side, a boy with brown hair and a black sweatshirt coming into your vision. His features were soft and delicate, but the look on his face showed stone-cold seriousness. 

He slowly approached, looking at how the man’s hand was coiled tightly around your arm. Lifting one hand up in defense, he looks from you to the man, “Look, just let go and get out of here, there’s a security guard right in the building, so just let it go man.” 

The sleaze looks from the boy, to you, to the building. It’s then that he sees the security cameras trained on him that he promptly lets go of you, shoving you to the ground and taking off. 

  The boy rushes over to you, calmly as not to startle you more than you already were and grabs your hands, helping you to your feet. 

You look down at the busted bag of sugar on the sidewalk and sigh, letting a few tears slip out on accident. 

You were frustrated to say the least, why could people be so awful?

The boy picks up the bag, trying not to spill too much more out of it and turns to you.

“Are you okay?” He watches a single tear slip down your cheek and his heart clenches in his chest. How dare some asshole hurt someone, especially an innocent girl like you. 

You shake yourself to bring yourself back to reality and attempt a pathetic smile, “I’m fine. Thank you for that. You didn’t have to.” You go to take the bag from his hands but he pulls it closer to him.

“Yes I did, no one deserves to be attacked like that.” 

He looks in your eyes for a moment, assuring you that he wouldn’t have acted any other way than helping you. It was what any good person would do; what any decent person would do. 

“Well, thank you, again. I can take that,” you say, pointing to the bag settled in his arms. 

He shakes it a bit, forgetting the split and sending more sugar to the concrete. You can’t help but let out a little giggle at how his face drops when he realizes what he’d done. 

“I can carry it for you, then you won’t have to walk alone.” He smiles, bright and it’s contagious, spreading a smile to your lips. 

You shift your body and point to the building ahead, “That’s okay, I live right here anyways.”

His eyes beam wide, “Wait, you live here?” He asks excitedly.

“Yeah, why?”

“So do I!” He exclaims, following you as you ascend the steps into the lobby. He follows you to the elevator, stepping in behind you. He goes to push the button to his floor after you push yours, but he realizes you just pushed the same button.

“You live on the fourth floor too?” You turn to look at him, shock present on both of your faces. 

You’re wondering who this mystery guy might be, both nervous and excited about all these crazy coincidences. It’s when he follows you to your door, which resides right next to his, that you both stare at each other, it finally hitting you.

“Jimin?” You ask, and he nods. You can’t help the butterflies erupting in your stomach, finally face to face with the boy next door.

Jimin was about to pass out, his inner self jumping up and down, screaming, everything to celebrate finally meeting his neighbor, but on the outside, he tries to play it cool.

“You never actually told me your name,” he says, looking at you expectantly. 

Slowly bringing your hand out to him, you hold it out, “Y/N.” 

He grasps your hand in a light shake, fingers lingering a bit longer than they should have.

He clears his throat, lifting the bag to point to your door, “Maybe we should take this inside?” 

You turn and unlock your door, mentally preparing yourself for the fact that you were letting someone into your home for the first time. How crazy that the first person you’d invite inside would be the mystery neighbor you were dying to meet?

Jimin sets the sad sack of sugar on your counter, cringing when it spills out onto the surface, but you just shake your head and tell him it’s fine. 

“So, you're the girl who saved me from the awful people that used to live here?”

He’s standing awkwardly by the door, unsure if it’s alright to come in and make himself at home or not. You’re not sure how to interact with strangers in your home, but Jimin at least wasn’t a total stranger. 

“Guilty as charged, I guess.” He smiles when you let another giggle escape.

“Do you want to,” you gesture to the tea kettle on the stove, “stay for tea?” 

  Jimin spots the time on your oven and realizes how late it is. He promised Namjoon he’d meet him at the library early tomorrow morning, and he also just now realizes how gross and sweaty he is from class. 

“It’s actually pretty late, I should probably head to bed.” He hates himself, more than he ever has at any other moment in his life.

He’d finally come face to face with the girl whose been occupying his every thought, and he’s turning down time to spend with her?

When he looks at your face, you’re not upset with him like he expects you to be.

“Another time then, it’s not like it’s a far walk from your place to mine.” Another giggle that sends shivers up and down his spine, red tinging the tips of his ears.

“Right, absolutely.” You smile at each other, not sure where to go from there. Jimin turns around, grabbing the edge of your door, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Your cheeks flush pink, warmed by the amount of concern lacing every word.

“Yes, Jimin, I’m fine, thanks to you.” He can feel his entire face heat up and he wants to turn away so you won’t see.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he says quickly, walking forward, pulling the door with him.

“Goodnight Jimin.” And then the door shuts.

You hear him open and close his door, huff loudly into most likely a pillow and you presume he must have went to take a shower. 

The walls weren’t the thickest in this complex, so it didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Lifting the bag off the counter, you set it in the sink to take care of tomorrow. 

You can just make Jimin cookies and take them to him tomorrow as well. 

—

The more time you spent actually hanging around Jimin, the more you found yourself opening up. You’d always been quite introverted, hiding yourself away in your home.

Jimin made opening up fun. You would go over to his place, watch him play video games or make him dinner after you’d found out he basically lived off of take-out. 

He’d come over to your place and insist on watching you bake, even helping out when you told him you’d teach him how to make those sweet buns you'd left for him the first day.

Notes were replaced with actual words, whether that be you or him barging into each other’s places to rant about something stupid on TV or yelling playfully at each other through the walls. 

It was like having a roommate you didn’t really share the living space with. 

You’d both grown so comfortable with each other over time, it was like you’d been best friends for years. 

You’d show up in your pajamas to watch movies and sometimes he’d barge in to your place dripping wet wrapped only in a towel to steal your shampoo because his had ‘run out.’ In actuality, he just liked the smell of yours better. 

He introduced you to his friend group rather quickly, and you’d found yourself sucked in immediately. 

Taehyung would chase Jungkook around Jimin’s place to avenge the food he’d steal from your plate, while Namjoon would come up with clever ways you could get rid of both of them without anyone knowing. 

You’d even let Yoongi sleep on your couch a few times after he’d fall asleep during a movie you’d all be watching. 

They were like family to you in an instant and you felt so at home with them, more than you’d ever had with anyone in your life before. 

Jimin loved having you as his best friend and he loved that you’d become his friends’ friend as well. 

The only issue came up when Jimin realized he had non-platonic feelings for you. Of course he had a crush on you when you first met, but as you grew closer, you’d become such good friends that the crush sort of fizzled out. Suddenly, watching you show Jungkook how to ice a cookie, he realized he didn’t like you just as a friend. He liked you. 

Every time he’d try to flirt with you or subtly drop hints of his affection for you, you’d never picked up on it. He was friend zoned again and again and again.

Jimin was too worried about ruining your friendship, so he decided he’d just keep it to himself and move on. You were too important to him to jeopardize what you already had. 

—

Fast forward a few months and bring in Jiwoo, Namjoon’s friend from school, and Jimin thinks he’s finally over his hopeless crush on you. 

Jimin started making plans with Jiwoo, spending more time with just her and leaving you behind. 

You were happy he found someone, especially someone as sweet as Jiwoo. She was everything he needed, she’d be good for him, so you weren’t going to get in the way. 

While you grew lonely the less and less you saw Jimin, you couldn’t blame him for enjoying himself. He deserved to love and be loved.

Luckily, the boys knew that there was something more between you and Jimin, you both were just ‘too dumb,’ in Yoongi’s opinion, to see it.

While Jimin was off with Jiwoo pretending he was over you, the boys decided it was their duty to watch over you and keep you occupied. 

They could tell you were hurting more than you were letting on, especially when Jin stopped in to ask you if you wanted to go get coffee and found you on the couch crying over a romantic movie. 

Of course, not knowing what to do, he told the rest of the guys and ‘Plan: Get the Dummies Together’ (named through the joint effort of Jungkook and Taehyung’s last brain cells) commenced. 

Namjoon didn’t want to interfere at first, but when he saw how sad you looked as you watched Jimin take Jiwoo over to his place, he knew something had to be done, and the other boys couldn’t be trusted to do it right.

According to the plan, Namjoon and Hoseok would occupy Jimin to get him away from Jiwoo as much as possible. During this time, they’d talk mostly about you. 

The rest of the boys were tasked with keeping you happy. Cooking, walks, shopping, it didn’t matter as long as you were smiling and not crying. 

After a few days of initiating the plan, Jimin pulled Namjoon aside to ask him what was going on. They weren’t the best at being subtle, so it didn’t take long for him to catch on.

“You know you’re a literal idiot, right?” Namjoon sighs, Hobi nodding.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin didn’t think his best friends would attack him so openly like this, but he’s more concerned what brought it on than their attitude. 

“Y/N.” Hobi says, the both of them just looking at him like he’d kicked a puppy or something.

There’s a tinge of guilt swirling around in the pit of his stomach, but he forces himself to ignore it, “What about her?”

  “Do I have to spell it out for you? You L-O-V-E her and she L-O-V-E-S you dipshit.”

That takes Jimin by complete surprise. He thought he had been careful about hiding his feelings for you, even developing feelings for someone else to keep them at bay. 

Was there any chance you had felt the same way?

“No I don’t, and no she doesn’t. I’m with Jiwoo.” 

“Exactly. You’re with Jiwoo, but you don’t love her. You love Y/N.” Namjoon is getting more impatient with Jimin the longer he dodges it.

“Of course I don’t,” is all Jimin can get out, too caught up in everything happening at once. Did he really love you? Were his feelings for Jiwoo not real? Did you love him back? Why hadn’t you said or done anything to clue him in on how you felt? He thought he’d been kind of obvious before.

“Then say it, say ‘I love Jiwoo, I don’t love Y/N.’” Joon knows exactly how this will play out, but Jimin needs to hear it from himself. 

“Fine,” Jimin huffs, “I love Y/N, I don’t love Jiwoo-“ he wants to cover his mouth, but Hobi is already jumping around yelling ‘We knew it!,’ and Joon’s just smirking matter-of-factly. 

“And that is why you are an idiot.” Jimin knows what he has to do now, the realization that his heart belongs to someone else weighing heavily. 

Even the spark of hope that you might love him back can’t shield him from the hurt he’s about to cause. 

—

There were a lot of tears, but Jiwoo only said she had a feeling this was going to happen. Apparently Jimin was really bad at hiding his feelings for you, so it was only a matter of time before things had to come to an end. 

In the end, Jiwoo even wished him luck, knowing how much you both meant to each other. She couldn’t be too mad at true love after all.

Jimin was a freaking wreck on the other hand. He wasn’t good at breaking people’s hearts, and it took a toll on him.

He no longer had a girlfriend to make him happy and he didn’t know where you and him stood. 

Since the break-up, he’d noticed how much time you were spending with Jungkook and the others. He didn’t like feeling jealous of his friends, but he couldn’t help it. 

He was too much of a coward to confront you and tell you how he feels, though.

After letting himself be miserable over the break-up for a few days, he comes up with the best way he knows how to talk to you.

Grabbing the pad of paper, abandoned months ago, he writes up a quick note to leave on your door. He walks out, and just as he is about to put the paper up, your door swings open.

Your alone for the first time in a while, the boys coming up with excuses to let you and Jimin have your own time. 

You had planned on going on a walk to get some fresh air when you come face to face with Jimin at your door. 

He looks like a mess, hair disheveled, face stained with tears, and in the same crinkled sweats he’d lived in all week. 

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness twist through your heart. He looked broken. 

“Hey,” was all you manage to get out, in fear you’d crack and make a fool out of yourself. 

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice is rough and dry after crying for so long. He hated how pathetic he looked and sounded in front of you. 

How could you possibly love someone like him?

“Are you okay? Where’s Jiwoo?” You hated yourself for the nasty taste you got in your mouth from saying her name, it wasn’t her fault you waited too long.

“We actually broke up.” He doesn’t cry this time, he just searches your face for a reaction.

While you are sad your friend is hurting, you can’t help the hope blossoming in your chest.

“I’m sorry, you want to talk?” He just nods and rushes forward into your arms. You both missed the feeling of holding each other close, snuggling into one another and letting yourselves be vulnerable. 

You let out a relieved gasp when he clutches tight to you, as if he was afraid you’d dissipate into the air. 

“I should’ve just told you,” he whispers into your shoulder. 

“Tell me what?” You pull your face back from his chest to look at him confused. He just lifts his hand, still clutching the note tightly, and shows it to you.

‘I love you.’

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

Yes, I know it’s up later than the others, me being late to upload is just going to be a theme for the rest of the week. Anyways, cue the softest, cutest Jimin fanfic have ever written. Not to sound like a broken record, but, I really freaking love this one. Hope all you Chim gals eat your heart out, I hope I did your boy justice. 2 more to go. Stay Spooky!💜

       -Moonie🌙

[amostimprobabledream]

My thoughts on Peaky Blinders...

Now I’ve finished Season Five, I wanted to get out my thoughts/ideas/opinions regarding the show. So strap in! - So first of all, the fucking cinematopgraphy in this series is gorgeous. You could take almost any scene and it looks like a painting. The lighting, the way it’s staged, it’s all just so visually pleasing to look at. My inner film student was just sighing dreamily at the shot composition. There’s a shot of John, Arthur and Tommy walking somewhere and you could fucking frame it and put it in your wall. - CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY. I mean, I always knew he was a good actor and also a pretty one, I think the role I remember him best in is Batman Begins, but holy shit, I never realised how hot he is until like two months ago. I know he apparently hates his Tommy haircut, but good lord, he can pull it off. The cheekbones! The eyes! The eyelashes! The sexy voice! Needless to say I saw him and immediately developed the biggest fucking crush. Apparently when I talk about Tommy to people my face goes pink. Thank you so much, show, for enlightening me to this human. Tommy is such a fantastic character, and I do wonder if another actor could pull him off quite as well. So much debate over his actions, motives, mindset, etc. I could probably write essays about the complexities of Tommy, but I won’t because this is a long-ass post anyway. He’s such a boss and I would die for him. - I actually really like Arthur??? So the very first clip of PB I ever saw was accidental, when I happened to turn the TV on and the Blinders were taking over the Eden Club and Arthur was glassing a guy in the face. I thought, “Oh, he’s probably like the dangerous thug character everyone is scared of.” (I didn’t know he’s Tommy’s brother at the time.) But actually he’s kind of endearing despite being the Shelby’s pitbull? Idk, the concept of the “failure” elder brother, how Arthur is the character the verbalises PTSD the most out of everyone, how one minute he can be lashing out like a rabid bear and then sobbing like a kid the next... I’m always like, “Oh, Arthur,” because you can see he wants to be a better person, but he just...doesn’t know how. - JOOOHN. I miss him! And it’s weird because in the early parts of the Season John doesn’t DO much but tag around after Tommy and Arthur, but his marriage to Esme is actually So Good and again, he’s actually kind of a softboi under the hard gangster act. (Also his “Do THIS, John, Do THAT, John, KILL YOUR FOOKIN’ TEACHER, JOHN!” is so fucking good.) He kind of provides a lightness when contrasted to Tommy and Arthur that I really do miss, because the last two Seasons have been very grim and I think John’s absence has something to do with it. I liked Esme too, even if she’s a stroppy bitch, her love for John but resentment of her role in the family and also she’s HELLA PRETTY. I’m sad her character has gone for now, but at least she wasn’t killed off. - I also love Ada a lot - I was really shocked when I read that Sophie Rundle hasn’t been acting all that long before she got the part in PB, because honestly she’s very good! And her concept again is a fun one - the only girl in a family of violent gangster boys. (Or as Freddy puts it, “The only princess”, which she is.) Having said that, I’m not sure how I feel about Ada’s character arc over the course of the season. In One she came off as kind of childish and still sort of stuck in her Rebellious Teen phase, then she became a mother and Freddie died, then in Season Two she’s trying to distance herself from the family and go legit, then in Season Four and Five she’s helping run the business and taking money from Tommy. Idk, I wish she’d play a more major role like her brothers because her motivations seem to change based on what the screenwriter wants, not what feels natural for her. Plus it annoys me that Ada blamed Ben Younger’s death on Tommy, but Tommy gets a lot of blame for things that aren’t his fault so I guess he’s used to it. Still, Ada is still a lot of fun when she does get to play a big role and gets some great lines later on. “Tommy Shelby is going to stop a revolution with his cock.” - POLLY, MY QUEEN! Easily the best woman on the show (sorry, Ada) and such a fucking badass. She’s definitely the voice of reason within the family and conflicting loyalty is a really interesting theme that gets explored with her, between her arguing nephews and niece, between her family or whether she wants to marry again and leave, her relationship with Michael, it’s all so great. Helen McRory is such a brilliant addition to the show. Also I love that Polly kinda represents women taking over after all the men went away to war and now they’re back, but the women aren’t just going to creep back into the house - World War One changed the workplace forever for women and I think Polly being the second in command after Tommy reflects that really well. - I think overall my favourite seasons have been Seasons One, Two and Four, I tend to find I get a bit bored in Peaky Blinders whenever it gets especially heavy on politics like in Season Three and Five and I admittedly kind of miss the simplicity of the early days of the show when it was about horse-racing, but the Changretta vs Shelby feud was genuinely really gripping and Adrien Brody was also Very Good. (I mean, I couldn’t take him seriously because of Brodyquest, but I like him a lot.) - I HATE GRACE. There, I said it. And honestly I have SO MUCH to say on why I hate her and also why I think she is the epitome of bad writing that has happened on this show that I might as well save it for a whole nother post, but Tommy and Grace’s relationship always felt so unnatural and forced to me, like they are in love because the screenwriter said so - Grace is the only woman Tommy knows who isn’t related to him and also because it pisses off Campbell. Like, she was tolerable if highly irritating in Season One, but then Two came along and she just got worse and worse. She’s annoyingly convinced she’s better than everyone else, pulls off a LOT of questionable shit that NO-ONE except Polly ever pulls her up on and Tommy repeatedly pining over a woman who lied to him and betrayed him makes no goddamn sense. I wish Stephen Knight would just let him get over her, because her showing up over and over again in the show after the bitch died two Seasons ago is so infuriating I want to throw my remote at the TV. The best bit of Season Three was someone finally putting a bullet in her, honestly. /rant - On that note, I really wish that they’d use May properly. She was introduced in Season Two and honestly her chemistry with Tommy is about a thousand times more believable than anything he had with Guuuhrayce and also May doesn’t consistently talk in that annoying, breathy voice and also she doesn’t shamelessly manipulate Tommy constantly. It’s too bad Stephen Knight couldn’t get Charlotte Riley back for Season Three owing to her pregnancy, because I think the trajectory of the show would have been very different. But her scene where she spoke about her husband and tried to hide that she was crying? So good. The fucking Face Tommy gives her when she asks for a mixer in her gin? Priceless. Agh - May’s been chronically underused in the show but she keeps getting mentioned every now and then, so I’m hoping there are plans for her to come back in Season Six. I really like her and I honestly think Tommy/May has been the best relationship he’s had, because it’s the only one that’s felt A) Natural and B) Equal. - Lizzie Stark. Okay, so I have mixed feelings about Lizzie. I liked her in Seasons One and Two, because she was this down-on-her-luck woman who was treated like crap by everyone, but she wasn’t wholly without her own flaws or personality - she did lie to John and Tommy did act in his brother’s best interests to tell him the truth. The scenes she had with Tommy in Season Two when he promotes her to his secretary were honestly very cute and my heart broke for her when that solider nearly (?) raped her in Season Two and she cried in John’s arms. But over time she’s started to irritate me. I know that people feel bad for her because Tommy honestly does treat her badly at times, though other times she’s also one of the few people he’s nice to, their relationship is complicated. But truthfully I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie every working out properly because Lizzie was a whore. She’s always been Tommy’s inferior and while I do think he cares for her, she never seems to think it’s enough. He doesn’t love her enough and she’s never satisfied with it and she’s always resentful of him. But you can’t FORCE someone to love you and it’s interesting that the minute she learned she was pregnant, you could see her thinking of how to make this work. She pulled the Baby Trap on him just like Grace did and got married like she wanted, but Tommy still doesn’t truly see her as his equal. And honestly, I don’t think she’s smart enough for him. Add that to Lizzie being EXTREMELY petty to other women (including her being really rude to May and slut-shaming her - bit rich from you, isn’t it, Lizzie?), and I don’t think they have a healthy relationship. I do like little Ruby a lot (way more than Charles, who is a spoiled brat because he’s Grace’s son and has a martyred dead mummy), but honestly I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie working out. I just hope that she doesn’t leave and take Ruby, I think it’d break Tommy to have his daughter taken away from him. - Alfie Solomons. So...I have to confess I have mixed feelings about Alfie. I liked him in Season Two because he’s batshit crazy, Tom Hardy is clearly having the time of his life and it’s refreshing to have a rival to Tommy who isn’t cartoonishly evil like Billy Kimber or Sabini. He ties into Season Two very well and yeah, I can see why he’s so popular. Also he’s pretty attractive, so that always helps. But. Alfie is starting to come across a bit like a creator’s pet to me. He consistently betrays Tommy every goddamn Season and while I know the fandom love to joke about this, it’s pretty inexplicable that Tommy would bother to continue to do business with him after being burned so many times and now it turns out he’s alive. Why? Why bring Alfie back? I feel like he was brought back because he’s a fan favourite and to add another suspect to who betrayed Tommy. I don’t hate Alfie at all, but I am starting to wish he’d face actual consequences for his actions, considering every Peaky Blinders character who fucks with the Peaky Blinders tend to suffer horribly for it, but not Alfie...for some reason. - Michael. Okay so Michael’s actor is pretty damn good and I thought it was cute that he and John’s actors are actually brother irl - you can see the resemblance. And honestly bringing back Polly’s missing kids was a really clever idea because there’s a family tie, but one that isn’t so strong you can always be sure of where his loyalties lie. His subplot with Father Hughes in Season Three was both very sad and very well done - I was cheering him on the whole way. But Season Five has made my opinion of Michael take a dramatic nosedive. He’s gone from sorta-sympathetic to an entitled brat almost overnight. I get he’s probably salty about being banished to America by Tommy in Season Four, but where has this sudden desire to rule the company come from? How did he meet Gina? Is he lying about Gina being pregnant because he figured it’d win him sympathy? I don’t know. He’s changed so drastically, and when Polly gave him that slap, I think she was doing what everyone wanted to. It’s too bad they just wrote Anna off as being dead, though, Michael having a sister and Polly a daughter would have been interesting. - The music?? Is so good?? I love it! Especially the themesong, obviously, but so much of it is always ON POINT. It makes me wanna buy the entire soundtrack. - Unpopular opinion, but I think Campbell was the best antagonist of the show, mainly because he was a vile person but still believable and had the best dynamic with Tommy.  - Season Five was honestly kind of hit-and-miss for me, it seemed like a lot of people are pissed at Tommy for fairly silly reasons in the beginning and I just didn’t find the political subplot all that interesting...but I still will definitely tune into Season Six. (Also these are all just opinions, so please don’t send me hate if you don’t like something I’ve said. Ain’t nobody got time for that.)

[espejonight28738]

The Passing Years

A/N: @Bushybrows_99 Sorry for taking so long, but at least I had it on time! Or at least here it is still on time. I tried to write some shizaya christmas fluff, and then I failed miserably at the “fluff” part, but at least it is shizaya christmas. 

You can read it on AO3 if you prefer

“I promised my beloved Celty I was going to hang out with my friends on Christmas, at her request. You can't cancel on my two hours before you are supposed to come, Shizuo.” Shinra had been repeating variations of that for the last ten minutes when Shizuo finally gave up.

“Fine! I'll go, but don't fucking complain then if I end up beating the shit out of the louse you call friend.” Really, Shizuo had no problem being with Shinra and Kadota for Christmas, but Izaya? What the hell was Shinra thinking?

“He promised to be in his best behaviour, and so did you. Besides, maybe this is an opportunity for you to make up and stop destroying school property any time you see each other. It's been five months since you met and half the school is already remodeled.”

Shizuo knew there was no way that would happen. The only existence of the stupid flea annoyed the shit out of him, but Shinra and Kadota kinda were his only friends, so he decided he could try not to commit murder that day.

The evening was… it was almost torture for Shizuo, but he didn't break anything, and Izaya had the decency to make his presence a little less annoying. Of course, the worst was yet to come, because in the stupid gift exchange Shinra had organized, he had to give Izaya a gift. Just his fucking luck.

“So what did Shizu-chan got me? I hope it's not contaminated of disgusting beast germs.” Only Izaya could insult someone with such an innocent, although fake, smile on his face.

He just mumbled something that could have been a threat, and gave Izaya the box. For just a moment, just one second, he wished Izaya would like his gift. Even if he hated him, this was the first Christmas Shizuo spent with someone other than his family, so he would like to look fondly at the memory in the future.

“Uh, Shizu-chan, I knew your protozoic brain doesn't understand complex concepts easily, but I thought you knew I was a man, because I'm sure this came from the women section of a shop.”

It was really wishful thinking that Izaya could just accept the coat as a goddamn normal person and move on.

“Yeah, well, there was no 'flea' section in the store, so I did what I could. You should be grateful, now your dead won't be something as lame as hypothermia.”

Not that Shizuo noticed, but why the fuck didn't Izaya use a sweater or something? It was snowing out there and he had just a long-sleeve shirt.

Izaya was about to respond, when he seemed to think better of it. He got up and put the black coat on. It was slightly big on him, but Shizuo supposed he could still grow. He ignored the warmth inside of him at seeing Izaya pleased with the gift.

“What do you think, Dotachin? Shinra?”

Before either of them could really answer, Shizuo spoke up.

“You look stupid.” Izaya's smile looked almost genuine for a moment there, as if the comment had genuinely amused him.

“Well, it's a real shame you don't like it, because this is my new favorite coat. Thank you, Shizu-chan.”  

Shizuo though he said it just to reil him up, but it wasn't the case. Or if it was, it was a really dedicated way to annoy him, because no one saw Izaya without the coat on the outside in the years to come.

Stupid flea.

The next to Christmas were kind of the same deal. Then Shinra went to the university, and Shizuo didn't heard of Izaya for a few sweet years. And then the asshole tried to get him arrested. He swore he was going to kill the fucking louse.

His Christmas were a solitary affair. Kasuka was off filming some christmas special, and his parents had moved to the more rural part of the country. Shizuo pretended not to know it was because they feared someone connecting them to him.

So when he felt Izaya was in his city, it wasn't much of a problem deciding to go chasing him out.

“Shizu-chan, don't you get tired of being so salvage all the time? You could let me go do my thing, it's Christmas Eve.” Asked Izaya, dodging just by little a trash can that flew his way.

“Or you could fuck off and let me enjoy my Christmas Eve, Izaya-kun.”

“Come on, Shizu-chan, we both know you haven't spent your holidays with anyone since we graduated. Only Shinra would have the bad taste of inviting over a monster.” He just didn't stop moving, and that was really getting on Shizuo's nerves.

It was only more infuriating that he still wore that black coat with the fluffy sleeves. The fact that everyone in Ikebukuro knew him from that stupid piece of cloth Shizuo had given him many years ago made him wanna puke. The only saving grace was that only Kadota and Shinra knew about that, and none of them were suicidal enough to try to spread the rumor.

“He already had the bad taste of inviting you.” In high school, Izaya would have laughed at that answer, but he didn't nowadays. Shizuo wasn't sure when it happened, but Izaya now got even angrier anytime Shizuo acted like they did in Raijin.

Stupid Izaya and his even more stupid mind games.

He didn't had to see Izaya to know a knife was coming his way. Predictable asshole.

Their fight extended to the first hours of the next day. They had run across the entire city at least a few times, leaving a path of destruction behind them, mostly on Shizuo's account.

But then, as if they hadn't been trying to kill each other for hours, Izaya turned back with a smile on his face.

“It was good to spent Christmas together again, Shizu-chan.” He said, and then turned in direction of Shinjuku.

Any other day, Shizuo would have keep on chasing him, but he realized then that it was the first time in years he hadn't felt lonely on Christmas, so he let it pass.

“Only the stupid flea...” Fortunately, no one was around to see something akin to fondness on his face. Nor that time, nor the next several years.

After that fight where Shizuo almost killed Izaya, the later disappeared without leaving a trace, just as Shizuo had wanted for so many years.

The first months, he hadn't even noticed. It wasn't like he saw Izaya all the time. Sometimes many months would take place between one encounter and another. There was only one day they met every years, and he had really tried not to think about it.

[What are you doing for Christmas, Shizuo?] He read in Celty's phone. They were in the park, enjoying the freedom of the night, where they could be without causing an escandal.

Shizuo though that Izaya was the reason everyone in this city was so interested in him. As he would learn he gained the new new of “The Demon of Ikebukuro”, that wasn't the true.

“Same as every year, I'll just be in my home watching movies or something.”

[That's good. Shinra made a comment about Izaya and you spending every Christmas fighting each other for the last years. I'm happy you can finally have a peaceful Christmas.]

Shizuo didn't even try to ask why did Shinra knew that, he didn't care. He just thanked Celty and parted to his house, he had job the next day after all.

He didn't know what to do with himself. He had wanted Izaya to leave him alone, he wanted pace. He had it now, he should be happy. This should be the best Christmas since he was a child, but it wouldn't. With three days ahead of him until the day, he knew he would feel lonely.

His parents were still away, Kasuka still had to work, Shinra and Celty were going away for the holidays, and he didn't really talked with Kadota except for the occasional greeting anymore. Tom had a family to spend the day with, Vorona had gone back to Russia.

And he really hadn't noticed that he expected to be that day with Izaya, fighting like always, until he realized he was alone for the holidays for the first time in years.

Maybe it was for the best. He wasn't sure.

When the day finally came, he expected almost a tangible evidence of the change. He didn't. After Izaya left, everyone seemed to forget about him. You didn't hear his name on the streets, the urban legend just disappeared.

It drove Shizuo mad. If he closed his eyes, if he didn't see the scar on his chest, sometimes he questioned if Izaya had even existed at all in the first place. It shouldn't make him feel so abandoned. It shouldn't hurt him as much as it does.

“You're a monster, Shizu-chan, you're destined to be alone.”

Who would have thought Izaya was the only thing keeping his own words from becoming true?

Shizuo put on a coat and climbed to the roof of his building, lighting a cigarette on his way. During the many years chasing the flea, he discovered sometimes the view from the roofs was calming, It was kinda beautiful, but seeing all those people on the street make him feel even more secluded.

Usually he wasn't one for regretting things. What was done was done, no use dwelling on the past. But he indulge a little of honesty, for the sake of not keeping lying to himself, even if he had to lie to the rest of the world.

He knew he was having this little epiphany far too late to make a difference. He closed his eyes and thought of that first Christmas. He thought of Izaya refusing to take off his coat, and how he annoyed him the entire day. But he allowed himself to also think of all he had tried to forget. Izaya giving him his cookies, since he wasn't really fond of sugar, and they being almost cozy side by side in the sofa.

He thought of the next year, when Izaya gave him a photo of the four of them he apparently convinced his sister to take during the school year. Shizuo told him he had burned it, the truth was he kept it safe in his apartment, away from prying eyes.

He thought of the last year, and the conversation they had.

“Do you want me to keep visiting you on Christmas next year, Shizu-chan? I know life must be terribly lonely for a monster.”

“I'd prefer being alone that having to be with you, Izaya-kun.”

And yet, Izaya eventually came back. And, contrary to the rest of the year, he never seemed in a hurry to shake off Shizuo on Christmas. He kept coming for years, and Shizuo never thought of asking himself what was behind all of that.

He wondered what was Izaya doing, if he also felt alone. He wished he could ask him. After all the years, it was now he wanted to talk to the informant that had made his life a living hell. Really talk. Definitely, too late for that epiphany.

Only the wind and the night's sky were witness of the pain in his words.

“Shit, I really fucked up with him, didn't I?”

[zenithlux]

Cadence - CH 2

Read the full story on AO3 here!

Chapter Two

To trust myself To trust someone else To trust the doubt in the back of my mind Trust the trail of pain left behind Yes, I knew better then

“Trust” - Christina Perri

Thirteen days went by before Vergil thought of the mystery woman again. Of course, Dante’s “mission of utmost importance” had been nothing but a few larger demons, but it had been enough to distract Vergil’s mind from the conversation. 

Well, he never truly forgot, as much as he thought he should. He hadn’t seen her since the first meeting, and assumed she’d given up by now. Dante had teased him numerous times about it and somehow procured the bookmark no matter where Vergil tried to hide it. He had considered throwing it out, but he’d begrudgingly kept it when Dante’s alternative was to “fold the corners down to mark your place”. 

Beyond their near-identical looks (which was becoming more debatable by the day), Vergil and his twin were absolutely nothing alike. 

By the next Friday, however, he and Dante had forgotten about her entirely, as it took everything he had to survive the awkward family gathering. Granted, Vergil was certain that everyone else would say that he was the awkward one, and not them. And while they were (probably) right, Vergil was too stubborn to admit it. 

But what else could he do? Nearly everyone, Nero’s foster kids included, kept giving him these… looks. The humans were wary around him, except for Lady who was either glaring at him so intensely that he might burst into flames, or ignoring him entirely. Trish was the most composed, but he didn’t miss the occasional side-eye she gave him, as if she expected him to turn on them at any moment. 

And then there was Nero. His son… that he talked to once for five minutes after his return from the Underworld before ending up in a duel to the metaphorical death. Vergil had won, of course, but it sure hadn’t felt that way when Nero stormed off, calling Vergil a “fucking asshole” at least twice. The two had awkwardly avoided each other ever since despite all of Dante’s attempts to force them back together. 

And that’s how Vergil ended up in the kitchen on this particular visit, watching his family with two doorways and a hall between them. They’d all relaxed after he’d quietly excused himself from the room, though none of them would ever admit that was the reason. The children were playing a board game with Kyrie, while the others cheered on Dante or Nero in some kind of fighting game that Vergil didn’t bother looking at. He’d considered leaving twice in the last half-hour, but waited since he’d promised Dante a portal home.

Though that might be a promise worth breaking once he finished his coffee. 

Vergil’s eyes wandered out the window. It was never his intention to be the “downer” of the party (Dante’s words, not his). But things had not been simple since they’d returned from the Underworld. It was part of the reason Vergil had been hesitant to come back in the first place. Not because he didn’t want this… second chance. (He hesitated to call this new life such a thing, as he didn’t feel he was using it in any meaningful way). But because he had so many things to fix. The damage the Qliphoth had done surrounded him everywhere he went. His “relationship” with Nero was fractured at best, and shattered at worst. Then there were other scars… ones he didn’t dare think about.

So many mistakes. So many things to fix. Even Dante couldn’t tell him where to start. That’s something you’ve gotta figure out on your own, Verge. 

“Mr… Vergil?”

His eyes jerked up, and Kyrie practically shrunk back into the hallway. Vergil took a deep breath, annoyed at how painfully his heart hammered in his ears. “I… apologize.” He said, trying to ignore the way that Nero was staring at them from the other side of the room. Whether it was fear or anger in his son’s eyes, Vergil wasn’t certain. “It seems I was caught up in my own thoughts.”

Slowly, Kyrie nodded with a timid smile. Vergil didn’t know how much of his demon self he was exuding, though he had been trying to suppress it more in situations like this. It didn’t matter when he was out and about. But around his family… he wanted to be better. But from the way she was shaking ever so slightly, he knew he was failing at that too. 

“I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay,” She said.

He nodded. “Don’t concern yourself with my wellbeing.” Her eyes fell and Vergil silently cursed himself. What was wrong with that? That should have eased her concerns, not added to them. But Vergil had been wrong about a lot of things lately. “I’m alright,” He said, forcing a more gentle tone. It wasn’t perfect, but she did look at him again, so he was finally doing something right.“Please let my brother know that I will return for him later.” 

She nodded a second before Nero stepped into the hallway.“Everything alright, Kyrie?” 

“Of course,” She said with more confidence than before. “Just checking on your father.” 

Nero blinked as she moved past him. Vergil didn’t know if that was meant to be a jab at Nero, himself, or if he was looking too far into things again. And the look on Nero’s face told him that he wasn’t certain either. But when their gazes met, Nero’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. When he left without a word, Vergil knew he was no longer welcome.

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

Haven was quiet when Vergil stepped out of the portal on the edge of town. Though that was to be expected given the late hour. It was rare for anyone to stay out past sundown given the nature of demons and the like. And while Vergil did his best to cull anything that came near, one could never be too cautious. 

Tonight, however, he was going straight to Devil May Cry, read a book, and try not to ponder why he felt so… unlike himself. 

Sad. V’s voice gently corrected him. Vergil shook it away. 

“You’re quitting tonight?”

Vergil froze. Impossible. That woman was here again? Maybe she lived in the town, but he hadn’t seen her during Dante’s “meet and greet” he’d dragged Vergil on three separate times. And he was certain they’d visited everyone, as he’d nodded his “hellos” at so many people he was half surprised his head hadn’t fallen off. But she hadn’t been there, and he doubted she would donate to a town she wasn’t a part of. Everything outside of Haven was either badly damaged or abandoned. Dante had mentioned the “lucky few rich folks homes” a few miles away who’d made it out relatively unscathed, but with the number of demons that prowled the area, no one dared live there.

Vergil didn’t know why he didn’t walk away. He had no reason to listen in. No reason to have any interest in this person. Yet the exhausted smile on her face mixed with the clear pain in her slumped over body made his heart twist in an odd, unexplainable way. And while his mind urged him to try and talk to her, his stubborn side stopped him just around the corner. After all, why would she want to speak to him? She’d offered him a chance, and he’d ignored it. Surely after almost two weeks…

“Please, Taylor.” The woman’s voice was quiet. A normal human wouldn’t have picked up on the agony buried beneath it. “All I’m asking is for a couple more nights, and I’ll be happy to pay you extra for it.”

“I’m sorry, Roxy,” Another voice said. Vergil hadn’t realized the woman was on the phone to begin with. “I genuinely wish I could be there for you. But my daughter…”

Roxy bit her lip. “No, I know. It’s okay.”

“You have someone else you can call, right? I know you’re worried about another episode…”

Episode? Vergil didn’t know what to think of that, nor could he ignore the very, very, small twinge of concern when Roxy’s arms shook as she sunk further against the wall. “Yeah,” She said. “I’ve… I’m sure I can find someone. Take care of Meena.”

“Thank you… and I’m genuinely sorry.”

Vergil heard the beep of someone hanging up. Whether it was Roxy or the other woman, he wasn’t certain. But the hiss of pain as Roxy pushed herself off the wall was undeniable. “Well Aki,” She muttered as her hands clamped around the strap of her side bag. “Looks like it’s just you and me.” 

A quiet chirp responded, and Vergil was certain it had come from the same bag. A demon? He didn’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t take much to find out. So, forcing down his own misgivings, Vergil blinked forward. But as he moved to step in front of her, she stumbled to the left. He caught her before he realized what he was doing, and she pulled away in shock. Except she was still clearly off-balance, and barely avoided crashing straight into the wall. “Holy hell,” She said. “Where did you come from?”

He ignored her. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a break,” She said. “What else does it look like?”

Vergil raised an eyebrow. “A break from…?”

“My walk home,” She shrugged as she stood up straight. Her attempt at bravado was commendable but failed spectacularly when she spasmed in clear pain and leaned back against the wall. “It’s a beautiful night,” She continued as if nothing had happened. “I just wanted to enjoy the....” She paused with a quick glance upward. “Starless sky?”

Infuriating woman, Vergil thought as he narrowed his eyes. He didn’t miss the odd movement in her bag, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. “Where is it?”

“Up there,” She said pointing at the sky. “Where else would it be?”

Vergil was certain he was glaring at her now and was only mildly surprised that she held it without any trace of fear. “Your home.”

She paused, before sighing as her eyes drifted closed. “I live in a studio apartment just outside Fallen West Abbey. There’s a complex there that everyone in the town swears is haunted.” 

“That’s almost five miles away.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re injured.”

She flinched, and he wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the fact that she’d been caught. Maybe both. “This is normal. I’ll get better.”

“Before or after your walk?”

Another flinch. “On… Thursday? Probably?”

“Two days?”

“Give or take.”

What was wrong with this woman? Vergil wasn’t the most experienced with injuries (or whatever was going on. He didn’t smell blood, nor were there any broken bones or anything that he could see) but even he knew she wouldn’t make it that far. Had she planned on collapsing in the street and hoping for the best? Or did she truly think she could stumble across town, through an area known for demonic portals, and pass over five steep hills and everything would be okay? Or, perhaps even more idiotic, why was she talking to him, a man she barely knew who had (admittedly) appeared out of nowhere, so calmly in such a weakened state? 

How was she, unlike everyone else, unafraid?

Vergil let the silence lapse as he considered his options. Or, more accurately, as he tried to understand the thoughts rolling around in his head. The first time they met, she had interested him to some degree. Well-spoken. Appreciated the classics. Didn’t seem to judge (or even care) about his brash introduction. But Vergil still couldn’t escape that gnawing sense of self-doubt; something that was becoming more frequent and irritating over the last few months. After all the mistakes he’d made over the years, was it really fair to drag another human down with him? And what was the point in trying with her if he couldn’t even talk to his own son?

It’s the demon she’s got, He thought. That’s the only reason I care.

Even though he didn’t quite believe it, it was a good enough reason to move on. 

With a frustrated sigh, Vergil said, “I’ll make a deal with you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m listening.”

“We have extra rooms at our shop,” Vergil said. 

“Your… shop?”

“Devil May Cry.”

“You work there?” She said, “But…”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” Vergil cut her off. “If you tell me about the demon in your bag.”

Her eyes widened, and Vergil couldn’t hide the slight, and temporary, smirk of victory. “It’s not… like that.” A loud chirp made her scowl. But, she took a deep breath, stood up a little straighter, and said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

She was crazy. That was the only possibility. And despite his annoyance at the entire situation, and the overwhelming urge to walk away and be done with her, Vergil blocked her path with Yamato instead. Her eyes flickered to the sheathe for a long moment before she sighed. “Of course you’re a demon hunter. Why else would you carry that thing around?”

“You won’t make it home like this.”

“Probably not.”

“Then do we have a deal?”

She glared at him. “You’re not allowed to kill him. He’s no threat to you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Then no. I’ll walk.”

Vergil blinked and, for the briefest of moments, his mind went silent. “What?” He finally forced out. 

“My boy’s not a threat,” Roxy said. “He’s been with me since long before that tree, and the last thing I need right now is to lose him. So no. I’m not risking his life for a quick trip.”

Now, he was well and truly flabbergasted. “Do you honestly think you’ll make it?”

She threw one hand into the air as the other pressed back against the wall. “I don’t know but I don’t have many options at the moment, so I’ll take my chances.” She pushed past Yamato, leaving Vergil to stare blankly at the wall for far too long. 

This is pointless. If she wants to get herself killed, that’s her choice.

But his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to her as she somehow found her way down the street, using the wall as a strange sort of lifeline. And when she reached the end of one building, she took a deep breath, pushed herself off with a quiet grunt of pain, and stumbled to the other. And she kept going like that. Slow, but methodical. A stubborn, foolish… desperate…

Hadn’t I done the exact same thing?

The thought was sobering. His mind drifted to the fleeting remnants of his escape from… somewhere. He didn’t remember that part. Too many jumbled memories and nightmares overlapping each other in an endless loop of nonsense. But he did remember how he felt before he’d found Nero. Desperate. Exhausted. Hopeless. Alone. He hadn’t had a plan, but he had wanted so desperately to survive. And even after foolishly separating himself… he had still wanted to live. He’d wanted to be whole again, no matter the cost. And if that demon of hers, whatever it was, allowed her to do that… then what right did he have to threaten it?

Vergil’s hand tightened on Yamato’s hilt, before he snapped forward, blocking her way in a blur of blue. She jumped in fright, spasmed slightly, and glared at him. “Stop doing that!”

“What is he to you?”

“Why are you so fast?”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are we arguing when I don’t even know your name?”

Vergil didn’t like this constant feeling of bewilderment, and he still didn’t know why he was tolerating it. But there was something driving his own questionable behavior. If he knew what it was, he’d probably squash it immediately and be done with it. But his brain was dead-set on whatever this was. And if he’d learned anything from his time as V, fighting his instincts would only make things worse.  “I won’t harm him.”

She stared at him, surprised. That makes two of us. He thought. “You… promise?” She said.

Vergil twitched. “Must I repeat myself?”

A long moment of silence followed. Vergil simply watched, unbothered, as she shakily leaned against the wall and let her eyes close again. Her heart was beating out of control, much more than Vergil thought it should have been despite her struggle. Vergil tilted his head just slightly, not enough for her to notice, but enough to focus. Her breathing was raspy. Sweat was pooling on her forehead, and she was much paler than he remembered. “You’re injured,” He said. “Why?”

“It’s a long story,” She said. “But I guess I need a bit more help than I thought.”

“I offered you a deal.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Fine. Just let me...” Her voice trailed off as Vergil sliced open a portal and resheathed Yamato before she could blink. “What is that?”

“Go.”

“You want me to walk through it?”

Vergil huffed. “What else would it be for?”

She reached for it hesitantly, her eyes wide. When her hand brushed the expected nothingness, she jerked back. Vergil rolled his eyes. “It won’t bite you.”

“Well, I don’t know that!” 

“Just go.”

After another pause, she said. “I don’t suppose I can add your name to our deal?” Vergil didn’t move, and Roxy merely sighed in resignation. “Should’ve thought that part through, I suppose.”

“Vergil.”

She stopped mid-step, eyes flickering to his in a moment of confusion. “What?”

“My name.”

A quiet Oh slipped from her lips. “Well, mine’s…”

“Roxanna.”

“How did…?”

“The store owner,” He said.

After another slow blink, her eyes turned murderous. This time, no pain in the world could stop her from throwing her hands up to the heavens in pure frustration. “No wonder you never called me back!”

She flinched, hand reaching for her side in immediate regret. But her sudden outburst had, once again, rendered Vergil speechless. “What?”

“She ruined all the mystery,” Roxy muttered. 

And as she vanished through the portal, Vergil began to wonder if he was the crazy one.

[codewordpumpkin]

Pinky-Promise (A Lizzington crack-fic that unintentionally turned serious)

Her phone buzzed and lit with the name Nick’s Pizza for the umpteenth time—which she silenced with practiced ease and efficiency, barely giving it a glance before returning her attention to the open file on her desk.

Some might say she was being childish. To them, she would say:

The man killed my father.

That would be sure to shut them up.

And besides, if he was truly calling because of an urgent matter, there were other ways to get in contact with her. So far, there had only been one text, and it had consisted of only one word: Lizzie.

When guilt began to fester in the pit of her stomach, she had to remind herself that the only one who should be feeling guilty here was him. Regardless of how many times he called her or sent her ominous texts of her name, she would continue to ignore him. And when ignoring him became no longer possible, she would continue to hate him.

The self-reminder served to boil her temper from annoyed to angry, and when the distracting vibration began once again, she was about ready to smash the device to bits. But just as she gripped her phone with an intensity that was probably more damaging to her own hand, the unknown number on the display had her answering with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Dembe?”

“Raymond would like to speak with you.”

“Does he have a new blacklister for us?”

“… No.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Well, until he does, please tell him I’m busy. Thank you, Dembe.”

“Eliza—”

She winced, as she hadn’t meant to hang up on him like that. But what was done, was done. At least she had gotten her message across—as if the ignored calls hadn’t already been a huge hint.

Although she didn’t know how long this reprieve from Red would last, she was determined to use the time to catch up on her neglected piles of paperwork. She had just gotten a rhythm going when she was startled by the sound of a knock, ink now smudged on both the sheet and her hand.

“Yes?” she called out, using a tissue to dab at the fresh stains.

“Elizabeth.”

Her head snapped up at the deep voice. She frowned when she saw Dembe, standing tall and firm in the now open doorway of her office. It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since they last spoke; why was he here now? And where was Red? Despite the grudge she was determined to hold, she began to worry, wondering if something had happened to the infuriating man. Was he hurt? Had someone taken him? She was going to kill him if he had let Madeline Pratt play him once again—singular talents be damned.

She didn’t know what to say except, “What’s wrong?”

Dembe opened his mouth—then closed it. Clenching his jaw, he blinked, and blinked some more, all the while remaining silent and looking as bewildered as she was starting to feel.

Then, she heard it—what it was, she wasn’t exactly sure, but it stuck out in the tense quiet of the small room. When they both failed to acknowledge it, however, it repeated itself more loudly this time, and she recognized it as someone clearing their throat.

Dembe sighed. “Raymond.”

A few moments of… nothing passed before the man himself graced them with his presence. He shuffled almost meekly and stopped once he was just barely inside her office.

Immediately, she noticed there was something off about him. He didn’t look physically different, as far as she could tell; the fedora, the three-piece suit, the polished shoes—it was all there. But something in his demeanor made him seem… small. Where was the man whose soul and spirit was greater than life itself?

Because this wasn’t him.

“What’s going on?” she said, trying to hide her concern behind her neutral tone.

“Raymond wanted to see you.”

“Did not.”

She felt her brows climb up her forehead, taken aback by Red’s petulant outburst. Cocking her head to the side, she noticed the way his gaze had moved from his feet to the wall, staring at nothing in particular. His chin was high and proud, and his mouth was pursed in a tight pout.

“Okay,” she slowly drawled, unsure what to make of the situation, “well, as I told Dembe earlier, I’m busy, so unless this is about work…”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Her temper flared.

“If you’re here for no other reason than to waste my time, you can leave,” she snapped, unconsciously tightening the grip on her pen.

To her utter shock, a hot flush rose on his cheeks—something she had not witnessed. Ever. Even when she had confided to him about her forced sex-life with her fake husband. Even after it had been made painfully clear that he had seen parts of the surveillance feed that featured said sex-life with said husband.

She sighed. “Why are you really here?”

This time, it was Dembe who cleared his throat. “Raymond wanted to see you.”

“So you’ve said, but—”

“It’s not my fault. Dembe dragged me here.”

“That is not true, Raymond, and you know it.” She was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that burning glare. Even Red seemed to cower at the force. “I brought you here because you were upset when Elizabeth refused to speak with you, and then you—”

“Did not.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” She stared down the two men. “Somebody start talking. Now.”

“Raymond was injected with something during a meeting with an associate.”

“Injected? With what?” she exclaimed, admittedly louder than she would have liked.

“Unknown.” He paused. “But the effects… It seems…” She had never seen him this flustered before. “He has essentially turned into a child.”

“Hey!”

“A child?” She laughed uncertainly. “Is this a joke?”

Dear God, let this be a joke.

He shook his head.

She gulped, her throat suddenly parched. “Well, how long until the effects dissipate?”

“Unclear.”

“Unclear?” she repeated, sounding incredulous to her own ears. How was he so calm? She was two seconds away from having a panic attack! “What about the person who injected him? Where is he? Or she?”

“Dead, unfortunately.”

“Dead,” she exhaled shakily, “okay. It’s okay. We’ll…”

She came up blank.

What the hell were they going to do?

“The good news is…”

“Yes?” she said, eager for anything that might be considered good news at this point.

“His memory appears to be fully intact. He is still Raymond—just… childish.”

“Right. Okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

“Stop talking as if I’m not here!”

Ignoring him, she asked Dembe, “What do we do? Just wait it out?”

Surely, there was a plan far more complex than that. Surely, he—

“Yes, for now,” he replied seriously. “I am going to try and get answers. While I do, you will need to watch him.”

“What—like babysit him?”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” the man-boy huffed.

“Can’t you just choose someone from the hundreds on your payroll?” she continued.

“He wants only you.”

“Do not.”

She was going to cry. Soon. She could feel it.

“Okay… Okay.” Aggressively rubbing her temples to avoid pulling out her hair, she tried to calm herself down. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Do you need the task force to help with anything?”

“Not now, but I may need some assistance later.”

“Keep me updated, please.”

He nodded, then turned to Red, who was evidently still grumpy. “Will you be all right?”

“I’m not a child,” he said haughtily, only to prove otherwise by pouting like a duck.

“Of course.” To Dembe’s credit, he didn’t break down laughing. But she swore she detected an amused glint in his dark eyes when he wished her, “Good luck, Elizabeth.”  

For the first time, she was annoyed with the stoic man.

All too soon, he was gone, and she could no longer stare blankly at the door, hoping he would return and retrieve his well-dressed child.

Covering her face with her hands, praying this was all just a terrible dream, she hesitantly peeked through her fingers.

It wasn’t a dream.

“Um…” She could feel the panic begin to spread again. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran out of the suffocating room and didn’t stop until she crashed into someone and nearly fell on her ass.

“Whoa, Keen!” He grabbed her shoulders and waited until she could stand on her own. “You all right?”

“Ressler,” she panted, unsure if it was due to the run or the panic, “R-Red, he—”

“Calm down,” he said, rubbing her arms in a way she assumed was meant to be soothing. “What happened? I know Reddington’s fine because I saw him stroll into our office… Unless… Did he have a heart attack or something? Do we need to call an ambulance? Keen—”

She shook her head, willing him to understand what she couldn’t seem to say. “No, no, he’s fine—well, not fine, but—oh, God, Ress, I can’t believe this is happening—”

“Shh, Liz,” he pulled her into a hug, “look, whatever it is, it’ll be fine. Just tell me what’s going on, and—Reddington?”

Flinching, she withdrew herself from her partner’s hold and turned around just in time to see Red fleeing the scene with a pace that was nearly a sprint.

Sighing, she muttered, “I have to go.”

Dismissing Ressler’s concern with a forced smile, she walked over to Aram’s desk.

“Aram, can you pull up the security feeds? I need to know where Red is.”

“Mr. Reddington?” he asked nervously, already on task. “Is something wrong?”

“No, he…” She shook her head, unable to muster the energy. “He’s somewhere in the building. Find him, please.”

It only took a few moments to locate him on the screen, and another few minutes to locate him in person.

There he was, standing at the bottom of the stairwell in the dimly lit corridor, glaring at the ground with his arms crossed and appearing for all the world like a toddler about to have a tantrum.

“Red.”

He startled but pretended not to hear her.

“Red,” she said softly, thinking of the best way to approach, “what’s wrong?”

He tensed as she got closer, and he went perfectly still when she crouched before him, taking one of his hands in both of hers.

“Will you please look at me?”

He reluctantly did as requested.

“Why didn’t you stay in my office?”

“… Because you weren’t there.”

She didn’t know why she felt a pang at those words.

Tightening her hold on his hand, she said, “Why are you upset?” When he continued to stew in silence, she added, “Should I call Dembe to come and pick you up?”

“No!” Clearing his throat, he repeated, “No.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong, then?” Awkwardly shuffling his feet, he tipped his head so the fedora would shadow his face. “Red?”

“You were hugging Donald.”

“Oh, that—that wasn’t…” Why did she feel the need to explain herself? “Why does that bother you?”

“Because you never hug me,” he muttered, voice so small it barely registered. “And I want you to hug only me.”

Was that what this was? The man who considered jealousy to be a base emotion was actually jealous?

But… was this coming from the man or the child?

“You’re laughing at me,” he whined, an impressive scowl on his adorably red face.

“No, I’m not,” she said, tugging down the corners of her lips that had curled up on their own accord. “I promise.”

“… Pinky-promise?”

She nodded, doing her best not to laugh. “Come here, Red.”

Rising to a stand, she opened her arms wide and patiently waited for him to step into her embrace. When he did, she reveled in the way his entire being seemed to relax, and she couldn’t help but smile when his own arms shyly came up to wrap around her waist. Neither of them seemed to care when his fedora fell to the ground, too preoccupied with the way his face was buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. She would have also dismissed the quiet sniffle, but her now damp skin proved impossible to ignore.

“Red?” Carefully pulling away, just far enough to see his face, she was shocked to see that his cheeks were stained with tears. “Are you still upset with me?”

He shook his head, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“Then, why are you crying?” she whispered, wishing she could make him feel better.

“I’m s-sorry.”

Frowning, she tilted her head. “What for?”

“For… f-for,” he hiccuped, “for S-Sam.”

Her heart stopped. And sunk. And she couldn’t breathe.

“I…” She snapped her mouth shut, not knowing what to say.

He glanced at her from beneath wet lashes, his lips trembling. “You hate me.”

“I don’t…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t hate you.”

“You d-do. But I did it f-for Sam… pinky-promise,” he insisted, a fresh wave of liquid salt staining his skin and scalding her heart. “He was h-hurting, and you’re not supposed to let the people you l-love hurt.” She didn’t realize she had closed her eyes—or that she had been crying—until she felt his warm fingers softly stroke her face. “Now you’re hurting… and I’m not supposed to let you hurt.”

Her nose was stuffed at this point so, swallowing past the massive lump in her throat, she exhaled a low breath through her mouth and blinked her eyes open. “I understand,” she said, her words barely a painful whisper. Grasping his hand and keeping it pressed to her face, she smiled a wobbly grin. “I forgive you, Red.”

His breath hitched. “You do?”

“I do. Pinky-promise.”

The tension seemed to drain from his body in the next instant. His shoulders slumped, his eyes drooped, and she could see that the emotional purge had taken its toll.

Without letting him go, she walked the few steps it took to reach the closest wall, and with her back against the cold surface, she slid down until her bottom reached the floor. She stretched her legs out in front of her and patted her thigh. “Come on, rest your head on my lap.”

Slowly, tentatively, he curled up on the floor and did as told, snuggling against her in a manner so innocent, she felt her heart breaking all over again. They stayed like that without a word: her, stroking his temple, his cheek, the short fuzz of his hair, and he, snoring softly and drooling on her pants.

She had no idea how long they had stayed like that, but her legs had long since fallen asleep when he woke with a start. He blinked groggily up at her, rubbing his eyes as if he didn’t believe what he saw.

“Lizzie?” He squinted, suspicious—of her or himself, she couldn’t say, but she was relieved to see that it was the Red she knew that was now staring up at her.

She smiled. “Hi, Red.”

After a few seconds of silence, he brought his arm up and covered his face, mumbling a disgruntled, “Must be dreaming.”

She didn’t dare move as he fell back asleep—except for her thumb, which resumed its soothing motions as she thought of all that had happened today. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that everything had changed. Even if he never remembered any of it, she would.

And she would forever be thankful for it—for the way a child’s vulnerability had allowed her to see past the enigma of the man: his jealousy, his grief, his guilt and love. Not only that, but it had allowed her to recognize her own feelings, her own love… for Red.

She forgave him.

She loved him.

And as soon as he woke up, she would tell him.

Everything was about to change again.

[peggysousfan]

Agent Carter An Au Series

I haven’t posted this series in a while, but before I go away for a few days, I finished chapter 15! Only a small part is from the show...it kind of got away from me lol Enjoy!

Peggy's POV:

Its been over a week, and all ready I'm loosing my nerve; and I think Stephanie senses that. She starts to cry again and Daniel picks her up.

"Aw, come here little sunshine." He lifts her in the air and she starts to laugh an giggle. I look up from the newspaper and can't help but smile.

"She loves you so much, I should be jealous." Daniel looks at me and laughs.

"Nah, you don't need to do that. Does she anjo?" Steph gurgles again and tries to speak.

Over the span of this week and living with Daniel, I've heard him speak more Portuguese to her than normal, and she responds to it; or tries to. I can speak and write in four different languages, but Portuguese isn't one of them; but Daniel has been teaching me phrases here and there. From the way he talks to her I think her first word may not be in English. I look back down at the paper, but I can't stay focused enough and not look at Daniel. Hes soo good with Steph, a part of me wishes he were her father; but every time that thought occurs I try and squash it down. We're just friends and thats how it will stay. But I don't always want it too...

"Hey Peg....?"

"Hmm?"

"Look..." I look up and can't believe my eyes. Steph has grabbed and pulled Daniels shirt so hard shes ripped a piece of fabric off of it.

"Oh my God!" I get up off of the couch and touch his shirt. "I-I'm so sorry Daniel. I had no idea she was that strong yet..." "Its fine." He laughs gently. "I know who her dad is, remember? I doubt it if she'll ever not be stronger than everyone else her age." I shake my head and walk away. I grab him a new shirt and enter the living room again.

"Here." I say. "I still can't believe she did this..I was hoping it would take a least 4 years, not 4 months!" And we laugh. I take Steph from his hands and he starts to unbutton his shirt. "Oh! Uhm.." I look away. "We should probably get going. I need to drop her off with her sitters and then head to work."

"Oh, yeah..uh, right." He changes his shirt quickly and I turn back around; although it isn't quite buttoned all the way. His chest is very toned, and I'm taken back by it. Our eyes meet and I freeze. I know I should feel wrong for looking but...I don't. "I should, uh...probably get ready too. It would be best if we didn't show up at the same time."

"Yes, of course."I say quickly. I grab Stephanie's things and get ready to leave and then Daniel meets us at the door and says goodbye.  

"Bye sunshine, I'll see you later." She reaches for him and starts to fuss, so he kisses Stephs cheek...and then mine. We both freeze this time. "I-I-I'm soo sorry, Peggy! I-I didn't mean to do that! I swear!" He backs away and raises his hands in the air, surrendering.

"Its alright, Daniel." I smile shyly.His eyes are still wide and hes still afraid of what hes done. "Daniel.." I laugh. He sighs but is still stiff. I reach over and embraced him. At first he tenses, and then reaches around and returns the favor. When I release him, hes almost completely relaxed. "Its okay, really. You don't have to worry about it. I know you didn't mean to."

"Good..." He sighs again. I take Steph and head to the Automatt. When we get there, Steph falls asleep and I eat breakfast while looking back at the newspaper. On the radio I hear the 'Captain America Adventure Program' and it infuriates me.

"Angie,  would you mind changing that?" I ask, annoyed.

"Oh you bet" She says as she changes the channel. And then repeats the lines in her own actors voice. "Much better, right?"

"Thrillingly realistic," I say. That damn radio show is as far from the truth as you can get. Angie looks over at Steph and plays with her for a few moments. I love seeing my daughter so happy, shes already surrounded by people who love her. And I fear she may be spoiled rotten when she gets older.

"You moving?" She says, knocking me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, yes. I, uhm... I lost me roommate." After I tell her this she tells me of her first roommate and her she abandoned Angie. She got engaged and married in less than a week, and left Angie alone with the apartment. "You think you know people." She laughs and looks at the places I've circled, and all but throws them away in the gutters. "Well if none of these will work then where do you suggest?"

"The girl from the hall from me just moved out, couldn't hack it I guess. She was always crying to her mother on the hall phone."

"Poor thing"

"Yeah, maybe the first couple of times." I chuckle. "Anyway. Its over on 63rd. But its real safe, lots of great girls. Plus I'd be your neighbor, so thats not nothing."She smiles.

"Oh thats a wonderful idea but I'd hate for you to grow tired of me." She looks at me with a side eyes.

"You don't strike me as the crying on the phone type, English" Well she isn't wrong. It is a lovely thought, but I look over and see Colleen's obituary and then at Steph, and I know it won't be possible. I like Angie, shes a good person and friend, I'd hate for her to meet her fate because of me.

"I don't know, Angie. It may not be possible." She looks at me puzzled. "Will they allow a baby into this apartment complex? Because if they don't then...I won't be able to live there."

"Well how much longer are you babysitting?" At first I was confused, then I remembered; I lied. I lied to everyone that Stephanie was my niece and I was watching her for my sister. No one can know shes my daughter, if they do they may find out who I am and who her father was and use that against me.

"I'm not sure...It may be some time. My,uhm, sister is still away and hasn't gotten back to me on when she'll return."

"Is there anywhere else she can go? That way shes taken care of and you get the apartment."

"I'm afraid not..." I look over at Steph and notice Daniels shirt piece is still in her hand. Shes kept it all morning and held it to her nose. She must like his scent, it makes her feel safe; and I can't agree with her more.

"Thats sucks," I hum in agreement. After a few minutes I finish my breakfast and say goodbye to Angie, and then make my way to Jarvis so he can watch her. The day goes by quickly and I pick up Steph and we head home to Daniel's apartment. Well not, home, home, but...well a place to stay. When we walk inside, I see movement in the kitchen. Mmm something smell delightful. I pick up Steph and carry her to the kitchen to see him.

"Daniel? What is that delicious smell in the-" I stop in my tracks. "Mr. Sousa?"

"Mrs. Carter? Can I help you with something?" He glances between me and the baby, and then our things on the couch.

"Oh, uhm..no. I-I was looking for Daniel, actually. Is he not here yet?" At first he says nothing, and looks at me suspiciously. Odd...

"He is, yes. Hes in his room...changing."

"Oh! Uhm, of course." For several moments the apartment is silent, and Mr. Sousa, thankfully, stops lingering. Did I do something wrong or offend him...? I sit down on the couch and hold Steph, but she doesn't want to calm down. I look through her bag and grab the cloth from Daniels shirt, and she holds onto it, tight, and waves it around. But it doesn't keep her calm for long. "Oh come here poppet." I set her down on my lap and bounce her, but she doesn't settle down. I don't want to shout with Mr. Sousa here...but I'm afraid I don't have a choice.

"Daniel!" I call for him. "Daniel!?" I notice Mr. Sousa peek out and asks what was wrong, but before I can answer, Daniel appears. Thank God.

"Peg? Whats wrong?"

"Someone is very adamant about seeing you." I stand up and hand her over.

"Aww, did sunshine want to see me? Huh?" He plays with her for a few minutes, and while I know his father is watching, I can't help be laugh. "Shes been like this all morning. And look." I point to her hand.

"Is that what I think it is?" he laughs.

"Yes! She refuses to let go of it. I gave it to her after we arrived, and she started to settle down. But once she realized it wasn't you..."

"She started to throw a fit!?" We laugh and she catches on. "You are a sassy little boss, aren't you anjo?" She giggles and snuggles closer to him. "Just like your mother."

"Oi!!" I shove him lightly and we laugh. Steph starts to bounce around and dance in his arms.

"Well look at that. Shes trying to dance!"

"Who is?" Mr. Sousa enters the room.

"Little Stephanie here, is trying to dance." She continues to bob around in he arms and giggle.

"I'm still sticking with my statement from this morning." I say.

"No." Daniel says.

"Yes."

"C'mon Peggy."

"Yes, Daniel! Look at her" I laugh. She leans over and tries to kiss his cheek. "Stephanie Marie Carter! You little traitor." I take her from him and she laughs again.

"I'm just too lovable, babies can't resist me."

"Who told you that lie, son?" I try not to, but I can't hold in my chuckle. I hadn't realized how long he had been watching, but it must have been long enough for his mood to change from standoffish to admiring.

"What? It true. Pete was like that when he was a baby, so was-"

"But that doesn't mean all babaies, Daniel." I laugh again and he glares at me.

"Not funny."

"Well of course it is. Even poppet agrees." She reaches for him again and its the cutest thing in the world. "I've only just got you back and you want nothing to do with me!" Daniel laughs.

"Dinners ready, if...you're both eating." I look back at Mr. Sousa, and then at Daniel; and the reality of the situation his me at once. I'm practically living with Daniel, unmarried, in no romantic relationship, with my child, and his father is unaware of this. But perhaps hes catching on...

"I'd hate to intrude. I don't want to intervene on you father-son dinner." His father tries to speak, but Daniel speaks first.

"Its fine, Peg. Beside, we already had plans for tonight remember? Pai just...showed up unexpectedly. You're not intervening." I nod my head and follow him to the table trying not to ask him what he was talking about. We never made any plans. Of course it was my night to make supper, but...there were no other plans made. What is going on? I don't ask him, though, instead I keep it to myself. We all eat and laugh and have a swell time, but Mr. Sousa, I've noticed, keeps looking at me. At first I thought it was just my imagination, not that I have much of one, but then I caught him several times. I'm not sure if Daniel's noticed, but its starting to make me uncomfortable; and this, he does notice.

"You okay, Peggy?" I look up at him and attempt to smile.

"Yes, Of course." I glance at his father and then back at Daniel, and thats when he notices somethings off. He nudges me leg under the table and smiles, comfortingly, and helps somewhat. Thankfully, everyone finishes and Mr. Sousa starts to leave. He and Daniel have a conversation at the door; but I don't listen. Instead I head off to Daniel's room and feed Steph.

Daniel's POV:

After I got home from work, I noticed my apartment door was unlocked. My first thought was Peggy's here early, then I realized she has to pick up the baby; now I'm worried. I reach for my gun and cautiously walked inside, but it was just Pai.

"Pai! What are you dong here?"I put my gun on the table and walked over to him. He said we haven't had dinner in a while and thats why he was here. I wouldn't mind so much if things weren't so complicated right now. I start to help him with dinner and thats when the joyful mood went down hill.

"So...how have things been with you, son?" I know where this is headed.

"What is it,Pai? You only ever ask me that question in that tone unless somethings bothering you." I set the table and hesitates at first.

"I...I wasn't snooping I swear. But..."Oh no. Peggy's stuff. "I noticed, when I was in your room, looking for the picture album you said you had, that there was... a baby's bassinet and women's clothing in there."

"If you have something to say, then please just do." I'm so done with this conversation already.

"Do you have a family that you've never told me about?" I turn to look at him, and hes upset.

"What? No. Of course not! Its not like that."

"Then what is it like, Daniel? Please explain to me why there are woman garments in your room with a bassinet and baby clothes!?" I look away, grab the counter, and sigh.

"Its not what you think, Pai." He looks at me, waiting. "Its-Its complicated." He laughs drily and crosses his arms. "look, she has nowhere to go right now. What did you expect me to do? Let her live on the street with a baby?"

"So you let a complete strange woman and her baby live in your apartment."

"She not strange...I've known her for over a year now."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Carter. From across the hall. Her roommate...is gone and she can't afford the place by herself and take care of the baby." I explain. He uncrosses his arms and leans on the counter. "I told her she can stay here till she finds a place. And she IS looking. Shes been looking for over a week now." He doesn't say anything after that. Instead he just cooks in silence.

I go to my room and change, and then several minutes later I hear Peggy screaming my name.Turns out is was just Steph wanting to play. She is the sweetest baby in the world, I love her so much. I wish she was mine...But I try not to think about that. I tell Peggy she can stay for dinner, and I know this makes Pai upset, but honestly? I don't care. I saw someone that needed help and I helped. Thats what I was raised to do. Through out dinner things seemed fine, but then I looked at Peggy and she seemed stressed; like something was bothering her. I asked her what was wrong, but she said it was nothing; then she kept looking at dad. So I know something is wrong. I don't know why Pai has a problem with Peggy, but I'm gonna find out. When dinner is over with I see Peg head to my room, probably to feed Steph, and then I head to the door with dad.

"I thought I asked you to be careful with her."

"What?"

"Shes only gonna bring you trouble, Daniel" I take a step back at look at him like hes crazy.

"Pai. What are you talking about? What trouble?"

"I just know things, okay. And she," He points the the bedroom, "isn't going make things easy for you."

"That makes no sense! Peggy's done nothing wrong."

"Its not about what shes done, Daniel. Its about who she really is and the father of that bebê.

"The father of- Pai, How do you even know that!?"

"Watch the film of Captain America during the war. Pay close attention to his compass. And then you'll understand why-"

"I know exactly who Steph's father is, Pai. And I also know the whole story. You don't. Peggy already told me everything and its not what you think it is." He looks at me, taken back. "And as for that compass? He stole her picture from a newspaper without her consent and she knew nothing about it. If anything she hated that he did that." Pai closes his and sighs."And as for trouble? She has none. Shes done nothing but be kind neighbor, great friend, and respectable guest."  

"I-I had no idea."

"Yeah. I kinda put that together." He shakes his head and moves closer to the door.

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I didn't know you knew."

"Its fine, Pai, Just...Know that I know what I'm doing. Or did you forget what my career is? I know things and have ways to figure them out." He laughs at that. He apologizes again and then leaves. I hate that he thought that way of Peggy, but now I understand why she doesn't want anyone knowing the truth; because of this. People will think the same way my dad did, and i know that hurts her. "You can come out now. Hes gone." I say. I turn around and Peggy comes out of the kitchen; she was cleaning up the dishes.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Its fine, Peg. You're a spy. Its kind of a habit to listen in, and its not easy to break." She laughs.

"Still, I'm sorry."

"Its okay. I told him what he needed to hear. And of course, not everything, out of respect for you, but.. yeah."

"I appreciate that." She walks closer to me.

"Wheres Steph?"

"I put her down for bed. She was quite tired after she ate." I nod my head and look at her again. "I know you don't mind it, us being here, but after watching and listening to your father...I know we should be going soon. Before you say anything, Daniel, we have to. I may have found an apartment, but theres a problem."

"Whats the problem?" I crutch over to her and she looks down at the floor. "Peg? Whats the problem?"

"I... I can't take Steph with me." She finally looks up at me, and there are tears in her eyes. I reach out and wipe away the ones that already fell.

"Is there anywhere else? maybe-"

"Not really. No. Well, Stephs sitters offered me a room for us to stay in, but..I can't very well go on living from one friends home to another. It isn't right."

"And thats your only option? Nothing else?"

"Theres not. Everywhere I look won't work. My only plausible option is this...Hotel for women but..."

"You can't have a baby with you."

"Daniel I don't know what to do." She turns around and sits on the couch. "Your fathers right. I'll do nothing but cause more trouble if I stay. But I can't leave my daughter! I barely see her as it is, let alone let her live somewhere else. I have no family here and there is no where for us to go!" She buries her head in her hands and I lean over and place my arm around her shoulder.

"Its okay, Peg. We'll figure something out. You won't have to give her up or make her live anywhere else. I promise." She leans back and into me, laying her head on my shoulder, and nods. God this is so unfair, I hate that she has to go through this. I squeeze her shoulders and she looks up at me. I didn't think this through...Don't lean in, Daniel. Don't. Lean. In. She looks up into my eyes, and then glances at my lips, or at least I think she did. Am I still breathing? I think shes leaning in. Dammit. I turn away and she clears her throat. "I don't think its a bad idea."

"What isn't a bad idea?" She asks, leaning away.

"Staying with the sitters. I mean if the house is big enough." She takes a deep breath and lets it out. "If you don't want to stay there for too long, just let 'em know it'll be temporary and that you're looking for somewhere else in the mean time. Besides, its less of a distance you have to go for them to watch Steph while you're at work."

"You're right. Its just..." She stops mid sentence and shakes her head, as if laughing her thought off.

"What?" She shakes her head again. "Come one Peg, tell me."

"Its just that...I like being here, with you." Her voice is so low I can barley hear it. "I-I like that we get to see you everyday,and Steph acts as if she'll die if she doesn't see you the second she comes through that door." We laugh. "It feels good here, and I-I... I suppose I don't want that to end." Well I wasn't expect that much honesty.

"We still see each other at work." I say

"I know, but...Its not the same. Here we laugh more and more everyday. I've never felt this happy before. Not even as a child did I enjoy myself this much." She looks at me and smiles fondly. "But at work, we can't do that. We have to keep up a front and keep those parts of our lives separated." I sigh in defeat, not knowing what to say. "But once we move she'll see you less often, and I know that will break her little heart...and mine." I almost didn't here the last two words, and it takes me a minute to really understand what she said.

"Hey..." I try to get her to look at me but she refuses. I lean over and pull her in for a hug, and she doesn't let go. "We'll figure something out, Peg. I promise. I'll be apart of both of your lives as much as I can, and for as long as you want."

"So...an eternity?" She laughs.

"If thats what you want. Then yeah." I laugh this time. We break apart and she starts to head to bed.

"I'll talk it over with them, if they're serious about us staying with them for a while. At least until I can find something more permanent." I nod and she reaches over and kisses my cheek. "Goodnight, Daniel." I reach out and hold her hand for a second.

"Goodnight, Peggy."